Easy guilt
overtakes me and
all of the faces
erase me and
I slip in a well
rapturously.
After a few brews
and a wet ******
my nerves shake loose
again.
I'm an adolescent
with contradicting condescension.
I love you
I look you in the eye to tell you
we look away
we don't say much.
Arguably agreeably
disagreeably so.
Every instant is a building.

Friend, you stumble.
Can I help with your load?

Aye, pal, cheers -
budge up, everyone,
here's a new friend!

This is heavy.
Unbearable.
What is this thing
you all carry?

We're carrying the dragon,
pal.
Carrying the dragon.

Dragon?
From whence came
a dragon?

Ehm, not too sure -
our fathers summoned it,
we think.

Oh, its weight!
How have you managed
for so long?

No secret there, pal -
love.  Love,
and brotherhood.
We all chip in, know?

But does the dragon
not eat you?
It writhes on my shoulders
most disagreeably.

No, no,
canny eat you
if you're carrying it.

But it must eat!
It is bloated
and gorged
beyond movement!

Aye, well,
why do think we carry it?

So what does it eat?

I..  We...
We don't really think
too much about that.
We have each other
to worry about.

And what would happen
if you just laid it down?

It would die.
We would lose
all the meaning
from our lives.

I see.
Then come, brothers -
let us carry on.
Let us carry on
and on.

unendurable, long and exhausting
are the pains
presumptuous like appeals
from a jaded pulpit
such as they are, are powerless
a passage from a discarded tract
such are these pernicious pains
that swarm in a slivering hiss
upon dark and lurking shadows
aesthetically applauding themselves
as they push here and there
in their wounding commentary
of painful narrative
agonising enough to reduce
the soul to debilitating bouts
of disagreeably damaging experience
with startling exaggerations
that produce disgraceful extortions
upon mind and body
squandering unbearable isolations
fragmenting the cracks
in a delicate structure of personality
uprooting it from a sanctified paradise
providing instead a monstrous, shameful loathing
that makes one choose to become another
other than those unthinking
other than this misery of anguish
other than this pain
deliberately to provoke an anger
the other with ingratiating timidity
or rebellious defiance
favours a rejection of
all resentful obligations
all that is distasteful
all that is not worth carrying out
such as with a contempt
that allows one to escape into an emptiness
of the ridiculous and the impossible
through thoughts to an absurdity of beliefs
through the deserted streets
the neighbourhoods of the lie
pass the filthy inadequacies
of obscene caresses
where one is mocked
by exquisitely satisfying ******
of vicious pains
pains that control behaviour
freedom of movement
time and space
who appear at the corners of the mouth
where lurk sarcastic secrets
now I know in these horrors and torments
that time has stopped in all dimensions
eternity has ceased

A cherry tree, heavy with fruit,

Once stood at the bottom of my garden

By the small pond filled with septic water

Disagreeably still. Ignoring it, over time, its

Fruit fell and decayed.

Over time its trunk became overwhelmed

With boles, its branches snapped.

Close by the rich soil

Was suffocated with weeds.

unendurable, long and exhausting
are the pains
presumptuous in their plenty
such are these pernicious pains
that swarm in a slivering hiss
upon dark and lurking shadows
aesthetically applauding themselves
as they push here and there
in their wounding commentary
of painful narrative
agonising enough to reduce
the soul to debilitating bouts
of disagreeably damaging experience
with startling exaggerations
that produce disgraceful extortions
upon mind and body
squandering unbearable isolations
fragmenting the cracks
in a delicate structure of personality
uprooting it from a sanctified paradise
providing instead a monstrous, shameful loathing
that makes one choose to become another
other than those unthinking
other than this misery of anguish
other than this pain
deliberately to provoke an anger
the other with ingratiating timidity
or rebellious defiance
favouring a rejection of
all resentful obligations
all that is distasteful
all that is not worth carrying out
such as with a contempt
that allows one to escape into an emptiness
of the ridiculous and the impossible
through thoughts to an absurdity of beliefs
through the deserted streets
the neighbourhoods of the lie
pass the filthy inadequacies
of obscene caresses
where one is mocked
by exquisitely satisfying ******
of vicious pains
pains that control behaviour
freedom of movement
time and space
who appear at corners of the mouth
where lurk sarcastic secrets
now I know in these horrors and torments
that  time has stopped in all dimensions
eternity has ceased

The sedan pulled to a stop. The driver cut the engine and the bandits piled out to wait for the second chariot rolling up momentarily. Barabbas climbed from the second and tossed a handful of coin in the air with a grin, and said to his mob, “It went without a hitch. They ought’a be pickin’ up the Teacher after not too long.” Thomas standing by expressionless, the gang boss approached him as the rest were scrambling for the fallen coins.  “You gotta problem with that, fisherman?”
“No. Should I?” Thomas answered in a monotone.
“No, but I think you’d be happier,” Barabbas glibly replied then dismissed the kid’s bad attitude with, “Ah, you’ll be plenty happy when your cut of the salt's in your pouch.”
“Sure I will,” Thomas intoned gravely.
Bowled over, Barabbas wheeled on him, saying, “What’s that?”
John Mark appeared from the rocky shadows, his fist full of gun. “All right, you mugs, get ‘em up.”
The gang reached for pistols but didn’t have a chance to draw. Demons were on them like black webs, tangling their arms and grabbing the rods from their startled fingers. Beelzebub materializing as a towering mass cast a thick black shadow over their eyes. Barabbas threw his hands in the air, trying to figure the play. “What gives, fisherman?” he put to Thomas.
“We just thought we’d give you a hand spending this loot—or maybe you won’t get to spend it at all.”
Viciously Barabbas snarled, “So this is the kind of double-cross the Teacher pulls.”
Mark stepped over and cracked him across the face, splitting the pock marked flesh and Barabbas spit blood like wine. He never lowered his hands because by this point the gun wielding devils had encircled them.
“This ain’t the Teacher’s play, you ***** lying thief—and you know what my friends here do to lying thieves? Tell ‘im.”
“We eat ‘em for lunch,” the big demon stated in earnest.
“But now that you mention it, you planned it so the Teacher would take the fall, ain’t that right? So you wouldn’t be a suspect. Okay, so now they’ll really have nothing on you. We’re taking the dough.”
“That coin weighs a ton,” Barabbas griped, giving Thomas a knowing scowl. “What are you gonna do—carry it on your backs?”
Mark chuckled disagreeably and said, “No, you goon. We’re taking your rides too.”
“You can’t leave us here,” the robber protested.
“Why not? You won’t need ‘em to get to where you’re going,” Mark jeered.
“The centurions will be looking for whoever pulled that job,” Barabbas kept arguing.
“Then you won’t have anything to worry about. You won’t have the dough on you when they catch up with you, will you?”
“You won’t get away with this,” the hired criminal threatened, “I’ll catch up with you sooner or later.”
Mark nodded, saying, “Is that so?” His pistol swerved and he shot one of Barabbas’ men in cold blood. The guy dropped to his knees and from there, fell flat on his face dead as dust. “Do I look worried?”
Keeping their pistols aimed on the gang, Mark climbed behind the wheel of one of the sedans and Thomas the other. Turning the powerful engines over, the chariots pulled away, leaving the crew in the merciless hands of the devils.
Beelzebub’s features never fully came into focus. Barabbas saw teeth and eyes but there was nothing else except more teeth and eyes. Beelzebub had orders from Satan to bring back souls, but from these guys that would be like pulling teeth—especially rotten teeth, which was okay, since rotten teeth have a way of falling out on their own. With that in mind, there was no need for mercy.
The fishermen drove to a desolate point on the far side of the Sea of Galilee to ditch the hot chariots. They drove both sedans to the edge of the turgid water and disengaging the brakes let the wheels roll free until the chariots sank like heavy stones to the bottom.
Thomas doffed his shirt and pants, waded in and dived for a few coins to bring back to their partners to prove that they had actually pulled it off. News of the bank job would spread anyway. The distant cries of Barabbas’ men were fading as black buzzards accumulated in a familiar pattern over the low mountains.
Mark lit a cigarette and within a few minutes, Thomas returned to shore with one of the sacks of coins. They grabbed a few each and threw the rest back into the murky sea. The idea was to come back and haul up the rest with nets. They were fishermen, after all, and nobody would raise an eyebrow if they simply appeared to resume their old occupation. The Romans might even be grateful.

Nobody’s about the polish of
carbon darkness
but to her,
hours before her rescue
it was dreadful
and later
as the night brims shining,
she would gather about her
bright eyes for a sad tale.

I do not trust the steam in dreams
and yet I cannot stop it.
Happy summer days the sky pours
although there was nothing much to look at save the rains that polished a sailor’s sea
Something kindred and melancholy
remembers me
a wanton, restless bird
Eurydice
I dreamt disagreeably that I was drowned
then rescued before dawn
upon a bed of anemones,
(friends) expanded and swelled
to welcome me or were they violets?