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'Tell me I'm not in a dream. Or one of my trances.' She uttered the two sentences between gasps and seem-to-be quickening pulses. In midair, the tension between them kept growing intensely, trying desperately to meet its peak every second, before finally disappearing into the sightless distance above it. 'You're not,' the man said, his voice distant even when his face was only a few inches from hers, and cupped his free hands around her chin to calm her pale face. Her cheeks were warm in his palms, as if being burnt by hundreds of heaps of dying, yet ravenous flames. She closed her eyes, recording the touch of his perfect skin that seemed able to charm her endlessly since the first time she had fixed her gaze on his shimmering features. The angelic voice which accompanied it woke her a few seconds later. 'And even if you are,' he traced his soothing fingers along the reddening skin of her cheeks, 'I'll bring you back to life. Which is here.' He emphasised the last two words with a smile, a heartbreaking, infuriating smile - because of its astounding beauty, before tenderly touching his cherrylike lips to hers, making her start to tremble uncontrollably in deep confusion. She was, again, in the middle of these steep rocks without any aid to support her unstable weight, meanwhile the air over their heads began to twirl in circles, the weather around them getting pink and turning red in five seconds' time. She was lost. In someone else's magical world, with a rendition of one of The Beatles' hit singles from the 1900s or 1950s - she could not exactly recall which period of years it came from - playing smoothly in the CD player in the languid atmosphere of the living room behind them.
After a moment of enjoyment the kiss brought them he pulled back, before slamming his left hand into the tiny depth of his shirt pocket and taking a silver locket out of it. He threw a confident smile at her, and in one blink of his eye, the room fell dark. Petrified yet washed out by the sudden darkness among them, the girl let out a heart-rending shriek, which was followed by her heaving her body onto him, making his head hit the floorboards and the long necklace break in half. In seconds, blood-red light began to shuffle out of the center of the torn necklace, mingling with the air outside its shell and sending the woman into gradually-coming unconsciousness. She could now only see shadows, muttering and brimming all over the weather around her, and had not the strength to stand up apart from lying helplessly on the feathered carpet beneath. Before her, she saw how he started to rise and reveal his claws, and fangs, and bright red eyes above her. He laughed mercilessly. Instantly, she covered her sweating face with her hands - which now felt too shaky and she hated it, she loathed it very much - and brought out a despondent, lamented sound of cry. Her evil lover, at the same time, continued to soak up as much energy as possible from the change of circumstance.
'Again, I successfully, harmlessly tricked you,' he whispered this to her right ear. Around them, the horrendous wind potter faster and faster meanwhile their invincibly powered circles got bigger. 'You should thank me for that.'
'Th... Thank you for what?' She abruptly gathered her courage to confront him. If this meant that the end of my life was approaching, I would be ready, she thought silently.
'For letting me bound my ways into your life again, Em,' his angelic voice replied, and before she realised what was coming next, she wailed with all of her might when she laid her eyes on his real monstrous, vampiric face before her.
'I am indeed sorry to say that you - a clever and sanguine girl like you - was granted the chance to relish your life only momentarily,' he cleared his throat. 'You have always known that you could not outrun us at the end..., and so have your family.'
'No,' she mumbled, and drifted her gaze to his face - his now burning face. 'NO!'
'No,' he mockingly repeated her words, 'or YES, my dear?'
'Don't call me using that 'D' word, beast,' she put her best effort to yell at the top of her lungs, ''cos I am not your dear, and prefer death to becoming one of you!'
With those last few words, she scrambled to her feet, and stood up in just two swift movements. In her both hands, which he did not know were protected by the two stashes of garlic and one wooden cross in her dress pockets, were two shiny swords with special blades carved onto their two edges which were designated to **** vampires. Get rid of them. And their malicious world of beasts.
She stepped forward, and new powers began to regenerate inside her - despite the cries she felt start to roll into her heart, upon knowing that her beloved Joe had died. Joe had been deceased now. He was lifeless, and no longer able to help her here. She should never have ditched him. It dawned on her now, when everything was already too late to fix up. But she knew that she should never give up. Javier and his vampire family might have tasted every single drop of her other family members - and the rest of Ludirus town's residents - including her Joe, before she idiotically kicked him out for this pathetic, heartless beast who wore a disguise to displace him. She stretch the first sword - the one in her right hand - out to him. He took a step back, his eyes remained focused on her.
'You won't hurt me,' he pretended to be in pain, and in one and a half seconds, he transformed into the figure of the innocuous, blue-eyed prince once more.
'I won't be deceived by your looks, pig,' spat her, meanwhile her brain rummaged through a thousand ways to stick the two swords into his chest. That was, in fact, the only way to **** him. To drain his evil life out of him.
'You were, once,' he laughed, the sound of his devious laughter echoed in the very room, and later left it in such dread and wariness.
'Not anymore,' she bravely took a step forward and, without any further doubt, without caring about her being imprisoned for the rest of her life before getting her blood dried by the fangs of Javier's two older brothers, she stabbed the swords into his chest with all the energy she had left. And the effects sprayed out by the action were beyond any of her expectations. Thousands of blood droplets poured out of his body and onto the floor beneath her, flooding the entire living room and finally the streets outside the building until no litter, little scraps of food, and wheels of vehicles were seen anywhere in sight. Surprisingly, these endless streams of blood did not cause any floods, and rapidly soaked through every single layer of soil the earth had on its surface. The blood that had been consumed out of the poor people of Ludirus, the rural village in South Ireland, famous for its cruel killing rampage for several thousand years, where a group of aristocratic vampire ruled the lives of humans and their own species. But now, there would be no more of them. No more of their horrible treatments. No more of their sneaking-up-on-humans tricks they secretly did at night - to savour human blood, which was lawfully removed from the protecting-human law renewed every year. It was all a lie. Yeah, a lie. A lie that allowed Javier's family to approach Lucinda's family members to be victims in their lifelong killing spree. But now, there would be no more vampires, thought Lucinda as she kissed her holy cross and sets of garlic affectionately. There would be no more blood sacrificed to fend for those beasts' hunger, even though it meant for her to live alone. Live on her own, as she no longer had anyone around her to turn to. To soak up her tears when she was scared away by the bunch of vampire kids on the way home from school. To calm her with her melodious chords at the piano. Mother. To serve her the best spaghetti in the world as a reward for her outstanding grades at school. Sister Sheila. To rub her back and put her to bed at night - at the age of sixteen! Father. Luce's tears just would not stop while she kept counting her memories, as every single shadows of her deceased beloved came back to her. And finally, the sight of her Joe lying his tired head on her lap, and reading out loud to her his newest poem he composed at the office for her. All were gone. Dissolved into the ravenous sea of blood in the guts of those psychotic, simpering, abusive monsters.
But she was satisfied. She felt, somehow, proud of her heroic, or at least, brave actions. She had taken control of her fear, and that was one of the most important characteristics a woman should have to succeed in this cruel world, her father had once said. Now she could prove to them all that she was a newly reborn person, and was no longer the old Lucinda. Lucinda Hale who had always been the 'tail' of her sister while they were six and four, and the little, spoilt daughter of Jim and Aileen Hale who could not hold a plate properly in every banquet their family was invited to. Luce knew that she was now completely a stranger to her family. She squinted her eyes shut, trying to imagine how nice it would be to show off her new self to her late family if only they were all alive with healthy pink cheeks now. In her own peace and this momentary solitude, she found herself sinking onto the floating warmth of blood, but strangely, she did not fall. She did not plunge into the limitless red colour underneath, and remained flowing above it while her tears started to crawl out of her eyes. She did not know, and did not want to know how long this remained until she eventually felt the rough surface of the bearskin carpet again. She woke up with a dizzy head and quickly threw a hasty look around her living room. The prince, beastly Javier had vanished. Oh, there are his remnants, she thought and unconsciously, chuckled quietly to herself when she came to take hold of several white, lifeless bones laid in front of her. Then suddenly she understood what had just happened. The legend in that book she had borrowed from the library transported the knowledge back into her mind. All the members of Javier's family had been crushed now. They were dead. Her sacred tears, which came to mix with the blood flood, became the cure for all the people who had been ****** by the vicious vampires in town. They were now freed, and reawarded, although still mortal, but yet a very rare, elusive, privileged chance to be alive once again and start their lives all over again. They must not be far from her now, thought her. Without any further wait, she raced out of the room, and wormed her way onto the street.
And here they were. The streets of Ludirus were no longer deserted. Traditional markets with a thousand-metre long series of antiques roamed them, occupying every single tiny space provided to place racks containing jewels, valuables, and gold pots. There were also shelves of books about cookery, traditional healing potions, sports, literature, and anything else someone ever wanted to buy. And then she spotted a book with a bright yellow cover, entitled 'Love Poems: From 1900 to the Present, by Joe Grogan.' Her breath seemed to stop at that time and suddenly, before she even got the opportunity to touch the cover of the copy in front of her, two warm arms wrapped her waists and turned her body around to face the owner. Once again, she was at a terrible loss for words. 'Joe,' she mumbled.
'I am,' the writer nodded solemnly. And just like the evil Prince Javier had done before, he pulled out a beautiful silver box and opened it. Inside, two rings shined beautifully before their eyes, radiating a smile as bright as the one seen on others' faces among them. A smile that celebrated the comeback of their long-lost independence. Before she knew it, Joe knelt before her, and presented the ring upwards onto her.
'What would you like to do first, Madam? Marry me, or buy my book?' He grinned and held both her hands. Before she could answer him, he inserted her left ring finger into the perfectly made ring, and helped her right hand fasten his own ring onto his finger. She lifted him up and wrapped her hands around his neck.
'Do you have time for both, Sir?' She rubbed his smooth cheeks and kiss them before looking deeply into his hazel eyes.
'Absolutely,' he answered firmly, and scooped her whole weight into his arms and spinned her around. Luce could no longer say anything when a sudden wave of happiness washed all over her, and became even at a more unfathomable loss of words when she caught the sight of her beloved father, mother, and her sister, all alive, start approaching to deliver their congratulations. Here we are, she thought with a satisfied feeling. We were, are, and will always be meant to be together.
Nick Strong Dec 2019
Talk to me, talk to me of Old St. Nick
Talk to me of Sinterclaus
Of Mikulas, Pere Noel, or Babbo Natale

Talk to me of candles, christingle and a silent night
Talk to me of crackers, carols and calamities
Talk to me of snow, sleighs, and stars
Talk to me of Christmas cards, wrapping paper
Talk to me of gold, old spice and mice
Talk to me of icing, icicles
igloos, ivy
Holly
Oh sweet Hollie
Tots of Drambuie
Marmalade and toast

Talk to me of Philip Scholfield
Carols From Kings
Mary Poppins
Scrooge
Festive films
Radio Times
And things that are too pretty
Lights, nights
Hark, Dark
barking dogs
tinsel
Tinsel Town
Wolves at the door
Salvation Army playing once more

Talk to me
Talk to me
Cream Crackers, cheese
Frosty mornings, old knees

Talk to me of snow covered alpine forests
Gateaux
Cherries
walnuts and berries
Festive fun,
A seasonal run
Of All Gold telly
With a full belly
Farts, sprouts
Turkey that tastes just like chicken
Oh talk to me of
Terry Wogan
Rosh Jogan
Grogan Josh
Last minute deals
Black Friday
White Friday
And all the Cyber Mondays

Talk to me of
Happy Mondays
Dancing Bez
In a Festive Fez

Talk to me
Talk to me
Of Festive time
Late nights
Early mornings
Beer
Cheer
All in entertainment

Oh talk, TALK to me
Of hangovers,
sleep overs
gloves
mittens
and cute kittens

Oh talk to me of
fake Chanel
Faux Fur and underwear
Celvin Klein

Talk to me , Talk to me of
Jonah Lewie
Bony M
The Pogues
and all those rogues
Fairy tale of New York
Stop the Cavalry
Mary's Boy Child
And the
Spaceman who came riding by

Oh talk, Talk , Talk to me
of places, and spaces We all know
Christmas markets
Tesco, Aldi and John Lewis Adverts showing
Christmas is coming
Christmas is coming
Christmas is coming
Chris
Oh talk to me
Oh talk to me of old St. Nick

Talk to me
Talk to me
Eggnog
Talk to me
Talk to me
Bah humbug
Talk to me
Talk to me
Happy Christmas
Read aloud at speed. Enjoy!
George Grogan Jul 2017
When my cold, gray body lay in dark wet ground
In that day when my voice no longer sounds
Remember me who loved you more
Remember me who loved you most
(And meet someday on heaven’s shore)

You and I as partners have run the Kingdom road
For us to leave and forsake
were not mere words

We followed His grace and heard His voice
Stored up treasure in the life to come

please forgive me
If for a moment I lost sight of heaven’s prize
and in my weak folly
was lowered in your eyes

Walk backward my love and forget those days
Walk backward with a mantle of grace
and let love cover my naked shame
Remember me who loved you more
Remember me who loved you most
George Grogan
George Grogan Jul 2017
Like an ash from a flame
fallen to the ground…
I am cold, gray and dead.
Like an ember
once amid the flames burning bright
I am thrown down
and trampled underfoot.
George Grogan
George Grogan Jul 2017
Depression

I awoke with a start. My legs ****** as if I had walked off the edge of my dream.
But there was no dream
they had spent themselves long ago.
I sat up and choked
on the black ash of depression…
……dark and bitter, filling my mouth…
leaving it parched and dry…
I can’t muster the effort to spit,
so I swallow the lump in my throat.
My heart like a dried and withered gourd can no longer remember what it was like to feel.
How many days, (or is it lifetimes)
have I been
numbed, dumbed and dim?
So empty and grey

I cannot move.
My mind turns slowly ….
like a sick, paltry shadow, crawling behind.
…. a hollow caricature of days gone by.

I know that I was once passionate and energetic,
And life more than a word.
My eyes flick back and forth mometarily
as I try to conjure up the images
and recall the times.
But like a wisp of smoke
they simply tease my memory
and drift away before I can grasp them.

I hear the voice of my family
as they move around in a different world
not a black and white like my own.
Like a video shot in some
colormatic
astounding
fluorescent  film.
They are in
high speed,
high definition,
high resolution,

their voices like sing song ….
…..Grate on my nerves.
….like trying to listen to a 45 record on high speed.
I don’t resent their joy because that would require more feeling than I can muster.

They look in on me
and I hear the worry in their voices.
the little one asks
“he won’t die will he, mom? ”
Poor, little, precious one, …
doesn’t know I am already dead.

I lay back down and close my eyes
Everything is dark….
And I am
empty and alone.


By Michael Jarrett copyright 2005
George Grogan
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch
Bang in the first measure
Came the congenital seizure
Skewing the first invention from scratch.
The campfire skied its sparks
Into the ghost-ridden void,
The skittish tchotchkes
Of paradox and entropy
Quirks and tics as dumb as bricks
Until a headstrong mongoloid
Started groping for rhythm
In the quavering spasms.

Oh, but it was a jawdropper
A bang-up tour-de-force
A horrorshow time-warper
Of Luke and Kirk and spice,
The good apple ran the table
Till the old goat hacked the matrix
And the young hawks did their mind-tricks
Of a tessellated cat’s cradle...
And paparazzi made the odyssey
From planets Claire to Z
To dish how cosmic *******
Trysted protomolecule
As the major ghosted ground control...
In all, a very large array
Of bingeworthy groundhog days.
Lukewarm confabulation
Of the smoking embers
From the essential tremor
Ceaseless oscillation
Between good cop and bad copper.

And the girl scouts chorus
With cheeks full of S’mores
“For all of your fables
Of hobbits and hubbles
And sabering at windmills
You will never untie the volition
Riddled into the convulsion,
Nor how the campfire kindles
Nor be one of us.
You will always ***** the pooch
Halfway to the paw-paw patch.”

Nurse Dipso-Etheromaniac
And Dr. Thorazine-Brainiac
Shoved their two-part invention
Cold turkey into the clockworks,
Cleft lip
Fetal eyes
Flipper-fingered
Riddled with the shakes
Cold-shouldered him to another dimension
Where muggles punk ETs,
And their whiskey wizards
Serve up mock elixirs
Not some hair of the dog to undistemper
The secondhand DTs,
His doggo superpower.

Bill Grogan’s goat
(Bam bam bam bam!)
Was feeling frisky
(Bam bam bam BAM!)
Chased three red skirts
Across the galaxy...
“I knew you were one of the ***** boys
But why do your hands shake like that?
They flipper and gibbet all over the keys”
The sour-smelling teacher spat.

And the mean girls echoed
With tongues of acid
“See how they lurch and squirm!
You will never get to the paw-paw patch
You will never find dear little Susie
She will never teach you to hulu
And you will never two-step
With dear old Johnny
With fists of wiggle worms.”

He touched off the fireworks
Torching all your pomp and cirque
In some skullduggery
Of **** and villainy.
I, Dropout
Outcast
Clonetrooper
Mutineer
Hitched a ride north of the watchtower
Where imperial walkers with hooves of ice
Stomped the land flat, and late-blooming
Summer never shakes the phantom menace
Of the winter that is always coming.

Somewhere in the interstellar distances
Of Kantian prairie perturbed by auroras
Like those night-blooming skyflowers
I glimmered back into existence.
I drank with wildings dropped with the dead
And vaped the contrails of the mad rocketeers
(Kid Rambo, Def Louie, Jedi Freddy and Manny
Steampunk Sal and Wig Out Johnny)
But never found sweeter ******
Than the next bridge to burn.
I, callow flamethrower
Of Shiva, the destroyer.

Marshall Gunpowder Jehoshaphat Miller
The bad apple of the force
Hatchet-faced and porkpied
Dead by ****** suicide
Born again old-schooler,
Packing halitosis
From ossified canon
Skywalked me down.
Gospeled me like Luke
And knee-capped me with a curse
Shame; the oldest mind-trick in the book.
I served out my prodigality
In Ludovico therapy
Which for a half-life, somewhat took.

Headlong into retrograde
I crashed the zero-sum arcade
Fed a quarter into the supercollider
And with some crazy tic of the wrist
Spooked the ball’s trajectory
So it champagne supernovaed
And spat out the shabby ghost
Of a birthright lottery.
Thirteen golden statues.
But as the digits flipped
And the mission crept
As it does to one and all
Faster than a cannonball
I flashed back to renegade.

And the made girls chorused,
With cheeks full of Botox,
From their partial-view suites
And partner-track perks
Of bottomless cups
Of shut the **** up,
“You nearly made the grade, you!
But then you had to mouth off job-hop Hulk
Out, which finally betrayed you.
Now Security Guard Miller
Will escort you off the premises
For a reckoning with your nemesis
Regret, the silent killer.”

True, for a season I was a bluepilled moon
Marooned with space junk
And cypherpunk
Doomscrollers
Of deadend might-have beens,
Like the lunar sonata’s
Primal whisper of futility,
Until it tripolars
Into ultraviolent agitato
And hits escape velocity

Now loosed from orbit of the Goldilocks planet
I tumble through space in dumbstruck rapture
Of hurricaned stars and thundercloud nebula
I tremble in the thousand-parsec stare
Of the headless horde of dark riders
That stampede the stony hobbits,
Through the looking-glass of lightyears past
I see monstrous galaxies in ungainly copulation
Blushing Hiroshimas of atrocious release
And multi-sunned planets where misbegotten
Beings shudder into self-consciousness,

While I drift toward the event horizon
To be gobbled into the enigma
With a little gasp of gamma
Hammerstricken wires frisson.
Where the eleventh measure of the first invention
Counterclockwise corkscrews
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch,
After a very long array of groundhog days
My skeleton crew bunch into alignment
Like that hunch of spooky entanglement
Or just possibly like that eternal dissonance
Quelled by a quanta of true arrogance,

In a clockwork grotto
Grows a chrysalis F-sharp
Where fingers at last Goldilock
Into queasy equilibrium,
To my dumb surprise
The dark sac butterflies
And there is Susie
A little tipsy
On hard compatibilism,
With hips of pulsars
And hands of auroras
She hulus like the time warp
Not spasm without rhythm
But otherworldly vibrato.
On the infinitely big and infinitesimally small, and deeply personal.

— The End —