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inggo Dec 2015
Sa pila umasa ka na makakasakay ka na sa darating na jeep.
Pero sakto ikaw ung nasa likod ng taong huling makakasakay.
Ang saya mo pa kasi kala mo kasama ka.
Parang yung oras na akala mo kayo na para sa isa't isa.
Pero di ka na pala kasama sa jeep ng mga pangarap niya.
Naiwan ka.
Kailangan **** maghintay ng panibagong jeep.
Sa bagong jeep na yon ay mauuna kang sumakay.
Eksayted ka at masayang masaya dahil sa wakas makakauwi ka na.
Parang yung oras na gumising ka ng wala na sya pero magaan na ang lahat.
Bagong jeep ng pangarap na hindi na siya nakasakay.
Pauwi doon sa bahay na malapit ng mabuo muli.
HYA Feb 2018
Pumara ako ng jeep sa tapat ng kanto
Kinausap ko ang sarili at nagmukhang tonto
Pagpasok ko sa loob ay doon ko natanto
Na iba't ibang uri pala ang mga ito

Una, ang babae na tinatawag ako upang kunin ang bayad
At sino ba naman ako upang hindi pumayag?
Binilang ko ang pera at ito'y nagkakahalaga ng sampu
Subalit ang naisukli sa kanya'y piso

"Manong, kulang po ng dalawa ang sukli niyo
Baka lumalabo na po ang pananaw mo
Manong, maaari ko bang kunin ang dalawang piso
At nang makababa na po ako?"

"Nako,  iha. Tumaas na ang presyo ng pamasahe ngayon
Lalo at magiging luma na ang bagong taon
Hindi mo ba narinig sa balita, iha?
Halika at aking ipapakita ang ebidensya"

Tumahimik ang babae at bumaba
Mukhang siya pala ang may malabong mata
Minsan kasi sa buhay,  magtingin tingin din sa kaliwa
Dahil kapag puro kanan lang,  iyan ay magsasawa

Hindi nagtagal, may nagbayad na naman
Ngayon, ang pera ay may malaking laman
"Manong, sayo na ang sukli
Para makabili ka naman ng gusali"

"Gusalina (gasulina) ba kamo, iho?
Huwag na, ito ang sukli mo
Makakaya naman ng bulsa ko
Heto na, iyan naman ay talagang dapat sayo."

Napaisip ako nang bigla
Nakakalungkot kasi talaga
Kahit buo yung ibinigay mo
Kapag ayaw niya, isasauli parin sa iyo

Nagpatuloy ang aming biyahe nang tahimik
Hanggang ang isang segundo'y pumitik
Bumaba ang isang mama nang hindi nagbayad
Kahit ang pera naman niya ay kanina pa sumasayad

Inireklamo namin siya kay manong
Siya ay aming tinanong
Kung bakit ang mama ay kaniyang pinabayaan
At hindi rin niya pinagalitan

"Para saan pa? E yun ang gusto niya
May mga tao talagang lalapitan ka lang, hindi ba?
Kapag sila ay may kailangan sa iyo
At kapag tapos na, sila ay lalayo

Kaya pabayaan mo na sila
Nakatulong ka naman,  iyon ang mahalaga
Huwag mag-alala,  nandyan naman si karma
Naghihintay lamang upang kunin sila"

Napatahimik kaming lahat at ngumiti
Sana, ang mga taong kagaya ni manong ay manatili
Maputi ang budhi at kapuri-puri
Sa mundong alam natin ay sari-sari

May napansin akong binatang hindi mapakali
Kaya tinanong ko siya kung ano ang nangyayari
Gusto na niya raw na bumaba
Ngunit napapangunahan siya ni kaba sa pagsasalita

Baka may sabihin ang iba tungkol sa kaniya
Baka magiging katawa-tawa siya
Baka ang lahat ay titingin
At baka mas lalo siyang maliliitin

Magsasalita na sana ako ngunit ako'y naunahan
Ng isang babae doon sa aking kanan
Naglahad siya ng iba't ibang ideya na hindi ko naisip
At ang nakabuka kong bibig ay sadyang tumakip

Nga naman. Bakit ka pa kumakapit?
E wala naman sa iyo ang pumipilit
Kung ayaw mo na, bumitaw ka na
At ang kapit ay huwag ng higpitin pa

Narinig ko ang pag-uusap ng dalawang estudyante
Tungkol sa matematikang nagpapapabebe
Ayaw daw magpaintindi kahit ano ang kanilang pilit
Kaunti nalang at sila na ay magagalit

Meron pa ang linyang nakahilera na ayaw magkonekta
Walang magawa kahit sobrang lapit na
Kaya namang ngumiti sa isa't isa
Ngunit silang dalawa ay puro lamang salita

Isa pa tong linyang padaplis na isang beses lamang nagkatagpo
Pagkatapos ng nakaraan ay patuloy ng lalayo
Hanggang makakalimutan ang mukhang nakita
Hanggang lumabo ang mga inipong alaala

Pero kung hindi mo naman naiintidihan, babalik ka parin sa matematika
Kapag mababa ang iyong grado, siguradong malilintikan ka
Kung titingin sa papel, walang ibang malalaman kung hindi ang pangalan
Aasa nalang sa katabi at makikipagsabwatan

Tumawa kaming lahat sa kanilang pag-uusap
Habang ang simoy ng hangin ay nilalasap
Nagrepresenta ang isang pasahero na sila'y tulungan
Upang hindi na nila dapat pang makipagsabwatan

Kapag ang isa ay dadagdagan mo isa, ito ay magiging dalawa
Subalit hindi ganito kasimple ang lahat ng problema
Maghihirap ang iyong utak sa kakaisip sa sagot
Hindi mo nalang mamamalayan na ikaw na pala ay napapanot

Meryenda, almusal, tanghalian at hapunan
Susunod muli ang umagahan
Kung ganyan ang kadali ang buhay
Siguradong madali tayong mamamatay

Kasi walang magpapatapang sa ating mga kalooban
Puro madadaling bagay lamang ang ating masasaksihan
Kaya magpasalamat nalang sa kahit anong ibinigay ng Maykapal
Dahil kung hindi, sigurado.  Ikaw ay makapal.

Nagsimula na silang magturo sa dalawa
At ang kanilang mga bibig ay talagang nanganga
Ngunit nakita ko na kinakailangan ko na palang bumababa
At hindi na rin ako nag-atubiling bumayad at pumara

Araw-araw, iba't ibang uri ng tao ang nakakasalamuha
Kaya parating ngumiti at huwag lumuha
Dahil ngayon ay araw ng mga puso
Tayo na at magdiwang dahil tayong lahat ay may puso
piyesa para sa Araw ng mga Puso
Pero february 19 na! HAHAHA pero it's better to be late than never, nga diba?
kahel Aug 2016
Para tayong nasa isang jeep,
May iba't ibang pupuntahan.
Mayroon doon sa malapit, sa kabilang kanto o sa dulo ng bayan.
Hindi magkakakilala pero iisa lang ang layunin.
Ang makarating sa pinaroroonan.

Para tayong nasa isang jeep,
May nagmamadali, may chill lang.
Naghihintayan at nagmamasid...
Kung sino ang unang magbabayad ng pamasahe.
Kung kanino i-aabot ang pamasahe.

Para tayong nasa isang jeep,
Ayaw umupo sa pwesto malapit sa driver dahil may instant trabaho na agad
Taga-abot. Taga-bigay.
Kailangan sumigaw para marinig.
Kumapit ng mabuti para hindi mahulog.

Para tayong nasa isang jeep na walang ibang ginawa kundi ang makipagtitigan.
Habang ang ating mga mata ay nag-uusap at nag-kikislapan.
Para tayong nasa isang jeep na handa makipagsiksikan para lang makauwi.
Habang ako, sayo ay wala ng espasyo .
Kasya pa ako pero mas pinili **** pasabitin na lang ako.

Na traffic lang tayo saglit bigla ka na lang pumara at sabay baba sa buhay ko.
Na parang nakalimutan mo ilagay sa bag ang baon mo
O kaya naman di ka sigurado sa direksyong patungo
Hindi ko na nakita ang mukha mo dahil sa kapal ng usok na buga ng tambutso
At hindi ko man lang naibalik sayo ang sukli mo,
Nahawakan ang mga kamay mo at napigilang maglaho.
Idris Muntaqim Dec 2020
The martial arts Muslim is hiking and something terrible has caught his sight;
Two armed robbers are mugging a good man when they got out of their Jeep and what I'm saying is right.

One of the robbers is threatening the victim with a gun, as you can see;
The martial arts Muslim picks up two bricks and throws one of them at the first robber's hand that's holding the gun immediately.

When the first robber drops his gun, the second robber sees the martial arts Muslim and is about to pull out his gun;
The martial arts Muslim throws the second brick at the second robber's arm, which is fun.

When the martial arts Muslim runs towards the Jeep-driving robbers, he kicks and knocks out the evil guys;
The martial arts Muslim is always wise.

The victim thanks the martial arts Muslim for stopping the Jeep-driving robbers, which is polite;
The martial arts Muslim calls the police, which is bright.

The Muslim takes the victim's things away from the robbers and gives them back to the victim, which is cool;
The Jeep-driving robbers are stupid *** fools.

When the police arrive and arrest the Jeep-driving robbers, the martial arts Muslim hikes away;
The victim is glad that he got his things back and that's all I have to say.
Marge Redelicia Jul 2015
naririnig mo ba?
ang bell ni manong na nagtitinda ng ice cream.
ang mga huni ng iba't ibang klase ng ibon.
ang mga harurot ng mga ikot jeep.
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga tawanan ng mga magkakaibigan
mga kuwentuhan, mga tanong at makabuluhang talakayan.
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga lapis at bolpen ng mga estudyante
na kumakayod sa mga papel:
husay
sa bawat ukit.
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga yapak ng mga iba't ibang klase ng Pilipino at talino
sa kalyeng binudburan ng mga dahong acacia
dangal
sa bawat apak at kumpas ng kamay,
sa bawat hinga.

naririnig mo ba?
ang mga salitang mapanlinlang, mapang-alipusta
ang mga sigaw sa sakit,
hiyaw sa hapdi, dahil sa
mga hampas at palo
ang mga tama ng mga kamao
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga iyak
ang mga hikbi ng mga kaibigan
para sa mga kapatid nilang nasaktan.
ang mga hagulgol ng mga magulang
na nawalan ng anak:
mga puso, mga pamilyang
hindi na buo.
wasak,
nasira na.

naririnig mo ba?
ang mga boses na nananawagan na
"tama na"
"utang na loob, itigil niyo na"
kasi
hanggang kailan pa
tutugtog ang ng paulit-ulit-ulit
ang sirang plaka ng karahasan
na patuloy na naririnig sa panahong ito
mula pa sa mga nagdaang dekada?

nakakalungkot, hindi, nakakasuklam
ang mga mapaminsalang kaganapan na nangyayari
sa ating mahal na pamantasan.
ang tawag sa atin ay mga
iskolar ng bayan,
para sa
bayan
pero paano tayo mabubuhay nang para sa iba
kung paminsan hindi nga makita ang
pagmamahal at respeto sa atin mismo,
mga kapwang magkaeskwela.

hahayaan na lang ba natin ang ating mga sarili
na magpadala sa indak ng
karumaldumal na kanta ng kalupitan?
hahayaan na lang ba ang mga isipan na matulog.
hahayaan na lang ba ang mga puso na magmanhid.
kailan pa?
tama na!
nabibingi na ang ating mga tenga.
nandiri. nagsasawa.
oras na para itigil ang pagtugtog ng mga nota.
oras na para tapusin ang karahasan.
oras na para talunin ang apatya at walang pagkabahala.
oras na para sa hustisya.
oras na para sa ating lahat,
estudyante man o hindi, may organisasyon man o wala
na tumayo, makilahok at umaksyon
para pahilumin ang sakit,
para itama ang mali.
oras na para sindihan ang liwanag dito sa diliman.
oras na para mabuhay ang pag-asa ng bayan.
a spoken word poem against fraternity-related violence
Tom Ridley Jul 2014
I'm not the first, or the last, to admit this
but those days
those wonderful days when you can run out of a pizza place past midnight and drive
standing up, top down in a convertible jeep around the back roads of a small town
with music so loud that no one can hear you cry
with wind blowing your tears back behind you
so you don't have to worry about getting them on your clothes
holding your arms out
like they do in Titanic
Perk of Being a Wallflower
Superman
but you don't feel the joy that they do
you don't feel what everyone else does
you cry and feel broken
because your mind is a cruel place
and your worst memories and fears come up when you should be having the most fun
so you stand up
constantly watching
to make sure that these empty streets really are empty
constantly hoping that the credits dont roll yet, because you have so much more to do
and you keep your hands to yourself
because you can't let your sorrow spread to the others
once again the tears in your eyes are from the empty hours of another sleepless night
for another night you keep your hands to yourself
afraid to reach out
four heartbeats and a loud engine
all drowned out by a summer night being lived in a horrible way
standing up, top down in a convertible jeep around the back roads of a small town
and doing your best not to jump out and cry
Xander Duncan Jun 2014
I will readily be the first to admit
I heavily romanticize the **** out of life
It’s not that I don’t separate fact from fiction
But if I can find something that is beautiful in both
Then I know I have found something truly wonderful
Give me a movie moment and, for the time being, I’ll know that I’m doing okay
I’ll know everything is going to be alright
So give me summer nights
Let us run out the doors of a pizza place past midnight and drive
Standing up, top down in a convertible jeep around the back roads of a small town
Sticky stage makeup streaked by sticky wind
Overly gelled hair windswept into Picasso shapes
Let’s notice how the stars spin when you look directly upwards
And feel the swaying balance in your feet, as the air plays louder than the music
Hold out your arms like
Titanic
The Perks of Being a Wallflower
Superman
Hooking my ribcage forward over the top of the windshield so I can let my hands explore the sky
Reaching to touch low-hanging branches that are never quite near enough
Leaning bent back against the railing
And singing mismatched lyrics to whatever song I can’t quite hear
Since I’m holding my head farther above the world than usual
Standing straight and tall and
Let’s appreciate the way the laws of physics keep us from falling but not from tipping
So we’re always just on the edge of cautious
Slightly alert
But mostly lost in the magic of being
Young and free
Past midnight on the empty streets of a small town
With fireflies spinning past like low-hanging stars
And a summer breeze intensified into enveloping all five senses
Let’s forget about responsibilities and forgive the people we’re running away from
Even if just for the moment
Give me the rush of this moonlit escape
And memories that could fit with pretty soundtracks and rolling credits
Let headlights be our guide and the radio be our leader
For one night the tears in our eyes are going to be from the sting of speed
Not the empty hours of another sleepless night
For one night we are going to reach out for a hand
And actually end up holding tight to each other as we race through the darkness
Four heartbeats and a loud engine
All drowned out by a summer night being lived as it’s meant to be lived
Standing up, top down in a convertible jeep around the back roads of a small town
And romanticizing the ever living **** out of the movie moments in life
Stephen E Yocum Oct 2014
Fifteen years old and thinking I was older.
'Assistant Maintenance Man' at a Public School
Summer Camp. Billy Deitz had just graduated
High School, I thought him the coolest guy
I knew. The first week was ended, the little
kids gone home, a new batch in two days time.

We did our work, cleaned and swept, sweated
in the summer sun. Took the old surplus Jeep
over to the creek and plunged ourselves in.
Deitz had some beer in an Ice chest, I drank
one, my first ever. We shot his .22 for a while
and ate PBJs in the shade. Then we heard it.

A train horn in the mountains is a haunting
call. It does not seem to belong there among
evergreen trees and massive granite boulders.
We drove the hell out of the Jeep and found
our way to the down grade tracks. And there
she was maybe 50 cars long, snaking her way
from the summit of the Sierras out of California
into Nevada. Through the Pass over a hairpin
filled course hugging the skirts of the rock face
mountains, slowly rolling her massive load
pushing her four engines, breaks a screeching
in protest. "Click Clack, Click Clack", her steel
wheels clanging upon the rails, a rhythm like
her train heart beating.

Deitz grabbed his coat and tied it round his waist,
looped a canteen over his head, "Lets go kid!"
I did what he said, and then we were running
along beside the box cars, more a trot than a run,
"Do what I do!" Deitz yelled over his shoulder.
A flat car with some machinery approached and
He grabbed on to it and pulled himself aboard,
I copied his moves and he helped pull me up
and then there we stood on the deck of that
moving, mountain ship, with her grunting and
shaking under our feet. We could feel all her
massive weight and power vibrating up through
that wooden plank deck of the flat bed car,
entering our legs and spines. . . It was thrilling!

I had not had time to think all this through,
"Now what?" I asked some what perplexed
"Reno Kid." Deitz yelled with a grin.  

We climbed atop a Box Car, our rail bound
ship crawled out of the upper pass and we
started to descend towards Donner Lake far
below.

Looking behind and ahead it was hard to
understand how they had cut those tracks
out of solid granite rock and how the rails
maintained their frail finger tip grip on the
sheer mountain side.

We ducked nearly flat going through the snow
tunnels, the clearance was tight and it seemed
that a guy could lose his head. The diesel thick
air made us cover mouth and nose with our shirts.
Two tunnels in we noticed our faces getting
smoke blackened. We laughed at the joke.
Soot faced on a boxcar in a tunnel of wood.
Two city kids playing Hobo.

We reached the lower valley, passed the place
where the Donner Party met their grisly end.

Truckee was next and the highway grew close.
We got back down onto the flat car, hunkered
down by machine cargo, more or less out of sight.

I thought of all the down on their luck men that
had ridden those rails, not on a some lark. That
whole Grapes Of Wrath, Woody Guthrie period
of no joke, for real ****. Pushed by poverty and hope.

I must admit at that moment, I felt more alive than
at any other time in my life. I felt grown up, like a man.
Until my belly began to rumble, the speed increased
and the wind began to chill. The Click Clacks of the
wheels quickened and grew irritatingly redundant.
The loud wailing of the engine horn no longer exciting.
Now only hurt my ears.

It was dark by the time we hit Reno, we jumped off
before the train yard. Walked into town with its
bright lights calling the casino gamers to unholy service
and nightly prayer. Proceeded over by hard-bitten
dealers in communal black, with cigarettes dangling
from their unsmiling lips, possessing the empty
dead eyes of the badly used up and down-trodden.
Through the ***** windows, the people there seemed
to possess no joy in their sluggish endeavors.
Both players and dealers all losers, merely Automatons
of those despairing games of chance.

Reno was still rough-hewn in those days, a hard
scrabble place full of cigarette smoke, ******,
card tables, slot machines and not much else.
It seemed to reek of lonely desperation.

Having seen our soot ***** faces in the
window reflection, we washed up in the
cold river that runs through town.

We walked around, ate hot dogs,
Downed a Doctor Pepper.
"Now what Deitz?"
"**** I don't know kid,
first time I ever did anything like this."

"What?" My world collapsed right then,
I thought he was much more than
he turned out to be. Maybe everyone is.
I even started to get a little scared.
No money, no place to stay and apparently,
like most of the denizens there, **** out ah'
luck. I'd never felt that way before, from
mountain high to valley low in two hours.
All that excitement turned to Dread.

We hitched a ride with a long haired
guy of questionable gender, who kept
staring at me in the rearview mirror.
West, to a Truck Stop on the edge of town.
Found a trucker willing to give us a lift
back up to the summit.  Jumped in his rig
happy to find, that his cab heater worked.

Badly judged our get out spot, searched
and stumbled around in the shadowy dark,
dim moonlight looking for that **** jeep,
all that friggin' night.

When the guy that ran the camp returned
and found us sleeping at half past two,
in the afternoon in our tent, to say the least,
He was not amused.

Need I say, I felt much older that next day
and a little wiser too.
I wrote this memory for my kids.
may they never jump a freight train
out of ignorant curiosity.
alvin guanlao Oct 2010
Gumising ng maaga para sa pagsusulit
sinumpa ang pagpupuyat at hindi na uulit
sa tabi ng kalye ako'y nagaabang ng jeep na masasakyan
isang istudyante lang po, bicutan bababa kaya sais lang yan

sa pagbagtas ng hari ng kalsada sa daan
papalapit sa simbahan at huminto ng marahan
isang babaeng grasa  sa jeep ay sumampa
sa sobrang payat daig pa ang isang batang lampa

mata'y nanlilisik at nagsusumiksik sa gilid
sa utak ay may pitik ng takot at kwentong nakakaantig
dumi sa katawan hindi mawari kung sinong nagpahid
o babaeng grasa sa akin ngayon siya'y nakatitig

hindi natuwa ang piloto ng sasakyan
minura ang babae sabay dampot ng kawayan
sa tanranta ng babae, di alam ang kalalagyan
isang mabilis na habulan!, isang matinding awayan!

sinambit ng maruming labi ang bawal na salita
mapanghamon ang babaeng grasa, tila nagbanta
walang laban sa piloto parang gulay na lanta
may pagmura sa pagbaba, sabay banat ng isang kanta

ang istorya sa jeep para sa akin ay tapos na
kalbaryo ng babaeng grasa patuloy na naguumpisa
wala sa katinuan, di nawawalan ng gana
pagtahak sa magulong buhay siya ay nagiisa

babaeng grasa
may babaeng grasa sa bawat isa sa atin
winnerrdrop Jun 2015
Naisip ko na parang buhay pasada ang ating istorya.

Ikaw ang pasahero, ako ang tsuper.

Ganito ang senaryo; nakita kita sa kalsada di alam san pupunta.

Ako naman si tanga hinintuan ka kahit dika naman pumara.


Sumakay ka; gaya ng iba.nasa mukha mo yung salitang "Bahala na".

Diretso lang ako sa pag maneho. di mo parin sinabi kung san ka pupunta.

Kita naman sa karatula kung san ang aking ruta, inisip ko baka alam mo na.

Sa gitna ng byahe, mukhang nalibang ka na, kaya pasikat ako sa arangkada.


Halatang bago lang sayo yung dinadaanan, may tingin at may pangangapa.

Ayos lang yan sabi ko. Kabisado ko to. ako'ng bahala.

May mga sandaling napapakwento ka, Siguro dahil na rin sa palagay ka na.

Mukhang nakalimutan ko na yung ibang pasahero. Pakiramdam ko tayo lang dalawa.


Sa wakas, naitanong ko kung san ka ba talaga pupunta?

Kasi, 'haba na ng byahe mahirap na baka maiuwi kita.

Biglang Nawala yung ngiti mo sa mata. Para kang may naalala.

Dimo ako sinagot. Bigla kang pumara.


Di ko alam kung natakot ka ba? o ang pamasahe mo e kulang pa?

Ayos lang naman akong ilibre ka. Basta maihatid kita.

Aaminin ko, nung tinanong ko kung san ka pupunta,

Napadasal ako ng konti na sana sabihin mo, "Ikaw, saan ka ba?"


Naiwan ako nakahinto sa kalsada. kasi nagulat ako nung tumakbo ka,

Tinawag kita pero lumiko ka na sa madilim na eskinita.

Napakamot ako sa ulo at napailing. Ako ba ang may problema?

Di ko tuloy alam kung babalik ka. kasi kaya kong mag intay pa.


Pinaandar ko ulit yung jeep. nagmaneho, nag maniobra.

umikot, luminga linga. wala ka na.

Hahanapin kita. madilim na.. bukas baka bukas.

Kung san kita nakita nung una, baka doon ka pumara.
Written in Filipino
Daniel Feb 2018
Si Berto ay kabataang kasama
Lumaking katu-katulong ng amang magsasaka
Sa pagpapabunga ng lupang ‘di kanila
Sa laki ng upa halos wala nang matira sa kita
Kaya matapos ang pangatlong bagyo
Matapos mamatay kanyang amang byudo
Pagka’t panginoo’y walang sinasanto
Sa pagbubuwis, sya’y lumayas
Sya’y nagpasyang lumikas sa Maynila
Pag-aangat ng kabuhayan ang adhika
Handang makipagsapalaran sa syudad
Kung san umano mas may oportunidad
Kaya’t isang tahimik na gabi ng Disyembre
Baon ay isang kabang bigas at bente
Sya’y nag-jeep, handa nang maglaboy
Dinukot nya ang bente, ibinayad kay Bhoy

Si Bhoy ay tsuper ng jeep
Nakikipasada lang kaya graveyard shift
Baon sa mataas na boundary at gasolina
Kapag walang mahiram na jeep wala syang kita
Kaya ngayong pagkagipit nya ay sumaklap
Pampakain pampaaral sa walong anak
Pambuhay sa pamilya, pangkotong sa parak
Kaysa raw magnakaw, sya’y bumatak
Sya’y namasada nang dalawang araw
Tuloy-tuloy, walang antok na dumalaw
Sinaid ang lakas ng katawan
Para lang masulit nahiram na sasakyan
Biglang umatake pagod nya sa byahe
Pagsakay ni Berto, agad umabante
Tinanggap ang bayad, paningin ay hazy
Tinitigan ang bente, isinukli kay Baby

Si Baby ay sales lady
High heels, low pay, 8 hours daily
Kontraktwal, kada anim na buwan
Mangangaso na naman ng mapapasukan
Ngayon kabuwanan na ng kanyang kontrata
At ng kanyang pagdadalang-bata
Wala pa namang katuwang na asawa
Kaya’t lumuluha syang pumara
Sya ay nagtapos ng IT
Pagkakaron ng akmang trabaho pala’y unlikely
Nabuntis nang wala sa plano
Kaya nagtiis sa ibang trabaho
Ngayon pauwi sa may eskinita
Sya’y naglalakad nang biglang hinila
Punyal sa leeg, bantang sasaksakin
Dinukot nya ang bente, isinuko kay Ben

Si Ben ay batang maralita
Tubong komunidad na takda nang magiba
Sa hirap ng buhay ‘di nakapag-aral
Sa murang edad sya ay nangalakal
Ngunit nang magkasakit batang kapatid
Ultimo pangkain ay ‘di na maitawid
Hindi patas ang buhay, kanyang nabatid
Kaya’t sa patalim, sya’y kumapit
Sya ay nangholdap gabi-gabi
Mabilis ang pera at malaki-laki
Isinusugal ang buhay at kalayaan
Para lang sa kapatid na inaalagaan
Pagkakuha nya sa buntis ng bente
Sya’y tumakbo deretso sa palengke
Bumili ng bigas, humingi ng diskwento
Dinukot nya ang bente, ibinayad kay Berto
Tula patungkol sa kahirapan at kaguluhan ng panahon ngayon.
Umiikot lang ang pera sa palad ng bawat isa.
Cascades were dripping outside of this moving vehicle
White noise, patternless and arrhythmic
like magnified sounds of nails on a concrete wall,
made by souls desperate to cleave their way to dryness

This public utility vehicle holds spirits successful in finding this temporary heaven
Weathered, soaked and almost drowned
like panting dogs that managed to swim ashore from a shipwreck
caused by the iceberg that is the eye of the storm

This safe haven holds champions in a world of misshapen men

A woman clutches tightly on a bag of lime and her ever waning youth
Tired, but not eager to face Death
still closing her windows to his cat burglars
that come faster than the downpour of Typhon's tears

A homeless child comfortably sleeps on the far end of this ride
His innocence tested by fate
Too experienced for someone his age
instead of just playing in the streets he calls home

The jeepney driver has eyes on the road painted by Van Gogh
Unabashed, industrious and assiduous
determined to serve,
provide for a family whose stomachs hunger not but they hunger for his return

This other dimension nurtures alien thoughts and parallel thinking among beat down men

I do not know them but I can hear the cries of their emotions,
their longing to be felt and empathized with
Their voiceless cries are guns with a silenced nozzle
shooting at anyone ignorant who curiously stare at this minefield of a passenger jeep
Read more of my works on: brixartanart.tumblr.com
Madison Jun 2013
cruising in a green Jeep,
windows down,
Margaritaville blasting in the summer time
he placed his hand on my thigh
sweetly, but in a way that said
"you're mine"
poetnamasakit Oct 2015
Madalas naiisip ko…
‘bat ko nga ba patuloy sinasaktan ang sarili ko?
Bakit nga ba ako tumitingin sa mga bagay na puwedeng ikasakit ko?
Bakit nga ba “ikaw” ang laman ng isipan ko?
Ikaw na mismong tao na dahilan kung bakit ako nasasaktan nang ganto..

“Pagod na ko”
Yan ang paboritong linya ko tuwing nasasaktan ako
“Pagod na ko”
Sa paulit-ulit na sakit na nararamdaman ko
“Pagod na ko”
Sa mga bagay na akala ko may kabuluhan sa buhay ko
“Pagod na ko”
Tuwing naaalala ko na hindi mo kayang mahalin ang isang tulad ko

Para akong bata na gustong mag-recite
Pero iba pinipili ng **** ko
Para akong pumapara ng jeep
Pero namimili ng pasahero ang drayber nito
Para akong tanga na minahal ko ang tulad mo
Kahit na alam kong masasaktan lang ako

Umasa ako.
Pasensya na.
Kasalanan ko.

Sabihan na nila akong tanga
Dahil nagpadala ako sa nararamdaman ko
Sabihan na nila akong mababaw
Dahil nahulog ako kaagad sayo
Sayo..
Sa mga simpleng kilos mo
Sa mga bagay na akala ko may kahulugan din sayo
Sa mga salitang binitawan mo na akala ko totoo
Sa mga halik mo na akala ko naramdaman mo din tulad ko

Ako lang pala
Ako lang pala ‘tong tanga na nakakaramdam ng mga bagay na ‘to
Ako lang pala ang nagmamahal sa kuwentong ito
Ako lang pala ang umaasang magiging “tayo”
Ako lang pala ang nangangarap na magkakaroon ng
“ikaw at ako”
Zulu Samperfas Jun 2013
He had a bright yellow one, as yellow as a highlighter
I see them now and then on the highway and they stand out
like an important concept in a textbook, something to be taken note of
I rode in it once, and it was so clean, I felt like I could eat off the dashboard
and the doors were attached with the regular bolts and backpack shoulder strap material
which I have never figured out
and he looked even shorter, sinking into the seat, his longer legs stretched to the pedals
and his torso foreshortened and far away
and it was bouncy, and I was sure he could see my fat shake but I think that was the last thing on his mind.

We had dinner with another teacher, and his burrito arrived on his plate, and I felt like
I ate the inside of my taco salad and drank my beer and a few seconds passed and his plate
was empty and his eyes never seemed to leave me, not in a pleasant, admiring way
but with concern and fear, and attraction
and he finally burst forth in a flurry of worry about what would happen to the taco shell
would I eat it? take it? I should have offered it to him, but I can honestly say I've
never heard anyone so upset over a taco salad shell, and the waitress took it away
and I looked at him gently through my beer fog and he seemed to be pouting and squirming inside

On the way back he told me we had no future
At forty one the longest relationship he had had lasted three months
and clearly this one wouldn't work and I remember being confused
because I wasn't aware I had ever brought up a lasting bond
but it's true, I wanted his attention, his acceptance,
I felt so down, even losing a job I hated
and besides, he would leave all summer and not talk to anyone except his buddies
and those he met on the road
He was wiping the slate clean

I never liked him, only craved his attention and didn't enjoy it when
I rarely got it, and on my last day, which I worked hard to make happen
a little earlier than normal
I ran to him and hugged him and kissed his cheek
and it was not a high cheek bone and I cold feel five o'clock shadow,
and the wrinkles on his neck, his neck like a turtle's
and I begged him not to forget me, in a strange rush of madness
and he let out a cry of  joy with the kiss
and said he wouldn't forget me, I was in his phone
It was like in Hebrew, where you say someone is "in" the phone, not "on" the phone
and I dreamt about going back to Israel that night, but not of him

He is somewhere with his buddies, in a bright red jeep
and I never really liked him
and can't this be the last time
I pursue and obsess over a man I don't even like
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
A special lace-like card
  *
        *        *        *
Three Star points
       *  *  *
Sword-like smile-Bored-Hike pile-
Western Union Man
Money flies like Superman

Spinning wheel fan too guard
Special words have no regard
He's the Adonis-like the
Lazarus lovely-like Venus
Those effects in motion
That special tip above her lips
Steady as they go but motionless
The stars walk across her
sky lifted dress

Heavenly Pillsbury flour
Her hair flower no water
Smile Lift even in debt
Messed her heart so red
White light disaster
Nothing on this earth
we got to lose no control
Here's the *Special Rose

Winter/Sunglow hair
The Flatiron

A spaceship cowardly lion
Your the "Wildcat"
Crazy Oats
Space waves of the neutron
The dream on
Your eyes are blind
A clear day special motif
setting inside your
Word heading leaf
He lifts up your
blinds all
righteous minds

Those special love hands
Nothing was ever
staged starlight and bright
  Never yellow

Winter?Sun
It blocked out
my *Godly
pages
On the good earth leaf
Helen Keller had the
good remedy family
When you are deaf
A green touch of
brown leafs
What you smell and feel
What's truly there
special beliefs

Or at the most
Famous Cemetery,
You got blinded  so
gilded star
you don't
see them

One of a kind that's him
Or the encounters of the
third kind Winter/Sun
The darkness slim-man-run

The cactus desert of my heartlands

Jack of all Trader Joes investments
My E-book and I Phone
best T-bone steak
Spices of theVegetarian Kingdom
Curry in a hurry for Indian Food,
E-T Extra
Terrestrial Space high bill total

ABC Chemical love reaction
A special motif so personnel
"Divine District Attorney"

Taking spiritual love
what lies beneath us
Lotus Tea Panda Bears
Of Journeys
Pyramid or the myriad

A-Special Motif
comes to me
Two Gods surrender me
message
Something you feel but
it's unknown
Never left in the dark
like a treasure
Teeth chatter Gold caps
Chatterbox
Almost happy coffee
almost dark

Too many famous labels
A special romance new leaf
Time change challenging
Winter sun/Wonder fun
Amarous open chorus
Special maid devious
A special Motif delicious
The honest lawyer
Special talent space
of braces
Subsequently or coincidentally

What was special
The board meetings like *Erasers
?
To erase all the special places
in my heart

Dark despair trail parted
Ending up with a trail
of mixed nuts
Cars such a pain with
Synthetic Oil ****** -like Oil

The conjuring or searing
Holding the leaf in spirit
special times remembering
Sapphire September October
Comfort foods November
Thanksgiving
The heartburn living
The Winter/Sun
Special motif holding onto
his one brilliant leaf in
Ancient Egyptian King of Tut
book

*
Yearning the solemn vows
The full moon is
turning a
new leaf
The painted picture leaf
special Motif

Love so committed
The time was omitted
Family poor or rich
Invitation *Winter Sun


Those who are in need
The beacon like a
poem of goodies mend

Heaven that feeling
called my own
Even things that
are special
became unknown
Not always about
being famous

Things that are simple
that's what remains
precious eat sleep Jeep
The fairy came sweet nectar deep
Was so kind humanly rare find
A special note with a motif
I will never forget what was our belief
A special God or Motif a spiritual beauty her leaf but even when you are deaf you can smell the beauty lingering everyone is  work of beauty just living
HelloPeople Sep 2015
How long can an affection last?
How long can one ride a jeep?
How many times can a person shift from a jeep to another?

Would you ride along with me?
Would you accompany me?
If you do, would you sit beside me?

I felt you beside me...a strand of hair, perhaps
I wonder if you felt my goosebumps;
I'm rubbing my arms for you not to feel it...

All of those were mere imagination,
It's a long shot
How can you be beside me if you were the one driving?
How could've I felt you, if I never rode shotgun

Lastly, how would you feel me if I'm still riding the previous jeep;
And I only saw you from afar and thought, perhaps we could be...something amazing, something beautiful, something that could last
jeep is a public transportation vehicle
a name Jul 27
i ventured out to visit a church in the far northern Nova
and to visit a farther church in the newborn Bagong Silang

and later i would return to my home
the lowly pub of Tacio
in the ruthless, wondrous Cubao

pero nakakagago ang trapik
isang oras sa quirino
lima sa perbyu
isang milyong mga naghihintay
sa ilang milyong mga vios

but who am i to complain
i had a good seat on an airconditioned bus
and a front seat on a jeepney

kung di lang mabaho sa harap
perpekto na sana
isang paa ako sa kalye
handa nang tumalon at makalimutan ng drayber

the whole country was in cold rain
colder than any winter
anyone could've imagined
the foreigners would agree with me;
the ones in the malls didn't have red skin
and they looked like they were glad to finally wear the clothing they were destined to wear

pati si ate nagbebenta ng basahan
naka pang ski
akala mo bakasyon sa estados

i didn't have a good prior week
medicine failed me
i had an itch in my head
i couldn't write anything
i felt my angry filipino palaboy scream out passionately for beer and conquest

kung beer lang pala
sa expo nalang ako nanatili
pero 85 para sa serbesa negra
walang coaster walang mani
mas mura pang pumunta ng nova
at maghanap ng beer dun
may extra pa pambili ng pang sigang

i am not particularly religious
but i loved the old church
inside the market
and all of it's ironies

ingay ng power drill
budots at kpop
presyong divisoria
sampu sampu
bente trenta
at iba pa

it emanated all around such a holy place
and as much as it saddened me
i had nostalgia for the sound of the busy city
echoing inside a cathedral

pina alis ni kristo ang mga nagbebenta sa loob ng tahanan ng kanyang itay
pero nanatili ang kanilang mga boses
mga sigaw

diretso ako sa sakayan papuntang Philcoa
sa harap ulit ng jeep
naisipan kong umuwi nalang
ngayong nabisita ko na ang talipapa
hindi pa puno ang mga upuan pero diretso na rin si kuya drayber
pagkat mahina pa ang ulan at trapik

i often think during the noisy silence of rain
and this time i thought
about the lengths i would go to
just for escape
for inspiration

beer and conquest i thought

bakit ko nga pala ginawa to?
sa tingin ko'y tinamad na kong magdusa sa loob ng bahay
mas nasipagan pa kong mamasyal sa ulan
naghihintay ng kaginhawahan sa kalye

sa tingin ko'y naintindihan ako ng jeep
at ang kanyang pagkinig ay ala masahe sa aking likod

the jeep understood me
and so did the ride
there was little traffic
and the rain was softer than before

and in that massage i received from the seat of a rumbling jeepney
was meditation

sa lahat ng byahe ko
ang aking isip ay palaging sa labas ng bintana
madalas natin ginugugol ang ating dilat sa pagdaan ng mundo
sa kapaligiran ng ulan
sa lamig ng ating balat

"in all of my travels
my mind is always outside of the windows
we often spend our sights on the passing of the world
the presence of rain
the cold on our skin"

i haven't thought of that before

di ko pa naisip yun ah

masulat nga

and i took a piece of receipt paper out of my coat pocket
and the rain did not tamper it

the rain is soft
the wind is brisk
the traveler feels the world once again

and he wrote down
for the first time
in weeks

masahe sa harap ng jeep
Veronika Jan 2017
White jeep
That's where I hurt your head and you cried to your mum
The same one that my grandad crashed
The mafia wanted to exchange me for money
I didn't understand

I found a gun in the kitchen draw
It was pretty cool

And someone's wheels rode over my mums knee
They planned to throw her off the bridge
But she woke up  

And two men made an offer with two angry dogs on their side  
A deal went wrong and they took her dignity
Afterward they threw her on the steps like trash
guy scutellaro Oct 2019
The rain ****** through a darkening sky.

The man's eyes grow bright and he smiles. Softly, he whispers, " Man, you're the biggest, whitest, what hell are you anyway?"

The pup sits up and Jack Delleto caresses her neck, but much to the mutt's chagrin the man stands up and walks away.

Jack has his hand on the door about to go into the bar. The pup issues an interrogatory, "Woof?"

The rain turns to snow.

The man's eyes grow bright and he smiles, "My grandma used to say that when it snows the angels are sweeping heaven. I'll be back for you, Snowflake."

Jack shivers. His smile fading, the night jumps back into his eyes.

Snowflake chuffs once, twice.

The man is gone.



The room would have been a cold, dark place except the bodies who sit on the barstools or stand on the ***** linoleum floor produce heat. The cigarette smoke burns his eyes. Jack Delleto looks down the length of the bar to the boarded shut fire place and although the faces are shadows, he knows them all.

The old man who always sits at the second barstool from the dart board is sitting at the second bar stool. His fist clenched tightly around the beer mug, he stares at his own reflection in the mirror.

The aging barmaid, who often weeps from her apartment window on a hot summer night or a cold winter evening, is coming on to a man half her age. She is going to slip her arm around his bicep at any moment.

"Yeah," Jack smiles, "there she goes."

Jack Delleto knows where the regulars sit night after night clutching the bar with desperation, the wood rail is worn smooth.

In the mirror that runs the length of the bar Jack Delleto sees himself with clarity. Brown hair and brown eyes. Just an ordinary 29 year old man.

"Old Fred is right," he thinks to himself, "If you stare at shadows long enough, they stare back." Jack smiles and the red head returns his smile crossing her long legs that protrude beneath a too short skirt.

The bartender recognizes the man smiling at the redhead.

"Well,  Jack Delleto, Dell, I heard you were dead. " The six foot, two hundred pound bartender tells him as Dell is walking over to the bar.

"Who told you that?"

"Crazy George, while he was swinging from the wagon wheel lamp." Bob O'Malley says as he points to the wagon wheel lamp hanging from the ceiling.

"George, I heard, HE was dead."

The bartender reaches over the bar resting the palms of his big hands on the edge of the bar and flashes a smile of white, uneven teeth. Bob extends his hand. "Where the hell have you been?"

They shake hands.

Dell looks up at the Irishman. "I ve been at Harry's Bar in Venice drinking ****** Marys with Elvis and Ernest."

Bob O'Malley grins, puts two shot glasses on the bar, and reaches under the bar to grab a bottle of bourbon. After filling the glasses with Wild Turkey, he hands one glass to Dell. They touch glasses and throw down the shots.

"Gobble, gobble," O Malley smiles.


The front door of the bar swings open and a cold wind drifts through the bar. Paul Keater takes off his Giants baseball cap and with the back of his hand wipes the snow off of his face.

"Keater," Bob O'Malley calls to the Blackman standing in the doorway.

Keater freezes, his eyes moving side to side in short, quick movements. He points a long slim finger at O'Malley, "I don't owe you any money," Paul Keater shouts.

The people sitting the barstools do not turn to look.

"You're always pulling that **** on me." Keater rushes to the bar, "I PPPAID YOU."

As Delleto watches Keater arguing with O'Malley, the anger grows into the loathing Dell feels for Keater. The sauve, sophisticated Paul Keater living in a room above the bar. The man is disgusting. His belly hangs pregnant over his belt. His jeans have fallen exposing the crack of his ***, and Keater just doesn't give a ****. And that ragged, faded, baseball cap, ****, he never takes it off.

When Keater glances down, he realizes he is standing next to Jack Delleto. Usually, Paul Keater would have at least considered punching Delleto in his face. "The **** wasn't any good," Paul feining anger tells O'Malley. "Everybody said it was, ****."

The bartender finishes rinsing a glass in the soapy sink water and then places it on a towel. "*******."

Keater slides the Giant baseball cap back and forth across his flat forehead. "**** it," he turns and storms out of the bar.

"Can I get a beer?" Dell asks but O"Malley is already reaching into the beer box. Twisting the cap off, he puts it on the bar. "It's not that Keater owes me a few bucks, "he tells Dell, "if I didn't cut him off he'd do the stuff until he died." Bob grabs a towel and dries his hands.

"But the smartest rats always get out of the maze first," Jack tells Bob.


Cigarette butts, candy wrappers, and losing lottery tickets litter the linoleum floor. Jack Delleto grabs the bottle of beer off the bar and crosses the specter of unfilled wishes.

In the adjacent room he sits at a table next to the pinball machine to watch a disfigured man with an anorexic women shoot pool. Sometimes he listens to them talk, whisper, laugh. Sometimes he just stares at the wall.

"We have a winner, "the pinball machine announces, "come ride the ferris wheel."



"I'm part Indian. "

Jack looks up from his beer. The Indian has straight black hair that hangs a few inches above her shoulders, a thin face, a cigarette dangling from her too red lips.

"My Mom was one third Souix, " the drunken women tells Jack Delleto.

The Indian exhales smoke from her petite nose waiting for a come on from the man with the sad face. And he just stares, stares at the wall.

Her bushy eyebrows come together forming a delicate frown.

Jack turns to watch a brunette shoot pool. The woman leans over the pool table about to shoot the nine ball into the side pocket. It is an easy shot.

The brunette looks across the pool table at Jack Delleto, "What the **** are you starin at?" She jams the pool stick and miscues. The cue ball runs along the rail and taps the eight ball into the corner pocket. "AH ****," she says.

And Jack smiles.

The Indian thinks Jack is smiling at her, so she sits down.

"In the shadows I couldn't see your eyes," he tells her, "but when you leaned forward to light that cigarette, you have the prettiest green eyes."

She smiles.

" I'm Kathleen," her eyes sparkling like broken glass in an alley.

Delleto tries to speak.

"I don't want to know your name," she tells Jack Delleto, the smile disappearing from her face. "I just want to talk for a few minutes like we're friends," she takes a drag off the cigarette, exhales the smoke across the room.

Jack recognizes the look on her face. Bad dreams.

"I'll be your friend," he tells her.

"We're not going to have ***." The Indian slowly grinds out the cigarette into the ashtray, looks up at the man with the sad face.

I met my older sister in Baltimore yesterday. Hadn't seen her since I was nine, since Mom died. I wanted to know why Dad put me in foster homes. Why? I had so many questions and you know what?
I didn't ask one."

Jack is finishing his beer.

"Maybe if you knew the reasons, now, it wouldn't matter anyway."

The man with the black eye just doesn't get it. She lived with them long enough. Long enough to love them.

She stands up, stares at Jack Delleto.

And walks away.


It's the fat blondes turn to shoot pool. She leans her great body ever so gently across the green felt of the pool table, shoots and misses. When she tries to raise herself up off the pool table, the tip of the pool cue hits the Miller Lite sign above the pool table sending the lamb rocking violently back and forth. In flashes of light like the frames from and old Chaplin movie the sad and grotesque appear and disappear.

"What the **** are you starin at?" The skinny brunette asks.

Jack pretends to think for a moment. "An unhappy childhood."

Suddenly, she stands up, looking like death wearing a Harley Davidson T-shirt.

"Dove sta amore?" Jack Delleto wonders.

Death is angry, steps closer.

"Must be that time of the month, huh," Jack grins.

With her two tiny fists clenched tightly at her side, the brunette stares down into Delleto's eyes. Suddenly, she punches Jack in the eye.

Jack stands up bringing his forearm up to protect his face. At the same time Death steps closer. His forearm catches her under the chin. The bony ***** goes down.

Women rush from the shadows. They pull Jack to the ***** floor, punch and kick him.

In the blinking of the Miller Light Jack Delleto exclaims," I'm being smother by fat lesbians in soft satin pants."  But then someone is pulling the women off of him.

The Miller Lite gently rocks and then it stops.

Jack stands up, shakes his head and smiles.

"Nice punch Dell," Bob O' Malley says, "I saw from the bar."

Jack hits the dust off of his pants, grabs the beer bottle off of the table, takes a swallow. Smiling, he says, "I box a little."

"I can tell by your black eye." O'Malley puts his hand on his friends shoulder. "Come on I'll buy you a shot. What caused this spontaneous expression of love?"

"They thought I was a ******."


2 a.m.

Jack Delleto walks out the door of the bar into the wind swept gloom. The gray desolation of boarded shut downtown is gone.

The rain has finally turn to snow.

His eyes follow the blue rope from the parking meter pole to its frayed end in the plowed hill of snow at the corner of Cookman Avenue.

The dog, Snowflake, dead, Jack thinks.


The snow covers everything. It covers the abandon cars and the abandon buildings, the sidewalk and its cracks. The city, Delleto imagines, is and adjectiveless word, a book of white pages. He steps off the curb into the gutter and the street is empty for as far as he can see. He starts walking.

Jack disappears into empty pages.


Chapter 2


Paul Keater has a room above Wagon Wheel Bar where the loud rock music shakes the rats in the walls til 2a.m. The vibrations travel through the concrete floor, up the bed posts, and into the matress.

Slowly Paul's eyes open. Who the hell is he fooling. Even without the loud music, he would not be able to sleep, anyway.

Soft red neon from the Wagon Wheel Bar sign blinks into his room.

Paul Keater sits up, sighs, resigns himself to another sleepless night, swings his legs off the bed. His x-wife. He thinks about her frequently. He went to a phycologist because he loved her.

Dump the *****, the doctor said.

"I paid him eighty bucks and all he had to say was dump the *****." He laughs, shakes his head.

Paul thinks about *******, looks around the tiny room, and spots a clear plastic case containing the baseball cards he had collected when he was a boy.

He walks to the dresser and puts on his Giant's baseball cap. Paul sits down on the wooden chair by the sink. Turns on the lamp. The card on top is ***** Mays. Holding it in his hand, it is perfect. The edges are not worn like the other cards.

It was his tenth birthday and his dad had taken him to his first baseball game and his father had bought the card from a dealer.

Oblivious to the loud rock music filtering into his room, he stares at the card.

Fondly, he remembers.

Dad.


                                     *     

It arrives unobtrusively. His heart begins to race faster.
Jack Delleto rolls away from the cracked wall. He sits up and drops his legs off the bed.

Jack Delleto thinks about mountains.

When he cannot sleep he thinks about climbing up through the fog that makes the day obscure, passing where the stunted spruce and fir tees are twisted by the wind, into cold brilliant light. Once as he climbed through the fog he saw his shadow stretching a half a mile across a cloud and the world was small. Far down to the east laid cliffs and gullies, glaciated mountains and to the west were the plains and cities of everyday life.

The army coat is draped over the back of the chair. In the pocket is his notebook. Jack stands and takes the notebook from the pocket. When he sits in the wooden chair he opens the book and slides the pen from the binder.

When he finishes his story he makes the end into the beginning.



                                           Chapter 3


"I want a captain in a truck." The 10 year old boy with the brown hair tells his mom. "I want it NOW."

His blonde haired mom wearing the gold diamond bracelet nods her head at Jack Delleto. Jack looks up at the clock on the wall. It is only 9a.m. After four years of college Jack has a part time job at K.B. Toy store. "We're all out of them," he tells her for the second time.

"Honey," Blondie tells her boy, "they're all out of them."

"YOU PROMISED."

"How about a sargeant in a jeep?

"OK, but I want a missile firing truck , too."

Delleto turns to the display case behind the counter. Briefly, he studies his black eye in the display case mirror and then begins searching the four shelves and twenty rows of 3 inch plastic toys. He finds the truck. His head is aching. He finds the truck and puts it on the counter in front of the boy.

"Sorry, we're all out of the sargeant," Jack tells the pretty lady. The aching in his head just won't go away.

"Mommy, mommy, I want an ATTACK HELIOCOPTER, MOMMMEEE, I WANTAH TTTAAANNNK..."

Jack Delleto leans over the counter resting his elbows on the glass top. The boy is staring at the man with the black eye, at his bruised, unshaven face.

"Well, we haven't got any, GODDAMED TANKS. How about a , KICKINTHE ***."

Finally the boy and his mother are quiet.

"My husband will have you fired."

She grabs the boy by the hand. Turns to rush out of the store.

Jack mutters something.

"MMOOOMEEE,  what does..."

"Oh, shut the hell up," the pretty lady tells her son


                              
     

The assistant manager takes a deep drag on her cigarette, exhales, and crosses her arms to hold the cigarette in front of her. Susan looks down at Jack sitting on the stool behind the counter. He stands up. "Did you tell some lady to blow you?" She crushes the cigarette out in the ashtray on the shelf below the counter. "Maybe you don't need this job but I do."

"Sue, there's no smoking in the mall."

"Jack, you look tired," the cubby teenager tells him, "and your eye. Another black eye."

"I was attacked by five women."

'Oh, I see, in your dreams maybe. I see, it's one of those male fantasies I'm always reading about in Cosmo. You re not boxing again, are you Dell?" Sue likes to call him Dell.

"I go down to the gym to work out. Felix says I've got something."

"Yeah, a black eye." Susan laughs, opens the big vanilla envelope, and hands Jack his check.

She turns and takes a pair of sunglasses from the display stand. "You 're scaring the children, Dell ." Susan steps closer looks into Dell's brown eyes and the slips the sunglasses on his face. "Why don't you go to lunch."

                                        
     

It's noon and the mall is crowded at the food court area. Jack gets a 20oz cup of coffee, finds a table and sits down.

"Go over and talk to him. " Susan says. Jack turns his head , looks back, sees the Indian walking towards his table.

"Hello, Kathrine," says Jack Delleto.

"My names not Kathrine, it's Kathleen."

Jack pulls the chair away from the table, "Have a seat Kate."

Her eyebrows form that delicate frown. "My names Kathleen." As soon as she sits down she takes a cigarette from the pack sticking out of her pocketbook. "I had to leave. I told the baby sitter I'd only be gone an hour. Anyway you weren't much help."

"So why did you come over to talk to me?"

"You were alone, always alone."

"You've seen me there before?"

"Yeah, sitting by the pin ball machine staring at the wall, and sometimes, you'd take out your little blue note pad and write in it.
"What are you writing? Are you goin to write about me..."

"How many kids do you have?"

"Just one. A boy, and believe me one is enough. He'll be four in June," Kathleen smiles but then she remembers and abruptly the smile disappears from her face. "Sometimes I see Anthony's father in the mall and I ask him if he'd like to meet his son, but he doesn't.

Kathleen draws the cigarette smoke deep into her lungs, tilts her head back, and blows the smoke towards the skylight. Suddenly caught in the sunlight the smoke becomes a gray cloud. " I didn't want to marry him anyway, I don't know why he thought that."

She hears the scars as Delleto talks, something sad about the man, something like old newspapers blowing across a deserted street. She hears the scars and knows never, never ask where the scars came from.


                              
     

As Jack walks towards the bank to cash his check, he glances out the front entrance to the mall. It is a bright, cold day and the snowplows are finishing up the parking lot plowing the snow into big white hills. That is the fate of the big white pup plowed to the corner of Cookman and Main buried deep in ***** snow. At that street corner when the school is over the children will play on the hill never realizing what lay beneath there feet.

The snow must melt; spring is inevitable.

His pup will be back.



                                           Chapter 4


The 19 year old light heavyweight leans his muscular body forward to rest his gloved hands on the tope rope of the ring. He bows his head waiting to regain his breath as his lungs fight to force air deep into his chest. Bill Wain has finished boxing 4 rounds with Red.

Harry the trainer, gently pulls the untied boxing gloves from Red's hands. "Good fight, he says, patting Red on the back as the fighter climbs through the ropes and heads to the showers. Harry hands the sweat soaked gloves to Felix who puts one glove under his arm while he loosens the laces on the other 12ounce glove. He makes the sleeve wider.

"Do you want the head gear?" Felix asks.

Jack Delleto shakes his head and pushes his taped hand deep into the glove.

The old man takes the other glove from under his arm, pulls the laces out, and holds it open. Without turning his head to look at him, Felix tells Harry, "Make sure Bill doesn't cool down. Tell him to shadow box. Harry walks over to Bill and Bill starts shadow boxing.

Jack pushes his hand into the glove. "Make a fist." Jack does. Felix pulls the laces and ties it into a bow.

Felix looks intently into Delleto's eyes. "How does that feel?"

"About right."

"You look tired."

"I am a little."

"Are you sick or is it a woman."

"I'm not sick."

A big smile forms across the face of the former welterweight champion of Nevada. The face of the 68 year old Blackman is lined and cracked like the old boxing gloves that Jack is wearing but his tall body is youthful and athletic in appearance. Above Felix's eyebrows Jack sees the effect of 20 years as a professional fighter. He sees the thick scar tissue and the thin white lines where the old man's skin has been stitched and restitched many times. As he gives instructions to Jack, Felix's brown eyes seem to be staring at something distant and jack wonders if Felix has chased around the ring one time too often his dream.

"And get off first. Don't stop punching until he goes down. You've got it kid and not every fighter does."

Jack and Felix start walking over to the ring.

"What is it I've got?" Jack Deletto wonders.

"Felix puts his foot on the fourth strand of the rings rope and with his hand pulls up the top strand and as Jack steps into the ring, "You've got HEART."

In the opposite corner Bill Wain waits.

"Will he be alright?" Harry asks.

"Bill's tired, " Felix replies, then he tries to explain. "It's not about money. I'm almost 70 and I want to go out a winner." Felix pauses and the offers, he can hit hard with either hand."

"Yeah, but at best he's a small middleweight and he only moves in one direction, straight ahead."

"Harry, I love the guy," Felix puts his hand on Harry's shoulder, he's like Tyson at the end of his career. He'd fight you to the death but he's not fighting to win anymore."

Harry puts his hands in his pocket and stares at the floor. "Do you want me to tell him to go easy." Harry looks up at Felix waiting for an answer.

"I'm tired of sweeping dirt from behind the boxes of wax beans and tuna fish. I'm sick of collecting shopping carts in the rain. A half way decent white heavyweight can make a lot of money. It's stupid for a fighter to practice holding back. Bill's a winner. Jack'll be alright."

Felix hands the pocket watch to Harry so he can time the rounds.

Bill Wain comes out of his corner circling left.

Jack rushes straight ahead.

Felix winks at Jack Delleto and whispers, "The Jack of hearts."



                                           Chapter 5


The front door of the Wagon Wheel bar explodes open to Ziggy Pop's, "YOU'VE GOT A LUST FOR LIFE." Jack Delleto steps over the curb and vanishes into the dark doorway.

"HEY, JACK, JACK DELLETO," The lanky bartender shouts over the din.

Delleto makes his way through the crowd over to bar. How the hell have you been Snake?" Jack asks.

"Just great," says Snake. "You're lookin pretty ****** good for a dead man."

"Who told you that? Crazy George?"

The bartender points across the room to where a man in a pin stripe suit is swinging to and fro from a wagon wheel lamp attached to the ceiling.

"Yeah, I thought so. Haven't seen Crazy George in a year and he's been telling everyone I'm dead. I'm gonna have to have a long talk with that man."

Snake hands Jack a shot of tequila. The men touch glasses and throw down the shots.

How's the other George? Dell asks.

"AA."

"How's Tommy? You see him anymore?"

"Rehab."

"What about Robbie?"

Snake refills the glasses. "He's livin in a nudist colony in Florida, he has two wives and 6 children."


Jack looks across the room and sees Bob O'Malley trying to adjust the rose in the lapel of his tuxedo. Satisfied it won't fall out O'Malley looks up at the man swinging from the lamp. "Quick, name man's three greatest inventions."

"Alcohol, tobacco, and the wheel," Crazy George shoots back.

O'Malley smiles and then jumps up on the top of the bar and although he is over six feet and weighs two hundred pounds, he has the dexterity and grace of a ballerina as he pirouttes around and jumps over the shot glasses and beer bottles that litter the bar.

Wedding guests lean back in their chairs as strangers fearful of his gyrations ****** their drinks off the bar. Bob fakes a slip as he prances along but he is always in control and never falters. Forty three year old Bob O'Malley is Jim Brown who dodges danger to score the winning touch down.

When is reaches the end of the bar he jumps to the floor, pulls two aluminum lids from the beer box, and with one in each hand he smacks them together like cymbals.

Some guests clap. The bemused just stare.

In the back of the room sitting at the wedding table the father of the bride leans over, whispers into the ear of his crying wife, "If I had a gun I'd shoot Bob."

The bride raises a glass of champagne into the smoke filled air and Bob takes a bow but then heads towards the kitchen at the other end of the room.

" Hey, Bob," Jack Delleto shouts to the groom.

O'Malley stops under the wagon wheel lamp and turns as Delleto steps into the  circle of light cast onto the floor.

"Congratulations, I know Theresa and you are goin to be happy. I mean that." Delleto offers his hand and they shake hands.

"Thanks, Mr. Cool."

Jack takes off the sunglasses.

"TWO black eyes. Your nose is bleeding. What happened?"

Dell takes the handkerchief from his back pocket, wipes the blood dripping down his face. "It's broken."

"What happened?" O'Malley asks again.

"Bill Wain."

"He turned pro."

"Yeah, but he's nothing special. Hell, he couldn't even knock me down."

O'Malley shakes his head. "Put the sunglasses back on, you look like a friggin raccoon."

Dell smiles. The blood running down his lips."Thersa's beautiful, Bob, you're a lucky guy."

"Thanks Dell." O'Malley puts his hand on Dell's shoulder and sqeezes affectionately. Bob looks across the room at Teresa. "Yeah, she is beautiful." Theresa mother has stopped crying. Her father just stares at the wall.

O'Malley looks away from his bride and passed the archway that divides the poolroom from the bar and into the corner. With the lamp light above his head gleaming in his eyes Bob seems to see a ghost fleeting in the far distant, dark corner. Slowly, a peculiar half smile forms uneven, white, tombstone teeth.  A pensive smile.

Curious, Dell turns his head to look into the darkness of the poolroom, too.

At night in July the moths were everywhere. When Dell was a boy he would sit on his porch and try to count them. The moths appeared as faint splashes of whiteness scattered throughout the night, odd circles of white that moved haphazardly, forward and then sideways, sometimes up and down.

Sometimes the patches of moths flew higher and higher and Dell imagined the lights those creatures were seeking were the stars themselves; Orion, the Big Dipper and even the milky hue of the Milkyway.

One night as the moths pursued starlight he saw shadows dropping one by one from the tops of the trees. The swallows were soundless and when he caught a glimpse of sudden darkness, blacker than the night, the shadows erased the dreamer and its dream.

His imagination gave definition to form. There was a sound to the shadows of the swallows in his thoughts, the melody and the song played over and over. Perhaps he saw his reflection in the night. Perhaps there are shadows where nothing exists to cast them.

"Do you hear them, Bob?"

"Hear what?" Bob asks.

"All of them."

"All of what?"

"Nothin," Delleto tells his friend, "Nothin."

O'Malley doesn't understand but it does not matter. The two men have shared the same corner of darkness.

Bob calls to Paul Keater. Keater smiles broadly, slides the brim of his Giant baseball cap to the side of his forehead. The two men disappear through the swinging kitchen door.


                                          Chapter 6


"Hello Kate." Jack Delleto says and sits down. She has a blue bow in her hair and make up on.

"My names Kathleen."

She fondles the whiskey glass in her slim fingers. "Hello, Dell, Sue thinks Dell is such a **** name. Kathleen takes a last drag on her cigarette, rubs it out in the ashtray, looks up at him, "What should I call you?"

"How about, Darlin?"

"Hello, Jack, DARLIN," her soft, deep voice whispers. Kathleen crosses her legs and the black dress rides up to the middle of her thigh.

Jack glances at the milky white flesh between the blue ***** hose and the hem of her dress. Kate is drunk and Dell does not care. He leans closer, "Do you wanna dance?"

"But no one else is dancing."

"Well, we can go down to the beach, take a walk along the sand."

"It's twenty degrees out there."

"I'll keep you warm."

"All right, lets dance."

Jack stands up takes her by the hand. As Kathleen rises Jack draws her close to him. Her ******* flatten against his chest. He feels her heart thumping.

The Elvis impersonator that almost played Las Vegas; the hairdresser that wanted to be a race car driver; the insurance salesman with a Porche and a wife.  Her men talked about what they owned or what they could do.

Kathleen had never meant anyone quite like Dell.

She rests her head on his shoulder. "What do you what more than anything? What do you dream about at night?"

"Nothing."

"Come on," she says," what do you want more than anything? Tell me your dreams."

Jack smiles, "Just to make it through another day."  He smiles that sad smile that she saw the first time they met. "Tell me what you want."

Kate lifts her head off of his shoulder and looks into his eyes."I don't want to be on welfare the rest of my life and I want to be able to send my son to college." She rests her cheek against his, "I've lived in foster homes all my life and every time I knew one day I'd have to leave, what I want most is a home. Do you know the difference between a house and a home?"

"No."

Her voice is a roaring whisper in his ear, "LOVE."

The song comes to an end and they leave the circle of light and sit down. Kate takes a cigarette from the pack.

Dell strikes a match. The flame flickering in her eyes. "Maybe someday you'll have your home."

"Do you want me to?"

"Yeah."

Kate blows out the match.


                                  
     


"Can you take me home?" Kate asks slurring her words.

Kathleen and Jack walk over to where the bride and groom are standing near the big glass refrigerator door with Paul Keater. When Paul realizes he is standing next to Jack Delleto he rocks back and forth on the heals of his worn shoes, slides his Giants baseball cap back and forth  across his forehead and walks away.

O'Malley bends down and kisses Kathleen on the cheek and turns to shake hands with Dell. "Good luck," says Dell. Kathleen embraces the bride.

Outside the bar the sun is setting behind the boarded shut Delleto store.

"That was my Dad's store, " Jack tells Kate and then Jack whispers to to himself as he reads the graffiti spray painted on the front wall.
"TELL YOUR DREAMS TO ME, TELL ME YOU LOVE ME, IF YOU LOVE ME TELL ALL YOUR DREAMS TO ME."


                                         Chapter 7


An old man comes shuffling down the street, "Hello Mr. Martin, " Jack says, "How are you?"

"I'm an old man Jack, how could I be," and then he smiles, "ah, I can't complain. How are you?"

"Still alive and well."

"Who is this pretty young lady?"

"This Kate."

Joesph Martin takes Kathleen by the arm and  gently squeezes, "Hello Kate, such a pretty women, ah if I was only sixty," and the old man smiles.

Kathleen forces a smile.

The thick eyeglasses that Mr. Martin wears magnifys his eyes as he looks from Kathleen to Jack, "Have fun now because when you are dead you are going to be dead a long, long time."

"How long?  Delleto inquires.

The old man smirks and waves as he continues up the street to the door leading to the rooms above the bar. He turns to face the door. The small window is broken and the shards of glass catch the twilight.

Joesph Martin turns back looking at the man and young woman who are about to get into the car. He is not certain what he wants to say to them. Perhaps he wants to tell them that it ***** being an old man and the upstairs hallway always smells of ****.

Joesph Martin wants to tell someone that although Anna died seven years ago his love endures and he misses her everyday. Joesph recalls that Plato in Tamaeus believed that the soul is a stranger to the Earth and has fallen into matter because of sin.

A faint smile appears on the wrinkled face of the old man as he heeds the resignation he hears in his own thoughts.

Jack waves to Mr. Martin.  Joesph waves back. The mustang drives off.

Earth, O island Earth.


                                               Chapter 8


Joseph pushes open the door and goes into the hallway. The fragments of glass scattered across the foyer crunch and clink under his shoes. The cold wind blowing through the broken window touches his warm neck. He shivers and walks up the stairs. There is only enough light to see the wall and his own warm breathing. There is just enough light like when he has awaken from a  bad dream, enough to remember who he is and to separate the horror of what is real from the horror of what is dreamt.

The old man continues climbing the stairs following the familiar shadow of the wall cast onto the stairs. If he crosses the vague line of shadow and light he will disappear like a brown trout in the deepest hole in a creek.

By the time he reaches the second floor he is out of breath. Joseph pauses and with the handkerchief he has taken from his back pocket he wipes the fog from the lenses of his eyeglasses and the sweat from his forehead.

A couple of doors are standing open and the old man looks cautiously into each room as he hurries passed. One forty watt bulb hangs from a frayed wire in the center of the hallway. The wiring is old and the bulb in the white porcelain socket flickers like the blinking of an eye or the fearful beating of the heart of an old man.

When he opens the door to his room it sags on ruined hinges.

Joesph searches with his hand for the light switch.  Several seconds linger. Can't find it.

Finds it and quickly pushes the door shut. He sits down on the bed, doesn't take his coat off, reaches for the radio. It is gone

Joseph looks around the room. A small dresser, the sink with a mirror above it. He takes off his coat and above the mirror hangs the coat on the nail he has put there.

Hard soled boots echo hollowly off the hallway walls. The echoes are overlapping and he can not determine if the footsteps are leaving or approaching. Joseph grabs the crow bar he keeps under his pillow. Holds it until there is silence.

He lays back on the bed. Another night without sleep. Joseph rolls onto his side and faces the wall.

Earth, O island Earth.



                                           Chapter 9


Tangled in the tree tops a rising moon hangs above the roofs of identical Cape Cod houses.

Jack pulls the red mustang behind a station wagon. Kathleen is looking at Dell. His face is a faint shadow on the other side of the car. "Do you want to come up?" she asks.

Kathleen steps out of the car, breathes the cold air deep into her lungs. It is fresh and sweet. Jack comes around the side of the car just as she knew he would. He takes her into his arms and kisses her and they walk beneath the old oak tree and the roots have raised and crack the sidewalk and in the spring tiny blue flowers will bloom. The flowers remind Jack of the columbines that bloom in high mountain meadows above treeline heralding a brief season of sun and warmth.

"Did you win?" Kathleen asks as she fits the key into the upstairs apartment door. The door swings open into the kitchen.

Dell, standing in the doorway looking like the Jack of Hearts. "It doesn't matter."

"You lost?"

"Yeah."

Crossing the room she takes off her coat and places it on the back of the kitchen chair. When Kate leans across the kitchen table to turn on the radio the mini dress rides up her thigh, tugs tightly around her buttocks.

The radio plays softly.

Jack stands and as Kathleen turns he slips his arms around her waist and she is staring into his eyes like a cat into a fire. His body gently presses against the table and when he lifts her onto the table her legs wrap around his waist.

Kathleen sighs.

Jack kisses her. Her lips are cold like the rain. His hand reaches. There is a faint click. The room slips into darkness. It is Eddie Money on the radio, now, with Ronnie Spectre singing the back up vocals. Eddie belts out, "TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT, I WON"T LET YOU LEAVE TIL..."

When Jack withdraws from the kiss her eyes are shining like diamonds in moonlight.

The buttons of her dress are unfastened.  Her arms circle his neck and pull him to her *******. "Don't Jack. You mustn't. I just want a friend." His hands slide up her thighs. "I'll be your friend, " says Jack.

"*** always ruins every thing," Her voice is a roaring whisper in his ear. He pulls her to the edge of the table as Ronnie sings, "O DARLIN, O MY DARLIN, WON'T YOU BE MY LITTLE BAABBBY NOOWWW."


They are sitting on a couch in the room that atone time had been a sun porch.

Now that they have gotten *** out of the way, maybe they can talk. Sliding her hands around his face she pulls him closer.

"Jack, what do you dream about? You know what I mean, tell your dreams to me."

"How did you get those little round scars on your arm," Jack wonders. "Up and down, hear and there."

"Do you really want to know?" There is anger in her voice and Jack does not understand.

"Why, yeah."

"My foster mom always wanted me to be clean and if I didn't I got hit with the belt. I tried to keep my face clean but it didn't do any good.

He was the worst, though, dad. He'd burn me with his cigarette. That's how I got these ****** scars. And when I knew he was coming home I'd get sick to my stomach and when I heard his key in the door, I'd wet myself.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

When they didn't beat me or burn me they ignored me, like I didn't exist, like I wasn't even there."



                                             Chapter 10



All the windows in the apartment are open. The cool breeze flows through her brown hair. "You're getting too serious, Jack, and I don't want to need you."

"That's because I care for you."

The rain pounds the roof.

Jack Delleto sits down on the bed, caresses her shoulder. "I hate the rain. Come on, give me a smile. "Kathleen pulls away and faces the wall.

"Well I don't need anyone."

"People need people."

There is silence, then, "I only care about my son and Father Anthony."

"What is it with you and the priest?" You named your son Anthony is that because he's the father."

"Your an *******. Get out of here. I don't love you." And then, "I've been hurt by people and you'll get over it."

The lingering silence. Jack gets up from the bed, stares at her dark form facing the wall. "Isn't this how it always ends for you?"

The room is quiet and grows hot. When the silence numbs his racing heart, he goes into the kitchen, opens the front door and walks down the steps into the cold rain.


"Anthony," Kathleen calls to her son to come to her from the other bedroom and he climbs into the bed and she holds him close. The ghost of relationships past haunt her and although they are all sad, she has she clings to them.


On the sidewalk below the apartment window Jack stops. He thinks he hears his name being called but whatever he has heard is carried off by the wind. He continues up the  dark street to his Harley.

High in reachless branches of the old oak tree a mockingbird is singing. The leaves twist in the wind and  the singing goes on and on.



                                            
     



The ringing phone.

"Who the hell is this?" The clock on the dresser says 5a.m.

"Jack, I'm scared."

"Kate?"

"Someone broke into my apartment."

"Is he still there?"

"No, He ran out the door when I screamed."

"I'll be right over."



                                         Chapter11


"How hot is it?" Kathleen asks.

The bar is empty except for O'Malley, Keater, a man and a woman.

"98.6,"Says Jack. The sweat rolls down his cheeks.

"Let's go to the boardwalk."

"When it's hot like this, it's hot all over."

"We could go on the rides."

"I've got the next pool game, then we'll go."

"It's my birthday."

"I bought you flowers."

"Yeah, carnations."

Laughing, Paul Keater slides the brim of his baseball cap back and forth across his forehead.

Jack starts for Keater, Katheen steps in front of Jack, puts her hands on his shoulders. She looks into his eyes.

"What is it with you , two? But as always you'll say nothing, nothing." As Jack tries to speak she walks over to the bar and sits on the barstool.

"It's my birthday," she tells O'Malley.

When Bob turns from the horse races on he T.V., he notices her long legs and the short skirt. "Hey, happy birthday, Kate, Jack Daniels?"

"Fine."

Filling the glasses O'Malley hands one to Kathleen, "You look great," he tells her.

"Jack doesn't think so. Thanks, at least someone thinks so."

"Hope Jack won't mind," and he leans over the bar and kisses her.

Kathleen looks over her shoulder at Delleto. Jack is playing pool with a woman wearing a black tight halter top. The woman comes over to Jack, stands close, smiles, and Jack smiles back.

The boyfriend stares angrily at Jack.

When Kathleen turns back O'Malley is filling her shot glass.

Jack wins that game, too.



                                                 Chapter 12



"Daddy,"the little girl her hands folded in her lap is looking up at her father. "When will the ride stop? I want to go on."

"Soon, Darling, "her father assures her.

"I don't think it will ever stop."

"The ride always stops, Sweetie." Daddy takes her by the hand, gently squeezes.


When the carousel begins to slow down but has not quite stopped Kathleen steps onto the platform , grabs the brass support pole. The momentum of the machine grabs her with a **** onto the ride, into a white horse with big blue eyes. Dropping her cigarette she takes hold of the pole that goes through the center of the horse. She struggles to put her foot in the stirrup, finds it, and throws her leg over the horse. The carousel music begins to play. With a tremble and a jolt, the ride starts.

Sitting on the pony has made her skirt ride well up her legs. The ticket man is staring at her but she is too drunk to care. She hands him the ticket, gives him the finger.

The ticket man goes over to the little girl and her father who are sitting in a golden chariot pulled by to black horses.

"Ooooh, Daddy, I love this."

"So do I," The father smiles and strokes his daughters hair.

The heat makes the dizziness grow and as the ride picks up speed she sees two of everything. There are two rows of pin ball machines, eight flashing signs, six prize machines. All the red, blue and green lights from the ride blend together like when a car drives at night down a rain soaked street.

Kathleen feels the impulse to *****.

"Can we go on again?" The little girl asks.

"But the ride isn't over, yet."


Kathleen concentrates on the rain soaked street and the dizziness and nausea lessens. She perceives the images as a montage like the elements that make up a painting or a life. She has become accustom to the machine and its movement. The circling ride creates a cooling breeze that becomes a tranquil, flowing waterfall.

The ponies in front are always becoming the ponies in the back and the ponies in back are becoming the ponies in the front. Around and around. All the ponies galloping. Settling back into the saddle she rides the pony into the ever present waterfall.

You can lose all sense of the clock staring into the waterfall of blue, red and green. Kathleen leans forward to embrace the ride for a long as it lasts.

Just as suddenly as it started, the ride starts slowy, the music stops playing.

Coming down off the pony she does not wait for the ride to stop, stumbles off the platform and out the  Casino amusement park door."****, *******," she yells careening into the railing almost falling into Wesley Lake.

She staggers a few steps, sits down on the grass by the curb, hears the carousel music playing and knows the ride is beginning again, and all the her dreams crawls into her like a dying animal from its hidden place.

And it all comes up from her throat taking her breath away. A distant yet familiar wind so she lies down on the grass facing the  street of broken buildings filled with broken people. From the empting lot of scattered thoughts the mockingbird is singing and the images shoot off into a darkening landscape, exploding, illuminating for a brief moment, only to grow dimmer, light and warmth fading into cold and darkness.




                                      
     

"Your girlfriend is flirting with me," Jack Delleto tells the man. "It's my game."

The man stands up, takes a pool stick from the rack, as he comes towards Jack Delleto the man turns the pool stick around holding the heavy part with two hands.

There is an explosion of light inside his head, Delleto sees two spinning lizards playing trumpets, 3 dwarfs with purple hair running to and fro, intuitively he knows he has to get up off the floor, and when he does he catches the bigger man with a left hook, throws the overhand right. The man stumbles back.

His girlfriend in the tight  black halter top is jumping up and down, screaming at, screaming at Jack Delleto to stop, but Jack does not. Stepping forward, a left hook to the midsection, hook to the head, spins right, throws the overhand right.

The man does down.

Jack wins.



                                                  CHAPTE­R 13

"It's too much," and Jack looks up from the two lines of white powder at Bob O'Malley. "I'll never be able to fall asleep and I hate not being able to sleep."

" Here," Bob takes a big white pill from his shirt pocket.

Jack drops the pill into his shirt pocket and says, "No more." He hands the rolled up dollar bill to Bob who bends over the powder.

"Tom sold the house so you're upstairs? O Malley asks, and like a magician the two lines of white powder disappear. Straightening up, he looks at Dell, "I know you 're hurting Dell , I'm sorry, I'm sad about Kate, too."

Jack becomes quiet, walks through the darkened room over to the bar. Leaning over the bar he grabs two shot glasses and a bottle of Wild Turkey, walks back into the poolroom. He puts the shot glasses on top of the pin ball machine. "We have a winner, "the pin ball machine announces. Dell fills the glasses.

"Felix came in the other day, he's taken it hard. Bill Wain knock down four times in the sixth round, lost consciousness in the dressing room, and died at the hospital."

"What's the longest you went without sleep? Jack asks.

"Oooohhh, five, six days, who knows, after awhile you loose all track of the clock."

They take the shots and throw them down.

"I wonder if animals dream," Jack wants to know. "I wonder if dogs dream."

"Sure they do, " O'Malley asures him, nodding his head up and down, "dogs, cats, squirrels, birds."

"Probably not insects."

"Why not? Sure they do, june bugs, fleas, even moths, it's all biochemical, dreams are biochemical, mix the right combination of certain chemicals, electric impulses, and you'll produce love and dreams."

                                          
     

Jack Delleto goes into the room, studies it. The light from the unshaded lamp on the night stand casts a huge shadow of him onto the adjacent wall. Not much to the room, a sink with a mirror above it next to a dresser, a bed against the wall, a wooden chair in front of a narrow window.

The rain pounds the roof.

The apprehension grows. The panic turns into anger. Jack rushes the white wall, meets his shadow, explodes with a left hook. He throws the right uppercut, the over hand right, three left hooks. He punches the wall and his knucles bleed. He punches and kicks the blood stained wall.

At last he is exhausted, collapses into the chair in front of the open window. Fist sized holes in the plaster revel the bones of the building. The room has been punched and kicked without mercy.

The austere room has won.

The yellow note pad, he needs the yellow note pad, finds it, takes the pencil from the binder but no words will come so he writes, "insomnia, the absence of dream." He reaches for the lamp on the night stand, finds it, and turns off the light. Red and blue, blue and red, the neon from the Wagon Wheel Bar sign blinks soft neon into his room. The sign seems to pulsate to the cadence of the rock music coming from the bar.

Taking the big white pill from his shirt pocket, he swallows it, leans back into the chair watching the shadows of rain bleed down the wall. The darkness intensifys. Jack slides into the night.



                                           Chapter 14


The rain turns to snow.

With each step he takes the pain throbs in his arm and shoulder socket. His raw throat aches from the drafts of cold air he is ******* through his gaping mouth and although his legs ache he does not turn to look back. Jack must keep punching holes with his ice axe, probing the snow to avoid a fall into an abyss.

The pole of the ice axe falls effortlessly into the snow, "**** it, another one."

Moonlight coats the glacier in an irridecent glow and the mountain looms over him. It is four in the mourning and Jack knows he needs to be high on the mountain before the  mourning sun softens the snow. He moves carefully, quietly, humbly to avoid a fall into a crevasse. When he reaches the top of the couloir the wind begins to howl.

"Da DA DUN, DA DA DUN, HEY PURPLE HAZE ALL AROUND  MY BRAIN..."

Jack thinks the song is in his head but the electric guitar notes float down through the huge blocks of ice that litter the glacier and there standing on the arête is Jimi, his long dexterous fingers flying over the guitar strings at 741 mph.

"Wait a minute, " Jack wonders, stopping dead in his tracks. The sun is hitting the distant wind blown peaks. "Ah, what the hell," and Jack jumps in strumming his ice axe like an air guitar, singing, shouting, "LATELY THINGS DON'T SEEM THE SAME, IS THIS A DREAM,  WHATEVER IT IS THAT GIRL PUT A SPELL ON MEEEE, PURRPPLLE HAZZEEE."


                                        
     


Slowly the door moans open.

"Jack, are you awake?" her voice startles him.

"Yeah, I'm awake."

"What's the matter, can't sleep?"

Jack sifts position on the chair. "Oh, I can sleep all right." He recognizes the voice of the shadow. "I want to climb to a high mountain through ice and snow and never be found."

"A heart that's empty hurts, I miss you Jack Delleto."

"I'm glad someone does, I miss you ,too."

There is silence for several minutes and the voice comes out of the darkness again.

"Jack, you forgot something that night."

"What?" The dark shape moves towards him. When it is in front of him, Jack stands, slips his arms around her waist.

"You didn't kiss me goodbye."

Her lips are soft and warm. Her arms tighten around his neck and the warmth of her body comes to him through the cold night.

"Jack, what's the matter?" She raises her head to look at him, "Why, you're crying."

"Yeah, I'm crying."

"Don't cry Darlin," her lips are soft against his ear. "I can't bare to see you unhappy, if you love me, tell me you love me."

"I love you, I do," he whispers softly.

"Hold me, Jack, hold me tighter."

"I'll never let you go." He tries to hug the shadow.


                                          
      *


The dread grows into an explosion of consciousness. Suddenly, he sits up ******* in the cold drafts of air coming into the room from the open window. Jack Delleto gets up off the chair and walks over to the sink. He turns on the cold water and bending forward splashes water onto his face. Water dripping, he leans against the sink, staring into the mirror, into his eyes that lately seem alien to him.



                                            Chapter 15


Someone approaches, Jacks turns, looks out the open door, sees Joesph Martin go shuffling by wearing a faded bathrobe and one red slipper. Jack hears Martin 's door slam shut and the for thirty seconds the old man screams, "AAHHH, AAAHHH, AAAHH."
Then the building is silent and Jack listens to his own labored breathing.

A glance at the clock. It is a few minutes to 7 a.m. Jack hurries from his room into the hallway.  They pass each other on the stairs. The big man is coming up the stairs and Jack is going down to see O'Malley.

Jack has committed a trespass.

When the big man reaches the top of the stairs, the red exit light flickers like a votive candle above his head. The man slides the brim of his Giants baseball cap back and forth across his forehead, he turns and looks down, "Hello, Jack, brother. Dad loved you, too, you know." An instant later the sound of a door closing echoes down the hallway steps.

Jack Delleto is standing in the doorway at the bottom of the steps looking out onto the wet, bright street.

"Hey, Jack, man it's good to see you, glad to see you're still alive."

Jack turns, looks over his shoulder, "Felix, how the hell are you."
The two men shake hands, then embrace momentarily.

"Ah, things don't get any better and they don't get any worse," shrugs the old man and then he smiles but his brown eyes are dull and Jack can smell the cheap wine on the breath of the old boxer. "When are comin back? Man, you've got something, Kid, and we're going places."

"Yeah, Felix, I'll be coming back."  Jack extends his hand. The old fighter smiles and they shake hands. Suddenly, Felix takes off down Main Street towards Foodtown as if he has some important place to go.

Jack is curious. He sees the rope when he starts walking towards the Wagon Wheel Bar. One end of the rope is tied around the parking meter pole. The rest of the rope extends across the sidewalk disappearing into the entrance to the bar. The rattling of a chain catches his attention and when the huge white head of the dog pops out of the doorway Jack is  startled. He stops dead in his tracks and as he spins around to run, he slips falling to the wet pavement.

The big, white mutt growls, woofs once and comes charging down the sidewalk at him. The rope is quickly growing shorter, stretches till it meets it end, tightens, and then snaps. Now, unimpeded by the tension of the rope the mutt comes charging down the sidewalk at Delleto. Jack's body grows tense anticipating the attack. He tries to stand up, makes it to his knees just as the dog bowls into him knocking him to the cement. The dog has him pinned down, goes for his face.

And begins licking him.

Jack Delleto struggles to his knees, hugs her tightly to him. Looking over her shoulder, across Main Street to the graffiti painted on the boarded shut Delleto Market...

                               FANTASY WILL SET YOU FREE

                                                 The End

To Tommy, Crazy George and Snake, we all enjoyed a little madness for awhile.


"Conversations With a Dead Dog..."
Manunula T Jul 2018
Isa, dalawa, tatlo,
Lahat ng jeep ay puno.
Wala ni isang nag tangkang sa 'kin ay huminto,
Itinaas ang aking kamay at inunat ang hintuturo.
Sumenyas na manong pasabit nalang po,
At sa pag arangkada ng jeep mo ngayon,
Bakit maraming mata sakin ang nakatuon?
Inuusisa ang bawat parte ng aking katauhan,
Na para bang andami-rami nilang katanungan.
Bakit sumabit kapa?
P'wede namang mag abang ka nalang sa iba,
Magmumukha ka lang diyang tanga,
Kaya boy mabuti pang bumitaw kana.
Kahit maraming tutol sa aking pagpapasiya.
Kahit ang kamay ko ay medyo dumudulas na.
Kahit pa ang bisig ko ay nangangalay na,
Hinigpitan ko pa ang kapit dahil ayoko ng mahulog pa sa iba.
Kumapit ako sa bawat salitang sinabi mo,
At inabot ko ang bayad simbolo ng pag-ibig ko.
Tama naman ang sukli, barya at bawat sentimo,
Pero bakit tila walang pasahero ang nais mag-abot nito?
Marahil hindi pa sila handa,
Na hayaan kang suklian ang salitang "mahal kita",
Pero 'wag kang mag-alala,
Dahil maghihintay ako sa panahon na kung saan lahat ay tama na.
Kung sakali mang may bumabang pasahero sa may unahan,
At magkaroon ako ng puwang sa iyong sasakyan,
Handa akong iwanan ang pagkakasabit ko sa likuran,
Para samahan kang bumiyahe dito sa mundong walang kasiguraduhan.
jerelii Jan 2016
Guni-guning nababalot ng hiwaga
sa aking utak ito'y pumipigil, gumugulo,
di maipaliwanag ang mga
nakaukit na ala-alang
Nang minsa'y ikaw ay inibig sa tuwing natatanaw ang langit na kay
tamis pa sa mga chokolateng
paborito ****
kainin tuwing ika'y nalulungkot.
Sa mga araw na nagdaan.
Sa maghapong nakaabang pa
sa pag-iintayan sa jeep
Oo parati namang naghihintay
ang puso ko sa'yo.
Di ba?

Sa traffic na nanamanhid na ang paa sa kakaabang kung kailan o saan ito patutungo
Kung may patutunguhan
pa ba na maging tayo?
O Isa na lamang ba itong
guni-guni sa aking isip.
Alam kong paasa ako. Oo paasa ako.
Asang-asa ako sa'yo na parang tanga.
Oo inaamin ko Tanga ako!
tanga ako!
tanga na kung tanga.
Pasan ko na naman lahat.
Di ba?

Nagdurugong,
Tagos. Tagos na tagos pa sa aking pusong biniyak ng mga samu't saring bakit na lang hindi naging tayo?
O mas madali pa bang patayin na lang
ang mga pusong minsa'y nasugatan na
sa hindi makatulog na gabi.
Sa mga namamagang mata sa kaiiyak
Sa kakaisip kung mahal mo ako o
kung minahal mo ba talaga ako?
O may iba na bang
nagmamay-ari ng iyong puso?

Guni-guni, ako'y litong-lito
dahil parati ****
ginugulo ang araw-araw ko
Halos mabaliw na nga ako
sa kakaisip sa'yo eh
Hindi nga ba't heto ako,
baliw na baliw sa'yo.
Di ba?
Na baka sakaling mag milagro
ang kapalaran
Na baka balang araw
baka balang araw ay
kaya mo rin akong mahalin
gaya ng pagmamahal ko
sa'yo higit pa sa buhay ko.
Higit pa sa mga luhang ibinigay ko
Higit pa sa mga salitang binitawan ko ngayon.

Oo guni-guni
parati ka namang nandyan di ba?
bumabalik. Lahat na lang. Paulit-ulit.


Oo guni-guni ang hirap hirap **** matanggal
Sawang-sawa na ako sa'yo.
Pero ang tanong.
Hindi ka ba napapagod?
sana'y tirhan mo rin ako kahit konti.
Ayoko na,
tama na.
this is actually a spoken-word poem
I was inspired by this Spoken-word artist name: Juan Miguel Severo!!!
hanep lang ang mga works niya!!! tagos sa puso! chos! :)

(p.s. if i have my spare time i'll try to translate this in English but for me its so good in tagalog/tula)

jerelii
12.21.15
Copyright
Paul Hansford Jan 2016
Very early in the morning we were woken from our sleep,
We were going on safari, being driven in a jeep,
We went out before our breakfast, we went out before sunrise,
We went out before the sleep had fully vanished from our eyes.
We had to dress quite quickly, and we went out in a rush,
And after we'd been driving through miles and miles of bush
For an hour or two, I have to say - forgive the way I speak,
But the roads were very bumpy - I was dying for a leak.

The driver stopped the jeep and kindly offered us a drink,
But it might have been more kind if he had only paused to think;
We had seen a herd of elephants, some vultures in the sky,
Several wildebeest and zebra, a hyena passing by,
Giraffes, a pair of ostriches, a buffalo or two,
And we'd taken lots of photographs (well, that's what tourists do);
We had even seen some lions lazing underneath a tree,
But ... we hadn't seen a toilet ... and I really had to ***.

Beside a water-hole at last we found a pair of loos,
And I hurried to the gents', 'cos that's the one I have to use.
Yes, I went up to the gentlemen's, and pushed the door ajar,
But I didn't push it hard, and it didn't open far.
There was something in the way, you see. I did a double-take,
For it looked just like a tail, the last six inches of a snake.
I decided not to panic - I'm not that sort of bloke,
And it could have been a rubber one, left there for a joke -
So I pushed the door wide open, to be sure of no mistake,
And what should I clap eyes on but two yards of living snake!

I closed the door, quite firmly, and went to tell the guide,
"I was going to the loo, but then I found a snake inside."
He didn't quite believe me, but he went across to check.
- Not just a snake, a cobra! - "Gosh," I thought, and "Flipping Heck."
For the snake looked very supple, and the snake looked very strong,
And if it would uncurl itself, the snake looked very long,
And a cobra's bite is savage, and a cobra's bite is quick,
And if that snake had bitten me, I'd be feeling rather sick.
"It might even be a spitter, judging by the size,
"So don't you go too close, and please be careful of your eyes."
But I had to take a photograph, for that's what tourists do,
And, warily, I took a snap of the cobra in the loo.

The driver wrote a notice "Danger, Big Big Snake Inside",
And the lady with the first-aid box took out of it with pride
A strip of sticking plaster to stick it to the door,
To tell anyone who came, there was a cobra on the floor.
By now the snake was moving, it was climbing up the wall;
It hid behind the cistern, and could not be seen at all;
It came down again, and wrapped itself around the waste-pipe neatly,
Then slithered right inside the pan and disappeared completely.

Now I was on a mission to tell others what I'd seen,
But I was very conscious of the fact I'd Still Not Been!
So in that situation, though most times I wouldn't dare,
When I found the ladies' empty, I quickly popped in there.
I'd had a narrow squeak, but now (in every sense) relieved,
I had to write my story, which I hope will be believed,
For every word is gospel truth, I fully guarantee,
And it's even got a moral, which is very plain to see.

    (Moral)
If you ever see a man who's coming from the ladies' loos,
Please don't jump to conclusions, he might have a good excuse,
- "I went to spend a penny, for my need was quite intense,
"And I had to use the ladies' - there's a cobra in the gents'!"
The record of a true encounter, in Zimbabwe a few years ago, when things were less difficult.
Hal Loyd Denton Jan 2012
Thirst

Yes I know what it means to thirst I hiked across the mountains to a friend’s distant ranch one possible reason I didn’t just go down the road was when returning by jeep from the same ranch I ran into literally thousands of these little guys they were following a mating call I guess to the ladies they really looked fine but for me it was a little hair raising no pun intended as they say since they were hairy themselves if little fuzzy caterpillars come to mind I only wished that was the case I was going about thirty and they were crunching and flying up behind the jeep as I drove through their intended love fest. I suppose if the jeep had shuttered or died as the one did in the San Antonio River as the driver crossed the slab in the river while the water was rising and drowned out the carburetor and was carried so ignominiously down river. I don’t know maybe a thousand Tarantulas could carry a guy off that was why I was going across the mountain and they had the road to themselves.

First I miss calculated I thought after going past the San Antonio mission across the San Antonio river up the mountain that I would find water at the building that stood on the top nothing but an old abandoned corrugated shed. I had no intention of going back the hour or more getting to the top then the five or so miles and mountains aren’t smooth clear across up and down in the baking sun in that arid semi desert country when I finally looked from the top of the mountain down on the long road that led back to the ranch I was hot and dehydrated maybe those tarantulas were over rated I don’t think so well any way look a pond right next to the lane looks can be deceiving I finally crashed and banged my way down to the pond oh great dog days of summer **** to bad move over **** I buried my face in it and drank **** and a whole bunch of moss that was right under the water and it was hot I wasn’t complaining.

By now you know my interest isn’t in natural thirst I seriously doubt that any one is thirsty naturally speaking but we all are in a dry and thirsty land without spiritual water. It shows by the unhappiness expressed by so many they don’t get it the soul is not craving water of this world it is seeking the one who met the woman at the well so many women deride the bible when it speaks about man being the head nowhere is there more consideration giving to women than in the pages of holy writ to this woman he came see the water glistening as it spills from the clay jar inviting yes but multiply it a thousand times when he said if you drink of that water you will thirst again the water I offer will satisfy your deepest longings it is the highway that ends in joy forever more would you be foolish and take trinkets from a stranger when you are with the very fount that all things proceed from and have their being I promise you a river of living water that will never cease a spring that has started its over flowing this very day in your presence waters that are pure and will quench all thirst drink with abandonment he stands before you his words haven’t chaged.
"Soyez muette pour moi, Idole contemplative..."

I came home and found a lion in my living room
Rushed out on the fire escape screaming Lion! Lion!
Two stenographers pulled their brunnette hair and banged the window shut
I hurried home to Patterson and stayed two days

Called up old Reichian analyst
who'd kicked me out of therapy for smoking marijuana
'It's happened' I panted 'There's a Lion in my living room'
'I'm afraid any discussion would have no value' he hung up

I went to my old boyfriend we got drunk with his girlfriend
I kissed him and announced I had a lion with a mad gleam in my eye
We wound up fighting on the floor I bit his eyebrow he kicked me out
I ended up ******* in his jeep parked in the street moaning 'Lion.'

Found Joey my novelist friend and roared at him 'Lion!'
He looked at me interested and read me his spontaneous ignu high poetries
I listened for lions all I heard was Elephant Tiglon Hippogriff Unicorn
        Ants
But figured he really understood me when we made it in Ignaz Wisdom's
        bathroom.

But next day he sent me a leaf from his Smoky Mountain retreat
'I love you little Bo-Bo with your delicate golden lions
But there being no Self and No Bars therefore the Zoo of your dear Father
        hath no lion
You said your mother was mad don't expect me to produce the Monster for
        your Bridegroom.'

Confused dazed and exalted bethought me of real lion starved in his stink
        in Harlem
Opened the door the room was filled with the bomb blast of his anger
He roaring hungrily at the plaster walls but nobody could hear outside
        thru the window
My eye caught the edge of the red neighbor apartment building standing in
        deafening stillness
We gazed at each other his implacable yellow eye in the red halo of fur
Waxed rhuemy on my own but he stopped roaring and bared a fang
        greeting.
I turned my back and cooked broccoli for supper on an iron gas stove
boilt water and took a hot bath in the old tup under the sink board.

He didn't eat me, tho I regretted him starving in my presence.
Next week he wasted away a sick rug full of bones wheaten hair falling out
enraged and reddening eye as he lay aching huge hairy head on his paws
by the egg-crate bookcase filled up with thin volumes of Plato, & Buddha.

Sat by his side every night averting my eyes from his hungry motheaten
        face
stopped eating myself he got weaker and roared at night while I had
        nightmares
Eaten by lion in bookstore on Cosmic Campus, a lion myself starved by
        Professor Kandisky, dying in a lion's flophouse circus,
I woke up mornings the lion still added dying on the floor--'Terrible
        Presence!'I cried'Eat me or die!'

It got up that afternoon--walked to the door with its paw on the south wall to
        steady its trembling body
Let out a soul-rending creak from the bottomless roof of his mouth
thundering from my floor to heaven heavier than a volcano at night in
        Mexico
Pushed the door open and said in a gravelly voice "Not this time Baby--
        but I will be back again."

Lion that eats my mind now for a decade knowing only your hunger
Not the bliss of your satisfaction O roar of the universe how am I chosen
In this life I have heard your promise I am ready to die I have served
Your starved and ancient Presence O Lord I wait in my room at your
        Mercy.

                                        Paris, March 1958
Lorna Bradley Apr 2010
Clutch. Shift. First Gear,
My thoughts leave the atmosphere.
Clutch. Shift. Third Gear,
I'm getting out of here.
Bright red stars, screeching brakes,
Driving behind me is not always safe.
Jose Remillan May 2016
Sa tuwing hahapon ka't
Tanaw ng matá, paglao'y
Aagawin ng jeep palayo,
Paulit-ulit kong hinahanda
Ang kilometrong di man
Kalayuan, animo'y madalim
Na ulap pa ring lumulukob

Sa'king kaligiran. Hihintayin
Ka't papayapain, sa pagitan
Ng pangitain at pag-asa, na
Ilang ulit mang ulitin ang
Saglit na paglayo, walang
Makakahadlang, tayo ay

Sasagpang at kukubli sa lingid
Na daigdig upang maging
Mangingipon ng oras, ng rosas.
Ngayon: bagyo sa labas, unos sa
Loob. Sa tuwing hahapon ka't

Tanaw ng mata, paglao'y aagawin
Ng jeep palayo. Ngunit hindi ang
Puso, hindi ang pagsuyo.
Mariah Murphy May 2013
Nostalgia of flying into my dad’s arms when he arrived home,
Nostalgia of decorating the Christmas tree as a family,
Nostalgia of driving around my Barbie jeep,
Nostalgia of wearing my cat costume everywhere,
Nostalgia of being friends with everyone,
Nostalgia of being naïve,
Nostalgia of a healthy family,
Nostalgia of camping,
Nostalgia of pokemon cards,
Nostalgia of insecurity
Nostalgia of blindness of boys,
Nostalgia of playing dress up,
Nostalgia of being with my best friend,
Nostalgia of family get togethers,
Nostalgia of having hope for something better,
Nostalgia of not fighting,
Nostalgia of stress free mornings,
Nostalgia of that one family vacation,
Nostalgia of my innocence,
Nostalgia of those summer runs,
Nostalgia of rebellion nights with new friends,
Nostalgia of a healthier me,
Nostalgia of getting along,
Nostalgia of knowing what I want,
Nostalgia of time.
Let’s see where it goes from here.
Coop Lee Apr 2014
claude: battles tabletop.
reaches for maple syrup, into breakfast,
& breaks down puking.
the girlfriend/abortion situation.
the cash
& cream corn.
smells of deeper spring.
grandma & her bible.
to pray.
to eat lunch.
to television &
honey blunt the relief of a sunday night.

lily: into decay.
into dark days of her america.
detox: she breathes on vapor. sweet leaf.
sweats the heat & dead-dreams off. off on wavelengths &
resonance::: sound therapeutics,
at 528.111 hz,
enhanced dream frequency. she falls
into bliss. into
unopened codons & the rigor
of vibrational analog.
love cassette.

achilles: wheelchair-bound & boning
still. gripping ***.
the girl & couch.
the couch & modern warfare.
old warfare: harvest of limbs.
he crawls across the lawn to pick strawberries.
thumbs the dirt for entrance
to another world. smokes a jar
of roaches, as monument
to his second generation revival.
cool.

wallace: & the zebra jeep.
red rock monkeywrenched billboards & the ****** of flame upon milk factory.
chemical factory.
fertilizer bomb///return/
to town & grotto.
porch-light wood & breath of ****-rotation.
the babylon journeyman,
embroiled in plots against the order.
to simply disappear.
to portal away.
John Stevens Jul 2010
When Mom died in June of 1991 Dad was rather lost,
like the rest of us. I started writing little letters in
big print so he could read them. He would not talk on
the phone so this was the only way to make contact.
I found out later that he carried them around in his
bib overall pocket and pulled them out from time to time.
Occasionally they would get washed and when Sharon
let me know I would run off another copy and mail it.
It became a means for me to remember the past and help
Dad at the same time. My kids loved to hear stories of
when I was a kid so I would recycle the stories between
the kids and Dad. Now as I read them it is a reminder of
things that have become a little fuzzy over the years,
also a reminder that I need to fill in the gaps of the stories
and leave them for my kids before it is too late. So here it is,
such as it is, if you are interested.

=======================================

    Letter­s to Dad

    Nov. 14, 1991

    Dear Dad,
    Your grandkiddies, as you call them,
    send you a big hug from Idaho. Sara is
    five and in Kindergarten this year and
    doing very well. Kristen is in the forth
    grade and made the Honor Roll list the
    first quarter of the year. We are very
    proud of both of our girls.

    Do you remember when toward late
    afternoon you and I would get in the car
    and “Drive around the block” as you
    always said? We would go up to Cliff’s
    and go east for a mile then down past
    Cleo Mae house and on back home. I
    remember you would stop at the junk
    piles and I would find neat stuff, like
    wheels from old toys, that I could make
    into my toys. I think of those times often.
    It was very enjoyable.

    I will be writing to you in the BIG PRINT
    so you can read it easier.

    It is snowing lightly here today. Supposed
    to be nasty weather for a while.

    Bye for now.

    John

    ——————————————————–

    Dec. 3, 1991

    Dear Dad,

    Just a note to say we love you. I miss very
    much talking to Mom on the phone and
    having you play Red Wing on your harmonica.

    I remember quite often when I was very
    young, 4 or 5, and we would go out to the
    field to change the water or something.
    The sand burrs would be so thick and you
    would pick me up on your back. I would
    put my feet into your back pockets and
    away we would go.

    These are the things childhood memories
    are supposed to be made of. Kristen and
    Sara love to hear the stories about when I
    was a kid and what you and I did
    together. I try with them to build the
    memories that they can tell their kids.
    Thanks Dad for a good childhood.

    Bye for now.
    Kristen and Sara send you a kiss and a
    hug.

    Your son, John

    —————————————————–

    Jan. 12, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    We went to Oregon for Christmas and
    had very good traveling weather. Do you
    remember when you and Mom went with
    us once to Oregon at Christmas and
    there were apples still hanging on the
    tree by the Williams house? We made
    apple pie from the apples that you
    picked. Turned out to be pretty good pie.
    There weren’t any apple on the tree this
    year. I thought of you picking the apples
    and bringing them into the kitchen in
    your hat if I remember right.

    We have had some pretty good times
    together. I was thinking the other day
    about a picture that I took of you about
    12 years ago. It captured you as I will
    always remember you. If I can locate it in
    all the stuff, I would like to get it blown
    up and submit it to the art section at the
    Twin Falls County Fair this year.

    I hope this finds you feeling well. I love
    you Dad. Kristen and Sara send you a
    kiss and a hug.

    Oh yes, I would like for you and Tracy to
    sit down sometime and talk about when
    you were a kid and record it on tape. I
    would like to put your remembrances
    down on paper.

    Bye for now.

    Your son, John

    ———————————————————

    Feb. 11, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    Happy Valentine’s Day!!

    Spring is on the way and soon you will be
    85. Just a spring chicken, right? I hope I
    can get around as well as you do by the
    time I am 85.

    Thanks for the letter. I will keep it for a
    very long time. It is the first letter I have
    received from my Father in 48 years.

    Talked to Ed the other day. He said he
    talked to you on the phone and that you
    were wearing your hearing aids and
    glasses. Great! Mom would be proud of
    you.

    Talked to a guy last week who is
    president of the John Deer tractor group
    here. He invited me to bring my “M”
    John Deer to the County Fair and
    participate in the tractor pull contest.
    Might just do that.

    Well the page is filling up using these big
    letters but if it makes it easier to read it is
    worth it.

    Bye for now Dad, I love you. Pennye,
    Kristen and Sara send their love too.

    Your son, John
    —————————————————-
    April 13, 1992

    Dad

    Though the years have past and you are now
    85, you are still the same as when I was a
    child. The memories of going with you to the
    field, when you were “riding the ditch”,
    surveying in a lateral, loading up the turkeys
    in the old Ford truck and taking them to the
    “Hoppers” - is just as if it were yesterday. I
    think of you playing Red Wing on the harp. I
    remember when during the looong cold
    winters we would play checkers. You would
    always beat me. I learned to play a good game.

    Not much has changed except we are both
    much older now. The values you did not speak
    but lived out in front of me has helped make
    me what I am today. I pray that I will be a
    good example before my children to help them
    on their way through life.

    On your 85th birthday, I want to wish you a
    Happy Birthday and thank you for being my
    Father.

    Love
    John

    April 13, 1992

    ————————————————–

    June 10, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    I hope this finds you well. The Stevens
    family in Twin Falls Idaho is having a
    busy summer. Kristen just finished the
    fourth grade and was on the Honor Roll
    for the entire year. Sara will now be a
    big First Grader next year.

    The other day we went out to eat and
    Kristen had chicken and noodles. She
    said, “This tastes just like Grandma
    Nellie’s noodles.” I hope they can keep
    these memories fresh and remember all
    the good times we had back in Nebraska.
    It is difficult to accept that things have
    changed and will never be the same again.
    We miss the weekly phone calls to Nebraska.

    It is clouding up and we might get rain
    this week. It is very dry around here.
    Some of the canals will be cut off in July.

    Bye for now.

    Your Son John

    Love you Dad. I think of you often.

    —————————————————-

    June 22, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    Hope you had a good “HAPPY PAPPY”
    day. This note is to wish you a late
    “HAPPY PAPPY” day.

    I was thinking the other day about the
    times you would take me roller skating
    out at the fair ground on Sunday
    afternoons. I really enjoyed those times. I
    remember how you could give a little hop
    and skate backwards. For me staying on
    my feet was a challenge.

    Sara will be 6 years old June 29. Seems
    like yesterday when she was born. Time
    has a way of passing very quickly.

    Love you lots Dad. The family sends their
    love too.

    Bye for now.
    John

    —————————————————

    Aug. 11, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    Just a note to let you know that your
    Idaho family love you. It was good to talk
    to you for a minute or two the other day.
    I miss the harmonica playing you would
    do over the phone.

    We are all well even though the place
    was covered with smoke from all the
    forest fires last week. It got a little hard
    on the lungs at times but the smoke has
    moved on now. Probably went over
    Nebraska.

    Talked to brother Ed the other day. He
    had just returned from from Nebraska.
    Ed said you looked good for 85.

    Bye for now.

    John

    —————————————————–

    Sept. 10, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    I am sending a copy of what Mom sent
    me a few years ago of what she
    remembered about growing up. I wish I
    had more. How about sitting down with
    Tracy and Sharon and telling them some
    of the things you remember about
    growing up? They can record it and I will
    put it on paper. I would really like that.

    We are ok here in Idaho. Summer had
    disappeared and it is school time again.
    Kristen is in the 5th grade and Sara is in
    the 1st grade. The family went to the
    County Fair today for the second time.
    One day is enough for me.

    I think of you often and love you Dad.
    Thinking of the good times we had
    together while I was growing up always
    makes me happy. You and Mom raised
    four pretty good kids.
    God Bless you Dad. We love you from
    Idaho.

    Bye for now.

    John

    —————————————————–

    Oct. 11, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    We are fine out in Idaho. We are having
    beautiful fall weather. It has not frozen
    enough to get our tomato plants yet.

    Kristen and Sara are doing very well in
    school. They brought home their mid
    term report cards and are getting A’s
    and a B or two.

    Remember when we would go out in the
    corn field and pick the corn by hand? I
    would drive the tractor and you and Ed
    and Wayne picked the corn and threw it
    in the trailer. You guys kept warm from
    the work and I was freezing on the
    tractor. Before that we used the horses
    named Brownie and - was it Blackie?
    The one that kept getting out up north by
    the ditch was Brownie. He figured out
    how to open the gate.

    I remember the times that you were
    hauling cane or sorghum from the field
    east of Mercers and I would ride behind
    the wagon on my sled.

    I had a very good childhood really.
    Thanks for being my Dad.

    God Bless you Dad. We love you from
    Idaho.

    Bye for now.

    John

    ——————————————————-

    Nov. 10, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    It is snowy here and cold. I have a hole in
    the back of the house I must get sealed up
    to keep the cold out. We are redoing this
    part for the kitchen.

    Kristen and Sara made the Honor Roll
    this quarter in school. Kristen’s teacher
    said he wished he had a whole room full
    of Kristens to teach.

    Sorry the phone connection was so bad
    when I called the other day. It was good
    to here you say “hello hello….” any way.
    Glad you are feeling better.

    Your account in the credit union is about
    $34,000 now.

    I was just thinking back when we were
    cultivating corn with that “crazy wheel
    cultivator”. The one that you drove the
    tractor and I rode on the cultivator and
    used the foot pedals to steer it down the
    rows. I remember sometimes it cleaned
    out some of the corn row. Cultivator
    blight, right? It was kind of hard to keep
    straight. Those were the days.

    I keep remembering little bits of things
    while growing up. Sometime I will put
    them all together for my kids to read
    about the “good ole days”.

    God Bless you Dad. We love you from
    Idaho.

    Bye for now.

    John

    ————————————————
    Dec. 17, 1992

    Dear Dad,

    The snow has fallen and the kids stayed
    home from school today. The wind is now
    blowing so it will begin drifting the road
    shut. Besides that the whole family is sick
    with a cold.

    We are putting together a Christmas gift
    to you but it won’t be ready for
    Christmas. It is something that you can
    watch over and over if you want. So
    Merry Christmas for now.

    Last night was the kids’ school Christmas
    program. Kristen started playing the
    flute this fall and played with a group for
    the first time this week. She did very well
    and I got it on video.

    Time to get this in the mail. Love you
    Dad.
    Bye for now.

    Kristen and Sara send you a kiss and a
    hug.
    Your son, John

    ——————————————————

    Jan. 11, 1993

    Dear Dad,

    We have a lot of snow on the ground
    now. I was telling the family about the
    winter of 49 where the snow covered the
    door and you had to scoop the snow into
    the house to dig a tunnel out then haul
    the snow out through the tunnel. That
    was a 15 foot drift wasn’t it? It sure
    looked big to this 6 year old. Then the
    plane flew over the house for a few days
    until we could get out and signal an OK.
    Those were the days! What I do not
    remember is how you took care of the
    cows and stuff during this time. I
    remember being sick and Wayne took the
    horse and rode into Broadwater to get
    oranges and something else. The big
    white dog we had went along and was hit
    by a car. Wayne had to use a fence post
    to finish him off. I remember feeling very
    sad about the old dog.
    We haven’t had this much snow in 8
    years.

    I trust you are feeling well. Our prayers
    are with you all.
    Bye for now. Love you Dad
    The family send a BIG Hi!!!!

    Your son, John

    —————————————————-

    Feb. 9, 1993

    Dear Dad,

    When the kids go to bed they say “Tell us
    a story about when you were a kid on the
    farm”. So I tell them things that I write
    to you and a LOT that I don’t write to
    you. The other day going to school we
    were talking about one of the first snow
    falls we had this year. I spun the van
    around in circles in the parking lot and
    they thought that was GREAT fun. Then
    I told them about the time that their
    Grandpa cut some circles in the Kelly
    School yard and hit a pole with the back
    fender. Do you remember that? I
    remember Mom bringing it up every now
    and then. Then there was the time you
    got a little close to the guard posts along
    the highway just west of Broadwater and
    ripped the spare tire and bracket off the
    old Jeep. Of course none of US ever did
    anything like that. HA.

    It is good to remember back and tell the
    kids about the things we did “in the old
    days”. They find it hard to believe there
    was no TV and I walked through rattle
    snake country to go to the neighbors to
    play. It WAS a good time for me and I
    had a GOOD Dad to help me grow up.
    Thanks again Dad. You and Mom did a
    very good job on us four kids. Sometimes
    we don’t show it often enough but I for
    one thank you and LOVE you.

    Soon you will have another birthday.
    Before you know it you will be 90. I
    should be so lucky.

    I trust you are feeling well. Our prayers
    are with you all. Bye for now. Love you
    Dad
    The family send a BIG Hi!!!!

    Your son, John

    —————————————————–

    Mar. 9, 1993

    Dear Dad,
    Time has a way of disappearing so
    rapidly. I was going to write you a note
    two weeks ago and now here we are.

    It looks like spring is just about to arrive.
    I am ready for it. I’ll bet you are ready to
    get out side and do something. Do you
    miss not farming? I think often about the
    farm and the things we used to do. The
    kids always ask for stories about being on
    the farm. I tell them about raising a
    garden, rattlesnakes, floods, the BIG
    ONE in 49, anything that comes to mind.

    The family went to Sun Valley about 70
    miles north of here Sat. with Kristen’s
    Girl Scout troop for a day of ice skating.
    Pennye used the VCR and played back
    their falls and no falls. It reminded me of
    the times you would get your old clamp-
    on skates on a cut a figure on the ice. I
    never was very good at it. You could hop
    up and turn around. I couldn’t stay of
    my back side and head. I still have a big
    dent in the back of my head from the last
    time I tried. Nearly killed me. So much
    for that.

    Next month you will have another
    birthday. 86 years! Before you know it
    you will be 90.

    I paid your insurance for another year
    I trust you are feeling well. Our prayers
    are w
Meagan Wise Jun 2010
You took me again and I am so disgusted with you...
I can't believe the way you looked at my lips as if they were the sweetest thing you'd ever seen.
As if you hadn't had them before at your leisure.
And I couldn't decide if you ought to be smacked or rewarded for parting them so gently.
Yet before a decision could be made, you were already rewarding yourself.

I suppose I let you because your sighs were so honestly painful.
Maybe I let you because I could feel what she did to you in your breath that hit me so hard across my cheek.
Did I feel sorry for you?
Hell no. This wasn't a pity party. Both of us remember quite clearly who walked out.
I know what your capable of but I thought just maybe the ball was in my court?
If it was I certainly dropped it.
Attempted revenge, attempted.
Even if it worked, I surely don't think it would make me feel good.
You felt good though.
And isn't that all you need to know?
So you can build me up and let me go?

****, did I just let that slip? You should probably go home now. And do me a favor, if we ever see each other again...DO NOT let me speak. Thanks.
Jordan Frances Nov 2014
PTSD is not something you get over.
It is when soldiers get tired of hearing their own shots fire
Into a purple horizon of nothingness.
It is when assault victims are scared of becoming a statistic
And their brokenness is suffocating
It is when fear compels the mind to change
And it willingly obliges.
PTSD is when the darkness of human nature becomes evident
It is when it's stronghold is suddenly
More prominent than the beauty in the world
It's brash fingers create a vacuum
That ***** the sanity from your mind
Until you wake up in the middle of the night screaming
"Don't shoot me!"
"Don't **** her!"
You see him and now he is with your little sister
Taking her into his Jeep
While you stand there, watching
******* because you can do nothing about it.
This has not happened
And probably never will
But you are crippled by paralyzing bouts of anxiety and guilt and fear
From which your mind cannot console you
You can no longer hide the loss
That this event, this person, this illness
Has placed strategically within you.
It is when you will do anything to get these memories to stop playing on repeat
An endless loop maybe ended by alcohol
Check
Cutting
Check.
Promiscuity
Check
Anything that will eliminate cycle of not knowing
Of reliving
If only for a short time
Even pretending you believe in God
Because it makes it seem like there is a reason for this confusion
But then you begin to question why God would do this to his child
So you digress into darkness once again
Left feeling unsure.
PTSD is when you stop repressing memories
And they come back so forcefully that they knock you to the ground
Leaving you bruised and ******
Leaving you lost.
PTSD is different from other sicknesses
Because you do not feel sick
You feel there
Like you are in his bed again
And his room smells like mushrooms
That is actually a field of grenades
Waiting to explode throughout your small body
You remember the tone of his words
Slipping from his lips as though they are snakes
Strangling me, leaving breath unable to escape
This is not sick
As you feel no symptoms
But an altered state of consciousness
You do not even realize you are disconnecting as it happens
But this is Hell
This is war
You are broken
And the worst part about it
Is that you must understand your triggers
Your dissociations
Before you can get better.
George Andres Aug 2016
Isang babae ang sumakay sa V. Mapa
Maikli ang buhok at kayumanggi
Nakapulang T-shirt at maikling shorts
Tsinelas na plastic ay may takong

Ang jeep ay mahaba, bago at maingay
Balahaw nito ang malakas na tugtugin
Ang barker ay mala trenta maging ang driver
Kung umasta ay tinedyer

Ang musika ay hindi musika
'Pagkat hindi lahat ng sinulat ay babasahin
Ni musika ang lahat ng tugtugin
Hindi musika kundi basura

Ang babae ay sumabay sa saliw ng tugtog
Kumanta nang may emosyon
Walang hiyang ikinampay ang kamay
At winasiwas ang yapos na sako

Hindi pa siya nagbabayad
Malamang wala siyang pera
Hindi siguro iyon ang dahilan ng tawanan
Sa kanya'y marahil may kakulangan

Nawala ang nagwawalang kanta
At nanahimik rin ang aba
Tulala sa kawalan habang may minamantra
Bakit kaya kabisado niya ang kanta?

Kung mayroon mang makapagsasabi
Ano ang nasa isipan ng isang tao
Na hindi rin masasabi kung ano
Paanong ang pag-unawa'y matatamo?

Sila ba talaga ang wala sa katinuan?
Kung sila ang ating pinagtatawanan
Kung mga mata nila'y walang bahid
Pahid ng alinlangan at pagdududa

Naririnig din ba niya
Sigaw ng barker sa kalsada?
Nararamdaman din ba niya
Dampi ng tubig ulan

Naiisip niya kaya
Kung ano ang kinabukasan?
Nagmamadali rin ba siyang makauwi
Dahil may exam kinabukasan?

Bumaba siya sa harap ng arko
Tumalon at masayang nagsayaw sa gitna
Tinunton ang daan sa Teresa
Di namalayang nariyan na siya
Sa patutunguhan niya
8416
"It's coming on the end of August,
Another Summer's promise almost gone.
And I heard some wise man say,
That every dog should have his day.
He never mentioned that these dog days get so long."



"It's coming on the end of August,
Another Summer's promise almost gone.
And I heard some wise man say,
That every dog should have his day.
He never mentioned that these dog days get so long."


It was the end of summer, long long hot days maybe they would start fading, maybe the beach had something else in mind.

It had started out as a nice day.

Katlin's beauty was very noticeable, everyone that came in contact with her, felt drawn to her not only by her beauty but her persona, she loved people and people loved her. Her long blond hair flowed perfect around her shoulders, deep golden blue eyes made all men stop in their tracks. Although she had such beauty she had only one man in mind, and he called her princess.

Katlin saw the weather report it looked like bad weather was coming. She waited most of the day waiting and waiting for her love to get back.
And then....
The stars were blinking as she walked by
The landscape was loyal to her
Down in South Padre’s Island
Where they built their life of long ago...

In a way Dean, was glad of the surprised meeting he had with Katlin. Never expecting such a beauty would look at him and thanked his stars that she did. Their meeting per chance…him  looking at houses on the Island, she the realtor.  After dating for a while, he wished to move in with her, if she would only let him, her husband having passed away six months earlier.

Katlin was watching the weather report she realized they were going to have a bad storm . It was coming their way.
Startled by its ferocity, getting scared, she realized she couldn’t wait any longer. She started throwing things into the car keeping an eye, looking out for Dean.
It had been so long! Knowing if she lost him now she realized that it would break her heart.
The billowing wind was whistling past the palm trees, she had to hurry.
Walking on to their boat’s deck, she looked at the ocean and she couldn’t believe what she saw.
People were out surfing.
What was wrong with these people? With an urge welling in her to walk, she didn't want to get in that car. Maybe if she did walk Dean would be back soon… So walk she did
A new life was waiting for her
If only she would inhale
The tides of her life
A drug of a memory haunted her
Mirrored in pirouette
On South Padre Island
She was a Princess in His eyes
But everything felt strange


The wind was picking up, blowing the trees.
She was downright scared
As the sand hit the air it was thick with surf, she could feel it against her skin this cool evening. She knew she had to find her way back home. She knew that the wind now turning into a hurricane was headed her way. She had to get off this island. She wondered why she stayed so long on the beach.
As she was running, trying to find shelter she ran by the bathrooms near the beach… Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed her and pulled her inside. She gasped and was shocked when she  came face to face with a strange man. In fact, he scared her. She realized the man was around her age and the wind had weathered him. A closer look, his appearance was actually pleasing. His sandy blond hair and green eyes were piercing.
Though she felt uncomfortable, but couldn't take her eyes off of him.
Gasping still, he dropped his hands from her body and looked into her eyes.
"I hope you are alright, and please don't be scared." He told her in a gentle voice.
His voice was reassuring, calming her tattered nerves.
"I am fine but scared, we need to get to a better shelter, the hurricane is coming and we are not safe." Mustering courage, she did not have time for tears.
Katlin tried looking down the beach from the bathroom shelter, hoping to see Dave, knowing well that he was somewhere else safe.
She wondered where he could be. Why didn't he come, get her, so they could have left? She tried his cell phone, no answer. What was going on?
She turned around and saw the stranger staring at her. "Sorry I thought I would be able to get my phone to work. But it is no use."
The wind sounded like a banshee, the waves getting bigger, water splashing into the bathroom. Wanting to step out, the hands held her firmly by the arm.
"Where are you going? You do not have a chance out there." He yelled at her.
She yelled back, "We do not have a chance in here."
He wouldn't let go of her and pressed his body against hers… and then they were on the floor with his body on hers. When the water started getting deeper, he pulled her against the wall out of the water. She felt they didn't have a chance.
She realized his hands were not where they were supposed to be. She didn't hear the wind anymore and she didn't feel the water rising. All she felt was his hands and the look in his eyes. Was she going to die in this man's arms? A man she had no idea who he was?
It felt like hours, but his lips tasted so good and she was so scared and for some reason she felt safe. She wanted him, and she knew she wanted her.
For a moment, he stopped what he was doing and looked in her eyes and whispered in her ear, "I am sorry, but I need you, may I have you this last hour of our life?"
She couldn't help herself, if she lived another hour, she knew she wanted this man too. She nodded yes and whispered I want you too.
As the water rose so did their temperatures,  the heat between them becoming intense. Her mind going blank, as his hands explored her body. It was at that moment both knew they had reached where only they could, with spasms of desire flowing between them...
The heat brought them to another level, when the wind stopped, they stopped, looking at each other.
Total silence…the eye of the storm.
He stepped back and looked at her and murmured "I am so sorry, I feel like I was ****** you and that is not who I am."
Katlin gasped and let out a cry and started running. Ran out of the bathroom and ran some more.
Then she remembered her love once more.
Where was her love? She had a nasty feeling. She found her car. Nearly in tears, as she started driving away trying to get off the island and looking for Dean's Jeep at the same time.
Driving from one end of the island to the other in bumper to bumper traffic, her hands were shaking, the winds were picking up again, whipping everything. She saw things flying and she was scared.
She decided to get off the main road and drive towards the beach once again when she saw a jeep turned upside down. Nearly freezing with fear, pulled off the side of the road and ran to see who it was. It was raining again, raining so hard the wind was worse than ever. It kept pushing her back and sideways, finally after it seemed like an eternity she reached the jeep and saw Dean  upside down and he was bleeding.
Katlin screamed Dean's name. She tried pulling him out but could not budge him. Then before she knew it, there were other people there working trying to get him out. Then next, waves were crashing and the wind so violent…she was pushed with her head hitting the car fender. As she blacked out she remembered her love.
Death Was Here....
The Death that was coming was going to be no more.
The pain would be gone
This day
You must let go
Of all the things you
Own
You cannot hold fast
For the colors fade
And light is gone
The world
Itself
Will spin
And there will be another day
But this day is gone
Lives would be gone this day!

Dean was gone. With time elapsing, Katlin tried to forget that frightening day, the howling wind and the rain, but what she couldn't forget was the man she met for brief moments, in the bathroom, those moments that would haunt her.
Sitting at Dave’s graveside, Katlin felt someone staring. As she looked, in the distance under the yew tree saw the shadow of a man. The man she knew only briefly, a man she wanted to know more of. Had he saved her life?
Then he was gone...

Debbie Brooks 2014
Daisy Duke Danica Patrick dialogue

DANICA this is preposterous and an embarrassment to my career image

DAISY oh yeah ya think so

DANICA 1st off you’re simply a fictional character i’m a real live racecar driver 2nd you’re a hillbilly ***** who most likely had *** with both cousins Bo and Luke behind Uncle Jesse’s barn

DAISY who you calling a ***** you venomous ***** i did not have ****** relations with those boys (pause gaze averted)

DANICA bare-foot traipsing around Hazzard County dressed like a rural Dixie belle acting all ingénue

DAISY you ain’t got no manners woman were you raised in the south

DANICA Beloit Wisconsin then Roscoe Illinois for your bird-brained information

DAISY ya know in a vague way you owe me

DANICA owe you what you Appalachian Deliverance banjo ****

DAISY i was laying down rubber pedal to the metal gravel dust road in my ’74 yellow Plymouth Road Runner before you was ever born

DANICA what’s that supposed to mean granny i thought you drove a Jeep CJ-7

DAISY it means my fictional character put a seed in the mind’s eye i planted the thought of a female warrior on the racetrack you understand i trail blazed through Georgia back country all you are is just a graduated knock-off of me

DANICA you tawny scrawny pigeon-toed knock-kneed backwoods ****** wouldn’t know your *** from a hole in the ground behind the steering wheel of a Dallara chassis Honda engine open-wheel racecar and if you think i owe you then you must think i owe Janet Guthrie Lyn St. James Sarah Fisher also ***** you ***** *** rebel *****

DAISY girl you got a mouth on you bet you know how to use it in the dark i bet that’s how you got to where you are i know about those FMH pictures

DANICA what i beg your pardon i earned my stripes on the racetrack

DAISY on your knees with your mouth in the shape of 0

DANICA white trash redneck witch! i hate you

DAISY now Danica calm down remember to breath and remember i’m just a fictional character didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers so bad

DANICA all right ok maybe i was a little too hasty to judge and maybe we did just get off on the wrong foot you know Godaddy is looking for someone vintage yet lovely enduring like you

DAISY you’re sweet Danica but my acting days are done i think you look real pretty in electric lime green good luck at NASCAR but i think you do better at Indy that’s just my opinion

DANICA you just might be right Daisy i’m too independent can’t seem to get the hang of you bootlegging draft-racing good ole boys

DAISY amen
Hunter Beck Jul 2013
I once met a girl that made me feel as if we were the last humans on earth
we spent most of our days traveling to different coffee shops around the world
when we weren't sipping coffee from our mugs, we were blaring our favorite albums down the highway
I remember our old faded red jeep that we constantly had to stop to admire the views from around the world
as we stopped she would get out and snap different pictures and collect them for memories
after we climbed back into the vehicle and drove a few more hours down the road we took our final stop at a small coffee shop that was decorated with many flowers and plants
of course this was her favorite considering you never saw her without a small yet vivid yellow daisy stuck in her hair
this was the happiest I've ever seen her, with a huge white smile glued to her face as we walked out of the shop and took off in the jeep



a few miles down the road we came to a complete stop
this time it wasn't to take pictures or admire the view
I saw the yellow mug she had with her shattered on the ground
I saw the daisy flowing in the wind
and the front bumper of the jeep pushed inward with smoke flying out of the engine
I heard loud sirens rushing up behind me or maybe those were just in my head
my arms were ripped from the glass
my head was bashed and bruised making my vision blurred and clouded
I called out her name, over and over and over again
my voice shaky, timid, and flooded with fear



on the day of her funeral I sat for hours in the rain after everyone left
I finally told her how mesmerizing and beauteous she was
and how I had fallen deep in love with her along the journey
I got up, placing daisies and her most cherished yellow mug that I glued back together on top of her casket
and walked away
A country lane, which eats animals, earrings and experiences,
winds in spools around the oat-house and follows the broken wall.

My sister’s bottle green jeep made waves along the hedges,
she shook out her hairband and the conversations of the evening.

An owl asks on all sides, and would seem to answer himself as
the field barracuda, the vast wide eye for the minnow-mouse.

She put a pearl in the bushes, dangling spit-like,
an orb, a moon-berry, full and dead forever.
She drove faster, as the english night slowed down,
down by the where the willow covers the road sign.
She killed a badger,
as if they had both lost something here.

Sun-cooked,
crisp at the curling edges
he’s a dark patch, like a fixed pothole.
his bones tested her michelins in the morning
again, glassy eyed, stillened,
retroflective and blind to the shimmering shadow of flies
rising up through his skin like a spirit.

But both her ears are full.

— The End —