Death was not unfamilar to me. I'd killed my share of things classified as monsters. I wasn't complaining really, my job kept the humans safe. I just felt guilty, I was practically a monster myself. They call us Warriors of the night, we're not Vampires, we are born with extra strenght and a long life span. I was born a long time ago, I was raised to **** monsters that terrorize the human race. Since I was six, I'd been trained to ****. I was a killing machine, best of my kind. Yet somehow, even though what I do is considered an honor, I don't feel proud. I've been doing my job much to long, and lately I'd began getting sloppy with my work. God knows Rowan would be one ****** of boss if he heard about me letting the group of baby Werewolves. I wasn't a complete heartless ******* to **** a bunch of babies.
    I might've been two years ago, before the whole incident happened. I layed my head in my hands, I couldn't go there, not now. I needed a clear head. My small apartment in Master Singu's house was getting messy. I hadn't had time to clean lately with all of the monster attacks that had been popping up lately. Ghouls, Goblins, Oni, Ogre, you name it and it's been attacking. Wasn't much we could do with the Banshee, they were more of a signifier then a monster. A signifier of death, and usually they gave me a heads up if the person who's house it's been surrounding, is gonna die. Banshee were cruel looking creatures, never gotten to close to one, they make **** sure of that. Not sure I ever want to. They were ruled by the one and only, Death. And i will gladly stay as far from death as possible. Haven't heard too many good things about him. Death is one of the Four horsemen. Scariest ******* in the underworld, and I would gladly never meet any of deaths brothers or sisters, what ever the gender their welcome to stay away. There was a soft knock on my door, io glanced at the clock on the wall, it was already three. Warriors worked night shift basically, since thats the time most monsters like to come out.
    The victorian styled door was a black cherry carved wood, with a ancient symbols carved in so no evil spirit couls cross into my apartment, so I wasnt worried any monster was at my door. But I was suprised to see Cameron when I opened the door. Cameron and I used to work the nights together until he'd gone off and gotten married to Sylvia, who was a vampire. Vampires were only considered monsters when they didnt follow the rules. No feeding off of unwilling people, only donors, and they couldnt go around killing people. Their biggest rule though was not to tell any human what they were, Warriors like me had a lot of people to execute.
   "Cameron, never thought I'd see you around here anymore," just as I was talking to him I realized, Cameron looked scared and desperate. Unlike someone who spent his life killing evil monsters that were twice the size of him. " What's wrong Cameron?" He shook his head and walked past me, through the door and into the living room. "It's Sylvia, Theon please help me," Camerons voice was going all thick and his eye's all watery. This was deffinetly something bad. " Tell me, what has happened with Sylvia?" I needed Cameron in his most focused form to help me out, but as I looked at the shaking man I knew he was beyond that. " You remember the king vampire we took down to save Sylvia?" Cameron said quitely, but I knew instantly what vampire he was talking about. That vampire had killed Abelia. I quickly swept that from my mind and focused back on Cameron. " Yes I remember, "  I had no idea where Cameron was going with this. " You remember his brother than, the one that got away, he said that we would both pay. He, ah, made you pay that day. I never thought that he would carry out with his threat. He kidnapped Sylvia, and Sylvia is pregnant, " Cameron almost lost it right there.
    I never thought that, pip squeak of a vampire had it in him, but he was smart and possesed powers we hadn't known about until we had come across them. Their king that we had slayed, had been capturing girls of all species and abusing them in such barbaric ways.
We had to put an end to his affairs, and we did but his brother wasn't too happy about it. He'd done one of his tricks and manifested behind Abelia and snapped her neck. Everything for me had stopped, all I could hear was the blood in my veins. I didn't breath, I could still remember the deafining roar I had unleashed as my monster had gripped me, took the reins and killed all of the mans servants.
Blood had bathed the walls that night, not even the crickets dared to sing. The sun rose late that morning, and I sat inside this very apartment, on that very couch, and cried. For the very first time, I had cried until my eye's swelled shut, until my throat could bare no more. Until I passed out.
    "We'll get them back Cameron, don't worry. For now get some rest, we'll start investigating later tonight, I have meeting to attend," I was going to **** that ******* when I found him. He had taken my only love from me, and he would pay this time, I would make that absoultely certain. Cameron nodded and headed for the door. It was a long way back to his house, and he crossed quite a few bridges. I didn't want him making any bad decisions, " Cameron you can crash here, I have a guest room your welcome here man," I say casually so he doesn't get all prideful. He stops and looks at me for a moment then nods " Yeah, thanks man, and also thank you for agreeing to help me on this I know it's a bit of a touchy subject for you, just know i appreciate it." He made his way down the hall, I listened for the soft click of the door shuting before i went to leave.
    I grabbed my coat, and the keys to my Ducatti and ducked out the door. The hallway was long and at the end of it was two flights of srairs, I lived on the third floor. My motorcycle was parked right were I left it, it was a beauty. Black and red sleek metal and nice leather seats. I loved the bike so much I had named her Racer. I loved to drive fast, and so did she. I tore off out of the parking lot and listened to the purr of her engine on the way to Rowan's , my boss, office. It wasnt to far, but I wasn't in a rush either so i took the long road just to stall. I knew Rowan planned on giving me a partner. Probably some ****** that didnt know his way around a swiss army blade, let alone a sword. Warriors didnt use guns unless absoultely necessary. I loved the feel of my sword slicing through the air. I didn't, however, enjoy the noisy bang of a gun. A sword was like another limb, you have to trust it to take you were you need to go.
    Rowan's office light was on, and I could make out the form of three bodies. Great, I knew it, Rowan was going to assign me a partner.
I hated partners, the only one I'd ever slightly enjoyed had been Cameron. I got off my bike, patted the seat for good luck, and made my way into Rowans office. When I pulled open the door I was ready to yell at Rowan for even thinking of giving me a partner, instead i dropped my hand off the doorknob. " *******," was all I coluld say. I was stunned to silence.

My Father: I Never Promised You a Rose Garden!
My Mother: Well I Never expected a thorn bush either!

I always thought it was quite funny
I remember this on sunny days
when my parents were driving my Father would ask my Mother if anything was coming from the other direction and he'd say:
"Is it okay George?
And my mother would say:
"Okay, Hit it Henry!!!"...I still have no real idea why...I remember and I sigh...
as a twinge of sadness comes sneaking in.

There were certain people that my Father did not care for and he would say they were snobs ..."****** intellectuals"... as a child I got confused by that but now it makes perfect sense....it was said without pretense.
I had to figure it out.

Without a doubt...
I have many fond memories of my family...especially my Dad, who really sacrificed more than anyone I've ever known
who sowed every seed he'd ever sewn
Raised 4 kids till they were grown
all the fading memories that I blindly used to perceive as bad...
have now melted into the Beautiful
They are now the things that endear me to them... as I remember...they make me smile for a little while.

My Father has passed now some five years... was born a simple man of simple means...
times for him or more than just a little lean
Shoes three sizes way to big
stuffed toes with old newspapers
a dresser drawer....fashioned Sisters crib
He was a Phoenix rising from those ashes
And he was never out of fashion...
a Master Carpenter... a builder of my dreams...
raising beams
dressed in denim bib overalls and a white T-shirt...a red, white and black bandana in his pocket to wipe his sweating brow

And now....ever since the day he died
I have tried...but my Mother and I now have this distant love
so I know he's still guiding me, and us from far above
I never would have made it this far
way too many scars...
It's a strange feeling to feel so very alone
feel like I have no real home
in the world...
I am a caretaker of an apartment....

I feel he would have done
anything for me  
he would never let me see...
such awful things
and be
down in such lonesome places
with strangers, such unfamilar faces
Or so I used to think

I've been at the very brink
Now I understand he wanted me to know
to struggle for my life and so I would grow
as even a thornbush would...
It taught me to be humble even when I couldn't walk
to listen and not to talk
even though I have my children, my progeny...
If sometimes I still can feel so very alone...
so no matter where my Gypsy heart roams
I carry those memories with me they are my church in the day...and in the night
I remember his final words
and I know.... it'll be alright
He taught me how to fight
and I am fighting beside him now...

I am carrying out his final wishes
I cook them in my famous dishes
My Father absolutely enjoyed the sharing of food...
Always was in the mood for something delicious...
So I sprinkle
them with his way
the things he'd often say
with his stoic compassion,
an understanding heart, so kind
I try to share his brilliant mind...
I am thankful that he wanted me and made certain I was here
His memory to me so dear...
with him I have no fear
Thank you Father
Thank you Daddy...
Love you Ma Cherie....

Cherie Nolan © 2016

They trade glances as they sway like leafs In
The wind holding on till time to let go.

Wavering In gentle hints of glimpses seen.
The voice comes over  as like a leaf falling
He descends to the door then leaves.

There is no longing look backwards as they
Are but drifters in motion going home.

To the boys who just want to touch me
You must know that I am not a momentary happiness type of person
Overthinking is my forté
My name is not chastity
Nor is it easy rather
Difficult and complicated
Hard to crack open
There is no sweet center waiting to be divulged
I am more like the sun
A ball of pure fire that burns at the touch
Anxious at the thought of unfamilar palms and fingertips
Meant to be admired from a distance
I will warn you not to get close to me
For magnets swim in my blood
And I cling to no extent
I am
Surrounded by a force field
I do not let down my guard
So if you want to touch me
You must first
Learn to love me.

you awaken in an unfamilar place
it's smells of bleach & latex
where are you?
you see your family
surrounding a bed
with a girl whose body has taken refuge on
she looks weak
her skin is pale
why does she look so familar?
your mother has her head in her hands
she can't stop crying & whispering, "it's my fault."
you try to comfort her, but you seem to go right through her
nobody seems to notice you
your dad sits alone
across the room from your mother
they don't comfort each other
they never loved each other
a doctor comes inside the room
your parents stand up & rush over to him
he says it was too late to save her
too late to flush out the pills
she was already gone
that's when it hits you,
hard.
the girl isn't a familar face, shes you
you couldn't take it, you finished the bottle
& you said you had no regrets.
you try to take it all back
but darling, it's far too late

you're already gone.
a.c.

you always come home with this armor
like your hiding this great big jug of happiness in there.
is this image of her a one sided mirror?
or her bed time clothings reflection?
cutting out the curves, leaving only the armor

and these shaking words
'explain yourself! your eyes
are dull they must
glimmer for someone else!'

you are a shell within a shell
a self-sufficient snail
judging by the oxygen packs
strapped on your back
you're too good for this pollution
turning her lungs a midnight black

and you wear it well
a chest with no heartbeats
only clicks and beeps
absent minded
messages home
to the mothership

but she can see through you,
'just be gone like a demon
back to Nibiru.
circle the sun. your path
now altered in degrees.
but from your caustic debris,
your persisting memory,
still orbits me as a moon,
making me drunk and dizzy.
so still i must insist you leave me.'

and so you do
with your jug of happiness
successfully guarded
still intact
you are a fortress
a dam holding back
the ravenous waters
you cant share
with the indigenous people
here
your head floating
up in the
atmosphere
an unfamilar creature
safe inside the walls
of your space suit armor.

He searches the crowd.
Scanning the familar faces
and
the unfamilar faces.
But alas he cant find what he is looking for.

Maybe the one he wants is lost in the ocean of faces.
Hidden amongest all the smiles and scowls.
Maybe he has gone under drowned by the laughs and sidetalks.
or
maybe he never took the plunge.
Not able to dive in.

And the one who searches
is wasting his time.
Scanning the familar faces
and
the unfamilar faces.
Just wasting his time.

Friends one with whom I shared a drink.
Are now ghosts  who haunt my heart dear.
Most left to find that which in life they did thirst.

But with seasons  I did remain like some old pillar unable to
move.
Feet planted  tears caressing a bitter face hiding
the fact that  goodbye had come all to soon.

Cards underneath my door.
Unfamilar faces make me question do I exist anymore.

Old passions destroy new flames.
Nights alone cast shadows.
You find more comfort in dreams  

The whiskey that burns is all that reminds.
You haunt this body  like a vacant building  
most seem to ignore  as  they pass its once warm  
structure.

My soul knows midnight my heart emersed in the
agony of truth.
We yern for warmth in the comfort of pain.

Memories are like scars  a prison of the mind.
Greetings from outskirts.
For I am the at home with the left behind.

Like a character in a novle ment to entertain  im
lost in the back pages of life.
But if you ever question  just turn back in reflection.
For they may have fled but im sill here.

I dream of green isles
Across oceans vast and tumultuous
Of stark cliffs and pastures disordered
I dream of a land unfamiliar and strange
Of hobbit holes and twisted trees
Of desolate cruelty and quiet peace
Of frozen rivers and stark plains
I dream of a land I had known well as a child
For its pages I travelled through
In pursuit of dragon gold and mithril steal
I dreamt of such a land,  I imagined myself sword in hand
I trodded beside dwarven armies
I confronted a dragon gilded in gold,
My heart bled across crumbled pages,
I wept bitterly for friends lost.
I dreamt of a land unfamiliar and strange,
Yet within, I found a home.

small but fierce
comes to mind

three feet and a bit
of restless energy

hair so blonde and fine
it resembles spun cotton

eyes deep blue

and a mouth that moves
non-stop, with questions,
observations and affirmations

the thinness of her is that
that happens with a growth spurt

she walks trippingly, the line
between grace and gawkiness

she brings with her curiousity,
positivity and  a huge bouquet
of daisy's

my heart leaps, when she smiles
this little bit of strangeness

so used to the male child
the feminine is unfamilar

the small arms encircle me
and squeeze love into my soul

and the laughter, that tinkles
from her lips lights up the room

she is come, she is come

At five oclock Calnorifian time, they switched off the beacon,
setting the mercury  into descent.
If San Francisco bridge was nye
how many tired and toiling poets would have jumped ?
Instead they muse elsewhere
resurrecting  their craft.
Jaded I can also taste the Whiskey
hum and rattle in places unfamilar
the sufferability no longer artistic;
Friends among us the dearly departed

I'll never forget the nights of unfamilar feelings of heartbreak,
I was so young & hurt
3am I'd call you
You came & sat on my porch with me while it poured down rain
I cried
But you made me smile
I should have known then,
You were always there

There were days when I'd come home
And just as I've always known,
My mother would be breaking her teeth on ***** bottles
Lying on the floor
I'd call you
We'd go for a ride
Suddenly, everything was alright
I should have known then,
You were always there

That was just the beginning
You were my best friend,
And now I'm in love with you
I should have known then,
You were always there,
You were always the one

Sand through
Fingers
Finding
It all
Gone
Away,
Back to
The Sea
With
The West Wind.

Eyes opening-
Murky waters
Drowning out
Clear sight.

Before it
Was my
Dreamscape.

Droplets
Clear and
Showering,
Building up
To new
Heights.

Unfamilar,
A new flame.

This shadow
Replays
Night
After
Night.

It vanishes
With time
Only
To call
Me
Near again.

He's standing over
You,
Offering a kiss
As you leave
The room,
Rings falling
Upon a
Wooden
Tabletop.

"It's just a vision,"
You tell yourself
As you
Lay fully alert,
Sending
Words
Honestly
Wrote.

It's dangerous,
Stay away-
But he keeps
Watching you,
Calling you
Back into his arms.

The silence
Soothes you
To sleep.

Now on
Never-ending,
Repeat.

It's just
A
Dreamscape.

I should
Stop thinking
And sleep.

Now or
Never.

Which is better?

FOR THE RIGHT MOMENT

time, standing still; stealth laid bare, ours only to pacify
out of a split second we, kept in a trance, we
watch her pose, turn, stare back into the camera's eye

offered up she, with a look, her face  iridescence reflected
she, one eyed; Rita Hayworth, hair lost in skew
similar unfamilar, red-dressed silhouette, mirage detected

within a non shadow, filtering exposed, camera's focus explained
by the trick of light, she stays unfazed, to our dilema
she is poised; in a pantomime-as the mystery of; remains

displayed in negative rolls of film; to mock more the light
we are held in captivity, where she holds her court
into; out of body, precise is she, left anon in black on white

her face like an angel, or a devil in disguise
coyed in voyueristic servitude, our hands are tied
if we believe in truth,  willing to succumb to the lie

as we continue to watch; caught up in the freeze frame
with no where left to hide, she like a whisp, ghost like using
no words, not a sound, just sans a smile, in which to blame

waiting for the right moment, unattainable, in voices un-evolved
she stays defiant, steeley eyed in temptation, diligent, her essence
not revealed; she remains, whole- hearted to break our resolve  


By Michael Perry