Please just RTFB.
This was a poem I wrote during a class and later finished it at home. I scrapped five pages prior to finding my voice, then wrote fourteen pages of this. It's epic poetry, totally original by me.
But it reads like stereo instructions! real men don't need instructions!
Ach! Get Back! Nosferatus! Keep the devil at bay. Holy water, garlic, silver crosses and swords- the templar will hack them down.
The priest comes out with the wooden cross and book- he looks scared, and gulps.
He has to give a sermon to the evil ones, who have gathered, not in any church, but a courtroom.
Actually, scratch that. It's my story and I can change whatever details I like.
Okay, this is from chapter one of something new. Now, 'Listen-Hear' to this !
He blesses them with holy water, "Aspergillis Domine, Exaudem honorem..."
The one, washes his face well and good in the holy water. He looks a bit like a Patrick Bateman. Queue Bael.
The Bael theme begins to Play. The freaky spider creature walks out onto this Man's mirror, where he has chopped some lines up for him and those two White Chicks. He could murder them, but no. Bael will make me invisible, if I fashion a Lamen of Gold and wear it in his honor.
Yea, Honor. He is a great king and his seal must be in Gold.
So, Vemibael, How's the Coke? He just Snorts. Thinks of an Elephant doing lines, and rearing up, and then trumpeting! Some water next... Ah, he remembers his past life as an Elephant. Clever lad, too. Yea, Great King. Keep up the Great Work. Next!
The Man clears his nostril, with a little bit of water, like a neti pot bit of action. Then, looking over his left shoulder at his brother, "Well, reentry is like this,"
He thinks. His Girlfriend, both their girlfriends. They all do a line each. Now everyone is zeutered. They are all coked to the gills. Oh, they're a family of Four. I mean, the four siblings. Two Queens, Two Kings... What's missing? Well, it really doesn't matter their familial ties, does it?
He goes back to looking in the mirror again for a moment. He is standing above it, gazing down, and the mirror is at his feet. He sees blue sky behind his head, and there is really no ceiling, only sky. The little white rocks that get lost in the shag carpets occasionally, or crushed underfoot like so much snow, are only infinitessimal clouds in an otherwise clear sky, or fill it.
Coke is snow and clouds...? Well, not Coca Cola, man. The Crystal business of the White Chicks. Now, that's something else. He makes a mental note about the color white, as his symbolism seems confused as the girls are distracting him with their conversation. His brother suddenly interjects. They do not usually speak such things aloud in mixed company.
It's a crowded but quiet room. A hush lies fallow over an undead audience. We return to the Church steps, recently washed in sterile urine. "We watched the lady scrubbing them" Thinks a nearby thrall. The Master directs their thoughts, more than cleverly, Slyly, oh more than that, even. Sinister fiends! Back! Ack! Shadowy hands reach out for him. He comes down the stairs, holding the book closely, to his chest. He is the Templar himself, and the King, the Master, protected by God. He fears nothing. The Shadows disperse at his approach. They are thrown back by a more than brilliant light. Even tissues of plant matter and even stone are disintegrated at the coming of his Auric sheath. They dispense with the formalities and pounce.
One of the shadows just found itself inside a bubble, where an illusion has been a moment before. The priest simply became invisible. The bubble aura folds up into blackness, generally speaking. A tiny golden-red light persists within, but it too is damped by the shield containing it. Pertaining to anti-matter, anti-gravity, and control of the EM spectrum, technologies of magic & meditation are required, so courses at his school teach them. His favorite subject was Jurisprudence. Basic to advanced courses in self-defense were also required study. He has an appreciable grasp of the concepts of MEST (Matter-Energy-Space-Time) and holds various degrees in Kendo, Kempo, Aikido, Ninpo, and Bushido. He is a master of the Five Rings, to boot. What an Ego on that guy! What a guy! Well, he is a super-genius, producer, and manager of Time, Pain & Money, as well. Lover of a thousand women, the man with a hundred brothers- he walks alone, wakes alone, works alone. He flies solo. His wife passed away three years ago. His father and mother were killed in a plane crash. All he has left is imagination. He watches television constantly, eats bacon and pretzels with beer, with egg in it. Likes waffles and long walks on the beach. Ahem. He's also a great liar- no, merely creative and imaginative, a fun and interesting guy. A storyteller, well read. Has a few curious hobbies, like reading, righting, sports, video games, travel, cooking, oh and Ghost & Demon hunting, as his primary occupation isn't just song & dance, but Exorcism. He has a goal.
The Priest walks right down the steps into the thick of them. The jeering throng. The Long awaited hustle. He punishes the foes on every side. It is like a video game. The Priest appears to have a huge defensive force above and around him. The Priest is wearing ordinary clothiing. He is also a cop, secretly, carrying gun and badge under his cloak and cowl- I mean, thats robe & ring. Sword & Shield. Whatever, He's also an undercover brother-lover with a long service record, or rap sheet. He's a double agent, no, make that triple agent! Quadruple! Quintuple! Big Zero!
While he is thinking about this, 'Rambone the CIA NINJA-Blade badass' destroying evil ninja like a samurai from Hell. Then the Ninja appears right in front of him, the one that jumped down from the wall, and ran up the alley behind him, spied around the corner to see what was happening. Where was this? Detroit. Then some dogs started barking, and a car alarm was going off right around the corner. There was some more mean sounds, like the Great Beast on a rampage, smashing cars... No... Jumping onto a car hood. Hoods. The Cop was giving chase, his keys jingling. No, he was fleeing in terror. He checked his keys, and his cap. There was a great beast-shape, like a huge shadow now, looming. It struck terror into him for a moment, then he stood and gazed at it in awe, feeling really no fear, but sleepy. Having lost the will to fight, the smaller ninja could creep in and liberate what was needed, the key, or the gun, or whatever. A moment later, the cop would realize something had happened, but not be able to tell you what it was. His gun and hat were still there, but his hand was stuck on his hat. That's strange. He could not make himself remove his hand from this hat. Grr!
A large muscular arm grabbed him by the face. A blade came out of nowhere and severed the giant arm. Actually, the muscular arm still held the cop, but, then it fell. Severed. The giant looked puzzled at the tiny person facing it. The Larger giant then smiled, the dark one.
The priest has this. There is a tire to the left of the small person, with a silvery wrench. There is a gear, with two wrenches, with a skull on the face of the Larger Gear. Then there are two smaller gears inside of that, just to the lower-right. The position of symbolism at this moment could be significant. It was a laser, perhaps. Probably like a laser-razor, or something like a light-saber. The Giant is brought under control. The severed arm, has been perfectly cauterized by the same strange energy, which must be atomic in nature. It is then reattached, when the cop will be released from the Thing- the Hand... or, that could not happen just yet. Someone is puzzled still, the cop. A question mark hangs over his head, like in the cartoon, the comic, or perhaps the thought-balloon, speech-balloon, or Video Game- Since we are thinking stealth action Ninja-Priest, or Vampire Hunter T, or something else. Detroit Rock City. School of Rock. Rock of Ages. Saint's & Sages. Saint & Knight. Knight-Light. Second Sight. The 'Nun of Satan' comes forward, and says a few words through her veil. "Do you need help" She asks. "No, we're fine." He says. The Other He yells. "Help!" Hey. The devil turns back to me, I tap him on the chin and he looks up to the heaven, the apex where God is supposedly found. He looks down, from two angels burning in a bath, to a boiling fountain, bubbling brother, tree of blood.
Now this is strange. A 'Center of Pestilence?" The stalwart pugilist, St. Pugnacius. Church of St. Pugnacious, and Loyola, and Mt. Hood. Carmel, or Caramel. The fat kid wants a Klondike bar. He will do anything. Kill anyone, for a Klondike bar.
The Giant drops the cop. and, now docile, turns obediently to face his new master. He is given the treat. Well, Mistress, we should say. The guy calls me, Doc. I think he means Dog. I think he knows something I don't. I Return to my skrying pool, or crystal gazing for another long moment, and glare at the reflection of my face. First, I think I have curly hair, am I Caliban? Do I resemble the Fallen Lucifer, or Demiurge, or Logos, or is it just the eyes? Nevermind! How did vanity become narcissism? Nevermind! He definitely does not want to talk. The two angels are absorbed into the First Fallen Club-Circuit. The Giant must be Nephillim, or perhaps, some secret group. "Who's feet are mightier than the barren stone?"
The Ninja, laughing inwardly, strolls out into the clearing, to check the car, after the man has gone back into the house. He sits there watching people practically every day. There is a park just across from a row of houses. We wonder, but we never really know if this stuff happens in reality, or what. Well, some of it is certain, but very little. It's easy to lose the thread, especially when you feel threatened, or actually lose something important to you, be it your wife, or your head, or even just your temper. One has to manage such things more efficiently in the future. No doubt.
The Whistlers all fall upon the giant, are riding it, like vultures on a tree. It takes fewer than Seven to hold the beast firmly, but it's punch, it's tremendous strong arm, is very powerful. Very powerful. This arm too is held fast, extended, the Great Beast here is perfectly under control. The Mistress locks the controls, as it were, with a slim bracelet, something like a silver chain, and the mechanism of the device, which is known only to the inner circle of the
Cult, I presuppose it. The giant is just the same man, again. Ordinary, Mortal, and back in the Hospital. The psyche ward, most likely. Once a One hath tasted The Madness, it never really goes away, does it?
He, Edgar Allen Poe, or whomever, is sitting there, clutching his head, his shaggy dark head of hair, in his hands. Syco-Skitzo, whatever. *Sniff* The dogs are sniffing around, near the floor. They found a hole in the earth, by the swampy area. One points it's paw. There is also a cave. The Cop is using his flashlight. He is dressed in a slicker, poncho, Earth-tones. The hounds are his own. He has a companion now. His second lieutenant jogs into join him at the sight, after he himself whistled loudly, a brisk jog, becomes a trot, canter, not full gallop... Just pace yourself. She kissed my ears, the sweet little pixie-fairy, but she smoked all these drugs, All the time. Snorted them too. This isn't good for a Cop, or a Military man, but she was his own child, his own mother, or sister, he loved her.
Now we are all confused. There was another gulp. This one could smell himself, like he was a reptile, tasting blood in his own mouth, not his own, surely. He really cared, too, mind you. He checked his gullet, his billet, what is that? What is this? Bullets and hypertext. Hacking the Divine. Unseely. Next page, new article. He goes home and reads the paper, especially the funny pages. Only reads half of one comic. The Caption, the headline, grabs his attention. He has to go to work. No more coffee or cereal. Good breakfast, dear. Kiss, kiss! She will take the kids to school then go shopping, He knows. Nothing could possibly be wrong or go wrong. No way, no how. Not in this line of duty. He stayed in school, went strait to college, then the military perhaps, then the police force? His family loves him, his wife and two kids. What a nice little home, a nice life they have together! His kids would never ever do anything Wrong. No way, no how. How perfect! Peachy, ain't it? Idyllic? I'm confused, right?
Back to the mental hospital, the patient, criminally insane, mind you, is in special prison confinement. This is hardly fun, but he's a dangerous, villainous madman, or at least suspected, or believed by some, to be this kind of evil, wicked, horrible, crazy person. Right? No. He is just sick, unwell, ill... The nurses suspect, he is actually the victim of a conspiracy, I think.
I sit across the aisle from and row behind behind the fat kid. I sit across from him in the auditorium, or the cafeteria, or the lecture hall, sometimes I sit up top and way behind him. My girlfriend comes in a sits next to me, as usual. I got there first and saved her seat. The Fatkid, yea he's the one they all picked on growing up throughout grade school and junior high, high school, and even now in college. Sure, he acts normal enough. He's strange though. He might like reading some pulp fiction, or masturbate to internet porn, or who knows, he could be a creepy stalker! Skies no limit for Fatkid speculation. Damn. Stereotyping- using both hands. Just kidding. Fatkid is one of my best friends. I always stuck up for him. Madman is my brother. He's alright. Not crazy or evil, either one of them. I should be a cop, nah, I'm just a normal, ordinary civilian. No military. No wife, or kids, not a real business man. Not even a ninja. Just imaginative and trying to create an interesting psychodrama. That's all.... Whew.... So... These creatures? Omagi, Nary a one is real. Go to sleep.