The Adult

these little tadpoles swim and infest the community pool
and dry it up until nothings left except a valley of ligule
as the oldest sibling at the dinner table I’d ask to be rudely excused
it was so pitiful, it became a nightly ritual
for the bambinos with tomato sauce smiles and spaghetti noodle residuals
was enough to make me feverish with a hot head
and now, as I plow through fields of mop heads
their effluvium makes my survival instinct want to quit and drop dead
because I revive that night in my mind and suffer what the cop said
“How can you hate them? They’re so cute,” the bitch in uniform asked
I dreaded this moment, I had many in the past
where my listeners showed flabbergast when I’d attempt to remove masks
therefore, that night with the officer, I knew it would be a task
so I asked for my cigarettes, “I left them on the dash”

“I leered at it from a distance in disgust
its figure embossed against the skyline of citrus dusk
it emerged as the sole bearer of my human distrust
I observed it ’til it climbed back in its shell of trust
a mollusk it had become, and although I could not see
the rememberance of my younger brothers reminded me
of my hatred for this free prince in its chariot thinkin sly of me
I tried to be…content….but the adrenaline inside of me
had me sprinting towards a finish line I had not fathomed yet
I grabbed the mother, hands on each shoulder very passionate
flipped her like an acrobat, she soared back and cracked
her head on my boot, as I drop kicked her mid-air, like hacky sack
a sharp pain embraced my left shoulder
i began to face the case and stretch over
but I was smashed in my face by a perplexed boulder
I came to and I was on loose cement
and I noticed the man holding the female, a true gent
although heart warming, I had to finish the story
besides the kissing and hugging was gettin annoying
I leapt to my feet and pulled a tool out my pocket
my hammer with socket, loaded the nails began to cock it
thunder rolled, and families dispersed
two more claps rang out with sudden bursts
the giant king and his queen had met their defeat
lying there decapitated bleeding concrete on the street
I breathed heavily and focused on the prince under its veil of deciet
content, it licked it’s lollipop appearing so sweet
not a care, selfishness, a sorceror prince weilding its power
I snagged its sceptor, and tasted it….sour”

The Child

Who are these fathers of Gods, Titans with no beginning?
they smile at me with simple grinning
my head is spinning on a merry-go-round of faceless faces
I have a hatred that my heart embraces
the Gods who plague us keep us in their checkered spaces
herd us, and make us fat with nourishment of delectable graces
they outnumber us, 2 to 1, boasting with their strong legs
fill me with disgust as they carry us like raw eggs
I know there’s an ultimate plan, but they won’t let me know
For I’d rebel and hurl this pacifier if only I could let it go
For me, hope was lost for many moon sets
’til I met Him, the one who slayed my soubrette
listen as I tell the story, he might save you next
A’hem….
It was a normal day of slavery and getting fat
I trekked through a landscape of swingsets hoping to interact
but the crowd was slim, no one of interest on the jungle gym
so I climbed back into my mobile cage and cuddled in
my evil daemon, slinder with thin hair shot sun in my face
as she lifted the veil and buckled me in place
reached in with a colorful wand and allowed me to taste
these spells of earthly desires nothing could replace
I was filled with her magic, blinded in fantasy
my subconsious was pleading, “Why?! Why won’t you answer me?”
But I couldn’t, she was a skilled enchantress
against my will I wilt in trances
then BAM! BAM! BAM! I felt a boisterous shockwave engulf
shook my loft, and then I saw my soubrette perform a summersault
another burly figure although comforting in his stature
approached me as though nothing was the matter
pried the circular tool of seduction from my clasped palms
and walk away into the horizon with no crass qualms
He liberated me, and defeated the diabolist with ease
our savior, annointed Hercules, we will be free!

porcelain boy SOLDIER     by Coup d’état

If I never talked
I wouldn’t listen more
Cos I’m that fresh, frozen dialog
Of conversations unspoken
Between contention and sulfur heat

If I never listened
I wouldn’t listen, or be thirsty
Because I’m a rooster quit cold turkey
Deploy this tactic, can’t you see some static ?
Constituting emergencies on my path with
Dynamic planning, with fast bandwidth

I’d parkour wisdom on empire
Broadcasting reversals over tight rope
So, the less noise I make
The more I communicate this:
Body language like ghost shell
Illumines my snake pit,
pent up mostly, by screaming wholesale

What is it, but is what is
Sometimes when, on what consequences

Don’t you get it fool ?

I’m that Porcelain boy soldier, little atlas chin
Who Chariots a land rover, over his requiem
Riding cursed Frankenstein monster
First to herd Cyclops in past bad posture

Though, you will fail to understand this,

Because of Fair Trade Poppy Fields
Awful habit. Contrived little carcinogens
Dry Skittles eaten alive by his Rabbit Friend
Easter eggs: painted by China synthetics
Incubated puzzles cracked concave genetics

What ?

The True Story of Guacamahla    by glmullins

Since a chap I’ve been fond of ghost tales in front the camp fire
Keviyon in damp attire would tell us of a werewolf and a vampire
And a crumb of spirits and psychos mixed in with our jambalaya
But we’d gnaw our index finger raw when he’d talk of grumpy pirates
And as the fading flame bisected his crusty guise
And as children we’d polish the lethargy out of our rusty eyes
And we’d fight and strive to stay alive under the dusky skies
He’d begin to tell a local truth of a man, or was he…..lies
The aroma of Jack and Soma waltzed his tongue
And he’d begin to hum, the scariest interlude, to that song he sung:

“♫ ♪Guacamahla, was once a young boy just like you
Except his foot could fit in twice your shoes
His head grew like a pear where inside it bruised
Seven feet tall in the 4th grade, kids did not like this dude
And, for him, no matter the path it was always: ‘which plight to choose?’
He didn’t like the news, he didn’t like TV like I and Yous
He longed to be alone, to seclude as his height accrues
The children found him once, at church, behind the pews
What they did find amused, but only after the consternation bid its fine adieus
Grasping in each hand snakes dangled and writhed as he’d bite the twos
Their rattlers fought but had no more fight to use
And his handsome audience….shined….enthused
Their rifle finger tips fired shots at his eyes confused
And what they did not know then is that they’d light the fuse
That would spark him to hide for the rest of his days behind the schools
And sleep at night with shrews at the old snake farm down 3192
I met him once, fed him snakes and a dead baby likely 2
He promised that if I needed his help he’d come rightly through
But I should keep him informed of any children, with my snakebite kazoo ♪♫”

Then he’d play his frightful tune…..♩♩♪♫♪  ♩♩♪♫♪

The 3rd time I heard this story I jostled to my feet
Pointed my finger at Keviyon and said, “Kevin! Why do you lie to me?!”
“I can see that you’re drunk. I’ve heard this story too much.
Scaring my younger cousins makes you happy…you…you…stupid fuck!”

Just then, his eyeballs protruded and I felt a certain danger
As he appeared to leer with a mass of loathsome anger
The embers of the dying fire left a soft orange stain on his left side and darkness on his right
So when he clenched tight around my scrawny wrist, I could hardly risk flight
His dirty hand was a prisoner’s shackles that I could not escape
And when I realized my fate he dragged me to the edge of our fence near the gate
We trekked for no more than a minute or so through the dried swamp
Each limb in our path, Keviyon would break down and in the ground he would stomp
He sat me down near a dead thicket on a bed of fallen leaves
And began to play on his kazoo that song bereaved…
♩♩♪♫♪  ♩♩♪♫♪

His melody lulled by a crepitating in the near distance
And he stood meditating for a sheer instance
then abruptly touched me, gravitating persistence
I shot up, abashed myself…bewilderment…a mere hindrance

Who would’ve thunked the crackling of leaves could knock like subwoofer?
I was trembling in my shoes, but Keviyon was calm in his drunk stupor

He said, “C’mon Guacamahla! I done got you a kid!”
And out from behind a silhouette of leafless twigs
Ruptured a monstrosity…an animal…head could touch the rim
It’s powerful limbs showed a remembrance of the gym  
And its odor was of stunted brim
Slowly it approached me but Keviyon stood in front of him

Conscience had diluted his inebriety
and Keviyon was set to fight alongside of me

“Don’t worry Garry! I won’t let him hurt you!”

The overgrown humanoid animality took heed
A lion was trapped in its vocal chords, and so was a sheep
Especially when Keviyon jerked his blade out of its sheath
And pounced on the creature with no fear of its sharp teeth

I turned away…I ran…I sprinted…I got the fuck out of sight
Went to my room and over my head pulled the blanket so tight
The war continued in the background, but I knew nothing of the fight
And, all I remember is at dawn I witnessed Keviyon leaving on his bike

♩♩♪♫♪  ♩♩♪♫♪

*inspired by The Journey of the Magi by T.S. Eliot

Christmas     by glmullins

 
The scintillation of the luminary secluded in the ebon canvas
reminded us of Daniel and Micah’s unfulfilled answers
And we glared at each other through the fading under-filled lanterns
In agreement we nodded and expelled the hundred thin dancers

We tightened the sash of our tunics, the cold winter apron
because warmth was something of which the Persian night showed no bold indication
And although congealed with our old dispensation,
our superior caste allowed us the waters to flow information

So, we took to our mares, and they to us with great deportment
And bore tears of myrrh, bracelets of gold and crown adornment
that displayed our priesthood amidst the snow cloud a’stormin
But eventually the camels did gall and lie in the snow, down so dormant

Regrets came quick when the scimitar wind sliced at our wrists
We had to tighten our fist around the reins and fight to resist
the ebb of our lives that would lead to that light in abyss
But, then we discerned three trees and a shimmering light in the mist

The meyhane was laden with distrust and imprudence
A place where thirty men venture for silver amongst the confusion,
and dirty men quiver but as killers they once were carousing,
and then information dissolves in those cups of pollution

So, we escaped and continued on to arrive that evening with pride
For we evaded the millstone that would keep like a tide
of salt water from the sea or the brine
and arrive each night to compete for our time

Alas! We saw life peering from that manger
And realized the danger of death placed fear upon the stranger
of foreign lands that leered with a mass of loathsome anger
For the King had come to rectify to both the prodigal Emperor and the lonely granger

A rough draft of video has been made. Using clips downloaded from YouTube we put together a little video to display some ideas of what direction we want to go with the project. In the near future we will delve into a high quality project on this, with our own actors. But, for now, check it out!

Human Circuitry    by Coup d’état

 
My mind shattered into pieces and I fell on both knees crying
atop fallen shards of daggers, trenched omniscient and implying
knowledge of myself. Of my hurting, my lying, its cheating pendants
that’s all I seemed to do and I was exposed, under red fluorescents
a pungent reminder of the medicinal properties of karma
its chemicals and articulation, stitching my hearts fall

Lacerations etched a maze of blisters on my sunlit body
and I couldn’t feel them. I was euphoric from punishment probably
and I chased the high again and again, shooting up its ornate arrow
its feathers flared out of my existence, its tip a sharp soothing voice
of good company and shoestring comforts, coolly poised
it contracted a smile from me, amusing my lipid shackles
an inner Jackal laughing insipidly, choking on erratic crackles
it resonated throughout my circuitry of unabated servitude
just now tasting the fruit of my labor, fully ripe it knew

I heard one million battle cries at once, a collective of mankind
each different but the same, all reflective and confined
to eternal rest and affluent stings of angel tipped-kisses
their pasty bliss strangled by eloquence lipped in eclipses

I reached one arm up and held on for another first day
when the world felt correct and so thirsty someway
Or any other conviction of universal truth
So orderly and prescribed and very vital
to my own deception

I kissed my fingers, offering love to the master God
I was dismissed I figured, a windsurfer on a faster squad
all was not settled or clean, or as free. Or as simple as it seems
I realized I saw many things; remembering meaningful meanings…

I saw the distant churning and turning
of clumsy vultures circling and swerving
consistent random patterns in the sky
I knew then I was their fertile soil, once I die
I felt proportionally top heavy and thought
a map of redemption could find me and be caught
or be found if I swayed against them long enough
for more time to play my last card, a two of jaded hearts
desperations only hope, blindly bluffing a fools baited dart

I envisioned their hooks clamping down
on leathery flesh, blood damp brown
shampooed, conditioned into soft raw material
as imperial as the true color of eternal sun shine
I clenched my teeth, waiting for the interval pain to subside
waiting for the last call…

I closed my eyes

Some time after that, I painted all windows black
I was now the ship and my mind the bottle
my face long and my stare empty, soulless
two pupils larger than dinner plates
staring point blank at absolutely nothing
forcing every ounce of energy, moving my Queen of hearts
behind a stage curtain called Jupiter
wrapped in a moist membrane
of my ancestral past

And so I faced my Judgment over and over
chasing my own sins around and around again
but never quite getting anywhere beyond
the Saviors soothing hand, grabbing at straws
because the Devil was sort of behind him, pulling
but ahead now, controlling in a relative way
and while I fell into lucid dreams
and lost all to deceptive fantasy
he never spoke again with much words to say
content that I will suffer a life times worth

I was gone now
I will suffer the awkwardness
mostly because
I do not exist

Untitled    by Coup d’état

An Explorer sails past the Ocean wilderness
Westward burning, over blown with lip service
One vessel, one water ? Two questions of destiny
All running tests, condensing its true supremacy
The ship smuggles humans past civil climates
Stolen convicts disarm Negroes cast as pirates
Fitting slaves inside, under the summer solstice
Lambs for Lions, alive in a dumpster fortress
Upholding no European ordnance for the rest
Pass or fail test; nod yes or go protest

Five masts connect together a wooden haul
Selected against brothers in arms for it all
Riveted by iron and cunning, cut from a diamond
Built from something coming, by rupturing time in
Sailing a radius of romance, by gentlemen in hats
Anchored, dragging by mysterious bended flats
Fables are born. To end all, tell all Mosaic Rides
Kicked by able bodies of said Cinderella brides…

Captain’s Log:

I forget which I gave; as I am the hero guide
Out yonder, simply stitching waves of genocide
Some who show mercy deny me the beginning
All dying while I burn them alive with brimming
Most sink and swim over tides of rabid secession
The weak and thin are to die by candid selection
Ten thousand towed between Sexton chains
Rag dolls drowned in fifteen seconds per frame
A thousand rife in line, dragged to the Ocean floor
Empty space is worth more than I bought them for…

With a lighter load we pick up greater speed
Daring to go were our chariots bear us to lead
Fixed on our destination with mad money on it
West Indies abound dropping off salves in profit
Sailors behave zestfully in punch drunk love
Broken up wrestling, singing songs unsung of
They host ghostly images boastfully posted
As mostly imitating us as pistols go loaded
It’s commonly sequenced, legitimate are killings
Immediately guilt sets in for dumping the unwilling

Deception is labeled and sold in payment plans
Lost relics teach to racism, can you feel me man ?
The rest is like working a fan for brain pleasure
Learned as a ship traffics after two bland departures
Watching on par with it, sailing silently in secret
Though none can look and see the tiny leaflets
Most just wait to be sure and specific, and refit
On beaches with shards and leaches beneath it
Ancestors suddenly, humbly came in a dream
Wow, what wounded knee honestly now means …

Mr. Vinosity by glmullins

It will
Crystallize
And his sapphire veins
Will become lapidarian pine straw

Should he
Exercise
His tainted carpus
They will become amenable again

Un-strap
Neckties
The baron feels smug
No will to quarrel amongst jealous kings

He will
Disguise
The trail of mime eyes
With one brushstroke of polyester paint

Seasoned Vets by glmullins

 
Cannon balls set to catapult from their blast pack turtle shells.
The infantry stood firm; no concern for any hurt gazelles,
for they were built and bred of gladiatorial substance,
and a will to kill any antagonist’s obstruction.
They were outfitted with turtle-skin vest and snake-armor chaps,
eyes of apathy and desert bed skull caps for hard hats.
Behind their line trudged their fervent cavalry
of 12 thousand and 1 men on the tops of mustang saddle seats.
That front divided firmly by the silhouette of the reptiles’ backs.
Should the horsemen press any further they’d receive a shoot-back.
‘twas a turtle’s war and each hasty human knew that.
But one man—a mere shoeblack, barely adept to pull his own combat bootstrap—
trekked from the back through rivers of sumac
to deliver a message, ‘cause the homing pigeon ne’er flew back.
He traveled to the front where the prairie ended with a cliff,
and the gun smoke atmosphere was malignant with one whiff.
He remained hidden amidst the thick odorous soot,
as he stood but one inch taller than any foot-soldier’s boot.
The Chelonian warriors were a mountain range with summits hidden in the clouds.
They were pillars of excellence; the props for the proud.
The wind squeezed between their necks and made sounds that soughed.
Then, the diminutive braveheart opened his mouth and shouted out loud.
To vocalize that distinct sound was a mistake he’d regret,
as one faceless loggerhead took a large step.
The rest of them followed in unison next.
And the messenger fell back with his head to the deck.
The eruption from the back pack cannons was boisterous and sharp.
Only one shot was released from each; aimed across the ominous scarp.
The rebellious rabbits were of course their obvious mark,
but the spherical torpedoes descended from too high of an arc.
Like shrapnel the balls fell to the ground near their leathery feet,
and the shell-less intruder was crushed underneath.
If only the soldiers had heard his message so sweet
they would have known their enemies wished not to compete.