Ending Pending
REMINGTON GRAVES
Inclined was the cursory, of a stare opposed–contrived with constant echoing whilst fainting and bleeding as bending lyres behind you in Hades did wrought a dreamt-of your undoing
And those walls were soft–from the corridors that let the light in. Ever so soft and wet to the touch, adorned in the dark with roses weeping le sang de un poet: the tears of the bastard child chasing the perfect line; fingers dragging along, a pliable, silky smooth paneling, and from behind, she calls out
she calls out a name
endless…….nameless
she utters with desperation in her choking, drowning lungs
ahead the many headless statues maxims martyred one and all
to ward off witches to sing and to pleasantly enthrall
devoid of virtue and swarmed by roaches bearing lofty titles so banal
And past the catacombs
the scurrying that now spells home
the smell of dying roses the splendor of broken bones
the dreaming of the iron thrones of a sinking belle that rather die alone
On the way the Oculi twin occluded trembling with tenor, plucked harpsichord in wailing, and with the fall came the whim of the whilom–broken back and shivering scenarios of black and light –animus sumina
afflatus furtive banging a cold hammer against ice
sparking embers traces for the travelers atop horses long dead now but crying for the deicide
beating drums of revenants never once remembered
bruised behemoth haughty thence now harrowing
art thou the same that slayed the saints without a moment’s hesitation?
Almost out and through. In sight I saw the sun, I must confess, I uttered her name in return without a single pause and mortal reservation
ending…….pending
∞
War Commandments
REMINGTON GRAVES
“Hello, friend, have you got the time?” said a young fellow with dingy Dockers on and gripping his leather-bound bible under is starched long sleeve.
“It’s about a quarter past seven,” I said slouching on the bench and watching the water fountain that flowed in the middle of the mall.
“Thank you. I’m Moses, nice to meet you.”
“Sorry to hear that–my name is Ade.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Your name is Moses, you were named after a war criminal–amongst other things.”
“I was named after the Moses in the Bible, buddy.”
“Yes, I know.”
“He was a holy man.”
“I hate to ask what you consider an unholy man.”
“I don’t think–”
“Moses is the crazy character who laid down the Ten Commandments. By today’s standards, your pal would be considered guilty of horrendous war crimes.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Really? In the book of Numbers, the “lord” orders Moses to raise an army to attack Midian to punish the people there. He raises twelve-thousand soldiers fucked up the place proper, killed the kings and left with their victorious spoils.”
“Oh, that has happened all the time all over the world throughout history. It’s still happening today. Are you sure it’s in the Old Testament?”
“Positive. And that may be true, but you did call him a ‘holy man.'”
“Well, then…I’m sure there was a good reason. Besides that doesn’t seem so bad.”
“No? Your pall Moshe became furious with all who returned from the war and asked them, ‘Why have you kept all the women alive? Do ye not remember that it was the women who followed Balaam’s instructions and at Peor led the people to be unfaithful to the Lord. That was what brought the epidemic on the Lord’s people. So now kill every boy and kill every woman who has had sexual intercourse but keep alive for yourselves all the girls and all the women who are virgins.'”
“Listen, buddy, I gotta go,” he said perking up in his penny loafers.
“You gotta go, or you gotta go back into your little hole where you’re comfortable not knowing the truth about your faith?”
“That can’t be true. Where in the Bible does it say that?” he said with a challenging tone.
“Book of Numbers. Chapter thirty-something.”
“That seems like an isolated case, maybe. And Moses was a–”
“A holy man, I know. It may seem unreasonable to apply our modern standards to Moses, even though its okay to apply biblical standards to our lives today. In Biblical warfare, capturing of virgins and killing of male children was pretty typical.”
“Are you sure he didn’t do that a couple of times? Maybe it happens once.”
“Well, I’d have to question your sanity if you mean you give your buddy The Moshinator a pass if he only committed that atrocity once. What would you do if i took your virgin sister, killed your family and took your shit because you didn’t believe in what I believe. In reality, there are other instances: Judges, for example, chapter nineteen or twenty, I can’t recall. The Israeli soldiers were sent out by the assembly with orders to “Kill all the males and also every woman who is not a virgin. They returned with four-hundred virgins to give to the men of the tribe of Benjamin. That number came up short by half, mysteriously enough. The assembly gave the Benjaminites this advice: “Go and hide in the vineyards and watch. When the girls of Shiloh come out to dance during the feast, you come out of the vineyards. Each of you take a wife by force from among the girls.”
He tilted his head back in defeat and exhaled so profoundly that I could hear his pain, and I heard the unholy ghost leave him. The Bible fell to the side of the bench where we were perched and he didn’t seem to care. I was tempted to regret the hand I had in his apparent horror, but he asked for it. It made me wonder how I would feel if I was named after a killer and a rapist.
And we sat there quietly and still while staring at the water fountain as it flowed as the sound of children echoed inside the mall filling the place like a song of purity and innocence.
∞
Grey Wolves
REMINGTON GRAVES
It was a natural and endless barrage of blistering thoughts that nuanced at the natural order of the throes that followed; the heat rampaged at my cool exterior and infiltrated the throne room where wolves snarled with gleaming eyes in the dark, and then finally laid down in acquiescence; my hands quivered in the throbbing quiet of the calm; lips endured the sinking bite of jagged teeth; the heart palpitated frenzied and furious…
Out the window, I beheld a couple staring at each other under a blistering sun. Screams ensued and sulking followed. Sweaty countenances coincided splendidly. Their grubby garb left good hygiene and a paying job to be desired. And yet, in that tumultuous wrangle, I found myself covetous of their trivial tiff. With what ailments they contended, and passions no longer pretended, they crawled like creatures creating a world of chaos–unaffected by the man behind the shielding pane. I felt absurd as my designer watch reflected the sun in my eyes, reminding me of the blinding spell of the things we own and how they end up owning us.
After a few minutes, the swallowing madness–what I call my anxiety ( which if I don’t put in check, ends up becoming a terrible and crippling panic attack) waned before it waxed. Exhaling like a Hindu cow and inhaling like a slumbering sloth, I sagged in my seat and feigned composure. Standing up and honing in on the menu on the wall, I convinced myself that some new tea shit infusion was in vogue, hence must be good. Oh, the power of Capitalism, I thought as I snapped my neck to the right trying to crack it with no avail.
After a few pensive moments, I took another seat in a different part of the coffee shop, to avoid the scene outside no doubt, and pulled out my writing apparatus.
With a few sips of the trendy tea, I began to feel myself again…I felt planted on the ground and told myself that adulthood must be comfortable and free of danger–free of strife. That I didn’t sell out, I simply cashed in.
And right before a smile crept upon my face, a Sheriff came in and sat next to.
“How ya doin, guy?” He asked taking out his lap top with a smile. He gave me a goofy, glazed-eyed wink and sipped on his drink.
I felt my jaws tightening up and the grey wolf in me, with the rest of the pack, which I call my dispositions, stood up and closed in.
∞
Planet Of The Grapes
REMINGTON GRAVES
Sitting silently within the first three rows at the movie theatre makes me feel like a fly on a glaring, warm television screen; what a blessing it is that most people hate the front rows. I dig it quiet, which is why I usually go alone. The cellphone gets shut off and I surrender to the moment almost sanctimoniously–siddharthaing the shadows, slouching in the seat like a marbled David.
The motion picture consisted of talking apes and their revolt against the human race. The charismatic leader, blunt and terse, carefully chessed out his moves whilst wanting peace and tried terribly at mending a prior betrayal of said adversary.
Scripted with half-awake writers, no doubt, the story nevertheless unfolded with seething simians in the snowy mountains of pined-wherevers. The first few minutes are awarded to the consequential computer animation and then quickly stolen by the sublimity of the earth’s landscape in the background. Snow fell gently, gargantuan trees, cold grey-blue skies, and a moving film score by Michael Giacchino that inspired me deeply to throw away my music instruments. One could easily hear Ennio Morricone’s influence coming through in stereo–at other times–Danny Elfman, but also delivering something epic and heartrending.
I couldn’t help but to be engaged by the message at the core of the film begging for equality for all living things. Yes, it made me wonder what reaction the movie would have produced if the animals were cows or chickens instead of chimpanzees. Monkeys with machines guns truly painted the picture of nature’s need to retaliate against man’s constant abuse. Although, I highly doubt most people will see past the ethical implications, an excuse to get out of the heat is good enough to cool the otherwise babbling baboons, I suppose.
A little blonde girl stole part of the show with her wordless message: “we are one in the same.” She can’t speak as it is part of a disease that is wiping out the human race. And with gentle gestures, she showed her hairy cousins affection, compassion and finally–love.
The movie almost implies that the anthropoidal protagonist would sacrifice himself for the rest of his brethren, and he was willing–but he survives and it pleased me knowing he would live and not be a cliched martyr figure; for death is the ultimate abstinence and life, the great indulgence.
Watching an avalanche make a powerful appearance at the end of the picture as it crushed man underneath it with ease, broke many a tree, and roared in raving retribution, made me realize what a powerful force nature can be. And although I am my own god, an Itheist, I feel a profound reverence for the planet I call home.
This being my world, me–Adrian Vino, a truly a narcissistic deity, I also want to share it equally with the endless myriad of beautiful and eccentric creatures that make this spinning orb such a heavenly paradise.
∞