Walking to the good final piece

 When I leave to seek the good final piece.
I come across the swamp edge where illusive creatures hide.
Then I come to Jamelun lane where the dark fruits come december.
Dead dog ditch where vultures frequently visit.

Then to the forbidden bridge where homeless and drifters sleep.
On the sand they would doze off and some would be dragged off.
In a random rainless flashflood that accumulated from miles away.
Their bodies never found and their existence never noticed to begin with.

After that is the fruitful dead end where the giant mulberry continues flowering.
The infected papaya and pitanga where small monkeys stray above nighborhood cats.
Where spider webs the size of small houses cross entire back sections.
The exuberant acerola and the stunted starfruit.

Along that street is the two mongruels one friendly on bitter.
Then I walk westward passing the twin coconuts.
Up to the empty sections for sale.
That good final piece.

The skill

 Their thin feminine faces are from the knowing bones.
They have descended from tight skin, abilities honed.
They have the paleness and fine curly hair they linger and observe.

Powerful predatory women full of asassin fervor.

They can push through the complications and fickle weaknesses of men.
They fit through narrow gaps in destiny when they curve and bend.
Coming back and swinging their long blades gleefully.

They attack at speed dreamily.

Their clean spirits tranparent and glass like.
Their eyes are focused rifle sights.
Trigger clicks, blast rings, chamber explodes.

Hapless victim falls blood coloring the road.

The homecoming swagger

 when I come home I'll have something to prove
I'll be in that car everyone talks about on tour
When I come home I'll have the grace and the aura
People will line up in order to shake up my hand

I'll strut down the road like the latest in demand
Like the lord of the flies groomed and broomed
hatted and mattered, immune and attuned
I'll  saunter carelessly whistling my tune 

I'll flag down a limusine in my old village
And grant him the unbelievable privilege
Driving me inside the city as we cross it
I'll be in the height of local gossip

When i come home and pass through familiar streets
I'll see myself rejuvenated, my concerns depleted
I'll invent new expressions and slang for the filthy
Use razor sharp wit on those who think ill of me

I'll walk at the right angle and calm pace
Give the impression I never lose face

Will feed the world true ice

 Turning in the wind
Seven sails in the snow flurries

The fury of the blizzard
The sea has frozen over thus

thirst... thirst

The shore was full of dreams before water became ice
the fury of the blizzard

The shape of the rock way under 
large living shapes scrape their belly upon it

Easing their restlessness
at having no surface to breach any longer

The snow flurries join the whirlwinds
Flowing inside and outside of the coastal townships

The sky forming the scales of a cold serpent with seven gular folds
Crashing down through the blizzard

adding ice to ice layer upon layer

thirst ... thirst

Upon the land the thickness of the surface of ice will never crack
Never be penetrated and will form the glaciers 
The flags of the seven nations pierced through from sharp hail

Tomorrow might not see

Altan egressus inferni

He struggled over the rock pile before the cave, this is where Altan was ripped in half.
He dragged himself over the sharp rocks losing more of himself.
Deafening bellowing laughter burst through his ears.
A flock of dread birds passed over their cyclops eyes watching.
Looking downward upon him considering whether to dive.
He took a slice of heart inside a rag from the last demon he had slain.
Salted and iron flavor he downed it.

His body kicked into action, he dragged himself to the cave entrance.
Adrenaline overwhelmed him, he controlled his own bleeding.
He could hear hard heavy footsteps coming from the rock pile.
He knew the mindless giants would find him if he didn't get to cover.
Once a price of a district now an outcast a pariah on his own land.

He pulled himself into the darkness and pushed himself bloody and broken.
Through the myriads of caverns and crevices until he was no longer in hell.
He was searching for something another form of himself from somewhere unknown.
Not earth, not heaven or hell and certainly not purgatory.
He heard water within the voluminous dark he began to move urgently.

He slid and fell injuring himself several times before hitting the water.
Somewhere many meters below.
He forced himself under as if seeking his origins.
Human origins that were now disconnected from him, had been for eons.
Then he stood complete in the darkness.

His body whole, no longer ragged guts hanging out of half a man.
But the full man or entity he had dreamed of becoming for those million nights.
Those million days of toil and bloodshed above ground in Hell.
He stood healed and entire. His inner brightness shone and he was real.
He felt every cell in his body pulsate.

He was complete.
Open and desiring eternity.
Embracing the yearning to taste blood.
He would find earth from this forgotten place.
To recreate that sense of glory he once experienced before Hell.
When he was but an Akkadian lord in the state of Sumer.

Altan's wall

 The square house on the hill
Aligned to catch the last light line before night
It's grey and black walls point to an ancient austerity
To a will forgotten by humanity

The yellow dim lights flicker
radiating the appearance of gold on the concrete
The wall facing the valley below is broad and tall
A lizard grips into the small pores of the wall

The geometry of the cactus
Of the freshly cut conifers
Communicates something alien
Something dark descends quickly from dying red cloud

Shadow's darkness compounds
Something touches down from the sky
Something that spent a millenia escaping hell
Something that takes stock of the earth from Altan's wall

Cora gypsy

 I see you dangling legs off the abandoned building

From way up there you must know how to fly

You see the land below and choose the best spot

You will feed and you will vomit

I see you raise wing to acknowledge me

Drying out in the sun like washing on a line

Navigating the shade in the midst of midday

after celebrating the early morning fog

Walking on the ceiling at midnight

your head not far from the floor

The risk of kicking off

and being swallowed by the night sky

We dirty humans offer you a great feast of carrion and scrap

As the peasant a millenia ago

We have not evolved, yet you have

digesting hellish diseases on each carcass that you feed