Freedom

 His name was Freedom and he began to walk out of the building, a wooden man now alive and full of energy and thought and the occasional compliment. His steps were lanky and rough but after about 2 minutes they were determined and loosened and creative yet inept. “I must get back home,” he thought, and he was ready for the walk to the land of his people, the land where he was chief and loved. His face was still wooden however and it had a deadpan expression, an expression of journey and of soul and of forgiveness and a face of the land which created him. He has to warn his people of the disaster that the Europeans’ bring in the form of blankets which contain smallpox and virus and disease. Freedom had a long way to go before reaching his tribe. He remembers his days as a trader, trading tobacco and sage and eating peyote for the spiritual rites of his religion. He would hand younger tribes folk mushrooms and what we know as “mescaline” and they would journey in the forest and envision a land where everything was equal. Shaman. The fish in the stream, holy, the dirt on the ground and the flowers on the trees, sacred, and looking up in the sky, which was created in the beginning of time, as their evolution began and they would look up and think how their ancestors looked up right into this sky and prayed and it was the same sky and stars and peacefulness that they looked at centuries ago. Keep the faith alive through drumming and chants and ensuring the women of the land were safe, even after their husbands may perish in war and disease, they would still be taken care of and treated with fertile respect and love. Family. Freedom was the creator and he allowed his people to enjoy themselves in dance and ritual to acknowledge the past and fallen and be appreciative of the land which gave birth to them. The tribe does not care about the woes of today, they care about the ritual which has been passed down from generation to generation and conceived by their people ever so long ago. Freedom progresses freedom and belief and values for a younger generation to be instilled upon and remember and finally, to speak like a story when they are older and they have little tribesmen of their own to keep the heritage alive and speak kindly of birth and land and the spiritual journey in which began life. Freedom knew about quests, he was finally free from the restrictions of wood and people glancing at him every day in thought and in laughter. Look at the big Indian, splattered high school children as they walked by. Freedom stood his ground. He set up camp somewhere in a marshland and did not have a compass, nor food, no real direction, only the spirits guiding him through the forests, back to his land. He slept for about two hours and it was still dark so he woke up and continued forward. He eyes were beginning to crack open yet he could see as clear as the day in the nighttime fog and he heard bears running up mountaintops away from hunters and friends of hunters hunting for blood just to say that they hunted. A bear shot down and Freedom had tears in his eyes. Smiles on the hunter’s faces as they checked the teeth and paws and claws and, with a rifle under their arm, went back to hunt some more. They left the bear behind as well as a hunting knife so Freedom saw this as opportunity. He skinned the bear and wore the skin as a headdress and started a fire and ate the flesh and thought about the hunter’s laughter. He didn’t eat the flesh, but rather danced over it so it could maintain eternal life. The bear perished into the soil the next day and Freedom was warm from the pelt he dissected. Now remember, this is a time before Wayne Newton and Tori Amos, where Freedom walked and spoke to the spirits in his journey. The sun was shaded by the treetops and Freedom was worn out and warm and anything was possible. He positioned himself on a path that was made by his ancestors and he followed it along the trail where he would pick nuts and berries and eat them and he sometimes ate bark to freshen up. Freedom found a little creek, Peace Frog Creek, he named it and he bathed and drank the fresh water and looked at the fish swimming between his ankles and calves and pelt. This all happened before the Indian Act. Before the dependence on the Ministry of Indian Affairs. Before an apartheid. Simplicity is life and all that happens is the result in the belief of the spirits. Freedom struggled up the path and knelt to the ground and bent over and kissed the leaves and grass and fallen trees in the forest. He saw a vision of his children and his tribe and they were in trouble and had no more food to eat and he stood up and began to run. He ran every which way and stopped and spun around and ran some more. Freedom is fast. Freedom runs in our veins and in our mindset, in our dreams and in our homes, in our ditches and in our books of legends and heroes and myths. Freedom lives and he is coming home. The sun was at it's peak in the middle of the sky and Freedom continued running until the sun went down. He lay in a farmer’s field beside the forest and looked at the stars again and thought to himself, I am almost home, I will make it; I will honour my land with its chief of the land. He slept but was awoken in a flash of energy, and kept running. Freedom was hungry but soon he would be fed by his family and his tribe. Freedom stepped on his land and looked around and a bit of vomit curled up in his throat and he swallowed it back down and then a gush of vomit poured out his mouth and through his nose and on his feet and calves and chest. Freedom looked at his land and all he saw was high rises and dwellings and bars and churches and a veterinary and a legion and all this new, civilized, nature destroying construction. Freedom was trapped in the wood for decades and at this point of our calendar, Freedom’s land was swallowed by development and money and business and greed. They destroyed his land and pushed his family onto cheap, worthless reserves to symbolize property and nature that was literally worth nothing in the bank’s eyes. But they were paid for their land, so the casinos could take your money. So the journey meant nothing, Freedom was reborn and then cut down ever so quickly. So he turned around and took out his hunting knife that was left for him and he cut his throat and the blood spilled onto the moss and caterpillars and dirt and rust and stems and leaves and even, the ants which wished him good luck. He knelt down with life still in his head and he kissed the ground and he was gone. Freedom was gone, he got sucked up into the ground and Freedom was never seen again. His body was back as one within the Earth and as a grave marker there was a wooden sign, a seven foot native Indian and it exploded and pieces of wood went all over the place and got sucked into the earth. Years later, Freedom’s resting place was turned into condominiums for the rich and wealthy and they smoked cigars and read magazines and laughed at the wooden native Indian in their store and now, only in our memories, Freedom lives.  

the mission?

I put the round in, hell I know I did
But sometimes I forget things and the only way to know for sure is to shoot the damn thing off
I have no time to check for more ammo
not in this situation
and these buggers keep swooping in from the air
my pulse must be 250, way off the chart
the adrenaline mixed with the fuel of antihistamines
I can handle this shit
just gotta make sure that when i shoot this thing, it actually works
I think about it a lot
and I forgot what I thought as the beast swoops in
I let off a shot
one that would hit it in the head
but it's a dud, it's a goddamn flare gun
dammit
now all I have to do is sit here and pray
and hope this beast doesn't take the jugular out of my throat
i bow down, missing it's gigantic swing
where's Kyle? where's the goddamn backup?
everything seems so surreal
how did i get up here?
what the hell is this thing?
and why am i even apart of this venture?

"to save lives"

hell, i gotta save my own first
i speak into my shoulder "where the hell is Kyle and EVAC?"
a mumbled tone, no answer
"they're everywhere" a voice shouts and then a gushing silence
i could actually hear his vertebrae hit the floor

goddammit, so this is how it's gonna end eh, I talk to myself
well, we better make it for the cause
and the beast swoops down again, teasing me, like a cat to a mouse
it knows that I don't have a chance, but if I jump, I could make it
no I won't, that's just blasphemy
but what is the other choice?
get eaten alive, or head injury as i fall into the water

i see Kyle waving behind me
"get the fuck out of there"

"no shit"
I look at the bridge falling apart and I start running
it feels as though every step I take, more bridge is falling into the darkness
with my last ounce of strength, I jump and grab the rock, slipping
and there's Kyle with his arm stretched out
I just have to reach and I'll be fine, and my hand meets his
there's no turning back for the others, they have to take their own chances

we get in the car and drive fast North
the beast forebodes back into it's cave
the blood on my arms is dry now
Kyle looks at me shocked
"we're the only two that survived"

"but what about Nicks and Nolton"
I ask, glaringly. They were my friends.
Kyle shakes his head, "they were attacked at the gates by the beasts"
but these beasts were human once, mixed genetic DNA
a real life Dr.Moreau
and I look in the side rear view mirror
looking for anything behind me
and I see Nicks and Nolton
and I think, nothing, I think about nothing

and the car hits a puddle
splashing dirt in my face
the only shower i would have for the week
and there's Nick and Nolton

they never had a chance.

so long ago

We walk together alone

in the muddy rain, you're never there

i need a reason to live

i need a reason for you

can you help me get there?

help me get to play?

i wanna be the one

please let me be the one

the blood on the mantle

all my fault, my love

keep me sedated 

i need your love

tearing out my heart with every breath you take

let me just be, let me just understand

the way that it should be, the way it's meant to be

the way you're lost in my mind

can you help me get there?

help me get to play?

i wanna be the one

please let me be the one

we sit together, hand in hand

like two love birds in an ocean of time

you fly away so long ago, leaving me behind

i won't, i will never forget that day

flowers won't do and no kisses of love

get back to the gutter where you left me

so long ago, you probably forgot

now, i don't need your love, i just need me.

can you help me get there?

help me get to play?

i wanna be the one 

please let me be the one

masturbation

let's get down to brass tacks here

you know what you want in a mate

but still you drone on about how you can never find one

stop bitching to your friends and get out there

meet mister or miss wonderful, nothing is stopping you

oh wait

maturbation

your forgot about that didn't you?

it's cheaper than a movie and the time spent in a restaurant

mastur-fucking-bation

capital fucking

mastur-FUCKING-bation

that's why you sit at home on Fridays

just to get that sweet taste of little ole two fingers or the hole in your hand

you don't have to talk about it afterwards

it never gets awkward and the feeling is similar

but not the same. 

awwww shucks

you don't feel that release in your calve muscles

nor the sweat dripping everywhere

you can't dress up your hand in a sexual costume

or feel the release that the pumping ensues

you just let it drip

sometimes on your bed

sometimes on the floor

sometimes standing up

mastur-FUCKING-bation

you're doing it now and you don't even realize it

masturbation of the mind

jerk out a book to read

or a moment in time

but find that mate

and save the ole mighty masturbation til Wednesday

when he or she is late for dinner

and the soups getting cold

and they don't get home til 5

you bought the toy. now use it

a sacrifice to silicon

three words

mastur-FUCKING-bation

nighty nighty

syllables *rap*

we gonna break down some syllables here
cuz we gangster sh-- break it down like that
what you gonna say to yo girl tonight
i never touched that sh--, i never touched that sh--

she knows you be lying
she can smell the fear
"i gonna hit you backhand
you lying, cheating deer"

ma baby starts chasing me with a spoon
"gonna break yo spine, you silly buffoon"
i only hit it once, baby, i tell you its true
"then you f---ed with the booze and that ho, you know who"

shit, i think, she's got me now
"i never meant to, she was up in my grill"
"you still did it, why'd you do it for"
i thought you'd understand, I thought you cared

(now this is where it really gets apeshit, cue monologue)

you motherf---ing son of bit-- goddamn, i don't even what you say to them, i'm gonna chain you to the f---ing bed, then i'm gonna break whatever goddamn knows, and for what, no really for what. Some booze and pot and that hoe i know. I'm gonna twist on yo balls, unscrew them if I can. Gonna call up my brother from south central and he gonna come here with his sword and his sheath, and he gonna tell you what the f--- i mean. So, if you wanna keep yo self, get the f--- outta here, on a train going far out, in the clear.

i never seen her  like this before
i pack all my junk and i leave out the door
it wasn't my fault I hope you understand
but pot, puss and patron can break a little weak man


-the PPP surveillance squad

thistowntoday

This town, this place
It's not New York,
It's not LA
It's not goddamn Chicago

so what are we supposed to to?
we settle, we live where the water from the tap is somewhat clean
and the grocery store is only 10 minutes away
comfort

I've been working by reading, this knowledge will last forever
unlike some 9 to 5 job where you're aching for a promotion in a sea of sad faces, beaten up, sore
but that promotion never comes, unless it's coming from the new intern that gets promoted in two weeks, bent over on all fours by "management"
can it be anymore realistic?

you bring the heat?
of course you have, if you know what that means

in the art world, if you can produce significantly and approach your target market with every month/day/week, than maybe you can make more money, and if you sell something in a studio, don't fuck with your gift, add an extra zero on it and make it look presentable. And paint those fucking walls white.

this is what I've learnt. from about a week of research into the minds that are unlike mine. I barricade myself in doors, buying cheap cigarettes and making show for the locals getting shwarma or whatever the fuck.

This place will destroy me, if it hasn't already. So make a story about that kiddies or write a poem. I hope I have inspired you to do such a thing. Make character, break roles and close your eyes when you speak into the microphone because the fire will break in the night and you, my friend, will break on through.

God-awfully known as,

Gregorian Gilford Getting-there, man!

the senses

the senses

we take all five for granted

what if?
what if?
what if we couldn't smell the scent around us?
the air??
the gasoline in a car, the oil and filter change?
the roses? petunias and more?
something smelt could save your life
a gas stove leaking into the room as you light your cigarette.

what if you...?
what if you...?
what if you couldn't taste,
something awful, just no taste
a taste of no taste
what would that taste like?
a tongue to taste the words coming out of your mouth
without taste, we cannot speak or enjoy
that glass of wine
gummy worms
tastebuds

how about?
how about?
how about if you couldn't feel?
that would be interesting
just like a blob
gravity holds you but you do not feel around
space suits, zero gravity
how about feelings?
can you cry? can you laugh?
can you give up your feelings?

do you hear me?
if you know what I mean
you can't hear someone behind you
or a horn honking that crashes into you
can you hear the noise outside?
can you even hear the thoughts inside your head?
hearing to find the truth?
can you live without hearing?

see?
do you see now?
it's as vital as all five senses
what happens if you can't see
nothing to look at, blind
scared, you hear well but you can't see
were you born like that? or was it a freight train accident?
can you see me?

can you hear me?
can you touch?
can you see me?
what is that smell?
dinner tastes nice.

what could you do without your five senses

as born as they are

can they disappear just as easily?