The Hit

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I can’t believe she put a hit out on me

After all I said, after all I’ve done

I can’t believe she took a hit out on me

They said it wasn’t personal,

It wasn’t what they were meant to do

But taxes aren’t free and times aren’t cheap

So just lie down and go to sleep

They said they’d make it fast

That I wouldn’t feel a thing

They said it would all be

Like nothing more than dream

I can’t believe she put a hit out on me

After all I did, after all I said

I thought I meant more

I thought I meant more to her

I can’t believe she took a hit out on me

They said it wasn’t personal,

They said I didn’t come cheap

Small tokens,

Small, small tokens to take

They were right

I wouldn’t feel a thing

This whole scenario’s

Numbed me deep

I can’t believe she put a hit out on me

After all I did, after all I would’ve done

I’d have thought

I’d have thought this

Would’ve been something I’d have done

Never though, did I think

That this she’d be capable of the such

I can’t believe she took a hit out on me

They said it wasn’t personal,

That all they needed was my heart

To which I stopped and laughed aloud…

As my heart had been broken long before

She ever took a hit out on me…

A Tourniquet Tale

Fully clothed, in quite the typical fashion, the softness of off grey athletic socks, are sheathed by snugly fitting high-end leather.  The whiteness of the fashion plates are offset by the normal sights and “scenery,” where an ever-present assortment of debris, is somehow providing an emulation of life to the dirt, dust, filth and grime that lingers about the familiar and routine path.  The blue splash logo blurs as feet progress forward, stepping one foot behind the other, in a mundane version of syncopation, connecting Lamborghini soles to the cracked aesthetics of what once was widely considered prime suburban real estate.  The mind often wanders discreetly, yet many times, such as is the case for this particular excursion, it remains blank as thoughts decided to take refuge or vacation, either way, illustrative enough.  If it weren’t for the foul, yet comforting familiarity that accompanies each of the many strands of scent created from the exhaust that’s consistently generated and then subsequently cast off into the air, I would’ve most likely not have been aware of the distance traveled, of the time that had elapsed, where my current location was, or that my journey would soon come to an end.  Those thick black clouds of gaseous composition remind me of why I left home in the first place, and when combined with the arrival of the monstrous beast that is public transportation, I knew the conclusion was here.  The song of the city sticks with me throughout the day; reminding me that in just a few short hours the hydraulics will sing once more, and of the path I will most certainly retrace, and of a damp cloth patiently waiting at home, eagerly anticipating the arrival of my return, and for finding out what types of dirty, dirty things those sneakers accumulated since the time it left that morn.

My feet are in my socks.  My socks are in my shoes.  I walk to the bus stop.  The bus arrives.  The day moves forward.  The bus arrives. I walk back home.  My feet are removed from my shoes.  I wipe the dirty from the shoes.

I put on my socks and shoes.  I walk to catch the bus.  Eventually I return home and clean my shoes.

I leave the house.  I ride the bus twice.  I reenter the house.  I clean my shoes.

When you walk through dirty streets, it is likely you’ll have to clean your shoes.

If shoes get dirty they need to be cleaned.

Walking can be dirty.  But dirt can be cleaned.

   

     

By the Boot Strap (Unseen Benefits)

By the Bootstrap

I do confer,

One more notch,

For what it’s worth,

Knuckles red from your skull

Why don’t you quit while you still can

I don’t want to but you know I will

Just lay there, pretend,

And all this will blow over us both,

I didn’t want to be that guy, the one who turned his back on a friend, but sometimes people are left with very little choice.  When it comes down to you or them, I’d hope you’d all agree, it’s a decision I don’t wish on anything.  It’s a decision in which I did not answer well.

Razors to the left of me, slugger to the right,

A holy war is about to begin,

I’m only doing this,

Would you believe, to save your soul?

Once I worked under some docks, in a barge that was inches small enough to fit in this incorrigible hole of a spot.  Needless to say the owner, who paid my daily rate, was a far cry from a spendthrift, and he convinced the boatyard to give him a steal of a monthly rate.  So there I was, all alone scraping barnacles from the hull, yes I was in full scuba attire, and no, it was not fun.  But I heard commotions from above, directly above where I tread.  Two men, or so I thought, one flashing like a light, I couldn’t properly get a glimpse of him, but I did the one who went into where I was.  The stomping left me for a bit, but when it stopped I checked on my newly acquired aquatic companion.  He was bleeding fierce, and sinking quickly.  I checked for rocks in his pockets or a chain along the waist, all frequent drowning tools of the ne’er do wells who frequently distribute their goods and peddle their wares in the sheds over the hill.  But there was nothing but sopping lint, yet this bloody excuse for a man was too much for me to hold.  Even with the natural buoyancy of the flesh and such, he had this propensity to drop.  He spoke in some unfamiliar tone, as I did my best to keep his corpse afloat.  I didn’t make out the uttering, it was not rare for illegal men and women to come through here, and they were not my business, so they were not my concern.  But he would not stop, and he flailed his arms, in an effort it seemed to allow the blood to encase about his face.  And then I wiped enough of the blood dry, a point in this life I shall never forget, nor tell another about.  He was not human, he was not a man at all.  Some demon figure, or space creature, positioned this close to shore.  I let him go in fear and fright, his body sunk so fast and hard.

I made my way to the shore,

I swam so fast I forgot the barge,

I should have stayed,

Upon the dock another creature stood awaiting me,

This one was not bloody except for his protruding nails,

His voice was course, but communicate he could,

And that’s is when he propositioned me,

With this decision I am working towards,

So please, just pretend, they cannot tell,

Stop your screams and lay still,

Otherwise I shall continue until you can no more,

Close your eyes and soon I’ll return to take you to a better place,

A place where men and women find their cures,

Just remember this is all for the good of man,

I cannot discuss anything further than from what I have.

Mortar Fire and the Sound of Independence (Soldier Chronicle Volume Three)

Mortar fire and the sound of independence

Sky lit in brilliance

Reminds me of our endeavor,

As if I would ever convince myself otherwise

I forgot the names by now,

I wish I would have paid attention

Gave camaraderie a try,

Yet then, well I would also

The beaches coveted the brush,

This jungle from all sides,

Thick entanglements of plants, trees, vines,

And bugs, so many bugs,

Footmarks led pathways I would fear to see,

Who, and what would they steer towards me,

Estranged, weeks perhaps,

How the body changes when left unattended,

My escape was a stumble upon,

Some lucky hacks hidden in the brush,

Tree supporting their covert lifestyle,

Scared kids with ink long gone,

Waiting for a bus to fly them home,

At that point, then,

I offered nothing but a plea to join their crusade,

Most accepting those writers were,

Having me around set them at ease,

Guess they felt safer with a man like me, around,

Appearances cast deeper images than our words suggest,

And the weapon,

I enjoyed their spirits, albeit reminding them it really was myself against,

But their spirits were higher than when I arrived, therefore I didn’t have the

Heart to tell them I was out,

I met them by luck,

But luck is not what got me to them,

It was disobedience that saved my life,

The lieutenant announced we’d be coming in from atop,

Surprise that morning, glory all night,

I explained my ears were keen,

And I know familiar sounds over the hill,

My gut instructed me to disobey what I knew was right,

What I was trained to do,

And so I dropped below as they rose above,

Seconds later I heard the firefight,

I heard the enemy swarm past me, as I hid myself away,

I returned and buried the dead, all of them but myself,

I heard it then I hear it now,

If only I’d listened, the families claim I could have saved them all,

I know better, which is not to say obeying was the wrong command to follow,

Each day now, since then, I see their excitement in their eyes,

For by their hands some unnamed assailants would die,

I tried to explain, I told them, but again I say they were close to one another,

I was merely a clinging shadow, they didn’t care to know, one they avoided

If only I made an attempt perhaps a different ending there would be

To this horrible tale I live to tell.