PEPERICO

passion

Waves of destruction strip me of my identity,
Until I am nothing but another faceless mask: a blank expression.
Indifference in the form of passion;
A passion that was lit in me by the hands of destruction. 
All I have left of myself is this kaleidoscopic fleck of passion. 
So let destruction consume me, so that I may keep this fragment of myself:
A pin prick of light, born and fuelled by my own darkness.
So do not save me from myself, I’m right where I want to be.

god said

and then god said let there be light
taking out his cigarette and inhaling

From Grave to Flight

FROM GRAVE TO FLIGHT

PRELUDE TO REBELECTRIC ZOMBIE

written by: MZ CLARKE

@zoeandme

I.   UNDER A PSYCHOTIC MOON

He was a cage in search of a bird to capture
and pull all of its feathers off one by one
to shrieks of a death song I would sing out of tune
his eyes were hornet nests buzzing with the rampant pestilence of death
his mind was a loaded revolver that needed to be emptied and refilled eternally
He showed me his handiwork
Using a magnifying glass to burn ants to embers when he was three
then throw them into my eyes burning my vision
a game of war in the living room he chased me around and around
until I was dizzy and panting, a worn ragdoll drained of breath
he took his sticky hands and noosed them around my neck
squeezing the life pulp out of me
my mother happened to look out of the kitchen from her daily grizzle and grime
and rushed to unclench his hands but not his mind from my throat
She looked at him as a ghost of some child she would never claim to have born
there was no scolding, only a few muttered words and novenas later
terror beating her chest hands trembling with rosary beads that never saved her and they would never save me
finally one night years later under a psychotic moon
he slipped into my room
bed empty he knew
I was under the bed with monsters since it was safer than being visible anywhere in this house
he dragged me by the hair in some frenzy of revenge I could never have conceived
and raised an axe to my chest and sliced me in half
eardrums of hell broke with the sound of my screams and his laughter
for every day after
that's how it is with family sometimes
he was my brother, John, four years older and stronger than evil itself
and by this time my parents were dead in a tragic car accident
as I watched my soul rise from the tidal waves of blood crashing onto the shores of flesh islands
drowning in my life's ink
I wondered - where do we go from here?
Looking down through clotted clouds another question seared through the afterglow of death
Could I somehow be resurrected on the wings of the audacity of virtue?

II.   MOONBIRD

I was not killed softly but as a bird killed for sport
As my soul watched above in sorrow's mist and moonglow
My body quivered in pieces clumped together
wrapped hastily in my blanket by him
Life's priceless gown disintegrated with every breath I no longer took
I was easy to lift as I lived as a wren wanting to grow up to be an eagle
He rushed me as a spoiling package of meat to the back shed
Lifting the floorboards and quickly grabbing a shovel
digging a shallow grave for me and dumping my body growing colder by the minute
covering me with dirt filled with worms and maggots that were ready to feast on my remains
He paced and paced over that freshly graved spot
until he could hear my song
which did not die in physical death
I had simply metamorphized from sunbird to an electric moonbird
a spirit too bright illuminating the night and pierced his cruel heart instead

III.   CORPSE CHORUS

As I lay dead in my shallow grave
my brother's crushing weight
stomping across my body
back and forth as a pendulum pacing across Death
His eardrums winced from the unholy song
my telltale heart sang then screamed
as if this was a nightmare that could be undreamed
my soul's gut feeling my life could resurrect
if there was one shred of humanity my spirit song might intersect

in response to my deafening pleas
In feverish sweat he finally fell to his knees
digging with bare hands until he reached my blood-soaked face
his eyes wild as if just back from outer space

IV.   HOUSE OF BLACK-EYED SOULS

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" my brother John ranted
pacing over my shallow grave
but my raven song grew stronger and louder as he raged
my telltale heart shook the earth
Caged in life
no longer willing to be caged in Death
I must defy its bones somehow

Of course I understood the source
of his homicidal tendencies
what other way could we purge the pain
from the purity of my helpless mother
and the poison of my father's blood-dipped fists
we were the birthright of black-eyed souls
my brother turned his raged outward
(currently at me)
and I turned my rage inward
as suicidal wage
Did I need to die to learn how to live
and now what time what gold would I not give
to have another chance in any form
Dear God, could I walk back somehow to that robbed corner of life
where I once believed that love would conquer all evil
even the evil that lurked in this haunted house
of ghosts hosting murdering minds and stomped out hearts
as so many flames of fury and faith
dying in the despair of a life unlived
the undanced Dance
I would not waste that precious second chance

V.   TAPESTRY OF HEARTS

Without a sustainable power source I was going nowhere
I took the wires I had implanted up my arms down to my wrists and plugged them
into the electrical socket
ZAP! I flew across the room
then broke into puzzle box pieces
spilling liquid and clotted prisms of blood and flesh
my own heart had been axed in half
so I needed a replacement and perhaps a few spare chunks
an anger screaming inside me suddenly escaped
I wailed and howled for hours until the thumping from the walls
became cries and a steady drumbeat answering a prayer
"take mine"
"you can borrow mine"
"I was a marathon runner - take mine"

I felt the wall as the heat of whatever was buried behind these walls swelled into the room
the sound of digging and clawing growing louder and louder
a skeleton's hand tore through the wall holding his or her decaying heart
"take it, use it, then get us out of here"

I took the heart with its blackened blood bits and strands of arteries and veins twisting as if angry snakes

"Who are you?"

"Your Uncle Tuccie buried us in here instead of in the cemetery.  Help us please!"

I took a steak knife and opened my chest, my ribs were still broken
and fused this foreign heart with the remaining bits of my own

"my lost soul will enter you as well" the voice whispered held in space

a beam of light swirled into my chest to rest

I decided to take apart a lithium battery from my laptop computer and hooked it up to my new
and old heart parts and waited

I felt a sudden surge of energy but it wasn't enough to move more than a few feet

I needed an extra jolt so I jammed both sets of my wrist wires into the electrical socket

Smoke and fire bolted me flipping me into the air

I flew straight up to the ceiling and bashed my head but that wasn't going to stop me now

I could fly
As both Creator and Monster how do I define
this dark bliss with instruments divine
what other otherworldly worlds beyond gravity could I defy?
Love may be a stranger beyond my possession

yet Spirit as outstretched raven wing may be my new obsession

VI.   PATCHWORK BRAIN

My brain was bashed in
I was already a patchwork girl with pieces of hearts
from the ghosts who lived in the walls
but my heart was swimming with electricity
Was I more than a lively cadaver, a Do-It-Yourself Frankenstein, a zombie?

Now Gregorian chants of souls sang
as I held my bleeding head and cracked skull
a shucked oyster or pearl - how would l know
I simply cried "I need to repair the rest of my brain"
the wall thumped and beated like the heart of the room alive
and the voices chanted through in song and plea

"Take my brain - I was a teacher"
"Take my brain - I was an electrical engineer"
"Take mine - to heal your heart - I'm a cardiologist"
"Mine will help you in your future mission - I'm a neurosurgeon"
"Mine will give you eternal strength and comfort - when no human or creature can - I'm a poet"

I wept dizzy and mortified these souls were not at rest
and decided to give all these bold brains a brand new test

hands tore through centuries to reach me through the walls
hands holding their brains in amber preserved
they all deserved to live on
I bowed in prayer accepting their gifts
I instantly knew how to tapestry these brains with electrical wire
weaving them into mine
I sewed as expertly as a surgeon one melding with the next
My eyes turned inward in hyper vision saw all of their sunrises and sunsets
I thrilled in all their loves and  joys and mourned all of their regrets
I had their thoughts chanting in my skull as eternity's music's ultimate reward
Prepared as a warrior of the best electrified brains and hearts as my lightning Sword

Series Navigation

I AM ANGER

I Am Anger

written by: Rando Mithlo

@Rodhnoe

"Damn this heat!" I said loud enough to echo off the trees. Not that anyone was around to hear me, but I did feel better saying it.

I'm not one to complain much about good weather since the winters around here are brutal, but I'd had a hard time keeping the sweat out of my eyes. I dabbed them with the bottom of my t-shirt and continued searching.

I got a hit of 78 on my metal detector, that indicated silver according to its digital display, but, I soon found the object I had pulled from the ground was nothing but a mason jar lid with enough jagged glass attached to cut my hand had I not worn my gloves. I hate these misreads.

I got up from my knees and tossed the lid into a thicket a few feet away. When I picked up the detector, I inadvertently swung it back over the hole and heard more beeps in my headphones. I figured it more scrap glass and lids.

I checked it anyway.

I then heard some branches crack in the distance, Thinking it to be an animal, I look up and a blur of a figure appeared to loom in the distance. I couldn't tell if it was a human, a deer, or what. It hid unmoving in the mix of trees and weeds. Who'd be out here on a Sunday afternoon, besides a weirdo like myself looking for a nonexistent motherlode?

I stood up from my crouch and tried to get a better look. I then see nothing. Paradolia maybe?
It wasn't the first time I've seen things in the woods that were my imagination. This stretch of forest is about as rural as it gets here in Sullivan County, and a guy could become unnerved at this kind of thing. The only reason I even thought to hunt out here is that I heard a story that this area used to be a popular car racing track called 'The Jungle' back in the 1940s. I joked that If someone is out here they followed me, no doubt to rob me of my six wheat pennies that I found earlier.
It did occur to me that maybe I should carry a weapon of some kind to ward off any potential trouble, just in case. There are stranger things that happen every day.

I bent back over the hole and used my spade to turn up more earth and soon the bottom half of that mason jar came up. it was full of dirt and coins. I couldn't believe it. I dumped it on a nearby tree stump. Several turn-of-the-century silver dollars tumbled out, also silver quarters and to my amazed eyes, a handful of Indian Head ten dollar gold coins. I must have found a depression era stash! I wanted to dance! In two years of hunting, I haven't found anything of this value. The odd silver dollar and the occasional gold ring, but with this score, I'm in awe. This stash is enough to pay off my truck if I wanted to sell the coins online. I wanted to call Amy and tell her the good news, but cell reception out here is dubious. She'll be so excited, and maybe it'll ease the tension between us about our money woes. The fight we had this morning was still rattling around in my head. She was pressuring me once more to move somewhere where the jobs are better, it's a constant point of contention with us. Our old house is in need of repairs but, we own two acres of land in the finest place in the Midwest, it was the gift my grandparents left to me, how can I walk away from that?

I headed back down the trail and to my truck. When opening the door, I then wondered, had this been only one of many caches buried out there? I put the valuable coins under the driver's seat and locked the truck door.

I turned back feeling stoked. Did I miss anything? Shit, this could be the lottery win I've been playing for every week!

At that point, a quote I remembered came to me, something like 'the only sure thing about luck is that it'll change.' Well, I have to at least know for sure, and I'll bet there's a saying out there for that too.
My euphoria was interrupted when I saw it again. Movements several yards to the right. it's the same thing as earlier. This time I'm sure I saw something, it could've been a man in a brown shirt. Whoever it is they are damn good at staying just in the corner of my sight. Or maybe it's just a leprechaun waiting to snatch my gold when I'm not paying it any attention. Feeling uneasy, I started to rummage around for a blunt walking stick, for extra protection, my spade might not be enough. I didn't see him or it when I looked back up. Damn...It's like I anticipated a struggle over my treasure because serendipity doesn't come without a price. I had to laugh at myself, now I was making up shit. I walked the several yards back over to the honey hole and detected over the same area.

I was startled by a crow that cawed close by me, I hate that when my ears are under headphones. I felt a little paranoid. The wind rattled every leaf in earshot, I looked around, but see only the vast newer growth forest and this wide sunlit clearing. I searched for about 15 more minutes and had all but given up, but then got a hit at the edge of a hillside. This one had multiple signals with the needle jumping all around. I plunged my spade into the loose soil.

Something cracked in there, and I punched a deep hole nearly losing grip of my spade inside. A gush of musty air released from within. For God's sake, what is this? I pulled my spade out and peered inside using a mini flashlight I always carry. The darkness is almost impenetrable but I do see outlines of what looks like wooden crates in a dirt-floored room. it was some kinda fruit cellar, like our neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Fisk used to have detached from their farmhouse.
I had a flashback as a kid of how creepy it was in that cellar. I used to help out the elderly couple when visiting, but would be terrified when asked by Mrs. Fisk to retrieve jars of peach preserves from down there. I feared to stick my hand in the cloud of spider webs thinking my fingers would get gnawed off by a tarantula!

My hands were shaking like I was 10 again, but the adult in me was too curious to let this go, I wanted to go in. I rammed the spade down around the hole. I heard more of the rotting wood crack, and dust flew around me like the gnats I'd been swatting at all day. Soon there was a good size hole big enough to get a look inside. I stepped back and looked down into it where the sunlight penetrated the room. I looked for a way to somehow lower myself down into it. Then I heard a voice behind me.

"Well done Hinton, you dug your own grave."

I turned around shocked. it was a Sullivan County Sheriff deputy, whom I recognized as Len Gudyer.

I said "Man, you scared the hell out of me. What are you doing, following me?"

He looked at me with dead eyes, he drew his gun and pointed at me. Worry started to stir inside. "Why are you doing this, I'm I under arrest or something." My first thought was I had trespassed out here, but I'm pretty sure it's public lands.

He motioned with his gun "Shut up and get in there" It hit me then, this was personal.
I couldn't fathom what I'd done so wrong.
I tried to lower myself down using the spade laid across the edges of the hole, but my hand slipped and I fell about 3 foot, landing on my ass. The spade fell onIy inches from goring me. I quickly got back to my feet.

Len looks down through the opening and pointed his gun at me, his face was shrouded in a shadow backlit by sunlight.
I asked him "Why are you doing this to me, what did I ever do to you?"

I was sweating profusely and my whole body shuddered.

He said, "I wanted only one thing in this life and you have it."

I told him "You can have the money, Len, I don't care, just don't shoot me over it!"

He said "You're such an ass! you don't deserve a woman like her, you never have! You piss away your life chasing some treasure, or other petty pursuits. Not caring about her...I watch you, I know!"

"This is about Amy?" I ask.

"Of course it is, you prick! I would've killed to be with her in high school, then she married your lame ass afterward. Since then, have you done anything but make her feel lonely for the past twenty years? I saw it in her eyes. I would never have let her feel that way!"

I couldn't believe my ears, I was quick with my response.

"You're wrong about that. We've been arguing lately and I'm a bad arguer, so I walk away from it. That doesn't mean I don't love her..."

He interrupted me, "That's bullshit!"

I continued "No, man, she means everything to me."

He squinted at that. I told him, "Look, Len...she's not the same person she was in high school, you wouldn't even know!"

I paused, he continued to point the gun and his eyes appeared to get even darker.

I said, "C'mon man, I know how nostalgia can be. We all go through it, that's what your feeling, I know it. I always wish to have those old days back again too, so I could go to college and give Amy a better life, but things happen that get in the way of that!" I pleaded with him, his stern face seemed chiseled in stone. he muttered, "You've gotten in my way!"

I then felt an even more terrible thought well up inside, I wondered then if Len was a not merely stalking us, but was a lover of Amy's, and she had put him up to this. I hoped I was wrong, I love her dearly. For the last few years, I couldn't be sure she feels the same for me. She has had distant eyes, but pride stops me from addressing the issues we have. I'm only trying to avoid fights, but maybe it's because I don't want to hear her words, or what's between them.
Discussions need to be had with cool heads, if that is even possible with us.
I questioned myself hard. Maybe he was right, maybe I've become careless with her. I am a lame ass...I felt lower than the hole I stood in. But, I knew If I died right that minute, I'd only worry about her. This I knew was true!

He crouched there looking down at me, his unblinking stare was eerie. His hand flinched.
I shouted, "Go ahead Len, do what you came here to do!" I urged further, "Do it!!" I felt drained.

He spoke in a distant tone, "Don't you even read the news?" He stares out at something to his left and lowered the gun to swing between his knees.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The silo explosion...in Hollandburg." He replied.

I knew about the explosion, but I missed the connection to the situation at hand, did he want to finish me and make it look like an accident?

"I don't understand ?" I said, wiping my sweat soaked face with an equally sweaty arm. He shook his head, his face contorted in a snarl.

"I'm her anger, you're her guilt!"
He said in a voice deeper than normal.
I must have been owl eyed.
Len's face just kept contorting, it stretched so unnaturally to the point of madness, as if his skin would snap off of his skull like a rubber mask. I couldn't bear to look at that nightmarish stare, and I averted my eyes.
I heard an awful wet gurgling and jumped, instinctively looking up at something I'm sure I didn't want to see. Len's face was a blur, quickly moving out of my line of sight. I heard no steps crunching on dirt, just a gentle gust of warm wind. I stood there waiting to be shot like a fish in a barrel.

After several minutes I sat on a crate, thinking of Amy and me on our honeymoon in Niagara Falls, in particular about the moment of a photo taken of us by an obliging passerby. Her and I in bright blue ponchos, laughing and wet from the Fall's mist. The photo sat framed on our mantle until about a year ago. I never thought enough to ask her why it was no longer there.

I guessed an hour had passed. I was weak from the heat, but managed to move the wooden crates on top of one another and struggled mightily to pull myself up and out of the cellar. I grabbed the metal detector and paused for an extended moment, observing the dried mud on its handle. I had been looking for the wrong things for a long time.
I tossed it down into the hole.

I walked back to my truck and sat on the hot vinyl seat feeling a chill.
I gazed into the grove of trees to my left, trying to comprehend what happened back there.
I wondered if I could fix any of this.
I didn't know how far Amy was out of reach.
I do know there was a deputy that died with the two other people in that blast at the grain silo, but hadn't paid much attention to the names of the victims. I hadn't been paying attention to much of anything that mattered.

i hope you can hear me mommy

written by:  William T Fearby

@william.fearby

mom you know how much i love you this is hard for me to say
but i have been keeping secrets and lying to you every day
my heart is so full of guilt i didn't know how to tell you why
every day i carried my sordid secret it really made me cry

it started when i was seven years old i was daddy's special girl
i was such a happy child you and daddy were my whole world
daddy used to sit me on his knee and really hug me tight
i used to love all the stories that he read to me at night

but then he started touching me in a very different way
i told him i didn't like it it's our secret he would always say
i used to dread the feelings when he came to my room at night
i would always start to cry i knew what he was doing wasn't right

this carried on through my childhood right into my teen years
my daddy told me it was ok and talked me through all my fears
saying i would never hurt you, you are very special can't you see
as he slipped into my bed at night and started having sex with me

i hated every moment the smell of his hot breath on my face
the faint odour of his stale aftershave overwhelmed my space
he really degraded me and made me feel disgust and shame
it got so bad that i would shake with fear at the mention of his name

i'm so sorry mom i was so scared to tell you he said it would kill you
he said he would deny it and it would break up our family too
so i kept my sordid secret for over thirty years from you
but now you have passed away i want to tell you what i went through

i hope you can forgive me you meant the world to me
i didn't want to break your heart i hope you can see
i had to keep my sordid secret so i didn't hurt you as well
i don't care about dad's feelings i hope he rots in hell

he took away my childhood and all my memories too
he tainted everything by what he did to me and you
so mommy please forgive me i didn't know what to do
i know if i had told you it would have ruined your life too

mommy i really miss you my life gets harder every day
i only wish that i had told you to make it all go away
i hope you can hear me mommy i need to tell you this
there is no one in this life except you that i miss

The Dream

The Dream

written by: Kingsley Kong

Deep within me lives an entity. It pretends to be my friend, but in the end it's just my enemy. It clutches my serenity. Mind fucks memories, plays back imagery that fucks me up mentally. Claims we have synergy. Drains all my energy. Feel it in my veins when I say I ain't interested. "I don't give a damn bout plans or goals, the answer's no. I do what I want, not what I'm told. So you can get fucked, I'm in control. Run along now and leave me alone."

The mischievous, devious, piece of shit little prick, full of lies, and pride, runs and hides in the shadows of my soul. Thrives in the dark, tearing me apart. Starting with my mind, then on to my heart. Hands around my throat, tight like a rope, I am being choked. Room fills with smoke. The air gets cold. I am frozen in place. Floating just in front of me is a cloak with no face. Looking to the heavens, I pray for a blessing. The house starts to shake and I begin to levitate. I need some protection for Jesus sake! Someone call a priest, I've reached my fate.

The smoke goes away and my visions clear. Hoping the faceless cloak had disappeared, I turned around slowly to face my fear. The cloak didn't look the same, it had changed a lot. Completely fickle. When it came to a stop, my jaw was dropped. I'd rather it had just kept switching, cuz this mother fucking thing was gripping a sickle. The room got hot, and the lights went dim. He gave me a nod and said, "Hi, my name is Grim. I'm running late so I'll do this quick." He swung his sickle and hit my face and head. I knew right then that I was dead. The very next minute I was wide awake in bed covered in sweat and screaming. I couldn't believe it, I was only dreaming.

I lay back down and tried to sleep. I tossed and turned restlessly. Every time I'd doze off I thought of "Rest In Peace!" So i jumped outta bed and started getting dressed. That's the very moment I became possessed. I was rushed by a gust of wind that hit like a truck. I went out on a whim and thought, "I am fucked!" A different state of mind, I was spaced. Thought about the dope I just faced, someone had to of laced it. I can't maintain my brain enough to think strait. Fuck I must be wasted! I went to the mirror and was bedeviled. Peering back at me was the devil.

Then everything changed, he exclaimed that he wants to play a game. I tell him I ain't playing as I scream and I scold. "Leave me fucking be, it is time to go!" He grins as he chuckles, "You cannot win. I will never buckle, I'm in charge of your life and I've brought you some troubles. It's Alright to fight, I love it when you struggle. Calm down and just be subtle. Do you feel it in your heart?  You and I are one, we'll never be apart. This is just the beginning, we're only at the start. Quit your fucking bitching my homely counterpart. Just shut up and listen. You're about to witness a spiritual vision. If it's done right, it'll change your life. I'm not joking, take this right here, put it in your pipe, light and smoke it." Took a hit and started choking. He was right, my mind was eased and everything alright.

He gave me a pen and paper and said "This is what you'll use. From this day forward these are your tools. Now sit down and write while you're dazed and confused." I began to pen and everything went blank. Suddenly I was flooded with luxury, and I was standing in a bank. I checked the amount in my account, it was more than I could ever count. A career as a writer is what I'll surmount. I couldn't believe it. Everything I wanted was finally in my reach. A bottomless wallet, and I could finally keep it.

Then it all disappeared and I woke up from a sleep. Disappointed it was just a dream, I got ready to leave. I got outta bed, showered and I dressed. I was leaving out the door when I noticed it on my desk. The pad, the pen, and a note that read, "It was not just a dream or a trick inside your head. Your worth is what you really seen. The vision was legit. So sit down right now and get to work. Make sure to show it to the public. The right ones will notice and before you know it you'll be published.. It may start a little slow. Do not try to rush it. Just smoke your pipe, always write and never ever stop. As fast as you can blink your eyes, you will be on top, I am being honest." At the bottom, the note was signed "with love, from your conscience." I just grinned not trying to be conceited. I started to pen and sent it in for all of you to read it. Peace!

The deal. When democracy dies

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