Bass Diary

Dear Diary,

I ate a worm that I found. It was food. Then I went in the reeds, but some one else was in there.

Birds kept coming over and looking in. I don’t like them. I try not to move until they leave. Nasty birds.

That man came again. This time he had a noisy thing that he kept throwing at us. Many said it was a fish, but I knew it was not. It was making sounds and several others did not like it. We knew it was not a food, and I kept telling them. This man is an idiot, ignore I’m and he will go away.

Later, I went in the reeds again and there was another worm and a mayfly on top. Now I’m full.

We all talked, and decided to splash water on the man next time he comes. He’s stupid. He will never catch us.

Tomorrow I think I’m going to eat some more, and laugh at me man when he comes in the morning. What stupid thing will he try next? Who cares, he’s dumb. Hahahahahaha!

-{===|]

Beneath

Beneath the charred and crusted flakes of skin, a fetid consumption invades. Devouring vital, surging flesh, rendering choking bile and gushing pain, oozing from copious, savage tears. Scouring within boiled burning the frenzied fever rushes writhe in twitch and scream. Twisted in agonizing knots over pools of bloody ruin, spilling, splattering. Mired in the filth of excess, the stink clings and saturates. Hanging and beading like delicate droplets, the piss vile liquid smell of wasted life dwindles as the meat of essence is their feast. Disillusioned, shattered, mired, erased. The thick, gloppy resin of putrid decay sinks into every pore, closing out the light, stopping the clock forever. Gushing foul vomit and the effusive fluid of death, the punctured, eviscerated body is left for the maggots. The carrion of progress is chum for the feast of lies.

There/Here

Paths for fingers,

Delicate raindrops,

Sparking light–

Electric warmly,

Whispered, present.

~~

Branched to new leaves,

Fissure-divided,

Bridgeless gap–

Words windedly gone,

Rattling down dark.

~~

Silhouette–

Purposeful void,

Rowed cages,

Ensnared–

Enveloped.

~~

Bell of dawn,

A soulless east,

Roil the dust,

Ashed facelessly–

Empty,

For parched lips.

Unrevealed

Stokes the mystery,

Swallowed up in concealment,

Draped, flung and covered–

The faceless tower rises.

Acts of eyes–

Who’s curious tingle–

Renders fact from rumor,

Knowing, filling,

Behind, securely–

Unseen, yet, present.

Silhouette through sunlight,

A piece revealed,

The gate ajar–

A yearning,

The thirst calls.

 

Memorization/Recitation

The following texts were typed from memory going back almost 20 years. name them both and you are awesome.

 

~~

In the year 10,191, the known universe is ruled by Emperor Shaddam IV, my father
In this time, the most precious substance in the universe is the Spice, Melange
The Spice extends live, the Spice expands consciousness, the Spice is vital to space travel
_________ who the spice has mutated over 4,000 years, use the orange spice gas, which gives them the ability to fold space
That is, travel to any part of the universe, without moving
Oh, I almost forgot to tell you
The spice exists on only 1 planet in the entire universe
A desolate, dry planet with vast deserts
Hidden away within the rocks of these deserts are a people known as the Fremen
And they have a saying,
That one day a man would come, a messiah, who would lead them to true freedom
The planet is Arrakkis… also known as, Dune.

~~~

The minstrel in the gallery

Looked down on all the smiling faces

He met the gazes, observed the spaces

Between the old man’s cackle

He brewed a song of love and hatred

Oblique suggestions, and he waited

He polarized the pumpkin-eaters

Static-humming panel-beaters

Freshly day-glowed factory cheaters

Salaried, and collar scrubbing

He titillated men of action

Belly warming, hands still rubbing

On the parts they never mention

He pacified the nappy suffering

Infant-bleating one line jokers

TV documentary makers

Overfed and undertakers

Sunday paper backgammon players

Family-scarred and women haters

And he called the band down to the stage

And he looked, at all the friends, he’d made

 

1. Spoken by Princess Irrulan before the beginning of the movie Dune
2. Minstrel In the Gallery – Written by Ian Anderson, performed by Jethro Tull