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The Ultimate~Creep goes to Mecca! (Other) by Bachus <some month in 1999>
scribbles...i start the entry...
Now that the book has come to a close
And no one remembers the do's and don'ts
I must still linger, for my pen is poised
Extension of fingers and tasty little boys
Hollywood has turned me into him
So full of hatred and wasted slim
But I'm going to fold him up to pack
With Jared Leto's severed arm
i beat the beast back.....
Back i cry veiled whore of Babel,
back you to Mecca!
<narration of a memory>
After evacuating the american embassy in Mogadishu with seal-team 2.
(the first and last time i've ever seen a mob of 10,000 mind starved
sun blackened zombies rip a human a-part.
Then dance happy to candy the mouths of children,
only to stop all at once....and forehead the ground in prayer...
oh ye are truly..a god fearing people.
"Why don't we fucking shoot them now?"
"leuitenant?, FUCK! give me the order sir!,
those roofed gun men are praying..everyones praying
FUCK ! GIVE ME THE ORDER!"
Silence...... (yes, we are a paper tiger)
two weeks later.....
I decided, for some r&r, it would be nice to visit Mecca and walk
counter clock wise around their shrine,
then ass fuck as many naughty arabian daughters that i could influence
with a fistfull of dollars.
Make them bathe me, and reload to light my hooka
i merrily did just that
but.. bad, bad dreams came at night in the form of blood
splashed children being trampled by their own relatives in the dirtiest
streets
that i've ever seen.....
<flash-back in a flash-back>
mother is painting...i am five..."will you marry me mother"?
She smiles, then whips me bloody elbowed back to sleep
"yes"..she says..over and over and under the earlobe of fever...
<end- of flash back in the flash-back>
<now, this date,the present>
"What"? "That's not funny, or valid"..
"What the fuck does any of this have to do with Mecca"?
asked my findfamiliar while tarring his pud..
SILENCE...you chastising imp...let me get there at my own pace...
ye wasteful foul mouthed critter!
<back to the original flash-back>
"SIR!","LET ME TAKE THE SHOT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!"
again..nothing..silence
the mob springs back to its feet
mortars and bullets by the millions wiz by.
A wall explodes sending pieces of bricked mud deep into my skin....
concussion..BOOM!, BOOM!, BOOM!
i fly through the air and land hard on my hands and knees..
The Lt. is twitching and babbling as blood pumps six feet in the air
from his severed arm..
MEDIC!, FUCK!, MEDIC!
he bleeds to death appologizing to no one in particular..
i hate him and love him symbioticaly..
as bullets wiz by, and heli's touch down to evacuate..
i have never ran from anything in my life..
why don't we fight?
what the fuck is going on here?
i am almost twenty years old....
b-day.. days away
thankyou..yes..thankyou..
for nothing, but a nation of finks..
happy birthday...son
another card from my uncle sam..
my tongue is bleeding profusely..
fuck it.. i bite down harder as tears fall..fall...i'm falling away...
i catch a pepsi advertisement off in the distance..
i laugh my self into a cat-nap-nod while we fly high over this wicked
Somalian city back to our desert base..
my heart is broken..i am broken..the world is broken..
i will never be a skipping home little boy again.
<back to my hotel room in mecca>
<i am writing more, and more driven to write>
<she trys to rub my back and calm me down>
<she cost me only ten dollars>
<she was worth the sun>
<i am almost done>
When eyelids flutter and wetness builds
Will she put her hand there only to yield
I still will get home and pour the patron
(overly refined tequilla)
Write down more stories proving mine is better than the
price of a jet fueled toppling nostrodamus quatrain
(he called the fall of the twins in 1566)
Even undressed her face says maybe
As she licks my chest, and whispers, "sweet baby"
And if it's liquor that she needs more of
I'm gonna buy it when push comes to shove
but she doesn't drink cuz she's muslim
also i can't fuck her pussy...
she's saving that for her husband..
that's why i remembered her most of all..
Because even in slumber while half asleep
You must remember i'm the ultimate creep
and if I'm impaled under your sun
Remember, I bled there all for [sic] fun
Maybe to show you that you've emptied my gun
But won't I still know you when my death is undone?
And when I roll the boulder as in rock
From the mouth of my tomb
Forget about a fourty-virgined-heaven
I still have my loom
So read this, and fuck it
in the heart of your pit
Cuz when you all were sleeping
I tapped your minds with my kit
My book's gonna send you
Back into line
The verses all flow
In ways i can't bind
So bite off the last bit
Enjoy it well
Because I know the truth
And rest assured
I'll never tell
I label you common
than take you to hell
once when i was nine..
i found my dog bleeding and dying freshly car hit in the gutter..
there was a group of kids around it watching it whimper
and choke on its smashed mouth...
a little girl i recognized from class was poking it with a stick...
her name was rumi...
she was long-eye lashed and very pretty,
but so was my dog...............
Up the ladder:
moon rants
Down the ladder:
Look Who's Talking
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 5.8333335
Posted: August 19, 2002 5:11 PM PDT; Last modified: August 19, 2002 5:11 PM PDTWeighted score: 5.6092153 Overall Rank: 2278 Comments:
[0]
Tarquin De La Bog @ 213.1.45.14
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19-Aug-02/5:25 PM
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Reply
An absolute stinker. 0. My good man, the scenes you describe are those of a terrible, low-budget movie. Terribly bad, far, far too long and a bore to read. I didn't think it possible, but the poem is actually worse at the end than it is at the beginning. This poem failed to excite, to shock or even to actually move me to any emotion, other than to screw my face up in disdain. Poor sir, very poor.
exciting..stupendous..now i know that i've struck a cord...fact is friend it's a true story and sometimes we don't write to impress or make the 'a' list, i'm very pleased that you dissaprove, cuz i personally feel everything you write, like, and say was precisely the biggest factor behind why i posted it to begin with..i hope you forget it as quickly as it forgot you /p.s to long? what? do you read fortune cookie novels and call yoursef a valid critic...here's a recommendation..."running with scissors" by Augusten Burroghs...oh, wait.. that would be way, way to long..you're right stick to the comments..we wouldn't want you getting any brighter...may you find yourself in quick sand one day screaming your user name over and over again...my friend yes, tell the queen hi said hullo. tea time. ta ta
that's quite a confession, h.
hi z..thanks..i think..nah i'm over it now..i just promised a dear friend of mine that i would retell it, by mixing it proper with a couple of other...memories..that...fit..well..toge
yes. it definitely would sound better over a pint ot two. so long as we're talking on the telling of it, the bit about your dog disjoints, but not in an effective way. some sort of transition is needed to work it in literarily... like, another glass of ste. emillion, perhaps... miss me today? i sure as hell did. i like being outside, though, and i worked my ass off today.
"worthless - without merit or value" (according to the Oxford English Dictionary) i think u managed that feat rather well. 0/10
hey stubby123 the piece was inspired by the time i met your mother in a turkish opium den to help her glue her refreshments back on... you stick to your oxford dictionaried un imaginative teenage angst (inspired by deep shit like the time you didn't make the footbal team), and i'll concentrate on making sure that your generation never ever gets it....(my vexed message) cuz you're to busy shooting up your middleschools and whining about "your nation" like you fucking have a clue what it's like to leave your state let alone the country..you shoot the backyard bunnies for dinner, let the real men hunt...oh i was sorry to hear about you know who, on the down lo try a little antibiotics, the ass swelling should go down...thanks for the zero stubby..i have yet to even get through one, sorry, rather,half of one of your attempts at writing they're just su fucking stale, and saturated with puberty lessened inspiration, tell your old man i said, "good morning" way to bring them up right mr. stubby.ciao bello fellow..buenos diaz puta! oxy.spermicide.gym.soapbend.shower friend.
afternoon, h. don't worry about stupor123; he's a big-badass-comment-deleting braveheart. apparently he knows all about everything, too. oh, and thanks for the good werds last nite. i signed off early...
hey z..worry not..i don't get mad. i just pretend too..please, after browsing his shite..i lol! anyway..what a joke..i'm seriously concerned for the future of writing though...don't mention it by the way (my cordial invite)..any time...i'm shower bound see you in 30 minutes. loved your re-edit of warmer climes ..i might have to move my computer locations soon...the illiterate children are scythed handed and mob clustered in the streets outside all of my hideouts...theyre so damn cute and little bussed in their motivations...you've almost gotta respect that.right? right!
Contributing to truth telling is a vile and irresponsible thing to do. Soon the state will be forced to crash land in your living room for upsetting the local livestock. They've been eating less and less of the Company chow. Ummm. There's nothing like ma's microwave reheating. She can peel back the film like no other. No thanks, I'll have dinner in my own room again tonight, I don't want to watch what you're watching. There's a story on E! about a crazy cyber-poet who died mysteriously of an overdose. No, I don't believe in conspiracy theories. He was a lunatic nobody, and the people who chatted with him on Das Internet say he was bound to self distruct, anyone could tell he had mental problems. I don't want to miss it
Ya know, this is the longest poeme I have ever read and not gotten bored at any point in it. Some people just write and write and write in circles until they find they have unduly made their point. You held me enraptured the entire time and I reread this a few times to make sure I didn't miss anything. I didn't. Thanks for a very nice, but strange story....Love ~Jade
the style is "pro-se'o-me" with a bit of fantasy reality lisp..the mecca stuff is opium pipe dreams from a flat i lived in in detroit circa 1993 after i got out of the navy and was sculpting metal and painting and writing hence 'squating' (that's real) the somalian stuff of course true, the poetry parts glue it together and the ending naturally every boys nightmare pre-tru-love at sixteen (his dog's death mocked)...thank you for your fondness jade...you made bachus smile merlot fangs and oil his pan pipe....my dog was half wolf and labrador (black) his name was thor...this piece is for the lt. and my bestest pet..."for thor"...its "thor's belly dancing whore" may he rip. a-men...now sin sinners sin'e.........
My dog just died a few weeks ago...He was the only animal I ever actually liked. He was 96% wolf-4% alaskan malamute. He was huge. He was beautiful. He hated water. We buried him in Blanchard on our friends farm where many of his offspring for four generations are living. Tasha Yarr, his mate, and Jenna, his lover, will be buried on either side of him. He even has a tombstone. It says "apaches moon...the best dog in the world...sire of 54." yep 54, and that only includes all of his... his name was Apache and his son Hannibal is already bigger than Tasha and could knock me down. My brother tried to teach him to sic. He won't. Although he once bit this guy walking through our backyard. lol. Hannibal...supposedly name after Hannibal the Great of course. It's funny the looks we get when we tell people his name. We were gonna name him Quiccher, cause he whined all the time as a pup and when people asked what the hell that annoying noise was we could say "oh thats just quiccher bitchin." lmao. well i g2g cook lunch. ~Jade
that is one kick ass poem, bachus. like being side swiped by a mack truck and punched in the gut.
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