Still Editing, Disorganized Crime

Mr. Green and Mr. Blue were fighting with a fat man in a small apartment. Chairs, tables, lamps, dishes and even picture frames were everywhere. The place looked like a hurricane had hit it. Mr. Blue’s cell phone rang.

“Hello.” Mr. Blue said then listened.

“Who is it,” Mr. Green asked

“Oh, Vince, It’s you,” Mr. Blue said looking at Mr. Green. The fat man struggles and Mr. Blue punches him in the face.

“Am on the phone here, did you mother not teach you manners?” He said, the fat man mumbled something. Mr. Green put his foot on the man’s face. The man growled like an angry bear as he spat blood.

“What he want,” Mr. Green asked, Mr. Blue flashed him an irritated glance and talked into the phone.

“Go where?” Mr. Blue said then listened. Mr. Green struggled with the fat man’s feet, and for a second one of the man’s feet came loose from his grip and Mr. Blue was kicked in the face. The phone fell out of his hand and the fat man rolled over on it. They struggled to move the man as Vince’s voice filled the room like a CB radio. Mr. Blue managed to retrieve the phone and listened.

“What he saying?” Mr. Green insisted. Mr. Blue ignored him

“I know where it is,” he said into the phone. The fat man tried to get his foot loose again so Mr. Green him on the leg but his teeth fell out and he scrambled to pick it up before the fat man rolled over on it. He put it back in his mouth,

“What?” He screamed at Mr. Blue. Mr. Blue kept talking into the phone,

“We are Kinda busy right now,” he said, then listened,

“O K we will be there,” he said and rolled his eyes. “All right All right.” He said then gritted his teeth at the phone as he hung up. Mr. Green punched the fat man on his butt then glared over at Mr. Blue,

“What?” he screamed, the fat man began to struggle harder, as if sensing that his time to die was near. Mr. Blue punched him in the face and looked over at Mr. Green.

“We have to hurry,” he said. Mr. Green punches the fat man on the butt again,

“O K” he said, let’s take care of this pig, I think he soiled himself,” Mr. Blue grabbed the fat man by his neck tie and pulled him up, he swings a meaty hand at Mr. Blue and they fell to the floor, the fat man landed on Mr. Green. The green Disco Assassin bit the man on his arm again but once again lost his teeth.

“O K you are dead!” he shouted, they wrestled with the fat man, Mr. Green finally managed to get on top of him and began punching him in the face. When the man was unconscious, they both kicked him until his face was a bloody mess.


From the new project Disorganized crime

                There was silence; the television was still on despite its fall. Its silver light flickered on the green walls sending partial shadows of chairs, tables and the two men throbbing across the walls. The attacker continued talking; Nelson slowly got to his feet and almost fell over but steadied himself. There was a knife on the floor, so he picked it up and crept towards his attacker.

                “You mean this is a free one………….. I don’t know, he was here, I messed him up……….. Am going to need help moving this one,” he stopped talking, Nelson was over him now, and he placed the knife against the man’s throat.

                “Who the hell are you?” Nelson asks, he heard his attacker’s heart pounding, felt the knife move as the man swallowed.

                “Take it easy buddy, am just doing my job,” the man said, his voice a horse whisper. Nelson pressed the knife against the man’s throat; felt the man’s his esophagus move against the steel blade again. There was a wine bottle sitting on the only table left standing, Nelson picked it up and hit the man over the head , he fell sideways onto the couch, the cell phone still in his hand, Nelson picked it up,

                “Who is this?” He asked his voice still a whisper, his throat burned when she swallowed,

                “Who the hell is this?” The voice responded. Nelson cleared his throat.                

               “It’s the man you just tried to have killed.” Nelson tried to shout, but only managed to sound like he had laryngitis,

                “I don’t know you, what the hell is your name and where is my man?” The voice screamed back,

                “Oh he is fine, just taking a little nap, who are you working for, did the commander hire you?” Nelson demanded,

                “What the hell are you talking about, all I know is you are one dead nigger when I get hold of you!” the voice screamed.

                “You don’t have to tell me anything, your man will give me the details, I will find out who you are, and when I do, you will wish you never met me.”

                “Who the hell do you think you are, you don’t threaten me you little shit, I could have your balls served to the pigeons in the park, do you know who I am?” The voice screamed. Nelson chuckled then said,

                “No I don’t know who you are, why don’t you tell me,” He waited.

“Do you think am an idiot, screw you,” the voice screamed. Nelson dropped the phone and turned to his attacker, the man stirred a little, his green shirt bright against the black leather couch, his dark stone washed jeans spotted with blood, his eyelids fluttered a little, his facial expression that of a baby who just woke up from a nap. The voice on the phone was screaming so Nelson reached down, picked up the phone and turned it off. He went to his closet and retrieved a handcuff; thank god his last roommate was a kinky bastard. He returned to the living room and handcuffed the attacker to the large mahogany center table. The man’s sandy blond hair was caked to his forehead, as a mixture of sweat and blood rolled down his head, and settled just above his eyes. The man opened his eyes and looked at Nelson,

                “Who are you and who sent you?” Nelson asked, the man did not answer, his blue eyes cold, and his blond eyebrows translucent against his pale white skin.

                “Who sent you?” Nelson insisted, slapping the man on his head blood flew in every direction, fell to the ground, creating nail head size polka dots on the cream coloured carpet. The attacker spat at Nelson, the white and red froth landed on his chest then dropped onto the leather couch.

                “Are you sure this is the way you want to play this game?” Nelson asked grabbing the man’s throat, he gasped for breath, his blue eyes growing bigger as if they would pop out of their sockets. Nelson let go of his throat,

                “I will get it out of you. You will tell me what I want to know even if it means cutting you up piece by piece.” Nelson said and looked around for his cellphone but could not find it; the house phone lay in pieces next to the television, so he began to walk to the kitchen,

                “You are nothing but a nasty immigrant you have no power, when my people get hold of you will wish you had died in your filthy country.” The man shouted, Nelson stopped, turned around walked over to the man and punched him in the face, he fell backwards hitting the floor hard. Nelson spat at the man then turned and walked to the kitchen, he was thinking that he had to get help; he picked up the phone and called his friend,

                “Hey Trevor, I need your help man, I have to store something away.” He said, waited for a second then said.

                “Thanks man.” Then hung up, he walked back to the living room, the attacker was trying to sit up so Nelson punched him in the jaw and the man flopped back onto the couch.



A sprawling mansion three stories high, a green well-manicured lawn with ancient like Roman statues placed tragically across it, a marble pond with fishes splashing about, and a waterfall cascading out of a stones drain. In the back of the house was a horse farm beautiful stallions ran free in the field behind the house; trees lined the boundary, giving shade to most of the yard. There were other animals on the compound, lamas, peacocks, sheep and goats, the place looked like the Ringling Brothers was about to do a show. A burly man in a tan Toyota drove up, and parked in the front of the house. He walked up to the big wooden door, that door was about twelve feet tall; he opened it and went inside.

                The floor of the large hall was covered with Middle Eastern rugs all the way to the other room, white walls that seemed to be fifty feet tall, to the left, an eloquently furnished living room, cream coloured couch and love seat, fifty two inch television, and a large fire place on the far side of the room. Straight ahead form the front door was a stairway, it seemed to go up for miles, like the stairway to heaven; its gold plated railings disappeared into the second floor. A crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the foyer glittered, as light from the open door shined on it. The burly man turned right and walked into the den.

                A distinguished looking gentleman sat at a desk at the back of the room, he was about fifty, and his hair was grey on the sides, and it was combed perfectly, as a matter of fact he looked like a statesman, like he belonged in the oval office. The burly man walked in and the distinguished man looked up, his feet on a chair behind the desk, his Italian made shoes shined in the dark, his blue eyes were cold and lifeless, just like a politician.

                “What is it Ramon?” he asked, his voice a husky growl, Ramon started talking, but a girl no more than eight years old ran by outside the door chasing a cream coloured poodle, Ramon shook his head, this house had more animals than the African Jungle. Ramon reached over and closed the door; his big meaty hands looked like it could crush a man’s skull.        

                “Well?” The man in the suit asked, his dead eyes shifted a little,

“Have you heard from The Exterminator?” he asked. Ramon shifted from one leg to the next as if afraid to answer, but before he did the phone rang, the man in the suit answered,

                “Hello.” Then he waited. “Is it done?” Ramon was rocking from one foot to the next.

                ”Big nigger what big nigger?” He listened.

                “I know what you should do, clean the shit up and get back with me.”………. a puzzled look covered the man in the suit face.

                “Of course it was the right apartment; you are the one that fucked up.”……….

                “What the fuck is going on there, hello, hello.” He listened; a look of angry replaced the puzzled expression.

“Who the hell is this?” He screamed

                I don’t know you, what the hell is your name, and where the hell is my man?” The man said then waited.

                “You are one dead monkey,” The man in the suit was really angry now, his face was so red he looked like a volcano about to explode.

                “Who the hell do you think you are, you don’t threaten me I could have your balls fed to the fishes!” The man screamed spit flying out his mouth. He listened for a second then shouted,

                “Hello, Hello.”

Ramon stood looking at Vince, his eyes did not look dead anymore, they light up anytime he got angry, wanted someone dead, or when he gets the news that they were dead.

Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

He is not a Beast from I am a Dirty Immigrant

I ran into what some people may call racism but I chose to call it stupidity. One day while I was working, a team lead came in to the toy store on his day off. I walked out of the storeroom just as he and his nephew came to the door. I stopped and smiled. The kid, who was about eleven years old, hid behind his uncle. I did not think much of it because sometimes kids are afraid of me. Hell, I was a giant beanpole who spoke with a strange accent. He stood there for a few minutes, his uncle trying to cajole him to talk to me, but the kid cowered behind him. His uncle became irritated and shouted at the kid, demanding that he stop being stupid. His face was red with embarrassment; his brown freckles looking like they would ooze blood. He shouted to the kid that I was not an animal, just black. Up until that point, I did not think that the kid would be afraid of me because I was black. I could not decide if I should be offended or just brush the comment off.  The uncle insisted that the kid introduce himself and slowly the kid began talking – not to me, but to some invisible being behind me.

Suddenly, the uncle asked me to watch the kid and walked into the storeroom. I looked at the little fella; he was looking at me as if I was the boogieman about to drag him into a dark hole. I bent over, smiling, and I could tell he was apprehensive. For some reason, an evil idea popped into my head.  So, using my natural instinct to bridge the racial gap between this kid and me, I leaned forward, smiling, showing off my perfect white teeth.  He smiled back nervously. After a second, I began snarling like a rabid dog. The kid’s face turned blood red. Then he screamed and ran away like the kid in the first “Home Alone” movie.  Now that may not have been the most intelligent thing to do, but what the hell, at the time I thought it was funny as shit.

Cool Runnings

13th Installment La Diablesse

There was no question at all that the front house belonged to Alison’s grandmother because bright colours distinguished it from the other two. The front door was painted in yellow and the frame in bright blue, the bright green roof shimmered in spots when the descending sun seeped through the trees round the house. I got off the bike and walked up the pebble-stoned walkway to a small wooden gate, I mean, what kind of strange people were they? No fence round the house just this bloody wooden gate. I shook me head and pushed open the gate and walked up three concrete steps, stumbled and almost fell into the door, damn steps was too small for me size seventeen shoes. I looked up at the door, there was a red cross painted on the middle of it and I leaned forward trying to get a better look at it, I remembered me grandmother telling me that some obeah priests used goat blood to paint crosses on they doors something to do with Passover I believe. Hesitantly I ran me fingers along the smooth surface when suddenly the door opened and I found meself looking up into the eyes of an old lady, she was wearing a gray dress the coarse material brushing against me face as a gently breeze escaped from inside the house.

“Wey you want?” she barked. I straightened up but still did not say anything I was vexed with meself, I mean, it was just a bloody old lady.

“You ah dummyboy?” she demanded a large mole on she bottom lip moved up and down when she spoke.

“I am Alison’s teacher,” I said, me voice a whisper. “She said I should come here to get help.” She eyes never left me face and for a moment she did not seem to know what the hell I was talking bout. I started to speak again but she raised she arm stopping me.

“Don jus stand dere, come in,” I got to me feet and followed she inside me heart pounding and me mouth suddenly dry. Before I could compose meself she disappeared into another room and I was left standing alone.


I sat down in the chair nearest to me wondering where the hell that damn woman went. There was incense lit in every corner of the room, teardrops oozed out the side of me eyes and rolled down me cheeks and I shut me eyes then open them trying me best to clean them. The chair poked into me skin and I looked down it was made out of Bamboo, now who in they right mind would have old bamboo furniture, I mean, the damn thing felt like I was sitting on needles or something. I cursed a little and slowly I shifted me position trying to make meself comfortable.
I looked round the room but I could not tell what colour it was because the smoke settled on the walls creating a black, gray cloud. There were dolls everywhere and the shadows on their faces made them look almost life like as if at any moment one of them would stand up and start a frigging conversation with me. Right then I wanted to get up and run but I told meself that everything was cool runnings so I settled back down. The curtains on the lone window shifted as the early evening breeze pushed it; I mean good lord, what have I gotten meself into? Alison materialized out of the smoke startling me, man, I need to stop talking to meself so much. She body made a pathway through the thick smog as she stopped in front of me smoke whirled round she then dissipated in the breeze.

“You all right Mr. Dickens?” She asked bending over and looking into me eyes.

“Yes, I am fine,” I replied, brushing away a teardrop that rolled down me cheek.

“Come on den, Ah go show you to you room.” I got up and followed her to a door that seemed to appear at the side of the room me water logged shoes squeaking as we went. I stepped through the door into a Victorian looking bedroom, I tell you what, the difference between this room and the one I just came from was like night and day. There was a huge window that took up one side of the room, a cream coloured laced curtain hung from it barely touching the floor, a mahogany dresser stood at the foot of the bed and on top of it were pictures of Alison, so I walked over to the dresser and looked at the black and white photographs. There was two of her as a baby and one of her when she was still a pupil at the small Primary school just a short distance up the road. There was a jewelry box over flowing with bracelets and necklaces, Jesus, did she think she had enough jewelry or what? I turned round in a tight circle surveying the room, surprisingly there was no smoke in there not even the sent of the incense violated the room.

“Dere is you change of clothes,” Man, I jumped so high me head almost touch the ceiling, I mean I had completely forgotten Alison was still in the room. She was pointing to a suit of clothes that lay in the middle of the bed so I walked over and picked up the garments
“Ah go come back to get you later on for de ceremony,” she said. I was still feeling the clothes not paying any attention to she at all so I was surprised when I turned round and realized the girl had already left the room.

I sat down on the bed me head started to hurt a little. I looked at the light blue paint on the walls it made the room seem brighter in the fading afternoon light.

There was a grandfather clock sitting in the far corner of the room and I watched the hands go round, I mean, I was looking at the bloody thing so long it’s ticking and me heart were beating the same frigging rhythm.

I heard a commotion in the backyard so I got up and walked over to the window, there were two roosters fighting while the other chickens scrambled round trying to get out of the way, dirt and feathers flew into the air as the two roosters tried to get the upper hand on each other. After bout three minutes of wings flying and intense clucking one of the roosters gave up and ran away its wings flapping vigorously, I chuckled to myself, run brother run before he kills you.

I opened the window and leaned out its wooden frame pressed against me elbow making them hurt a little, the late afternoon sun gave me enough light to see what the yard looked like, Aloe trees were planted along the sides of the house, it was common for Islanders to plant these trees because it was believed that they had the power to keep out evil spirits. Some people even eat the bitter plant believing that it would cleanse them, Idiots, that plant was so bitter it could make you hair stand straight on your head. The chickens had stopped milling round in the dirt and were beginning to settle down for the night, a bat flew by a mere shadow in the florescent light.

I went back into the room and sat down on the bed thinking hard bout why I was there and what good it would do for me. An owl hooted outside and I got up and began looking round for a light switch but stopped when I heard the door creek. Puffs of smoke seeped through then disappeared as it was sucked back into the other room. I waited, a dull pain in me chest as me heart rate sped up like crazy. It was just a few moments, but I tell you man, it seemed like a hundred years before an old man walked into the room surrounded by a cloud of smoke. He did not even look at me as he walked over to a chair beside the door and sat down, he wrinkled hands clasped round a homemade cane that supported the weight from he hunched over body, thick veins ran up and down he arms disappearing under the sleeves of his shirt. He dropped the cane onto the flow,

Parts Obeah

Blood is all they want (Soucouyants)

“Baron Samedi ou prel pini,” They stopped in front of the little people and evil smiles appeared on their faces. Their black eyes turned white then black again, their tongues were black and darted in and out of their mouths.

“Short Knees!”  Akosua shouted,

The Short Knees stopped stomping and stood silent for a second holding the pouches above their heads. Then in a blur they brought the pouches down spraying powder into the air.  The room became a thick white mist that blinded Akosua and her warriors. They coughed and sneezed, as powder floated into the air, then fell to the floor,, turning the brick floor from dark red to white. The Short Knees was stomping again, the jingle of the bells and white powder made it feel like Christmas and All Saints were the same celebration. When the powder settled, and Akosua and her warriors were able to see again, Ampah’s mother, the little people and the Short Knees had disappeared. Akosua sneezed then looked up.  Standing before them were eight Soucouyants, the wives of the Ligaroos, they were just as fierce as their husbands. The devil women stood, their skinless bodies glistened in the light from the torches, salvia dripped from their mouths, and their red eyes stared intently at Akosua and her warriors. Akosua took the club that was soaked in the salt from Nykene Mountain from her belt and prepared for an attack. Suddenly the Soucouyants attacked.  The first beast charged at Akosua and morphed into a bear. At first it came at Akosua on all four legs, but when it was close to her it stood up. The beast towered over her, its mouth open, its head trashing from side to side sending saliva floating everywhere. It swung its large paw just as Akosua swung her club.

The Soucouyant behind her changed into a cougar, its teeth almost as big as a ram’s horn. It jumped at Ampah; its large body blocked the light from the torch behind it, and for a second Ampah was not prepared for the attack and was knocked to the ground. The cougar stood over him saliva dripped from its mouth onto Ampah’s face. The boy fumbled on his belt to retrieve his pouch with the salt pellets, then grinded a handful into the cougar’s eyes. The beast roared, then jumped off of him and disappeared into the dark. The last two Soucouyants turned into giant wolves. Their canine scent filled the air as they rushed at the warriors. The warriors retaliated, swinging their clubs, warding off their attackers.

Several large snakes slithered towards the warriors, then stopped and stood straight up in s-shaped forms. They hissed, showing fangs as long as the clubs that the little people carried. They reared their heads back preparing to strike. The warriors moved in unison and as the snake’s heads came forward they swung their clubs. The snaked fell to the ground, steam floating from their bodies where the clubs had struck them. They turned and slithered away, disappearing beyond the light form the torches.

Akosua and her warriors stood waiting for the next wave of attacks. The room was filled with the sounds of roars, growls and hissing. Akosua swung her club just as the bear came at her, hitting the beast on the chest, its paw came close to her face, but when the animal was hit with the salted club it morphed back into Soucouyants. It stood and looked at Akosua, then at the others, a surprised expression on its face. Akosau turned and saw that one of the snakes had wrapped around one of the warriors. The young man gasped for air. She ran over to him and struck the snake with the club. The reptile immediately morphed and retreated to where the other Soucouyants stood. A wolf charged at them, but right before it could slam into Akosua, Ampah struck it with his club, and the animal morphed in midair landing upright on its feet. Then as suddenly as the attack started, it ended and the room was empty.

Akosua and the warriors stood, their clubs at the ready, anticipating another wave of attacks. Suddenly, the torches went out and they were plunged into darkness. Akosua’s skin tightened, her muscles constricted, and sweat rolled down her forehead.

“I can’t see anything,” Ampah said,

“Stand your ground,” Akosua said. The Soucouyants came at them in the dark, their voices echoing in the empty room. Akosua was grabbed from behind and she felt teeth pressing down on her neck. She twisted her body and threw her attacker off. The beast grunted as she hit the ground. Another Soucouyant jumped on her and wrapped her arm around her neck. The girl struggled to escape, spinning around, causing powder to fill the air. She heard the screams of her friends as they struggled to fight off the assailants.  Slowly, the spear glowed, filling the room with white light. The Soucouyants seemed stunned by the light, and the one that had its arm around Akosua’s neck loosened her hold. Akosua took the opportunity to retrieve the bag of salt from her belt, took out a handful, and threw it into the beast’s face. The Soucouyant howled, covering her face with her hands. Steam floated off her face. Mixture of melted flest and loose skin ran down her hand and dropped onto the floor. The other Sooucouyants stood, as if hypnotized by the light.


A Portion from the new book The old Man’s Shadow

He walked into the classroom; the teacher was already at her desk.  The bully snickered as he walked in. Andre sat at his desk not looking at anyone. No sooner the teacher began to talk Andre felt a wet piece of paper hit him on the neck and rolled down into his shirt. He did not move. Another piece of paper hit him, then another and another followed by the snickering of his classmates.

“Yuh go let he do dat to you?” The shadow said almost transparent in the light that came in from the windows.

“Leave me alone,” Andre whispered. The teacher stopped talking,

“Is there something you want to say Andre?” the teacher asked, Andre looked down at his desk. The teacher walked over to him but said nothing, turned and walked back to the front of the class.

“Boi you is a fraidy-cat, do sumting, I go help yuh, show yuh how to fight,” The shadow said. Another piece of paper hit Andre on the neck, then the snickers. Andre looked down at his shadow on the floor.

“Wha yuh want me to do?” He asked in a horse whisper,

“You book, it big enough to hit him real hard,” The shadow said. Andre looked at the teacher, then back to the shadow. Slowly he picked up the book,

“Yes man, now yuh go show he who is bigman nah,” the shadow said. Andre got up, his heart pounding, sweat rolled down his forehead,

“Andre, what are you doing?” the teacher asked. Andre ignored her and stopped in front of the bully. The boy smiled,

“What are you going to do with that book?” the bully asked, confident that Andre would do nothing. Andre raised the book and smashed it against the boy’s head. He fell to the floor, a drizzle of blood floated in the air after he fell. He looked up at Andre,  a stunned look in his eyes,

“Andre, what has gotten into to you?” the teacher screamed. Andre swung the book again hitting the bully behind the head. The boy curled up and began whimpering. The teacher was behind Andre grabbing at his arm. Andre threw the book onto the bully. The teacher bear hugged and dragged him away. Andre kicked knocking over a desk.

“Dat’s the way to do de ting boi!” the shadow shouted. Andre broke loose from the teachers hold and ran at the bully. The boy was sitting up, Andre kicked him in the face and a tooth flew into the air, one small square followed by  a line of blood that culminated with drops at the end of it. The teacher grabbed him again and pulled him out of the room.

Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Cocaine Cowboy From the novel I am a Dirty Imigrant

I know, I am straying, but damn this story is good. There was a couple at the party dressed like the characters from the movie Pulp Fiction. The gentleman had a line of red liquid running down his nose so I congratulated him on how authentic his costume was and asked him what he used for blood.  He looked at me puzzled, and then held up a small glass container on a chain around his neck. The light was dim so I leaned in and saw that it was filled with white powder. I had heard about cocaine use at parties but that was the first time I had seen someone bleed from their nose. I was so embarrassed I just swallowed hard and walked away, as he wiped the blood from his nose.

Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

Cocaine Cowboy From the novel I am a Dirty Imigrant

I know, I am straying, but damn this story is good. There was a couple at the party dressed like the characters from the movie Pulp Fiction. The gentleman had a line of red liquid running down his nose so I congratulated him on how authentic his costume was and asked him what he used for blood.  He looked at me puzzled, and then held up a small glass container on a chain around his neck. The light was dim so I leaned in and saw that it was filled with white powder. I had heard about cocaine use at parties but that was the first time I had seen someone bleed from their nose. I was so embarrassed I just swallowed hard and walked away, as he wiped the blood from his nose.

POEMS Storyteller

Freedom Fighter Hope lost

Every day he fights death 
Its promise of peace and quiet
its offer that he can be the perfect human being
Every night he sees its red beady eyes
They hover over him like a vulture
Only this vulture is white
Gleaming with false promises 
He reaches out and takes it 
And slowly pulls it to his mouth
The closer it gets its form and colour changes
From white to black, two red eyes, to one gray eye
The single eye disappear into his mouth 
He feels its cold beak against his tongue
Ahhh, the taste of death pending
Now that’s a familiar feeling 
His heart is racing 
His breath comes in short bursts
Its like that feeling right before orgasm
He he he he he, yeah
Take him to the cloud with the river of milk
Cuddle with him until he is still
Comfort him while his thoughts eat away at his soul
Bury him in a casket full of love and compassion
Bless him with your bible of half-truths
Bathe him with your holy water
Watch it turn to blood as
it drips down his body

POEMS Storyteller


the shadow stood over him
knife in hand
blood dripping from its jagged edges
ohhh the satisfaction
if a shadow can feel
ohh the serenity
if a shadow can feel that
the shadow looks down
the man moans
there is a bloody mess where his penis was
the shadow took his manhood
who is that shadow
he lives in me
he lives in us all
he savours the moment
that moment when he used his knife to take this mans manhood
he will watch him bleed
stinking political puppet
you deserve what you got
thats the shadow talking
as he turns and walk away