Submissions by TheGreatGrayWolf (Razzmatazz)

POEMS AND SHORT STORIES

Poet Introduction

I write what I see, I describe how I feel. I am myself and nothing more. But what I write, can be anything.

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TheGreatGrayWolf
DARK POEM
Published
14th Dec 2015 7:01pm

Gadarene

I'm stuck with an enigma, a catch-choice, if you will. Blossom and be different, with all the eyes that stare, or give in, but be accepted, here and there. Be extraordinary in one small thing, or be ordinary in everything. I am not like other people. Some may see that as a threat, others may see it as something to pity. I see it, through no fault of my own, as normality. I have nothing to compare against. I do not possess any other mind than my own, so how am I to know the difference? Intelligence? Experience? Both of which I have plenty, but both of which are equal to none. I am stuck here,...
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TheGreatGrayWolf
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
29th Oct 2015 4:31pm

The Flood

A world of pain surrounds us. The years proceeding our own predicted our very situation. Paranoia, control, ignorance and discrimination. We suffer under those we trust to protect us, because they’d rather discard us, or otherwise tug us along with disdain. We scream at them, words of silence, as they turn their ever deaf ears our way. We recognise their ignorance and choose to live with “what will do” as we feel we’d be fighting a losing battle. You believe you are on your own, as do many others, splintered across this vast waste. You think you cannot stand, but you should remember one...
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TheGreatGrayWolf
STORY POEM
Published
3rd Nov 2014 8:36pm

Madhouse - Chapter 1

Two men are sitting in a small, well decorated room. The chairs they're in are leather, surrounded by a metal pipe frame. They look art deco. Between the two chairs is a small glass coffee table, and on it, two small mugs and a rather odd looking device. One man looks to be clean, well dressed and well slept. The other looks like an exact opposite. The well dressed man leans forward, picking up the device, pressing one of its buttons and gently placing it back onto the table, with odd precision.

"Journal of Doctor James Whitfield #16, Monday the 3rd of November, 8pm. Interview...
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TheGreatGrayWolf
DARK POEM
Published
14th Oct 2014 00:22am

"The Joker" interview; Doctor Harleen Quinzel presiding. November 2nd.

Within a small padded room, there are two people. One is a man with a terrible looking smile, lying down on a therapeutic bed. The other is a doctor, a woman.

“Good morning. First, I want to say, no funny business. You often talk about a lot of nonsense whenever we have these sessions, so I want you to start by telling me what's on your mind, right now.”

The man looks up to the doctor.





“What's on my mind...” He thinks for a few seconds, then smiles deeply.





“Let me tell you a story, Doc. This is one of my favourites....
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TheGreatGrayWolf
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
11th Aug 2013 12:16pm

Journal Entry #2

10:23pm, November 14th, 198X
 Greenwich Street Apartments, Greenwich Street, New York

Patrick Winston. Slimy bastard and ex-informant, now turned goodie-two-shoes, after being relocated by witness protection. Winston still kept his underground connections and even continued to make shady deals with the Fornelli crime family. For a guy protected by feds, Winston was easy to find. Goes to show what happens if you end up pissing off every cop in New York. This guy was a computer hacking freak who believed he was ridden the world of scum using nothing but his computer. As much of a...
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TheGreatGrayWolf
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
16th Jul 2013 2:34am

Journal Entry #1

9:57pm, November 14th, 198X  
  The New York Helmsley Hotel, New York City

Blood on the sidewalk. Classic cliché with a common twist. The cops aren't sure if the victim got bored of living and decided to try out his eagle impression, or if someone forced him into it. Like flies on shit, the blue was all over the red. William Jorgensen. Famous Swedish Mechanist. Came to the city attending an international convention and ends up, like most other citizens, face down in the gutter. I waited for crime scene investigations to come to a halt before deciding to do some investigations...
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TheGreatGrayWolf
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
2nd Jun 2013 4:09pm

Closure (A Shadow of Doubt Part 9: Finale)

Several days had passed since Liza’s death and the world was in as much chaos as it had been. What was Brent to think? That the world would be healed over night if the mole had been dispatched? He knew the world was now on the path to recovery, but it was a long one. Perhaps now he could now help everything get back to the way it used to be, in the older days. Helping the recovery could be the way to turn. First there were loose ends to tie up. Deist was to meet Brent in a local park on the safe side of the city. There was no reason for his contact to hide anymore. Brent had a feeling he...
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TheGreatGrayWolf
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
2nd Jun 2013 1:44pm

Keep Your Friends Close... (A Shadow of Doubt Part 8)

For the second time in less than an hour, Brent had been struck speechless, only this time, there wasn’t going to be a modified flashback. It definitely was Lucas. No doubt about it. Brent lowered his gun, but not his awareness. Lucas simply smiled at him, as if he had outsmarted him. Maybe he had. Brent couldn’t say a word. Lucas lent back into his chair, somewhat leaning into it. There was a wheelie chair just in the corner. Brent walked over, grabbed it and wheeled it in front of Lucas. He sat down and leant forward. He turned his head to look out the window, over the city. Lucas did the...
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TheGreatGrayWolf
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
2nd Jun 2013 2:25am

Regrets (A Shadow of Doubt Part 7)

Brent kicked the gun away, causing it to hit the barrel and echo out the warehouse. He immediately got up, ready to leave. All the repressed feelings from his childhood grew and overcame his mind. The walls were closing in. Closer and closer. Brent’s mind was going into meltdown. He dropped his gun and hit a wall of the warehouse, sliding down it, mimicking the night of his mother’s death. Everything was ending. Who? How? Why? The unanswered questions burned into his mind. Brent crashed.
He breathed, quickly and attempted to catch back his sanity. In, out, in, out, like he was taught....
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TheGreatGrayWolf
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
2nd Jun 2013 1:23am

Changing of Ways (A Shadow of Doubt Part 6)

The day was coming to a close. That is, at least it was, around 3 hours ago. The darkness began to fall around the small town and Brent was ready to go home. Like most days, he was the first in and last out of the library and they had finally shut their doors. With his satchel over his shoulder, Brent was ready for the long walk home. Today, he decided to take it slower, just in case his mother was still awake. He rattled through his loose change and was met with the amazing feeling of finding out he had more money than he thought. It was a rare occasion when he had spare money, so he decided...
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TheGreatGrayWolf
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
31st May 2013 7:17pm

Retribution (A Shadow of Doubt Part 5)

He had a dream about his teenage years, an unpleasant one at that. He shook his head and looked back up to his monitors. Jacob had fallen asleep on his naval cot, Ander was working on his laptop, and Liza had moved from where she was before Brent had passed out. Jacob meant the world to Brent. Jacob had been there for Brent since he was thirteen and had never broken his trust. Jacob and Brent had fallen out plenty of times in the past. Since they entered this line of work, Jacob had grown distant with Brent. It was difficult to remain friends when there was so much to think about. They were...
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TheGreatGrayWolf
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
30th May 2013 11:27pm

Caring (A Shadow of Doubt Part 4)

Brent woke up. He was in his bedroom. Today was another usual day, a Wednesday to be exact. He was unsure what he was suppose to be doing, but, with the quick blink and rub of his eyes, his schedule fell into place. Study, study and more study. He began to think there was nothing more to life. He took one leg from underneath his blanket, then another. He imagined the carpet to be tickling his feet, but he couldn't feel it. Stupidly he went to stand up, only to immediately fall straight down, like an imploding building. Due to poor circulation, Brent would usually wake up with his legs below...
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DU Poetry : Submissions by TheGreatGrayWolf (Razzmatazz)
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