deepundergroundpoetry.com
'tell us a story'
as I stumbled toward the cantina, shimmering in the desert heat, I hoped
it wasn’t a mirage that would fade as I approached it. my wounded Land
Rover had broken down several miles back, & I walked toward the setting
sun, until I wandered into this unmapped town on the outskirts of Hell.
somewhere far from here was a cathedral, a congregation of secret sinners
on their way to sainthood, singing ‘amazing grace.’
in the cantina, I would rejuvenate with tequila & a stew of iguana meat, & the
pervading cigar smoke, the odor of which testified that the tobacco was laced
with marijuana. my drink arrived, along with a heavy-set man wearing a black
bandana & a thick mustache that wired over his mouth. he sat down, silently
glaring at me. I ignored him, my mind drifting back to events of several days ago:
I was at home, going thru my notebooks, re-examining the poems I had written
over the embattled years of my life. but on this day, the pages seemed hideously
altered, as I gazed at love poems & meaningless sentiment composed for women
that I had long ago abandoned, because love had built houses made of straw &
twigs in my heart, that were easily blown down by the first lipsticked predator
that came along.
the poems became familiar monsters, incendiary memories & metaphorically
disguised lies of a persecuted man always on the run. monsters conceived to
torment me.
my reverie was interrupted, as another chair was taken by a gypsy girl with
unwashed hair & a purple scar that descended from just above her left eyebrow
to an inch below her clouded, unseeing eye. she also sat quietly & stared at me
with the unmarked half of her face.
my flashback continued, as I recalled the fright that overcame me. in my dementia,
I grabbed a knife & slashed those demonic notebooks to ribbons. I gathered the
tattered pieces & placed them in a basket, which I took outside & set ablaze. as the
smoke & embers rose toward a blank-faced moon, the sky opened & rain poured
out, dousing the waning fire, as if God Himself were my accomplice in destroying
the ashes of my transgression.
those terrible verses were gone, but their ghosts lingered in my cabin. I threw some
possessions into the Land Rover, set fire to the cabin, & drove off randomly.
In the cantina, 3 more vicious looking men & an old woman, who was chewing
something thick & black that dribbled between her lips & stained her chin, took
seats around me, completing the circle.
the mustached man began picking his teeth with a long knife. the gypsy girl
leaned toward me & smiled. she said, ‘tell us a story, hombre.’
and maybe I will…
Published 7th Jul 2014
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comments 22
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7th Jul 2014 6:12am
7th Jul 2014 7:05am
I want more..pls..some great lines: " because love had built houses made of straw &
twigs in my heart, that were easily blown down by the first lipsticked predator
that came along".
Re: burning of work etc, that's why i am so trying to do work not about me...
I want more...........
twigs in my heart, that were easily blown down by the first lipsticked predator
that came along".
Re: burning of work etc, that's why i am so trying to do work not about me...
I want more...........
7th Jul 2014 1:02pm
Very engaging...left me wanting more, but was wrapped up real nicely. Satisfied
Dug the adventure, the scene, the characters and the bulk of the narrator being haunted by the monsters he tries to burn away
everything worked well, and in the right amounts
Slick write
Dug the adventure, the scene, the characters and the bulk of the narrator being haunted by the monsters he tries to burn away
everything worked well, and in the right amounts
Slick write
7th Jul 2014 1:29pm
7th Jul 2014 2:22pm
"because love had built houses made of straw &
twigs in my heart, that were easily
blown down by the first lipsticked predator
that came along."
you are a masterful narrator Mister Feddeler.
twigs in my heart, that were easily
blown down by the first lipsticked predator
that came along."
you are a masterful narrator Mister Feddeler.
7th Jul 2014 2:59pm
Now that's a motely crew, I think you better tell one hell of a story. Wow, so many amazing lines here, and again you've managed to transport me into a sun-ragged world.
"as the smoke & embers rose toward a blank-faced moon, the sky opened & rain poured
out, dousing the waning fire, as if God Himself were my accomplice in destroying the ashes of my transgression." love this passage!
"as the smoke & embers rose toward a blank-faced moon, the sky opened & rain poured
out, dousing the waning fire, as if God Himself were my accomplice in destroying the ashes of my transgression." love this passage!
7th Jul 2014 4:26pm
John I was completely transported by this write into the anguish of this man.. this is a jewel of an ink.. you weave a story greatly.. with love Crim
Anonymous
7th Jul 2014 6:35pm
captivating... poems as monsters, i like that
There is a moral here every poet should take heed to...
And all civilizations begin with a good story teller
And all civilizations begin with a good story teller
8th Jul 2014 00:38am
8th Jul 2014 2:39am
Thanks for sharing this. I was sitting in that cantina, hearing the distant grace.
8th Jul 2014 2:55am
Indeed-I Love story time-John when You do tell a tale-its crafted Sir with juicy bits to the minds eye-keeping rhythm that leads the reader to be fully engrossed-Masterful Sir!!!
8th Jul 2014 4:21am
I hope that this is a trailor and you are working on the extended version. You captivate. Always.
8th Jul 2014 9:46am
If wild at heart had been directed by Burroughs it would have been written by you
11th Jul 2014 7:04am
i agree with idea you might sometimes work on screenplay..(either if most interesting synopsis hardly find a crew, though..
8th Jul 2014 4:40pm
This is incredible Hombre!
Me encanta tu cuento
I agree that you have soooo many great lines here. I particularly smiled at "lipsticked predator"
Me encanta tu cuento
I agree that you have soooo many great lines here. I particularly smiled at "lipsticked predator"
9th Jul 2014 3:10am
Well, JohnFeddeler, luv ~ This is quite a remarkable piece. Full of this hypnotic lyricism and the dread apocalyptic fervor of an epic.
It does rather seem such a fleeting vignette... :-*
It does rather seem such a fleeting vignette... :-*
9th Jul 2014 4:39pm
10th Jul 2014 1:59am
11th Jul 2014 1:25am
Bad ass write man, you truly have a mind meant for poetry. As everyone else said, I hope this is just a prequel to something more.
12th Jul 2014 11:01pm
"lipsticked predator"
Every good poet lives his own narrative. His own ongoing story. Poems like this etch you in space and time. A film of the imagination.
Every good poet lives his own narrative. His own ongoing story. Poems like this etch you in space and time. A film of the imagination.
19th Jul 2014 9:33pm
Ghosts of your past coming to call? Intriguing write John. It's got me thinking. Enjoyed.
