Blake After Midnight

Blake after midnight
When the strange sound
It was vibrant colossal power
Thundering from all directions
A sphere of waves seemed to vibrate
In harmony quivering ribbons
Of blinding green flame
Radiant upon every side
Thundering in mighty crescendo
Searing in onrushing green flames
Lashing, crisscrossing above and around
Tangled the lines of flame
Found realization in the radiant ribbons
Those glowing streamers
Gripped in the cosmic seine

The Tigress

Unique, her forest shadows
in shades of orange and brown.
One time born in the Bengal mountains,
where darkness streaks in ambush roam.

She saw me coming six miles before I saw her,
waiting for me to find her nestled in the bamboo.
She was hungry, and by chance she was eating,
peeling meat with raspy tongue,
but a bone was stuck in her throat,
and her throat had become swollen,
and she could eat no more.
Her suffering was terrible.
I asked, “What suffers you?” She told me why.
“I could free you from that bone,
but in your mouth you might eat me.”
“Don’t be afraid,” said she, “I’ll not eat you; only save my life.”
“Very well,” I said, and caused her to lie down.
But thinking to myself, “Who knows what she will do?”
I placed a reed upright between her jaws
that she could not close her mouth,
and grasped with my fingers and pulled the bone out,
and then I hid back in the bamboo.

 One day when she got well,
and then I saw her eating sixty pounds of buffalo.
I was hiding in the branches just behind her,
I thought then, “I will call to her,”
and in our talk this first verse I spoke:

Prowling tigress of the night
Growling in the bamboo bush
Hiding when the moon is bright
Striding in the Hindu Kush

In reply the tigress spoke:

Under stars I hunt for prey
Searching nights and sleeping day
Wonder at my sharpened claws
Lurching pounce and silent paws

Then in my reply I said:

Silent in the thrill of kill
Violent in the spill of blood
Slashing claws in craving’s flood
Gnashing teeth in hunger’s fill

 And in her reply the tigress said with sultry whisper:

 By taking of prey I live
In the waking night to give
Life to nature’s one desire
Burning in my stripes of fire

And, all the verses thus spoken,
I knew the Tigress well,
and then I flew away…

He’s Not There Anymore

He cut the motor and coast in neutral
down the hill, down the long dirt road.

She didn’t sell out,
he wasn’t fracked up,
buzzed up and burnt out in a crack shack,
and she wouldn’t be here. 

            The back side of a canyon, loitering at speed,
            passing through the veil like going through a screen door,
            then it was just him – moving – rolling in –
            the orange-yellow flash, the doughnut-shaped smoke ring,
            the thud of the impacts – he could feel it –
            “God…please don’t let me hurt a friendly.”
            He said that same prayer every time before it started –
            but he wasn’t there anymore –

The place cowered a mile down Black Canyon
surrounded by oaks half-dead in the blight;
it was just as he imagined, but he still didn’t believe it –
she hadn’t become what they said,
and he wouldn’t find her there.

            A big storm rolled in
            On a pitch-black, scorching summer night
            From the devil’s breath, the dust storm begins
            and with his eyes he steals the light
            Then the time and the place is right
            to find the heart of darkness and have a fight
            to light em’ up with rockets and cut em’ down with gun
            and kill em’ all until the mission’s done.

The clapboard paint peeled blood orange,
like skin cracks that flake ugly brown patches underneath.
Empty paint cans lay on the ground underneath a ladder leaning against the wall;
no one stood on it. It was noon when he rolled down the dirt road and came to a stop.
He got off the HD iron and put his sunglasses on to hide his eyes from the burning sun.
Gazing through the dark window of the house he saw no movement,
not inside the house, not around the barn or the shack.
The place reeked of ether.
But for one chicken pecking aimlessly in the dirt,
it was dead still. A voice…a woman.
He approached slowly, delaying the moment.
Tugging off his gloves, he reached for his M9 just to make sure. Then
the dull thud of his boot hit the step,
and the voice inside stopped. 

            I wish I didn’t have to kill you, but now it’s too late
            You could lay down your weapons and I could change your fate
            You think you’ll defeat me, you think that evil makes you strong
            You think you’ll be martyrs, but your ending you got wrong

             Hey badass – I’ve got a gun –
            Hey badass – ISIS-Al Qaeda – you’re done –  

            Now that the bullets are gone, and the rocket smoke is clear
            Those I left standing know the one they need to fear
            You can fight, but you ain’t right; your evil ways are wrong
            You can curse me with an evil eye, but I’m way too strong

There was a long quiet,
he forced himself to take each step
to the screen door, to look through, to break through.
His knock met silence, but then came the sound of bare feet.
He caught movement through the screen.
It was a woman, but was it her? He knew her silhouette,
she could’ve changed in two years, but she could never become what they said.
He drew a deep breath and felt his gut turn to knots like east of Bagram.
It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.
The woman looked from the shadows down the hallway,
her look bitter and broken. He reached for the handle, but froze when she drew closer.
Her hands put the tattered dress back into place. The sun shown on her, and he saw her,
the pale of once sun darkened skin, the tangled hair. It wasn’t her.
It was someone he’d never known.
His mind fell numb.
He was looking for Isis,
unable to voice words.

             In the fields the bodies burning
            The smoke of death’s destruction rising
            With his lust and murderous intention
            The sorcerer’s blood is filled with poison

             Evil thoughts inside a brainwashed mind
            Create a plot of death for humankind
            The bombs they drop explode like thunder
            Satan’s laughing at his plunder

             Bodies torn apart on mountains bleeding
            Around the flesh the vultures feeding
            Evil men watch from behind a curtain
            Their war against Light is certain

             Women and children run with terror
            The life they knew is gone forever
            Evil men opened the door of hell
            And loosed the demon of their spell

She’s not home, was the woman’s reply,
and then it was there. The moment he dreaded.
It was the voice he hadn’t heard in so long, and his heart pounded to the sound,
but he slapped it down. No. It wasn’t right. It all seemed wrong.
Then her shape moved out of the shadows.
Her eyes gazed through the screen door.
He recognized the gaze even through the screen veil.
Her hair was a color he never remembered. Dark brown, streaks of gray,
looking cold to the touch. Her shoulders fell as her head rose, as she moved
forward and stopped. Through the screen and the darkness,
he could see the shock on her ashen face. Shock and fear.

She was quiet – then at last broke the silence.
What do you want?…her only words.
He was afraid to see her eyes.
She pulled her shoulders back trying to stand straighter. This is private land,
said the voice icy hard. There was nothing in her eyes, not even faint flicker.
It’s okay, she called out, and a shadow moved
down the hallway behind her. 

Suddenly she gasped.
His hand froze as he reached for his gun,
but an inner voice stilled his hand.

            Evil men are running a war of decadence.
            Feeding on the souls of men, eating the heart of innocence,
            In a fire they cook the bodies; the smell of burning flesh is choking.
            They inhale the stench of death from the embers that lay smoking.

            Blood is spilled upon the ground, the heart of man stops beating.
            Because death is hungry, the soul of man it’s eating.

            Evil men pursue the war of self-indulgence.
            Feeding on the souls men; they relish the taste they experience.
            In a pot of blood, they put the hearts of men for soaking,
            Then boil out the souls over a fire that death is stoking.

             Bodies piled up on the ground, the heart of man defeating.
            Because death is hungry, the soul of man it’s eating.

It told him, the tone of her voice,
she hadn’t known who he was until then. He could have walked away.
She would have never known he had been there. He looked, and she was trembling
as she stepped forward into the sunlight he saw her.
God, for a second, it was her as he remembered, but then that second disappeared,
and everything fell away. Two years dreaming of that face,
and the last few seconds knowing she had betrayed everything.
The two years hit her at that moment too, as she looked at the man standing
before her. Its fine, she yelled back at the dark shadow down the hall, I know him.
And the shadow disappeared into the back of the house. She seemed frozen now,
The color of her skin fading, and the blue eyes going dim.
It’s true then he said, afraid to say the words. Yet there she was,
and she was changed. Thin now. And her full mouth flatter,
her jaw tight in a way it had never been.

He heard his heart pounding so hard,
so hard he could feel the blood rush in and out.

            Terror on the ground
            Fanatics with their guns
            Graves streaming underneath the blades
            It’s survival of the fittest
            I ain’t got no mercy
            They’re all gonna die

             It’s a war of illusion
            It’s the pit of the damned
            Who’s evil no one can understand
            An asylum for the insane
            Misfits and brainwashed psychos
            Not a single one can be saved

             Hair’s on fire six feet off the ground
            Screaming past the dead six feet below
            The freaks won’t get out
            Not a single one will survive
            The evil ones are ready to die
            Ready to die once again

             Just another day of blood
            Just another day of death
            Just another black day
            Idiots run the show
            Maniacs call the shots
            Maggots eat the souls

            Gotta keep moving
            Gotta keep shooting
            Gotta keep on keepin’ alive

Her eyes were still blue, but it wasn’t her. Maybe it had never been her.
She raised a trembling hand and said it’s not true. He wanted to believe her, but…
then indecision stirred, for a moment…for a moment he wanted to take her away.
Why did he come?
Her lips parted as if to draw a breath, her hands trembled, and her eyes
filled with tears. He was watching her from far away, feeling the horror inside,
He would suffer in silence his whole life; he would never say a word,
but the truth he couldn’t forget, because once she had been too good for him.

She said you look different now, as a tear spilled down her cheek.
I’m sorry, she whispered…Isis isn’t here anymore,
then turning her head and closing the screen door
she melted into the shadows.

Her words sunk in deep like knives:
            and he felt the pain.
His soul split open
           as he cranked up that motor:
it roared in the sun.

He said I still remember
            the way you once smiled.
And then he cursed her one time
            never to forget,
And he rolled that power on
            and rode straight away…

Isis Blown Away

The clapboard paint peeled blood orange,
            like skin cracks that flake ugly brown
under a ladder against the wall
            where empty paint cans spilled on the ground

It was noon when he rolled down that road
            And got off his HD iron black
And put on his sunglasses to hide his eyes
            From the sun as he walked round the back

Then gazing through windows into darkness
            The place reeked of ether and death
He heard the voice of a woman
            Saying “do I know you?” under her breath

Going in slowly to delay as long as he could
            He reached for his M9 just to make sure
And when the thud of his boot hit the step
            His fear he could hardly endure

There was a long quiet, then he took one more step
            to look through, to break through
And his knock met the shuffle of bare feet
            It was the sound of the Isis he knew

Was it her, had she changed in the years,
            could she be what they said?
His gut turning to knots, he drew a deep breath
            Wishing that his Isis was dead

She looked from the shadows down the hallway
            And he saw the bitter, broken lines of her face
She reached for the straps hanging from her shoulders
            And put her tattered dress back into place

She stepped forward into the sun and he saw her
            the pale of her once sun darkened skin
And in the tangled blue of her brown hair
            He knew it was Isis that he saw again

“She’s not home,” was her reply, and then it was there
            The voice he hadn’t heard in so long
“Go away, Isis don’t live here no more,” she said
            And then it all began to go so wrong

As her shape moved back into the shadows
            And her eyes gazed through the door
He recognized the lines of her face through the veil
            Filled with pain that he’d never seen before

Her hair dark brown was streaks of gray
            She looked cold to the touch
Her shoulders fell as she moved
            With looks not saying too much

Then at last she broke the silence
            “What do you want?” she said
Afraid and hiding her eyes in her disguise
            “You lookin’ for Isis? Isis is dead.”

The sound of her voice told him
            she hadn’t known it was him until then
He could have walked away in that moment
            And never saw her again

But he looked and she was trembling
            Away from the sunlight she stepped
God, for a second, it was her
            Under the tears that she wept

And it all disappeared and fell away then
            The years dreaming of her face
Gone in a few seconds of knowing
            She betrayed everything in that place

And those years hit Isis at that moment too
            as she looked at him crying and said
“Honey don’t look for me no more
            The Isis you once knew is dead.”

Then the shadow of her disappeared
            Deep into that shack in the back
The color of her skin pale in the shadows
            And her eyes fading blue to black

He felt the strength of his heart pounding
            Felt the blood rush in and out
Her eyes were blue, but it wasn’t her anymore
            “Isis is dead” he heard the crying voice shout

Then closing the door she whispered
            Soft like from so long ago
“Isis don’t live here no more…
            Please honey try to forget”