Posts Tagged ‘writing’

Fear and Loathing in Louisville, Kentucky

By

Jason Giecek

 

I am in the land of Ali, the birth place of Hunter S. Thompson.

I am Dr. Me to Mr. Me to my lover’s preciousness.

She hates me during those phases, here I sit in evil phase, writing about the love of spring in the summer time.

I laugh at that sentence, almost comical, making me want to carve it into my chest.

I stand in fire waiting for life, to die, to dance in star light.

She cringes from human touch, she can’t remember a time that love was real, not a barren place, didn’t have to place her hope onto the back of her baby, life was reality, not just a dream,

A hopeless nightmare….

 

 

 

Heaven be her name – The Story of Destiny

I keep thinking I’m making headway in this thing called life but then the waves come crashing down.

I come up for a breath, feeling the blessed air coming into my lungs, but there, again, the monster waves hit me, hard, pushing me to the bottom, scraping my body against the coral reef, where am I?

Nowhere, going fast, up one minute, kick to the face, down, counting, 1, 2, 3, do I wanna get up again or stay down for the count?

The bets are coming in, I’m staying down, but nope, my dumb ass gets back up.

Why?

I’m a winner!

I laugh at that, my inner demon does, I’m no winner, I’m a big fat loser!

I’m trying to stay alive, well enough, I think, until I look in the mirror, standing there, bloody, broken, ready to give in.

“I love you!” she, the one in my corner, even though I’m insane.

I keep going because and for her.

“What’s her name?”

Destiny.

Heaven be her name….

How I love thee, in a previous life even,
I whisper thy name during those times,
I think I can not go on,
There you are,
A shimmering light against the encroaching darkness…

The dragons invade my sleep, the crazy, hello insanity, you try to keep me sane, I am slipping into madness…..hello dear friend, how are you this fine and wonderful evening?

I am dead inside.

Opening old and new wounds!

What is reality?

A dream placed into real life?

Is that the definition?

Dear one, I shall keep walking till the end, tomorrow shall never come!

Cheap beer and steel guitars,
Whiskey and lonely hearts,
Broke down in San Antonio,
Drinking time in old down towns,
Looking for a good time,
Finding nothing but a broken heart,
Cheap perfume
And lonely eyes,
Living the honky time life,
Bar flies and worn out trucks,
Drinking time,
Anytime,
Pull up a stool and shoot the breeze,
Closing time is far away,
Don’t mind ole Montana,
He down on his luck,
Found a woman,
She did a buck,
Run away with a rodeo clown,
Broke his heart,
And now he sits at the bar,
Trying to find a replacement heart,
Drinks his lonely heart beer run,
Texas born,
Down on his luck,
He hears the jukebox play,
Ole Same is on his way,
Lonely hearts
And cheap motels,
Only wine can heal it fine,

Beer makes it televised!!

…a battered soul, a spirit lost to the midnight hour, the world spinning out of control, set to destroy. Warning to those who dare think to enter this land, only death shall follow…

lights-1254324_960_720.jpgA misery inside, a passionate fire put out before a fiery rage, a scream into the moonlight, close my eyes, do not let me die here, in this broken place, wake me up from this nightmare.

I stood at the edge, my eyes gazing into the starry skies, the Gods stood by, waiting to see what fate decided, suicide of a worthless soul, his spirit to disappear from everything.

The endless nights, the beast prowled, the silence of the dead dying on sheets in crypts made of marble.

“Craw….” the words echoed from my dying throat. I could not see, just hear the voices in the winds, her scent drifted into what was left of my brain.

The Goddess, the madness, she was there, not as a vision, a dream, but flesh and blood, a person.

I wanted to call out her name, but my voice was gone, ripped out and stolen by the crow, Master and Mistress, to the wind, to the time, it was nothing but a fantasy, strangely ripped from the pages of time.

The city had been built, a perfect place, filled with perfect people, but destroyed by imperfect solutions.

Towering buildings, golden, rusting in the sands, bridges destroyed, crumbling into the mighty seas.

The Guardians, the beasts, trying to guard this horror, kept watch, killing those few who made it through the defenses and the gates, the world was not ready for the truth.

It had to be spared the horror.

 

Mired in misery, the waters, the lands, the air became poison, killing all.

They who dared to enter the arena, the dead world, were killed, the memories of them erased…

 

We run away into the night,
Our pain, our memories,
Our suicides…

I did not know where to go, down the streets of memories and pain or into future loves.

Future loves could lead to the greatest, the best, or the horrible.

I had both, a great time of “I will love you forever!” and then it explode without a reason besides “I’m, confused!”

Confusion can equal many things such as “I met someone else, he better than you!” to “I just hate you!!”

Memories are triggers for hate.

No, I can’t figure it out yet.

“I didn’t mean I loved you, I meant, well forget what I meant….”

I’m confused too!!

I have to get you out of my mind, you are no longer available, a vision, a dream, not even.

So here I sit, alone, feeling insignificant inside my brain, like a burning candle, dwindling forever, leaving flowers at the grave, leaving sounds and sights inside my brain, memories poisoning my life.

I feel your presence, I wonder if you feel the same, do you hear my name?

I bet you don’t, I probably meant nothing to you, just a joke, not even a ghost in the machine.

Here I sit, in my world, how can I see into your soul anymore, like I did those days? You were my everything, you told me I was your days and nights, till that day, then I became nothing, a thing to throw away.

I cannot even say anything negative as my friend says you are the best.

You aren’t.

You took what little heart I had and stomped on it.

I cannot even say your name without throwing up.

I cannot say anything negative about you as my mind will not allow it, even it is against me, tells me you are a good person.

I sit here wondering what I did wrong.

 

July 12th, 2021 –

Dearest love, my sweet,

When I dream of you, I dare not wake.

I wish to hold thee in my arms, in plain sight!

I do not care who see us.

May they know us as lovers, though in your eyes and wake I do not know if you still feel that way.

You are my life, you are my soul, you are my everything.

I know we cannot be together, our souls and body held apart by walls of mostly our design.

I wish you were here, as I would make love to you, as a man should to his woman.

I am here without you, you are a thought in my lonely mind, as I work in a dead end job, I think of you, you are my muse, you my soul, you are my heart, I want to take you to a beach, the sand holding our bodies, embraced in a kiss, how I love thee.

I am here, late at night, your face is my vision, your body my lust. I wish you were here, with me, right now, instead of me with my lonely mind.

I know tonight, as I sleep, I will dream of you, we will kiss, we will laugh.

What can I do?

What can I say?

I do not know, I tell people about you, how I love thee, they do not understand the meaning of romance that I have for you, how I want to feel you from the inside, I know, an animal feeling but one I must know.

I also know I have hurt you as I have let other women into my life, lovers, dates, to take you away from me, how I wish you understood, that I know I cannot be with you, but I wish I was.

I wish I was there to hold you, to comfort you, as a lover should, during your times of need.

I know you have others, friends, acquaintances, how I wish I was the only one.

Your friend and dream lover,

Jack

 

I have traveled somewhere and got lost in a book store once. It may have been in Lexington, Kentucky. It was wonderful!

I need to write tonight, I am very tired, not necessarily physically, mostly mentally!

I’m trying to be a good boy, I didn’t kill anyone today!

I may have beaten some customer with a loaf of day old french bread and may have shoved a ten pound turkey up their butt.

Cashiers can get cranky when they skip nap time and then have a customer screech, “This turkey should have rang up at $12.95, not $12.96.”

DO YOU FEEL THE PENNY NOW MY FRIEND!!!!  I scream, shoving pennies by the bucket full down their throats. I AM RHAK, WARRIOR GOD!!! DIE PAGAN FILTH!!!

This gets you a visit to HR.

“Do you think that it was appropriate to scream….” reads transcript from the video surveillance “You have awaken the evil inside of me that has slept for a thousand years!?”

I shrug and then reply, “Maybe, the entire scene needs to be viewed in its entirety, it’s a master piece in English Norse Theater!”

“Does shoving a bottle of $18.45 wine down the customer’s throat while screaming, TO THE WHORES OF YOUR MOTHER’S WOMB compile into this theater script?”

I nod.

“We’ve had 58 complaints today about you!”

I smile.

“That’s down from yesterday, gotta admit, it’s an improvement!”

“GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!!”

Also, my brains are turning to mush.

People don’t realize the fun of being a cashier.checker.dragon slayer.

We stand there for hours, scanning your otter pops, control top pantyhose, and $4.95 a box condoms.

“Pick up a pregnancy test as well, same aisle!” I smile, fake of course. Checkers don’t have real smiles, just like they don’t have souls anymore.

They sold theirs for a box of cereal.

I sold mine for some Raisin Bran.

Nummy for the raisin bran!!

Course, standing there, you get to think, deep thoughts, deep, deep thoughts, like —

  • I really must have done something wrong in a previous life, maybe killed a whole bunch of babies. Maybe I was Hitler. Or a Pharaoh of Egypt, one of the evil ones, who killed a whole bunch of babies.
  • Why did I go to college for?  “Hot babes, lots of drugs!” my brain responds.
  • Do cashiers really get laid a lot like the recruiter said?
  • What is “Getting laid”? Will I ever see a really life naked vagina again?
  • “Probably not, loser!” my brain responds. “You should have stayed in school, became a doctor of literature or underwater basket weaving.

Seeing my old professor from my college days brought back some of those memories, of college frat parties, girls, girls, men, men, more men, no wait, wrong flashbacks!!!
Professor was head of the humanity department, I took his history of the 20th century world, and learned to question authority or do drugs.

I don’t remember.

If you remember college, you did it wrong.

Or maybe that was the 1960s.  I forget.

“Hi! Been a long time!!” I said.

He beamed.  “Did you take my classes, what was your name again?”

I told him.

“I remember you, you were the smart ass in seat 7 row A!”

I nodded.

We both laughed.

I told him about my adventures as an IT monkey for the mafia or a casino in the middle of a corn field, my descent into madness AKA retail.

“You should write a book!! I’m working on one!” he nodded and then we had to part ways.

It’s always nice to see old professors and teachers so they can see where their prized students landed.

“You were my hope…” one of them almost cried at me, running away in tears.

If I’m your hope, you’re f*cked!

I wasn’t his real hope, he was going senile, his wife explained to me later, but if it made me feel better, worst, whatever, then go ahead and believe it.

I’m a hope!!!