Close Encounters of A Preposterous Kind

“Okay, okay…sit down.” As Pumpkinhead sat down at a corner table in the coffee shop, Captain H threw his sandwich on the plastic tray and continued, “How do I communicate with the little green men?”
“Little green men?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey dude, did Jezebel sell you some of that liquid acid? That’s to be taken in small doses, you know. I hope you didn’t slurp that down.”
“Don’t be coy.”
“Coy?” Pumpkinhead picked at his hash browns. “You sure you mean coy?”
“Yeah I mean coy; you know like a wise-ass.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“A wise-ass is just a wise-ass. If you’re coy, then you’re a bashful, or a shy wise-ass.”
“But you’re still a wise-ass!”
“Only if you use that particular adjective in there, otherwise you’re just a demure person.”
“Stupid?”
“Huh?”
“Stupid….a stupid person. Like, ‘that guy skipping across the street is acting a bit demurely’.”
“Because he’s demure, he’s stupid?”
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Being demure has nothing to do with stupidity. Did we go to school in the same country?”

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The Rock – Of Ages

It was a night just like any other night; a night of good times, a night of bad times, but mostly just a night of times. It was a night to remember, but more over, a night to forget. It was a night of endless ribbing and poking at one another’s blemishes and shortcomings, a night of mundane inebriation and quick fixes, a night of bonding among futile friends and worthy adversaries; in short, another night of explosive mediocrity.

For those who went, The Rock had been a source of nirvana, an escape from everyday troubles, a place to call their own and to hide from the world; regardless of the fact that the world was sometimes less than fifteen-hundred feet away. And, except for the one time, no parents or cops ever came to The Rock and, except for an occasional canoe or kayaker….and Moon, there was never any other signs of humanity at The Rock. It was their safe zone, and would forever be remembered as a peaceful haven in their memories.

Mahdakis stood on the edge of the small cliff, which held the rock and over looked the tail end of the Brandywine River that poured into The Christina, which eventually poured into the Delaware. It was a small river, only several feet deep at its deepest points, and at its widest point, you could throw a Frisbee to someone. But it was peaceful and had a calming effect on him. He stood thinking of the inevitable future, and the nagging past that just wouldn’t leave him alone. At this point he could hear almost every inane conversation going on behind him………………

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Wishful – Sinful

The court jester dances for you alone.

Cracking smiles for the royal funny bone.

Paranoia picnicking on your brain,

For fear someone will do to you the same.

 

So I close my eyes and fantasize

Dirty peasants polishing your demise;

Brutus pouring wine for the dinner guests.

And this, at last, Laying your soul to rest.

 

HAIL! HAIL!

The king is dead!

 Let us toast to eternal bed.

HAIL! HAIL!

The reign has turned.

Leave this life, forget what you learned.

 louis-xvi-execution

Now the queen is forced to bare skin for me,

And her backside explored improperly.

And the princess, tied down, will soon follow

As soon as she capitulates to swallow

 

The distasteful plebeian atmosphere

Of mutiny and revolution cheers.

But, first we must elope in Atlantis

With the dead are new born, a lot like us.

 

 HAIL! HAIL!

The queen is dead!

God let us, now be forever wed.

HAIL! HAIL!

Take what’s yours,

Leave your friends, open new doors.

 anarchy

Sitting on my newly acquired thrown,

I watch elders crippling from the bone.

Fecal matter floating down city streets

Where the protestants hold clandestine meets.

 

Guillotines are chopping off pagans’ heads,

Famined children still have yet, to be fed.

 But, I cannot help them. I’m just a tool

For the Roman Catholics and their jewels.

 

 Hey now, I like this role,

I do nothing and I’m in control.

Bow now and kiss my cheek,

Bathing in coin, I laugh at the meek.

 

© 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity

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(we are) The Road Crew

“This is bullshit, Frank! What the fuck do we need Carl and Floyd for, anyway? Huh? Wanna tell me that?”

“I dunno, I’m just tellin’ you what I heard from Floyd. I guess your brother feels sorry for them and wants to give them some sort of a job by lettin’ them help out with the band.”

“Fuck ‘em! We are the road crew! Not them!”

“I thought you and Floyd were really tight these days.”

“Not when the prick’s cutting in on my action, yo! Christ, neither of them even owns a vehicle.”

“I know.”

“So what’s that gonna do? We got just as much stuff to carry around in the same number of cars, and two more people to find room for!”

“Yep. I know. I think maybe he just feels sorry for them you know, living out on the streets and whatnot.”

“Bullshit, man! Floyd slept at my house last week while my brother slept out on the street with Carl. What the hell’s he talking about?”

Frank took a chug of Budweiser. “I don’t know about that. Floyd says they haven’t seen Mahdakis much this past week.”

“Well, he sure the hell ain’t stayin’ down at Pock’s and Dakota’s.”

“Dakota’s not even staying at Pock’s and Dakota’s. Huh-huh-huh-huh. Hey, ya know…that’s right. We been there every night, and ain’t seen him but for rehearsal.”

Pumpkinhead took a big long drag off a joint. “Haven’t seen him once, dude.”

“Well where is he, then?”

Pumpkinhead exhaled with exaggeration, “I don’t know. He’s into girls, I know that.”

“And what are you into?”

“I am too, asshole! But he likes to play house, if you get my drift!”

“That’s kind a gay. But you know what? You got an attitude problem. What’s with being so hyper all the time?”

“I’m not! I’m just an expressive person!”

“Well, express the fuck down, then.”

Pumpkinhead took another long hit and scrunched his eyebrows together. “Where the fuck is he staying at night, I wonder.”

“Someone said they saw him walking in Old Norford, the other night.”

“Ah no.”

“You think he’s back with Jezebel?”

“It would explain his presence there….Copper Tom lives there too, but I doubt he’d be visiting him.”

“Why does Mahdakis hate him so much?”

“Probably because Copper Tom’s a fuckin’ asshole, that’s why!”

“He wouldn’t be such an asshole if your brother wasn’t always yelling at him.”

“MY BROTHER YELLS AT HIM BECAUSE HE’S A FUCKIN’ COKE ADDICTED, GOOD FOR NOTHING, DEGENERATE PIECE OF SHIT; THAT’S WHY!”

“Don’t fuckin’ yell at me. I’ll pick you up by that giraffe neck of yours and fling you into the river.”

“I’ll mess you up, dude!”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha! I’ll squish that pumpkin head of yours until your brains fall out your eye sockets!”

“Yeah, you wish.”

“Huh-huh-huh-huh. That’s it? That’s all you got?”

“For now.”

“For now,” Frank repeated, “oh well, you know what?”

“Mm.”

“At least it’s better than sleeping on the streets with Carl and Floyd.”

“What is?”

“Your brother…..with Jezebel, or whoever he’s with.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s her, dude. She really pissed him off last time. He was real hurt and shit, but hey, fuck him and Carl and Floyd! What’s up with that? Why the hell don’t they just go home and sleep?”

“Because they’re not allowed to. Huh-huh, Remember?”

“That’s a bunch of shit, dude. My female-birth-giver’s always crying at night because that asshole won’t come home half the time, or call to say where he is. Carl and Floyd, same thing. Ask Kim if you don’t believe me. They just want people to think that they’re on hard times so they have justification to be idiots. All it is, is a way of validating their own laziness and lack of motivation, thereby giving them an excuse to accomplish nothing.”

“Wow. That’s a concept, right there,” Frank said, staring out at the Brandywine River, “I mean, that’s pretty ingenious.”

“Ingenious? Are you smoking crack?”

“No. I’m the same way as them, but I have no excuse for the way I am…….Wish I had thought of that. Huh.”

“Frank,” Pumpkinhead said cautiously, “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything, but you’re a little……slow….sometimes, brother. You don’t need an excuse.”

Frank turned his head towards Pumpkinhead and the two of them sat on The Rock staring at one another until Frank started laughing uncontrollably. “Ha-ha-ha-ha-! Ha-ha! That’s what I want people to think! Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“Huh? Are you serious? Why?”

“I guess to validate my uh, lazy…….whatever it is you said. Huh-huh-huh. And to get people to feel sorry for me sometimes. Girls dig it, too.”

“Oh.” Pumpkinhead sat stupefied. “So you’ve no reason to feel envious of them, Frank. You got your own gig going on.”

“That’s right.” Frank lit up a Marlboro and took a long drag. “Now…….let’s talk about this accident that Carl and Floyd are going to have.”

 

© 2012 Mark Rogers

Crimes Seen Front Cover

 Crimes Seen

(Book II)

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The Silent Fright

Puppets dance uniformly

In boundaries of assigned squares

Starvation and gluttony

Rapidly grow into a common pair.

 

Portrait couples,

Afraid to catch an eye,

Stir in quiet shame

Of feeble attempts to rekindle

Sparks……of a Dura-Flame.

 

These are but a few dark truths,

Which add to the sum of Silent Fright,

And which swiftly fall from my heart

Now that I have seen the end’s light.

© 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity

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Pumpkinhead’s Theory of Anti-Prosperity

Pumpkinhead spun around at the foot of the bed to face his older brother, Mahdakis, “So here’s how it works; every Friday at the end of the month, you go up to NYU.”
“The one in New York?”
“The same.”
“But what if the last day of the month doesn’t fall on a Friday?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just go on the last Friday of every month!”
“How long are you going to be locked in this asylum?”
“Not much longer so you’ll probably only be doing this one time. But you gotta unload the shit for me.”
“Cool.”
“You’ll go to the Rubin dorm or Rubin Hall; something like that. It’s on Fifth Ave. Ask for Black Tom. He knows to look out for you. He’s really cool and mellow.”
“And black?”
“And black. Now, he’s gonna sell you the shit. You’re going to buy a pound of bud. Make sure it’s good bud and not shake. Black Tom won’t jerk you around and he usually gets nice stuff, but just make sure.”
“What if it’s not?”
“Not bud? Then don’t buy.”
“Alright. So far so good.”
“You’ll need about twelve hundred dollars.”
“Say what? Where the fuck am I going to get that kind of money?”
“Jesus Christ! Calm the fuck down, man. Don’t you have a job or something?”
“Yeah, I got a job, but my money’s pretty much tied up.”
“Well un-fuckin’ tie it because you have to understand that while twelve-hundred may sound like a lot, you’ll be selling ounces at two-hundred dollars!”
“So wait…..a pound, right?
“Right.”
“And there’s …uh….sixteen ounces in a pound?”
“Last time I checked.”
“So that’s thirty-two hundred dollars?”
“Yeah man, like a two-thousand dollar profit if you don’t use any yourself. You have the capacity to make even more by selling it in small nickel and dime quantities.”
“You must be rolling in the dough by now.”
“Not really man, I got the car payments and the insurance…”
“That’s it though. You got nothing else. Where’s all your money?”
“It’s rough man because we spend twelve or fifteen hundred on a pound sometimes and then end up selling just about the same amount. We break even more times than not.”
“That doesn’t even make sense. You should be making an extra two thousand or so off each deal.”
“Right. But then we need to set aside twelve more for the next buy.”
“So you should have two thousand in your hand.”
“Black Tom and I smoke a lot of it.”
“You smoke all your profits?”
“Basically.”
Mahdakis stood staring at his brother in disbelief, “What’s the matter with you, man? You were always so good with money.”
“I am good with money. I’m just not good with pot.”
“Jesus.”
“Hey man, stop raggin’ on me dude. It pays for itself and the gas to get to and from places, man.”
“So you and Black Tom smoke a half pound in a month? You smoke half your investment?”
“Easily.”
“What if you bought twice as much? Two pounds instead of one?”
“What good would that do?”
“Then you’d be able to have another pound and a half while still having the other half pound for recreation.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because it’s two pounds instead of one.”
“But we smoke up half of it.”
“Right.”
“Half of two pounds is one pound. We’d be smoking an entire pound instead of just half.”
“But you wouldn’t have to!”
“Sure we would!”
“Why?”
“Because we smoke half. That’s how it goes!”
“But don’t smoke half!”
“But that’s what we do! You said so yourself. If we didn’t smoke half then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. All buying two pounds is gonna do is create more for us to smoke and generate more of a profit loss!”

 © 2013  Mark Rogers

Benevolence & Betrayal (Book III)

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Yesterday==Today

Slow and languid, the train of thought

which still insists passion be bought

under hazel skies children are taught

to worship God………….so greedily sought.

 

© 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity

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Ch-ch-ch-changes…..

To deny change is not to grow,

Or ever pass go,

And never to know

The answers to questions

You long for today.

 

Head of clay,

You can say that today

You don’t care to be aware

As long as you  stay- – – –

 

 – – -the same

remain- – – –

vegetablized, minimized,

 

– – -emotionally paralyzed.

 

 

Frozen memories of a yesterday

That you once knew

Never to digest or recess

Inside of you-

 

There is unrest.

 

You hate your life

But you love yourself so.

Soundly impossible,

 

They’re one in the same bro.

 

As the world changes,

So must our causes and views.

It is changing now—

 

Turn on the news.

 

I used to believe

In justified homicide;

A life for a life, an eye for an eye.

 

But,

Change soon found me

With it’s merit and zest……

….. And now, jaded heart of failed test’s,

 

I believe life eternal would be best.

 

© 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity

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Remember Tomorrow

“The only good thing about today is it’s still young and there’s still hope we will die before it’s over with.”
“That’s the spirit. What do you have against waking up tomorrow, anyway?”
“Tomorrow’s the reason I wanna get it over with today! Tomorrow we have to do this bullshit all over again!”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because I am.”
“Oh.”
“Because tomorrow is the day we pay for our wasted yesterday.”
“Which is actually today.”
“Exactly!”
“But it hasn’t been wasted.”
“Not yet. But it will. And all we can pray for is that today–”
“Or yesterday tomorrow.”
“–stops right here before tomorrow settles in.”
“The day after tomorrow, yesterday.”
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Ride The Snake

Waking to the fuzzy feel of the rapidly fraying silk sheets, her naked curvaceous body intertwined with his and, and more importantly, to the comforting knowledge that he was safe. Safe in her arms; cocooned within a calming sense of belonging, purpose, want, and need; the beat of his heart, once again accompanied with a melody. He was with his true love.

But with all that, came the familiar air of uncertainty. The uncertainty of what she was thinking (and why), or scheming to do next (and when), and then, how long this euphoria would last. But it was his choice, and he knew the plausible consequences. He knew he’d forfeited all control the moment he stepped towards her; yet he stepped anyway. The serpent that was their twisted, masochistic passion for one another had reawakened itself and was cotton-mouthed; thirsty for new blood. And in its unyielding quest to quench the thirst, would lead them both down a long spiraling ride of emotional anguish and sexual nirvana, as only a serpent can be held accountable. Continue reading