Sir Day Walker

Praise Koolaid

Salem’s Rose stands silent
within the devils bed
It’s scalpels await
those who bargain with the dead
Where the blessed hand
meets the stem
Now
Eager to begin
Breaking the skin

The journey of the Thorn
is fated
by the life of the blood
to which it has invaded
To pierce the flesh
of a dreamer
whose existence
relies upon their redeemer
To taste their sins
To see from within
Instigated by the eyes
of Salem’s Rose
When the deal is done
all eyes then close
Sweet dreams
says
Salem’s Rose ∞

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

9 Word Poetry Challenge

Words challenged to use:

devil~thorn~rose~blood~dream~deal~bargain~scalpel~ bed

As I watched the ambulance pull away from rock’s bar and grill, I thought about how some problems go unnoticed for so long…until they come to an end…a dead end.

Pat was a good worker. Best bartender I knew, so I hired him. Always on time, the money always matched, and the people really seemed to like him a lot. His scruffy hair slightly receded at the forehead made him look a bit older than he really was. He had a constant look of breaking a sweat, his eyes sort of glossy, with one occasionally drifting off to one side. It was the grin that got me…kind of a sideways grin that showed of something evil inside, yet he was just so sweet I always brushed that off as my imagination. He always remembered people’s names and what they drank. All around good guy, but there was still this undertone of something a little weird, even mysterious about him.

I never thought about how hard it must be to work in a place where others are living the social limelight.
It must have been hard to see all the guys’ approach the girls he admired from afar and knew he could not have.
He wanted that life more than anything.

One evening, I saw him laughing and having what seemed to be a good time and a successful conversation with a girl at the bar. He walked over towards me to get change for the register, with a wild look in his eyes like an excited little boy.

“Do you think I should ask her out…?” He asked. Of course I encouraged him to go for it, but when I looked over his shoulder at her, there was another guy moving in on her, asked her to dance. I’ll never forget the look on Pats face when he turned around. It was a Dark, hollow, empty look. I was actually sort of frightened of Pat for the first time since we had met. I knew this hit him hard, but it was business as usual for Pat as he resumed a normal routine, masking his disappointment once again.

The next couple of nights I watched him closely. Something was changing. He spent a lot of time talking to some strange, dark looking character that I had not seen in here before. We had our usuals, but this guy was definitely not in the same genre as the rest of the crowd. I figured this might be an ok thing for Pat, having a friend to talk to…to keep his mind off of the girl from the other night. As I was watching them at the bar, out of the corner of my eye something on the TV caught my attention. There was a gruesome murder of some young girl near here. My heart fell to my feet…oh my god! It was her, the girl that was talking to Pat the other night.

My stomach went into convulsions. I looked over at Pat. It was that evil sideways grin. No way. It wasn’t him. It just wasn’t.

For the next couple of weeks, Pat and the Dark Stranger were getting to be good friends. Rides home. Football games. They would look at girls and laugh…who knows about what, but they were laughing as if they knew something no one else knew. All the things that good buddy’s do together, but for some reason I was suspicious. The whole thing just didn’t seem to sit right.

There were three or four nights when Pat showed up late…this was not like him at all.

Then it happened again. A girl…smiling, talking to Pat, like there was potential for a date. I listened in for a moment. “So…” Pat asked, “how about you and I go for an early breakfast when I get off?” Good for him, I thought, he finally got up the nerve to ask her out. “Well…” she said, “I was actually waiting for my boyfriend to show up, but if he doesn’t, then why not? It’ll serve him right for leaving me here alone” she smiled, flipped her hair and giggled a little. Pat walked, no…floated, back to the bar.

About 1:00am, I told Pat to go ahead, I would close up. The boyfriend still had not shown up yet, so what the hell. Pat was elated. Just before they stepped out the door, sure enough, the boyfriend showed up. He delivered a half-assed apology followed by a lame-assed excuse, and somehow swooned her into forgiving him. She looked over at Pat, gave a little shrug and mustered up that “I’m sorry” look. Pat whirled around at the boyfriend and began a shouting match, being very possessive of a girl that was not even his. I’d never seen Pat so aggressive, so assertive. Wasn’t like him at all. Then, out of the corner of the bar, came the Dark Stranger. He grabbed Pats arms, and his shouting ceased almost instantly. He stared into the eyes of his Dark friend. He was so hurt. His eyes seem to be pleading his Dark friend for comfort, to take the pain away. They left, and disappeared in to the fog past the cobblestone walkway.

I locked up, but couldn’t stop thinking about where in the hell that Dark Stranger came from that night. I didn’t even see him come in.

The next night, once again, the TV News catches my attention. A young couple killed in a car crash just about a mile from here. You guessed it; it was them, the young couple from last night. I looked over at Pat. There was no reaction whatsoever. He just continued washing glasses, staring in to the bottom of the sink. Then, the grin…I know I saw it! He shot a look towards me. It wasn’t him at all. His face was that of a distant soul. Pat was just no longer himself. I walked outside, felling suddenly short of breath. I had a smoke in my pocket, tried to light it but my hands were shaking too much. Then, the flick of a lighter and a flame to the end of my smoke appeared. “Thanks,” I said. I turned to look and my smoke fell from my hand. It was the Dark Stranger, but as I looked at him closely, I saw Pat!

I closed my eyes really tight, and then opened them. He was gone! I looked down at my burning smoke on the ground, retrieved it and finished it up.

For a couple of months I would have to admit I did my best to avoid Pat at all costs. I just couldn’t get the night of the cigarette out of my mind…even contemplated getting my own head checked. There were two more deaths in the area. Although I wasn’t there to see Pat talking to them, I knew…I just knew.

Last night, I had to go in to work to get the deposits for the week. That’s when I saw Pat sitting at a booth talking to a girl instead of watching the bar. I looked over and saw his Dark friend, mixing drinks like I had never seen before. He was entertaining the customers and tossing bottles like a professional! I walked over to Pat and asked to speak to him.

“I’m taking the night off.” He said. He turned and resumed his intimate conversation with the girl at the booth. He was ignoring me, and I found myself too intimidated to say anything. I swallowed hard and just stood there. “Pat, go to the bar and finish up the night. I will talk to you tomorrow.” There, I said it. I turned and walked to the office, my legs felt like rubber. Apparently Pat got up, went to the bar and relieved his Dark friend, resuming his lonely routine. Later on, his Dark friend replaced Pats place at the booth with that girl. He was apparently getting too close to Pats new “girlfriend”.

Witnesses say the two of them argued and went outside. The Dark Stranger kept reminding Pat of the “deal” they made. A deal with the devil I wondered? Pat refused to heed the warnings of the Dark Stranger, and for that he is now resting in the back of the ambulance I was staring at. As it drove around the corner and out of sight, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I turned around and my whole body flushed with fear. It was Pat! He gave me that sideways grin and let out a hollow laugh as he turned and disappeared into the fog. I never saw Pat…or the Dark Stranger, again.

The Cloudy Cafe

It wasn’t until I rolled up my sleeves that I noticed the new tattoo.  It was a picture of Loose Lana.  How many cocktails could that have taken?  I hit the Jackpot last night, that was the last thing I remembered.  Oh, and the laughter coming from the pit boss after I told him he could keep my old car…tossed him the keys, and collected my winnings.  Wonder if he knows that its the orange Pinto parked in the Red Zone.  No matter, I’ll be checking out of here, hitting the Chrysler dealer…and riding down the highway in style in less than an hour.

Three hours down the desert highway, I stopped at a little place called Baghdad Cafe.  I stepped out of my new ride and was hit immediately with a gust of wind that blinded my eyes with hot dry sand.  I fell over with a thud, clutched my eyes and began to roll around like an idiot.  Suddenly a vision flashed before my blinded eyes.  Clouds, there were clouds dancing and shaping into all of my favorite things.  It was like a dream!  A moment later, I realized that the visions were actually…reality.  The sand had vanished from my eyes, but I was still lying on the ground, staring up at the desert sky.  Mesmerized by what the Clouds were showing me, I tried my hardest not to blink.  I didn’t want to miss a thing!  Just then, one of the Clouds shaped into an arrow, descended down to earth and showed me the way.  There was a ‘For Sale’ sign propped up just outside this dilapidated Cafe.  The Cloud surrounded the sign, and sat limbo for who knows how long.  Finally, I got up…brushed myself off, and pulled the wood splintered sign up out of the ground.  The Cloud followed as I walked inside this old Cafe.  I dropped it upon one of the dusty little booth tables, looked around…and the Cloud was gone.

Three months later, I still reminisce about that day in my new Cafe in the desert.
The lesson here is, if you look to the sky for answers… then make sure you follow its advice.
Oh, and never question the Clouds.
Coffee anyone?

This was a Writers Duel Challenge.

The Topic was Vegas and I was given the terms loose lana, pit boss, and jackpot…all 3  had to be included in the piece somehow.  Not sure how I got to where I did with it…but it was a fun piece to toss together.

Unchain Her Melody

Her tears soaked the filter of the cigarette, yet she somehow managed to
keep it alight. Just like most things, she always managed through the tears.
She must have learned to swim in the oceans that left her body.
It’s like there were chains of ancient bound to her heart, but she was never
absent of soul. She sleeps in melancholy song. She sleeps in vibrant life,
no one there to see…why she awakens so sad. I’ve always thought it was
because she awakens each day, that made her so sad. I dare say,
I would…for just one moment, like to peer into her sleep.
To hear the melody that makes her eyes dance while they are closed.
But then, I too might have to learn…how to swim.
I may never learn the dance.
Instead, I shall be chained to a life of learning how to dream.

To spend all day thinking about your tomorrow,
is to have dismissed the opportunity to live for your today…

If you can’t laugh at yourself, others will do it for you

Don’t follow the shadows, for they may only lead you backward

The truth is not always ugly…sometimes it can be fashionable

Tell me your secrets, and I will tell you your lies…

Never mistake one’s tolerance of you, for hospitality.

When coming to terms with your Demons,
make sure the terms are yours…not theirs.

I prefer to be hated by the likes of those who know what true hate is.
Anything else would be an insult.

If you are not going anywhere, then why all the baggage?

There are times when one must lose themselves, to find themselves…
it all becomes necessary, but never immediately evident

It is totally possible to have an adverse event occur that is the fault of no one.

Floating
Floating in my head
Floating in my head
Are the dead
They serve me wine
They want my mind
And when they are done
All of us
Run
Through the door on the left
The floor beneath
I cannot seem
to connect
My feet
Have splinters
They are sprinters
I cannot keep up
They have great speed
Soon we shall feed
Upon each other
When we are done
We will all run
to the essential
To the eventual
Loss of control
Ah the beauty
Calls out for more
Just one more glass
Just one more door
Let me run with them
They are my splinters
They are my Zen

9 Words Used:
Essential ~ Connect ~ Control ~ Great ~ More ~ Just ~ Left ~ Run~ Done

The following story is based on actual events.  It is the ugly tale of what happened to me while living in Maryville, Tennessee a few years ago…and it takes place inside the walls of the Blount County Justice Center.

The story was written in order to heal and purge the pain, but it also serves as a notice to those who who have no idea what goes on inside those walls and the changes that need to occur within the so called Justice system.

http://www.sirdaywalker.com/SendthePainBelow_2009.pdf

There is a song that inspired the title, please take a moment to hear the melody:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GiaoV93zdlk

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like you’ve just meandered through that other dimension, you know the one. It starts off with a low hum, background noises become the audible forefront and you begin to feel a little high. A little buzzed. The TV echoes talk show applause followed by laughter past the streaks of morning sun breaking through the blinds.

Please tell me I didn’t just hear some guy comparing the circumference of his penis to that of a cheese wheel. I refuse to be drawn in by that, but now I seem focused on the removal of whatever look on my face was induced by the cheese wheel situation. Surely I have stuff to do…but do I dare? So I continue about meandering small tasks, intent on shining the light of my now distracted state of mind unto the world outside.

Trying to ignore the evidence of atmospheric instability, I was compelled to move through it. At some point I took my eye off the ball, and was veered off track. I found myself strolling through some huge hobby shop, apparently absent of the fact I have no hobbies. Something smells kinda like sawdust, which reminds me of my Uncle’s old barn, which reminds me of how much I miss the sound of an entire field of crickets chirping the night away, which reminds me of running through those fields with my cousin, who had hobbies and used to have an ant farm. That’s a hobby, right? I have one somewhere, but I hate ants so I’ve been saving it for that perfect re-gifting opportunity to come along…for about 20 years now.

Here comes some young guy complete with a crooked name badge. Please tell me he’s not humming quietly to the beat of his own footsteps. He’s staring at me, eagerly anticipating eye contact but now I am focused on wiping my face clean from the ‘quietly humming to the beat of his own steps’ situation. Maybe if he took the iPod out of his ears, it would help things. Not to mention it’s just adding to the background noise factor already in progress. The hum of the intercom overhead crackled, someone’s breaking through the static to page assistance to the help counter. How funny. Assistance…to the help counter. The corner of my eye shifts it’s attention. Shit, he’s still on the slow humming approach, three or four feet at a time. I feel strangely hunted. I’ll need to distract him. So I turn to him, and in mid hum he stops frozen, attempts to compose himself, and asks if he could be of assistance. How much you wanna bet he’s the one their paging back to the help counter.

The rehearsed delivery of his words were a dead give away. So, too…were the obvious reasons not to let this guy wander off too far. I thought of my Uncle’s barn and running through the fields and so on, so I said “Yeah…I have this ant farm, and I’d like to know if I can trade it in for a field of crickets?”. I waited for him to bust out at least a chuckle, some sort of sign that he got the joke. He stared at me so long, the sound of a thousand crickets began to fill in the void like a commercial in my head. Finally, he announces that he’ll be right back and begins the journey down the aisle to the beat of his own song. It was like watching him play hopscotch without the squares. Where the hell is he going? Surely he understood the irony and sarcasm in my virtual quest for the unobtainable.

Now I wondered what look has descended upon this face of mine, and could it be repaired? Probably not, so in a sudden move of haste and the need to escape, I decided it would be best if I just left. I could barely contain the light hearted laughter that dwells beneath. The day’s not over, the background hum is still there, I still feel high, so I have to ditch the help counter guy. I head casually for the exit, and of course it loomed at me. Then I see him, over by the help counter, fumbling with the intercom attached to his waist. The automatic doors swished open and the outside air headed in like a breezeway, and through the noise of the busy street in front of me I could hear his voice. Please tell me I didn’t just hear him radioing in…for help. And then I hear him, clear as day all the way outside “I know there’s 12 in a dozen, and I know how many is in a 100 pack…but they need a field and I need to know how many equals a field…”

For the remainder of my meandering day, the verbal antics of the world around me continued to poke at the surface of absurd. Strange happenings and peculiar sounds ruled my world. My face was undone so many times that it still hurt the next morning. So…with that said, by the third cup of coffee, I had the ant farm packaged and ready to go. I hope my cousin likes it.

It was particularly warm and bright outside for fall.

Summer lingered in the air, the smell of fresh cut grass would soon be replaced by the smell of fireplaces and an earlier nightfall. Gus could hear the distant voices of the other children, the screams and squeals of the girls being chased by the boys, everyone still giddy from excitement of the new playground in the park. Like they only get let loose once a year or something.

Childish, he thought…Gus always thought of himself as more grown up than all the other “kids.” He was just 11 years old, but just couldn’t seem to relate to the other kids his age. He would watch them sometimes, observing them, just to make sure that he didn’t behave as dumb and childish as them. He liked to be by himself a lot. Some kids thought he was strange, but he was liked at a distance by most of them. Gus found, once again, he was bored and decided to wander off down one of the many paths that led from the park. Not something his Mom would approve of, but he was already in trouble for one of his wandering stunts from last week…so off he went again.

Gus loved the long and winding paths and all the never-ending trails of discovery within them…ever since he could remember. He headed down one of his favorite trails. Blinded by the sun cracking through the trees…he closed his eyes for a moment, listening now to just the sounds of his shoes crunching the dirt beneath them. He found himself reflecting back to that one summer day, way back when he was a mere 8 years old. His mind drifted into the lessons he had learned that day, memories so vivid it gave him a little shiver.

That was the summer he had stayed with his Grandparents, who lived just a block away from him, while his parents were off on vacation. A summer he would not soon forget…

He had gotten lost in the forest of trees behind their house, following a trail of course. He had walked for what seemed like many miles to an 8 year old…until a house appeared through the trees. It looked so very old and creepy, like no one had lived there for years.

He walked closer to the decrepit old house and climbed the creaky old stairs, up to the porch. It made a lot of noise…for sure if someone was in there, they’d hear him. There were cobwebs all over, yet for some reason he had this weird feeling someone had recently been there. Never minding that feeling, he went to the window and peered through the cracked glass. There were candles everywhere, broken cupboards, and a small kitchen with an aging chair and table set.

Curiosity got the best of Gus; he had to see more. He went to the side of the house and peeked through the window. There was an old rocking chair set up in front of the fireplace; it had an old quilt lying across it. He continued to scan the room for a moment. Wait!What was that he saw? There was a trunk sitting next to the chair. No way. That was too much for Gus, he was going to pass out from anxiety if he didn’t get in that house right now! Gus’s logic…that trunk was meant for him. Had to be, or why would it be there?

Ok, so how to get in? He looked around, sweating with anticipation. Maybe a stick? A rock? Yes…a big rock right through the window! Here goes. Gus threw the rock as hard as he could. The crash was so loud, he was sure his Mom heard it! No way, don’t be stupid…she’s miles away, remember? He kicked the glass out of his way, knocked the rest out of the window and climbed in. Not quite as graceful as he would have liked, it would take weeks to heal the bruise on his head. After he brushed off his clothes and felt to make sure his head was in one piece, he took a better look around.

The house was creepy all right. There were lots of old, dusty books lining the walls, containers and jars filled with dried foods and such in the kitchen. Probably witch potions for spells or something…Gus’s logic at work again. A big pile of wood next to what looked like a closet…there were probably spiders in it! Totally creeped out by the thought of spiders, he turned to zero in on the trunk.

Ah, yes…the whole reason he invited himself in.

He stood for a moment, staring at it…wondering if it was possible for the bump on his head to be both numb and hurting all at the same time. He moved slowly towards it, it got bigger as he got closer. A rat scurried across the floor, and Gus screamed out loud, jumping back a few feet. His heart pounded out of his chest and he began to cry. Not a real cry, just a quiet one…two, maybe three tears for the sake of releasing the fear. He approached again. He got two feet away…when suddenly he heard a car.

A car!
Oh my God!
It’s probably the man who lives here!
Big, he’s got to be big!
Wood…he chopped the wood in the corner!
Ax…there’s an ax here!
Dead…I’m so dead!
Hide…I have to hide!

Gus ran to the trunk and opened it. Oh, sure…it’s empty! All this for nothing! No time to think about all that…Gus climbed into the trunk. This is just great. The treasure hunt of his life, turns out to be the end of his life…he was sure of it!

After what must have been a decade…he heard footsteps. Big footsteps! Then, he heard the sound of a doorknob turning.

Hey! Why didn’t I think of that? What a concept…using the front door, this will be added to Gus’s logical list of options. The big man entered. Footsteps…big footsteps across the floor, add to it the crackle of glass. Oh no…the window! Then a voice broke his panic…”Gus…” it shouted. Grandpa! The fear of dying now appropriately replaced by the fear of how much trouble he was about to be in.

Maybe I could just stay in this stupid old trunk; Gus thought…nobody knows I’m in here. Then Grandpa shouted, “Gus…I know you’re in here…!” So much for that idea!

The mounting fear seemed to get caught in his throat, and he realized he had not breathed since Grandpa’s boots walked on the broken glass. A very noisy exhale gave him away. Grandpa’s boots walked faster and louder towards the trunk, and he opened it.

It’s over for me, was all Gus could think about on the way back to the house. Gus mowed a lot of lawns that summer. His Mom said it help pay for the window he broke…in the house that Gus later found out belonged to a Great Uncle that still lived there!

Apparently Great Uncle Gus was out chopping more wood with a big ax! Gus was nearing the end of his favorite trail, after having reminisced over his first really big lesson in life. He decided now, that he would call his favorite trail “Memory Lane”. Curiosity got the best of him that summer.

Sometimes he can still feel that bump on his head…and although he knows it has been gone a long time, he also knows that anytime he feels like curiosity is about to pull him in, that bump seems to reappear as a friendly reminder.

As the voices of the children still playing in the park grew closer, he realized he had walked the whole path and managed not to get in any trouble at all. Just then, his friend Billy came up to him and asked “Hey Gus, where are you going…?” Gus smiled at him and said “Home…” And then added “…to mow the lawn!”

Just a single leaf
Catapulted my imagination
More than just a playground
of precious metals and memories
Just a single leaf
Falling before my very eyes
Bore a strange resemblance to
The descent of this worlds peace
Just a single leaf
Blankets the remainder of
The last spot uncovered upon
My tombstone where I now stand
Just a single leaf
Led me back to the scene
A mission of search and destroy
Failed dangerously upon the attack
Just a single leaf
Will be the last great detail
Of all things living that I once knew
I gave it all up for the love of my country
Just a single leaf
Remains