Wednesday 31 May 2017

Essex Sonnet - POEM #7

Fish lips, inhuman breasts,
Cars chosen for appearance,
Big muscles, small vests,
You dare show incoherence.

Shuvved through school,
You must get good grades.
You will become a bank's mule
And join their escapades.

A county of beauty and pride
If you have lots of money.
But you can't blame the young.
Blame the ones from which they've sprung.


Wednesday 3 May 2017

Bag of Meat - SHORT STORY #2


          The bed isn't made. The blinds haven't been opened. Flashing blue lights, a muffled voice and machine gun fire fills the room. A lonely digital clock slumps in the corner gathering dust. All the while the young man's heart rate rockets and serotonin flourishes through his head.
          'This weapon best suits this climate. If reloading takes too long I can use my gold-plated Desert Eagle. Remember you've got flash bangs and grenades as well.'
          '5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1...'
          He steps into the screen. The weapons are heavy and he's already sweating in his khaki uniform.
          'Time to kill.'
          He sprints forward.
          'Right. If I turn right at the dumpster then crouch behind the wall of the Tanks building, some opponents should appear.'
          He looks down the sight of his AK-47.
          'Enemy.'
          He squeezes the trigger and feels the power of the rifle punch his shoulder. The noise is deafening.
          The target's body shakes violently whilst blood gushes out of him from all directions.
          'Another one.'
          This one is sprinting so he is slightly harder to mow down.
          'Haha! Right he's down. I shouldn't crouch here much longer there'll be enemies in the courtyard behind me.'
          He stands up, expertly reloads his weapon and jogs over to four-foot wall overlooking the courtyard. Looking down the sight of his gun again, he focuses on a section left of a parked truck.
         An enemy sprints pasts but he only manages to damage him.
         'Shit. He knows I'm here now.'
         The target appears from around the corner and he fires at him.
         'No ammo. Quick, pull out you pistol!'
         He manages to fire one shot at his chest but the enemy is so close that he manages to knife him.
         'Fuck!'

         Hidden in the corner, back in the room, is a bag full of textbooks.
         The bag looks at the clock across the room.
         'Look at us!'
         'I know. He's had another relapse.'
         The body that once contained the young man is slumped back in the chair. His eyes rolling to the back of his head, leaving only white eyeballs.
         The room starts to shake violently. Dust starts to fall from the ceiling. The blinds smash down on the floor and the windows smash.
         'Shit. It's really happened this time.' says the clock.
         'Here take this.' He throws over the young man's baseball bat. 'Bat used to have such a good life ... now look at him; a corpse. Fuck it ... I think he would want this if he were still here.'
         They both nod at each other.
         The bag takes the baseball bat and stands up. Light is flashing violently in from the window. The sky is going from dawn to dusk to dark and back again within the space of seconds.
         Behind the young man the bag stands over him. He raises the bat above his head and swings the bat down into the young man's head. No reaction. The young man's body just slumps down further like a bag of meat. The bag pulls the bat out of the young man's head and swings again. This time harder and repeatedly.
         'Ahhhhhh.' He screams while smashing deeper into the skull.
         In the opposite side of the room the floor falls through, leaving a dark black hole.
         For a split second the bag and the clock look at each other with fearful expressions.
         The rest of the floor falls through producing a massive crashing sound like that of a building being blown up.
         All that is left is the young man in his chair and his gaming console. The top of his skull open with bits of brains seeping out.
         But his fingers are still methodically pressing the buttons on his controller.