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Friday, January 22, 2016

Confession - 6

Despite my fanatic hair trigger
(Dead hobos tossed, piled in the mud,
The whole reservoir painted in blood),
I felt so much stronger and bigger;
Rage exploded from me in a flood --
Weaponized me like a scud, 
Imbued with renewed vim and vigor.

Had the coat transformed me to a killer,
Or was that just paranoid bunk?
Was I merely a psychotic punk,
Who'd put himself up on a pillar
Justifying his violent spelunk?
Either way, I'd become a grave filler
(Not to mention the girl in my trunk).

I regarded my nightmarish playground
And all of the lives I had stole;
The jacket and I reached our goal,
And right then, I knew I was hellbound --
My urges beyond all control;
Much as I tried to stay earthbound,
Coat's poison was deep in my soul.

I dragged all the bodies (quite heavy)
Together, in haphazard ways,
Set the whole crime scene ablaze,
Sped off in my '92 Chevy
At Mach 4 (no time for delays) --
Laughing through inferno's haze,
I headed off, bound for the levee.

I had to get rid of the body,
The car too, if I'd dodge the heat --
Beating a hasty retreat, 
It seemed as though I had been shoddy:
A gunshot from Chevy's back seat --
My vision went cloudy and spotty,
Would this be my final defeat?

---
- © Jackson Cambridge, 2016.

Inferno in Oz - 2 : 1

PART II: THE HUNT FOR OSCAR DIGGS

Once revered by all the land,
Brilliant (yet hardly brave), 
The Man behind the Curtain
Is now hiding in a cave.

Scrambling over jagged rocks 
Climbing till his limbs are sore, 
And, hyperventilating, cries,
"Where's that blasted door?!

I swear they put him here somewhere,"
He mutters, trembling fearfully;
"Aha! I knew I'd find the door -- 
Now where's the little key?"

At last, the door is wrenched ajar,
And frightened humbug ducks within,
Cloaked in silent darkness, with
Three day's shadow on his chin.

Within the dark and musty cave,
The scent of pennies in the air,
Oscar sighs in tired relief
At robot standing there. 

A copper man with body round,
Dapper 'stache and bowler hat,
Motionless for years, unwound,
And frozen there, like that.

A marvelous invention, he --
Though not by Oscar Diggs designed;
Three dials upon the metal chest, 
But which one first to wind?

"The thinking motor first, I bet,
For one needs thought to move and speak --
But motion last, in case he's mean;
For I'm too tired and weak."

Once wound, the inner motors whirr;
A noise that rattles Oscar's nerve
Until he hears the robot speak:
"Tik-Tok, here to serve."

"Thank Ozma," cries the frightened Wiz,
"My clockwork friend! Help me, I say!
I've made a horrible mistake,
And all of Oz will pay!

A girl from lands far off from here
Was misplaced from her Kansas farm;
I tried to help, but left her here
And now she means me harm!"

"I will sure-ly guard you, Sir...
No in-ju-ry shall you en-dure:
Your safe-ty is my first con-cern,
Of that you may be sure."

"Thank you, Tik-Tok. Come with me,
Into the land that bears my name;
My bag of tricks is bottomless,
And two can play this game."

---

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2016.

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

let it

let not thy sin
be kept within
to never feel the light
for truth, sin be 
a part of thee
so let it own the night


© Jackson Cambridge, 2016.




Thursday, January 7, 2016

Confession - 5

Through all my fears and confusions,
I knew I had gone way too far;
The girl in the trunk of my car
Covered in purple contusions
And networks of scar over scar --
I needed to work in seclusion,
So I drove to the old reservoir.

My aching mind racing and plotting,
I drove in the darkness alone;
Fear had me chilled to the bone, 
My sanity weakened and rotting,
My whole body soaked to the bone;
I noticed some hobos were squatting
"Oh perfect," I said with a groan.

"Hey buddy, can you spare a dollar,"
Came a voice from a gruff, weathered throat;
Monotone, as if by rote,
From somewhere beneath all the squalor --
I hadn't so much as a note, 
Which made all the rest of them holler,
And come at me, wild and cutthroat.

As if I weren't busy already
With murder most bloody and foul,
They bolted at me with a howl --
Their movements erratic, unsteady, 
Eyes frantic, mouths bent in a scowl,
From head to toe, filthy and sweaty--
(Bad night to be out on the prowl.)

I pulled out the handy box-cutter, 
In sweeping arcs thrusted and whipped,
Clothing and skin slashed and ripped,
My blade cutting through them like butter
As if being led by a script;
The Jacket had become my rudder,
Sending each man to his crypt. 

---

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2016.

Inferno in Oz - 4

In lands of yellow Winkie folk
Ruled over by a man of tin,
King Chopper hears a distant cry
Familiar, but thin.

"What is that sound," he asks the air,
"That distant calling that I hear?
Is there something out there, or
Have I a tinnish ear?"

The palace doors swing open wide,
As crowds of subjects fill the room;
They shriek of dark clouds, howling winds
And fear of coming doom.

"The yellow lands, your Majesty,
They wither to an empty grey!
Something evil this way comes --
We have to run away!"

"Nonsense," says the metal lord,
"No wicked can befall us here,
For Dorothy has drowned the Witch
and made her disappear!"

"Tis not the Witch," his subjects cry,
"But she who killed her, and her beast!
You have to tell us what to do -- 
Or save our lands, at least!"

"Dorothy, the little girl
Who saved me from a rusty end? 
How is there an enemy
Where once was trusted friend?"

He leaves his crown upon the throne
And marches out the palace door,
Takes a look around at lands
Not yellow anymore.

Yet no one's hurt in any way
(As terrified as they've become)
The angry whisper in his head
Grows to seething thrum.

"NICK CHOPPER," thunders in his ears,
"YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE TO COMPLY.
SURRENDER NOW AND SERVE ME, KING,
OR WATCH YOUR PEOPLE DIE."

"THE WIZARD'S LIES HAVE TRAPPED ME HERE --
EIGHTY YEARS WITH NOMISH PIGS --
MY JOB FOR YOU, AXE-WIELDING FRIEND:
BRING ME OSCAR DIGGS."

He feels the fury in her voice,
The anguish of the decades bound --
Pulls out his pincushion heart
And throws it on the ground.

Steel monster Tin King becomes
As molten darkness permeates;
Without a word, he storms away 
To find the man she hates.

---

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2016.

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

King Series, 1-1 : 'Carrie'

1.
In Chamberlain (near Lewiston, in Maine),
Scratched upon a desk with hateful spite,
More cruelty toward her, yet again;
Just another day for Carrie White.

Both school and home are places of abuse --
The wretched girl can't seem to catch a break.
It's not her fault she's awkward and abstruce,
But even Momma says she's a mistake:

A child of marital rape, her Momma claims,
And by a filthy demon thus possessed;
But which of them should burn in Satan's flames--
Poor mother, or the daughter she's oppressed?

Is Carrie poisoned by some kind of hex,
Or is it more a muscle she can flex?

---

2.
The incident that drives her o'er the edge --
Despite her praying hour after hour --
Has her bawling, sprawled in crimson dredge,
Terrified and screaming in the shower.

For Carrie, there will be no sweet sixteen
(A crucial time for every teenage girl);
Her very womanhood an awful scene,
As grunting, oinking swine torment the pearl.

Frightened and confused, her hair unkempt,
A humiliated Carrie heads for home,
But Momma offers nothing but contempt,
Backhanding her with King James' holy tome.

Deafened by her mother's pious bark,
Carrie weeps in silence from the dark.

---

3. 

In secret, Carrie's powers start to bloom:
Her mind moves things, and hear others' thoughts;
A psychic gift acquired in the womb --
But one that has poor Momma tied in knots.

Meanwhile Carrie's classmate, Susan Snell,
Offers Carrie something of a balm:
To help the poor girl come out of her shell,
She'll have her boyfriend take her to the prom.

Overjoyed! A date, with Tommy Ross,
Her secret crush -- the cutest boy in school!
Of course, she knew she'd make her mother cross,
But Carrie's power'd trump her in a duel. 

While dreams of normalcy dance in her head,
She stitches up a dress of velvet red.

---

4.

How grand her first date feels as prom begins,
Welcomed by her peers and Tommy's friends;
She feels absolved of all her many sins,
And hopes the perfect evening never ends.

Behind the scenes, disgruntled students plot
To ruin Carrie's life once and for all --
A perfect prank to leave her badly fraught:
Blood-filled buckets poised, prepared to fall.

The crucial moment comes, where up on stage
The two are crowned unlikely King and Queen;
To thunderous applause too loud to gage,
The buckets fall, too late to contravene.

As Tommy falls unconcious to the floor,
Carrie 'flexes' hard, and thinks, 'No more.'

---

5.

First, the doors - she'll lock them from outside,
Electrocute them all, and watch them die.
As frantic students run and try to hide,
She kills them all without a tear to cry.

The fire takes the school and all within
(She watches as it tears the whole thing down),
So many souls, devoured in the din --
Unstoppable, she ravages the town.

Gas pipes explode, with hydrants melted shut,
Power cables hiss like deadly snakes;
All the will of one abandoned mutt,
Screaming as her fury boils and quakes. 

Surrounded by her rage and steeped in trauma,
Carrie returns home to face her Momma.

---

6.

'Wild-eyed, filthy with the stench of death,
And dirty womanhood -- how very foul!
Possessed I say! Befouled by demon's breath --
She must be cleansed," says Momma, with a growl.

She grabs the kitchen knife from out its drawer,
Rushes at her daughter, pumped with zeal --
Carrie screams and cries, to Momma's balk,
Until her shoulder takes the length of steel. 

"No," comes Carrie's whisper, small and weak,
"Attacking me again would not be smart."
Momma rushes in a fit of pique,
But Carrie pushes hard, and stops her heart.

She leaves her Momma's body on the floor,
And walks away, a prisoner nevermore.

---
© Jackson Cambridge, 2015
The novel "Carrie" is © Stephen King, 1974