he held them by their wood grips
turned his wrists familiarised himself to their dead weight
he drew the hammer back on the
Blackhawk its click sharp
its cry warmed the thugs who turned to its sound
its cry warmed the thugs who turned to its sound
they saw him standing guns drawn
* * *
seeing him out among them spiked
their blood
they crouched and growled like wolves
they raced towards him
the Church of Cruel Intent impelling them On towards this vagrant On at this puny man who hadnt sense to stay holed up in the light in the storeys above their dark streets
running towards him some quicker than others their ranks broke
their shoeleather beating the concrete and cobblestones
their chaotic soles scuffing pounding the pavement sounded and roiled in him reminded him a reverie the indecent act which preceded and forced him out onto the street
an act that horrified the LightOnes the Cowerers Pewsitters
the Church of Cruel Intent impelling them On towards this vagrant On at this puny man who hadnt sense to stay holed up in the light in the storeys above their dark streets
running towards him some quicker than others their ranks broke
their shoeleather beating the concrete and cobblestones
their chaotic soles scuffing pounding the pavement sounded and roiled in him reminded him a reverie the indecent act which preceded and forced him out onto the street
an act that horrified the LightOnes the Cowerers Pewsitters
in a churchs basement he found a
longhandle candlelighter cobwebbed and dusty
he lashed a broad scrapper to its head and returning to its nave he then went up and down the aisles closest the outside walls scrapping away their elaborate details
upending from their hooks their paintings of the Stations of the Cross and as they were scrapped and tumbled they turned black as rot and mould and fell in flakes and fronds and concentric clots some heavy and crashing at his feet others whirled idled in the quiet somber golden air the pews moaned violated quaked with remorse but submitted
he lashed a broad scrapper to its head and returning to its nave he then went up and down the aisles closest the outside walls scrapping away their elaborate details
upending from their hooks their paintings of the Stations of the Cross and as they were scrapped and tumbled they turned black as rot and mould and fell in flakes and fronds and concentric clots some heavy and crashing at his feet others whirled idled in the quiet somber golden air the pews moaned violated quaked with remorse but submitted
he removed himself
outside the thugs were thick without suspicion armed to the teeth feeling invincible as thugs would
outside the thugs were thick without suspicion armed to the teeth feeling invincible as thugs would
and why not
they had the numb-ers
the venality
callousness
an utter powerful carelessness
they had the numb-ers
the venality
callousness
an utter powerful carelessness
as the numb-ers raced towards
him separately no phalanxes or flanks
one man a single man
a head of the rest most
suicidal grinning sardonically a gleaming skull slowed to a walk
as he came forward he dragged his
thumb across the long blade he carried
his prints their whorls and loops played like a soft-sounding record
holding his ground to the thugs
approach he casually raised his left arm
to shoulder height leveling the Ruger
six-shooter and squeezed the trigger
it CLICKd the firstchamber empty
the thug flinched
momentarily then mouthed Bluff
the secondchamber CLICKd empty
the secondchamber CLICKd empty
more thugs had caught up and
stood watching they began to laugh
the first suicidal began to draw his blade back to strike laughing with the rest
the first suicidal began to draw his blade back to strike laughing with the rest
those that had handguns began to
draw them from their belts
before pulling the trigger a
third time he smiled
he stepped forward to meet their onslaught
he stepped forward to meet their onslaught
the Blackhawk still extended
his strides in cadence with their
ha --
ha -- ha -- has
. . .
the thirdchamber BARKED
the thugs head exploded
showered egg-shell bits of skull
brain-meat face-meat
whips of long hair
the thugs head exploded
showered egg-shell bits of skull
brain-meat face-meat
whips of long hair
the bullet passes through the
bloodmist and gore and tacked to meet the next thugs skull and the next
from skull to grinning skull
shattering shattering
the street sounding echoing smashed china
as the smashing went on and on he
raised his right and fired it into the face of a shocked suicider a youth who had closed on him with a stiletto
and readied to stab him in the ribs
perhaps the youth expected a
CLICK
the Old West revolver threw its
bullet on a tongue of orange flame scorching the kids face his forehead bubbled before the bullet smashed
his wideeyed countenance and exited the ruin curving to find its next target
the night air a cacophony of
blasted china over seeping sounds and gutters gurgles
he fired the other two bullets to
assist the first and second
they whined pitifully until they
found their marks and made their slaughter
he didnt know the bullets would
be as they were
he knew only that he had four and with those four he thought at
the least he could infect the figueres the thugs with the thought that behind
him would someday come another and another and others and that they would know
they wouldnt always be able to beleaguer the LightOnes the Cowerers for inside them brooded darker souls who
wouldnt wait for their god to vanquish their enemies
he didnt know
he was grateful
he didnt prostrate himself
he didnt prostrate himself
when night collapsed to the eerie sounds
that would have followed a soothing rain that hadnt fallen and the birds quieted themselves again in their roosts
when the moon uncovered her eyes
when the moon uncovered her eyes
he let the revolvers fall to the
street
listened to their clatter run its echoes off the rows of houses and building faces
listened to their clatter run its echoes off the rows of houses and building faces
their sound running the length of the canyons and fadingfaded
he stooped and swept up the bits of broken
ivory-coloured skullbones in blankets and shook them up into the sky where
stars remembered their memories and
they parted to embrace these memories imbued in bone
communing in their forever
and eternal black maw knowing it could never be filled or satiated the stars happily received their fresh
communions
conceived
0647, Moanday, 11 4.
16
1517, Moanday, 18 4. 16
1517, Moanday, 18 4. 16
