The Spy

excerpts.....Nu! What if...

ant.

What I did want, now the mad little blue girl's through with the room. Away. I wanted a type of peace, without people, where i could go away, even from all the Peace-men. Just to find out a way. Never wanted much.

The silence boy, brings a strange kind of peace, while all these big glacial fur-coated large men, chatter and share, smoking and booming discourse upon such fighting, as so and so, and onward fighting, knee fighting, big fighting,..ever-ready control of this type against even bigger controls. Huge men that could brawl in cages, but pick mind, and elucidate minds in jars of thick, slopped, waving whiskey arms.

That stupid adman girl, and my stupid patience.

There's a damn prince hiding there, inside his quiet doe eyes upon paper and song, solitude of the mind, and it overcomes it all, with more quiet, and quiet, and you think he has mind-quiet, and you stare for enough minutes it takes to record that beauty and that chosen hero, but you know, to how to stop with the stare, and let him rule on, pushing minds into each decade, watching the decade after being formed, one point by one point, he places them, round discs, of tiddly winks, on the table next to the jar of sugar, poor-man's toys piled like coins, kept stationed in generation beckoned,generation pushed, and moved by pure angry, silent patience, it makes woman loud and animal-like, they stand at his word, staring like cat-feet, stand screaming for his notice, a recognition of them, and he waits exactly a minute, or exactly for the amount of patience in each new woman, he stares at nowhere, and silences them by pointing out his dark frowns, clean soft coral pink pouts, and pointing long brown eyelashes to floors. He rules them. They know. How do they know? They obey him, every one of them, not because he can speak or is to tell them so, but because they are given understanding, first one of the long day, they turn into spiritual women dropping the war they have been carrying every single day, near every single man. That is Good, he exclaims, that is good. It is swift, concrete ....They stop, and he bows to the respect that stares into him. Unknown by...

I'm in silent too, to forget, what they may have gone for, and what going for that in that way, may have got them?

the vile rate, a ratedness of popularity. Wars against looks. His looks win All things. He wears the looks as he wears silence, no questions about looks. They even stop at that bow, and begin a new form, how a woman would form plans, in the expectation of becoming a man's wife. 

The next wife, even. wife after wife.

 He pats long, thin tanned fingers, upon his little tiddlywinks, plastic discs of different colours, that you flick at a centre spot on the table, trying to hit the mark as much as possible, and to win,  hard things, and nods with eyelashes, his silence is organised into peacetime petitions, all he knows we wait for, all generation awaiting his words. 

Just because to encounter, him, in silence is the best i did want, even, when you are angry for words. Women know what he is immediately, well, some of the wiser women do. 

His silence is like silence even when he speaks, and silence purrs and rolls upon his tongue, in a syrup accent, he says something softly, 

I'm upon that soft word, there are so many rare things. I wait decades, and then keep each rolling syllable, and only our eyes, all our eyes are thrown at him, eyes that get angry at silence, new eyes of anger, turned over to the silence of a better tpe of our companions

We have enough spirit in us, that is what brought us. 

We know that, 

he know as he knows.

=========

He doesn't think about words. He must just be polite, patient, waiting for the special girl, who is always abit overwhelming for that slow, husky breathed lord.

He doesn't think about words. He must just be polite, patient, waiting for the special girl, who is always abit overwhelming for that slow, husky breathed lord.

A subjective tune for a little city generation man respected over all lesser kings, city cryer.

======

 Pretend you know, catch that word of his, that rare expectation, then weep loudly for ways in other men, that have sent you lost for a new song.

 Cry out, with sunk in emotion, wrecking the body and mind, ripping red bolts of fears, and loss in wet tears, at the sight of the dark-haired skinny boy in the corner of the room.

Stressful, wet, sopping fears, packed in for the last decade, attuned to etiquette, forms of speech. Forget how you learnt to speak, and what it did, it was worthless all your life, because a rare thing has happened, he looks slowly, and because there was a word forming from his pouted lips, that said everything every man could have, but wasted in the directions of 

having to just do that, obey this, I mean, wasted my fucking life, upon, greetings, and patterns of excepted languages, unthrilling presentiments, ....the fucking witch in women, that obeys him like obedient wife, murder, every female a wife for a boy.

and it can't be forgotten,

the wise

 but it wont let you have it for too long, the wise in him, the silence comes back, his black eyes knitted. But not in frustration, in complete sleepy understanding of all patterns of people, the stereotyped fit in, and cut out like cardboard

and you fear to send a word back, because all of it has been spoken. SO, leave him at the back of the class, in the corner of the cafe. 

Some woman are shocked at the way they have walked in on him. They are the louder ones.

You have a soldier, in silence.

A forever..

Chess.

Well dammit, who cares for correctional facilities?

Here is an excerpt ...of a little tale that keeps growing, first drafts, I'm batty...it's not making much sense, and I should be embarrassed with myself;

CHESS;

Take them all away.

Bloodsocks, my feet are filling up my thick socks with blood from the cuts, they are sweaty anyway so they have stuck to me, I'm too tired. I skidded across gravel and sharp things trying to escape. I can fly, half-fly, I learnt how to do that in the red-masks. No, I'm in my squat, tired ready to go to sleep. I am disgusted.

Because one of the girls was a yellow. I should have been sure of how she would win. By gently coaxing me in, even kissing me on the first dates. We battle practised for weeks, in between the other signing on of every girl who petitioned. I picked girls, because, girls can hide better. If I had a merry band of men, all the plans would break down, just because of the sizes and loudness of men, everything would be revealed, and with girls, at least I keep in command. By being bitter, and detached. I can hide easier, by advertising kisses, and dating in that cafe, I am a regular customer, that meets girls to eat and drink good coffee.

I have gathered the right ones, we are a secret gang, of the best, the fittest, and most skilled at martial arts. Or, I choose the ones that have potential.

Chess, some fights are like that, chasing the bishop for example. It cuts all ways, the speed of it, makes a disturbance, crisscross, goes far one way, then quicken and right at you again, can escape with loudness, can't laugh, bishops don't laugh, they are women they wear a steeple hat the white ones are drinking sour milk, the black ones are leather-bound, they are being paid of the job, the other bishop piece, wont agree it's sister, they say  move alone, for pure killer joy, they have the plan, they are too clever to tell the plan, when alone they have the whizz,, they whizz all over the place, whizz like women in faint slipper shoes that don't scut up the floor, heads whizz, their head bang bangs, it's shrieking with all that wait for a kill, that needs to come quick, must come, always comes but never quick enough., it's a headache itself, it goes whizz bang to whizz bang, cuts off the other pieces, then slinks into a back position watching the entries game, with grand smirks, grand ideas of how to have you caught, in the last life, last empty unimportant life, and, it can't laugh, it's an automaton, that bishop, what does it want to do to me? 

It's a robotic guard, it does the Queen's will, only, it worships her only its her second in command, it wants to kill the realm of the other, it has a face like a woman, it looks at the loser like silent, grinding superiority, it will eat you up readily, like White widow spider, black widow spider. 

Cant break up an attack when the two of them are on. Sit together like evil sisters. Go invisible sharing the two squares.

The castle, i see, is a quiet little man, he is nice. His is the last place. He is a meek man idiot, not even needed until everyone else has had their turn. Wont be long if only the meek man is around, it likes the opposition kings, he says, hallo fellah! nearly there! End the game!

Fighting is  just one of those things, okay, block it with each pawn, soon cuts away at them, ends at being unneeded by the opponent, its there to upset you, because it's a woman, and it refuses t go away, until it's dead, and put back in the box, it leaves all these cuts across the board that skidded into floors to break the opponents mind down. IT takes you, one of you, then,. It's gone. 

Lost my shoes, cos there's was a puddle-mess she said, you have to watch out, you will hurt me. Then they came.

You cant cross them, the bishop women. She was with me dating me, on week after week. Not the longest relationship I've had, but I thought she was an innocent girl with expectations, some girl who 'could' fight, but had no training like this training. It's a primal type of kung-fu, where you give all out, like a crazy beast, but need to keep with the mind, so think of that dance as a cat can think. An aggressive but thin agile long legged cat, the way she looked. She chose the best place, the one most convenient for us. I gave in to the woman. She led me into a type of industrial park, to practice kicks and punches, I let her spin kick me, continually, showed her a roundhouse kick, the one where you can fly, and bring both feet to the neck and break it. Had no idea she would lead me into a battle against the yellow masks. 

 Glad, it was the first time they met me, without mask, as she didn't know who I was, completely,  Just that I date and drink coffee with her, in that cafe, I am sure she doesn't know about the other girls, then, she may have spied on the other girls.  And so because of that they don't know who I am by name. I won't call her again. She thinks I will, because I ended up dragging her away from the melee, and dumping her on the roadway... They went for her in the confusion, she really got shrieking.

If I am in the red-mask movement, then, I assume anyone against me is a yellow. So, I had to dump her. All those most important men in the red-masks, are invisible, we are all over.

 I have no defences, without a mask to hide my identity. The other girls are safe, because I say, don't make any other type of contact. They have people to watch over them. Most of the girls, i reject, them so, all they know is that I don't want to date them. Because it begins as a date where I am supposed to want a girlfriend, though I assume always that they know the real agenda. We've got innocent girls, who 'could' become us, as they look fit enough to fight, you can see that. I don't tell until the fourth kiss. All these leads are everywhere, even if the general public doesn't know, some red-masks, I don't know of, perhaps the waitress, is watching over me, because the first time she was very nice to me, or perhaps the cafe-owner who I know from her disappeared when the government stood down and went to overcome us all by the underground empire, is in my movement. The waitress is staying at an unpaid job, as it looks, until the official government returns, and she is paid for all this over-time, or until all the resources go, at the end, and she has to live on the food we leave over on our plates, and we all go back to our basic needs. But, I am not loud to look for friends with her, so I can sleep.

Dennis the Headless.

Dennis the Headless.

Dennis was gonna bring round enough pills for everyone, at 50p each, and a bag of chat, and most importantly what he called '"Se'zamelia." Dennis was, like; a Jamaican, he had dreads, but they couldn't work him out.

Everyone sat together in someone's house. They played loud beats, grime that fucking evil rap noise, and other good things...They waited until the windows were black. He was going to knock on the door soon. There were five of them, sitting in certain designated places, the long sofa for Shell, to meditate upon all things, places on the floor for the boys in front of the x-box, and a table for the king, the one who's mum owned the house, he was rolling blunts and organising things.

A mad, frightening deep bellow, happened just outside the front door, there was no hall in the house, the door opened directly into the living room.

The king looked at a boy on the floor, and nodded his command. The boy stood up. Everyone's eyes followed him to the door. He opened it, fully, standing back to give Dennis some space. There was a twinkle in the clear night sky, like amphetamine powder laced into skunk, all the twinkling bright white stars.

The house immediately shrieked in unison. The king looked up from his work and scowled heavily. 

The boy in front of the door, froze, but while he froze, because his mind was put on delayed, his body cut mad jerky dance moves, he gasped and jerked, and cut, cut, cut his vocal parts into pieces forever.

Dennis was at the door. 

Shell had got up to greet him, but as she crossed the floor, she swooned, and her head shook in spurts, she went "nnnga nhha naaa." She fell to the floor. Pass her the smelling salts. 

The boys at the computer had looked up, as well, because they respected Dennis, so much...

Now Dennis was dead.

He floated in the entrance, he took up the whole place, he was crying and choking, over and over. Something had happened to Dennis, he couldn't speak. 

His body gone, his head buzzing up and down in fear, matted hair locked in thick blood, the state of his face, dirty and beaten.

He was crying.

 He floated in the doorway, thick dark red blood gushing down from the place where he had been severed, where his neck had been cut apart from his body, and his ghost shook there, one head bleeding, bleeding and bleeding.

The Roman Empire;

The Roman Empire;

Countless sightings of UFOs's since history. Only aztec pictures I have found so far, to identify aliens. Invasions since man began.

The Reptiles landed in Italy, the first time they came to Earth. They actually crashed straight into the land, somewhere south of Rome, on the water's edge. This was some time before Anno Domini. Not too soon though. A few hundred years, if we start to think now.

When they crashed in, and crawled out of the ship, big men. Large men, 8 feet tall, looking taller, built burly and strong. Quick nice men to some Roman's actually. The women were amazed.

The women thought they were Gods.

The Gods, were dumb and slow. They called their Roman wives; "Man Dead." Those women didn't listen. Women don't listen. The scientific thing about this is, that they would breed.

They were making children, because sex is a primal act. Many reptiles were coerced into it, because women are strange. Difficult to understand by the best of men, these horrible women were sexual and insane. The blood mixed somehow, and the babies began to emerge, slow and fat like the parent. They were half where the scaly skin dropped off, as a function in the human blood rejected too much reptile, but their skin was a light lime green, they had small scaly protrusions, silent empty minds, that seemed thoughtful. The later generation women didn't care, or worry about the new breed, they married more of the reptile blood, because; some pitied the strange little males with the lime green skin ad spots on their faces, and their belligerent personalities. 

They were under a type of spell called Love, for the reptile, and this came down from the real Gods. 

The Gods looked at the reptiles and fought fire, they shook and swore. These things are creating with us .

The women, and men, that were at first, massacred, with reptile guns, invented, created, welded and formed by human alien slaves from a different world, who made the spaceships too, only because the reptiles knew Invention was of the Gods, and Hell was of them.

The Romans looked at them throw away the machines. Because all the bullets had been emptied out. The first Reptiles saw women formed in marble statues, as they journeyed through Italy to destroy, and the dead minds began to wonder. How to wonder if they needed sex. A man stared at the statue, and wrote, you are the one who is my beloved.

The Gods had given them life. The Gods scorned the Romans for death of Life

The blood ran on. It dilute and dilute, and then all reptiles vanished. 

The Roman Empire falls.

This is how I make an account and history of the Reptiles, and the world through the Door.

War

WAR

I said no.


 "NO guns, guns are against me. Guns are for the weak. They are not merciful, they are for the dead. Bring me a sword."

I'm a alien, I fight here, for the good of the world. We have to fight the Reptile men. They are giant, soulless devils. They think of Hell, and murder. They have a mind, they can speak, but their souls are dead. They can learn. They learn and they call us, the human people; 

"Man-dead."

Just that. And so, it was a while after she had left. She had died. Death is cruel to me, I blame all kinds of thing for death. 

When she died, I went rage, an ever present rage. Not hate. I could see all the time that my own Rage is humorous. Transformations are humorous, mine was to transform into a giant pirate, big muscles, deep black beard, tall angry and mad. To do away with all death, an all-raged out ready man.

I choose a door called rage against the world, and so I had an opportunity to go, and then to arrive, and as the door was opened, I chose to appear in the place that was most in need of rage. A place fighting against death, or the place that needed the chance to win. And this world had to destroy the reptile. The men of evil. My rage was prepared to win. My rage was, that, a war full of chances to die with her, to fight for her, to cry out with rage, our love, to win something called her love, back. To become a hero. To take out my rage on the devil. 

I would wait to meet her until the war had finished and I could arrive home, with all these secrets, of how I raged and shook and bled on the battlefield, with only one thing to keep with me, the raging plans of a vengeance against Death. I would die in pain as much as possible and I would go to her home, at the end of the rage.

There were so much reptile, marching through the torn up earth, thunder and thunder above, and drowning lovers, my hollers reaching the lightening as we all screamed, and when I tore up enough scaly skin, and they fell apart, and covered me in black oil, blood, safe I toiled back to the bed at the top of the hill, so at that first, battle,  I gave in and said, "One small gun."

 And I went back into the hell, and shot many devils down, and I screamed at all the noise and the black fires in the sky, and I took my pocket knife, and I roared like man gone mad, and I pointed the end of the blade at my left eye and I ripped the blade across my eye and dug the eye out. Shaking, I tore away the last magazine of the gun against a mass of green muscle and went back again to my bed on the hill.

I lay in the bed, after some treatment, and before sleep, I assured her, her ghost swimming like white dove in the red canvas, that I was in no need of pity.

" No fear, love, I just poked my eye."

Beer

BEER;

Don't beer.

Don't ever ever go near me drinking beer.

I hate beer.

I will cut your beer, and kick your glass over.

====

Kids started shouting at me in the streets.

"Beer man! Beer man! Buddy buddy beer!"

I ignore it.

Someone, was in front of me in the fucking queue, buying beer. I kept it all in. I left the shop.

I lit up outside the shop. I was hissing. He walked out of the shop. He pulled a can off. 

"You want a drink mate?"

I hissed.

"I don't beer..." I sneered. And, I thought, you go near with me that, and I'll...

"Alright! What about a can of cider."

I thought about it.

"Yeah, alright. Cheers."