Archive for the Fragments Category

Strange Couplets #2: More People on Fire

Posted in Assholes, Fire, Fragments, People, Poems, Politics on July 25, 2010 by

People on fire are quenched by the storm
smoldering wet and mumbling ‘reform’
their hands turn to ashes and their words into dust
their guts into pumice and their hearts into rust

These people on fire are buried in clay
and they harden and deaden and wither away
but in the holes that they left their ghosts linger on
and the soil above is more porous anon

People on fire spontaneously combust
when a lifelong breeze hits a sudden gust
a crackle and spark from the toes to the hair
a towering inferno, a thunderous gale

People on fire should prompt you to run
unless you’re prepared or just there for fun
and it’s best to escape or carry some salt
so if you ignite at least it won’t be your fault


Strange Couplets

Posted in Fire, Fragments, Poems, Songs on July 1, 2010 by

People on fire are meaner than you think
they dash and they stumble and sink
A fire extinguisher might put them out
But then they sit around and pout

People on fire just need a match
Holes in your skin just need a patch
A patch on your skin to dull the pain
seed clouds with dust to make it rain

When I was on fire I saw only red
All I wanted was the ocean instead
Red becomes green and green becomes brown
Settle in mud, sink down and down

People on fire it’s all in their minds
wake up in your head it’s the heat that binds
Give in to the flames and they’re cool and light
Like soft summer linen on a warm summer night.

Simon Artesian, Reality’s Champion

Posted in Fragments, Heroes, Monsters, Science Fiction on April 30, 2010 by

Simon Artesian was a vampire hunter.  Well, not vampires precisely, or werewolves or zombies or any other of the names we use for what haunts us in our weak times—it would be most accurate to say that Simon Artesion hunted predators.  Not predators of humans, though humans sometimes were caught in their plane and devoured, but predators of the beings we don’t see that keep our universe running.  Most humans don’t really know much about this, and when thinking of a Prime Mover or Omnimpotent Being, fail to consider that these forces we ascribe to giants are actually the works of a vast civilization of creatures into whose substance the fabric of reality is woven.  Or some such analogy– because it is impossible to truly describe them in words, they don’t exist in quite the same way as us, and can only be properly imagined when… imagined.  “Chattering Elf Machines” can hardly do justice to their individual majesty or the miraculous fact of their existence.  In any case, everything we know is driven by their energistic output.  Whether we are a side effect of their existence or are purposefully tended is up for debate, but it is undeniable that the prime forces of the universe issue forth from the Tenders, and if they were to die, our sun would go out.  So Simon Artesian hunted their predators.

 Simon Artesian had powers.  These powers were mostly perceptive, but could manifest themselves in other ways, at occasionally strange times.  Neither Simon’s mother nor the doctors were aware she had conceived nine days before, and the psychoactive drug tests went smoothly, although there was strangely little effect, so they repeated the dose three days later.  This time too, Sarah’s vitals remained the same, and other than a little tingling in the back of her neck and the base of her spine reported no changes in her mental state.

More text!!

Posted in Assholes, Fragments on April 20, 2010 by

Undercover Cop With Multiple Personalities

Hey man, what’s got you down?
Man, one can’t get no action… here in this town.
What do you mean by ‘action,’ friend?
What does that tone in your voice portend?
Nothing, man. (You’ve come to the right place.)
Then what’s with that funny look on your face?
Look pal, just nerves, maybe I should go.
Are you a cop?
Me? Hell no!

Well all right, then. I had to ask.
Am I to undertake an unlawful task?
Depends on the law.
I’ve broken them all.
And yet you’ve never managed to fall
into the hands of the police, and jail?
I’ve had my scraps, but I never fail
to come out squeaky clean in the end,
the judge is my uncle and the jury’s my friend.
Well all right then, sounds good to me.
Okay pal, then what’ll it be?


Posted in Beards, Christmas, Fragments, Illustration, WikiLink on April 20, 2010 by

Breakfast with Meta-Boy and Family

Posted in Breakfast, Fragments, Meta-Boy on April 20, 2010 by

Mom:  Good Morning, Meta-Boy.  How did you sleep?

 MB:  The daily filial ritual: standard greeting, cheerful probe into my state of mind, expected response of “well, thanks,” or even just “OK”, is an obsolete cultural artifact that cannot begin to encompass any modern child’s nightmares as we toss and turn our way through visions of a destroyed future. 

 Dad:  Someone woke up on the cynical side of the bed this morning.

 MB Yawns

 Mom:  Here you go, dear– two eggs with toast, sunny-side up!

 MB:  I saw that one coming a mile away.  Parents make the dumbest jokes.  Okay, I know I’m acknowledging my youth and lack of full authority over my actions with this question, but I’m going to ask it anyway:  May I have some coffee?

 Mom:  Well, it is a Saturday.  What do you think, hon?

 Dad:  I think we should keep the little freak as far away from any stimulants as possible.  But what the hell, it’s a Saturday, right?

MB:  I’m going to choose to ignore your little dig as the attempt to shock and play out of type that it is.  Thanks for the coffee Mom!

 Dad:  I can’t believe you take it with no sugar.

 MB:  I like it bitter.

 Dad:  Preparing for life, eh?

 MB:  I can admire your perseverance, if nothing else.

 Mom:  That’s how he won me over!

Fragment found!

Posted in Fragments, Lies, People, Poems on April 19, 2010 by

I knew a fact

the way it stared

truth in your eyes

your lies declared