Down in old River Fleet / Lovely, sweet Adeline

                   (painting by Will Murai)
                                                                               
                                                                               I

"Before St Pancras Hotel was built,

before the trains distrurbed their sleep,

notorious slums were buzzing all around

stinking River Fleet.

In here the butchers dumped their rotten meat,

and the many 'houses of office' relieved the passers-by

of outcoming shit,

London's royal crap floated here,

in old River Fleet.

By 1733 the stench woke up the dead in the cemeteries all around,

(I'd know 'cause I put them there)

the graves shone like a sparkling jewel,

dumped in shit,

all around stinking River Fleet.

In 1846 a sewage explosion occured,

that covered the area even more in shit,

(if that could be)

THAT was where I used to live,

down in old River Fleet.

Looking at St Pancras old hotel,

I start to weep, 'cause I was there,

covered in blood and gore and hair,

in one of the two triple rooms,

(I was somewhat more theatrical back then).

I start to weep 'cause I was there,

when they covered River Fleet,

and when the lovely rooms were

electically lit back in 1885,

in old River Fleet."

"Why are you telling me all this, you slimmy creep?

WHAT DO I CARE OF OLD RIVER FLEET?

If you are going to kill me spare me the grand tour and the shit!"

"But oh, you WILL learn to love River Fleet,

You will....eventually.."

II

"You were so right...this is my home,

where else was I supposed to go,

these are my people, this is my blood,

flowing freely on the brick wall."

Their pale faces clung on the wall,

with reptile tongues they licked the blood

they craved for more,

 his throat they tore.

"Don't be afraid, you shall not die,

your brothers and sisters and I

will never, ever lie.

You'll hunt for more blood,

more people will come,

you'll bring them to me,

just  like the way it used to be,

before Adeline...our love, our mother, ceased to live."

All movement and sound stopped

at the mention of her name,

then a growl and a painful howl,

then bitter silence pierced the air.

"Adeline, Adeline...more blood will spill for Adeline.."

III

"Adeline,

our beloved Queen.

We bathed in blood,

she gave us unconditional love,

but she always wanted more,

more blood, more power over all,

until she met her match

in the face of the mighty Beast.

Oh Adeline,

 you were our immortal Queen".

"It must be found!"

"We must avenge her death!"

"But who should we send to the Beast's lair?"

They all looked at him, the newcomer against the wall,

he seemed strong,

and fresh, and tasty...

they can't be wrong.

"Down in old River Fleet the Beast now dwells,

he snatched Adeline from our own hands.

It's here I feel it, beneath our feet,

and still it feeds on poor Adeline.

I brought you here, you're bound to me,

you kill the Beast, I'll set you free,

should you defy me,

I'll suck you dry..."

"You go!" the poor man said

"You're old and strong and a true Beast yourself,

how am I supposed to kill the thing,

LOOK AT ME!

I AM ALMOST DEAD!"

The young man fell on the brick floor,

he wanted to weep,

to run for the door.

IV

"I SHALL NOT. I PREFER TO DIE!

RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!

And as for poor Adeline,

she deserved to be eaten,

to be butchered alive.

I DONT CARE

DAMN YOU ALL!

I hope the Beast eats your soul".

They surrounded him,

all his clothes were ripped.

First the flesh,

then the heart,

then they pulled him apart.

They sucked all his juice

and his saulty meat,

Down in old River Fleet.

The dead man's eyes opened wide,

he smiled and let out a cry.

Then a thin, small thing lifted its tiny head and revealed its teeth.

Its small spidery hands

were raised from inside

the dead man's lungs

and swirled at them,

devoured their throats.

The Beast had hidden oh.. too well

in the yound man's dead shell.

The great, old vampire started to run,

but the beast caught him by the arm,

and with a reeking breath,

the Beast sent the immortal to hell,

to meet dear, sweet Adeline

Down In Old River Fleet.

(down in old river Fleet, London)

Give me your heart (The Queen of Hearts)

                                  
                           

"How do you feel when you break the meaty surface with your teeth?"

"Do you chew or merely swallow?"

"Do you suck its juice or let it drip?"

"How old are you, really?"

"Who makes your dresses?"

She took a deep breath of pleasure and closed her eyes. More than 100 heart beats were celebrating her first appearance in public. She looked at the woman in the front row, the one who asked about the dresses.

"My dresses are my own designs" her metallic voice rang, "A friend makes them for me and in return

I give her something small to yearn.

You over there! My pretty girl you seem to have a soft heart. Come closer,

I won't give you a start."

There was laughter in the room.

"The rituals I perform, the hearts that I consume,

keep me young and warm,

for more than you can possibly assume."

The woman sat at her feet and touched the hem of her dress,

she adored her, like the rest of the press.

Flashes all around her, she turned on the left to show her paler side.

"I have a freezer to keep them fresh, however I must confess,

there's no more room left...what should I do...

where to keep them, my house is full!"

"In the basement!"

"Down the shute!"

They shouted to her amazement,

they all had what it took.

"We love you, we love you..."

"I have your tattoo.."

"RIP MY HEART OUT TOO!!!"

More people had come,

they begged her for more,

she waved an ivory hand,

 to those who screamed at the back.

"What do I do with a freshly harvested heart?

I boil and bake and fry and stuff,

some I eat raw, I enjoy that part."

The crowd grew restless, they had come for more after all.

She closed her eyes and stood up, hands outstretched, she looked up above.

A musical voice escaped her lips:

GIVE ME YOUR HEART
GIVE ME YOUR HEART
OR I"LL RIP IT APART

One by one their chests slowly bled, with knives and forks and nails and chairs.

It was no easy job, after all!

One helped the other on this gruesome task,

nobody screamed, they all laughed.

The red glistening balls

 made a heap on the floor.

Blood splattered on the walls,

they all fell smiling like broken dolls.

She stepped down to the heap of hearts,

and lay upon them like a small girl sleeping on the grass.

"Now where to put them all..." she muttered sadly

 and took a bite from the ripest, bloody ball,

 deep in thought and contemplation.

photo by Natalie Shau

Stunning she was... (The Herald came)



.....but wicked and evil. She had blood in her hands and in her hair and she sat there in front of her mirror smacking her lips and licking the tips of her fingers.

She had killed yet another. Hearing movement behind the door, she threw her shawl around her throat and glided towards the door...room service.

The young man walked inside unafraid and unarmed because he knew something she did not..that he was already dead.....

He walked inside and stood before her with a wide smile drawn on his rosy lips.
This made her feel unprecedented unease.
"What can I do for you young man. You are foolishly brave to have come." She said softly and assumed her  pose sitting on her chair.
She pulled her shawl away from her round breasts, yet left it hang and crossed her ivory legs
slowly.
The young man walked behind her chair,
and leaned right beside her head.
She looked in the mirror to catch a glimpse of his face and terror overwhelmed her..there was no face to behold.
She swirled at him with ready claws, to rip, to tear his face, to gulp his eyeballs whole, though she felt full, indeed, and met The Mouth, a huge, black gaping hole.
It was rotten and reeking and huge. It covered her face and sucked her in.
She pulled back, and tried to pull the head apart.
But it was too late. She heard it suck her in; her beauty, the stolen blood, her flesh.
Its poison melted her cheekbones and drilled into her marrow.

Her heart reached her mouth. He pulled it right out.

Her shawl fell on the floor; there was a throat no more to hold it on.
Scarlet spewing from her throat's hollow, she staggered towards the sill,
decapitated, not yet lifeless,
there was no thrust, only disgust,
when she tried to grasp where was once her head.

The Herald left as he had come,
the deed was done....

PART II

      Stunning she was,

      but she should have known that competition was getting rough,

she should have left for a while, not stay and laugh,
at the face of what was yet to come.

Thousands upon thousands of beasts feed on human flesh,

all  thirsty and hungry and cold,
without a trace of a soul.

They roam the streets night and  day  enslaving our minds, ensnaring our bodies, our senses, devouring our souls..

When one of them is on the loose,

the Herald is brought to set things straight,

Its Mouth is never late

it feeds upon familiar hate, its own kind without remorse.

From the bloody womb of the Earth's core,

the Herald feeds on rotting gore,

but when he doesn't get his share,

he rises above and settles his score.

Dregs

          

         What am I looking...what I am looking for,

but the truth inside the dregs.

How long will I live for,

how will I die,

where will I go,

will I meet somebody, anybody new,

will my plans fall through,

or will I fail to succeed,

which I want to believe

is not meant for me?

The dregs, the dregs will tell me...let me see...

I see a cross, a white large cross,

which is good.

 A ceremony, a wedding perhaps,

all in good mood.

What's that black thing over there...

Oh..it's a crow...bad news,

I knew that.... I swear,

and a tall man will come to me, he'll say things..

oh! he holds a key!

A key to a locked door...

that was what I was hoping for!

And who's that woman over there?

With raven hair...she has a child in her care..?

That could be me, I guess that's true,

but she looks so old and dark and blue!

That's not me! I'm young and fresh.

No..no..she's definitely someone else!

The dregs sometimes go very wrong,

the cup is dark...this takes too long...

The black blobs around the brim have come to pass..

there's the money I owe and the money I'll get back at long last,

a very narrow road lies straight ahead,

perhaps my fortune is hidden there instead.

The middle blobs will make me weep...

...a dear friend is bound to leave..

But what's that at the bottom of the cup,

where the affairs closer to the heart lie flat?

A gory tale will meet its fiery end,

and will eventually be sent.

(This will come to pass

 when I find the time to write at last)

The dregs have spoken once more,

I'd better go see who's at the door...

Anticipation (Anna was waiting)

Anna was waiting for a knock on the door.

It was dark but for the fire which roared at her feet.

The flames licked the logs and cracked loudly.

Her small hands curled tightly on her lap,

they desperately needed some blood,

so white they were.

The grandfather clock in the corner

ticked the seconds away,

each a month, each a lifetime apart,

past midnight, past Christmases and summers

and birthdays and lunches.

Drizzle tapped on the window,

the logs cracked loudly and the grandfather clock banged,

twice at every breath

but Anna waited stubbornly

for a knock on the door.

She could have shaken the fire,

could have watched the rain fall,

could have winded the clock..

But she was furiously waiting for a knock on the door.

head jerked to the left...was that a tap or a knock?

Her chair creaked, her skirts swished,

her small creamy hand curled around the brass, round knob.

She let out some air,

and invited it in.

All the words-she-left-unsaid

All the words-she-left-unsaid have retreated on the roof of her mouth turning textures into grains.

Then, she swallowed hard to be rid of them because causing problems is the last thing she wanted, so they went down and into the bloodstream, seeking to return to the royal palace, where they were born.

Their journey had been in vain.

Soon, the familiar crystal grounds lay before them.

The glass palace of her brain was crammed with visitors, passers-by and refugees,

many of whom were gathered outside the glass doors waiting to be received,

something which was rarely refused.

The doors slowly opened and a tiny creature with small ears and a huge mouth made his announcement:

"New Secrets and New Lies, New Ideas, New preconceptions, New Pains, New Guilts and New Angers and Fears, welcome to her majesty the Architect!

As you know, there is room for everyone, however, you need to be patient for we need to avoid desperation at all costs.

We have prepared an excellent buffet for you all, in the garden of imagination,

where you can rest, eat, get fat and become obsessions.

When your number comes up, which can be at any time, you shall enter the dome and find your assigned drawer. Thank you for your patience."

Everyone walked to the garden of imagination for the amazing feast, all but all the words-she-left-unsaid.

They were not new, so they could not follow the others.

Soon the doors opened again and another funny creature appeared. This one had no eyes, only huge ears hanging from the sides of its head. In its hands, it was holding a thick leather volume.

"May I be of some assistance?" he said with a soft voice.

All the words-she-left-unsaid climbed the steps and presented their case.
Since they were unsaid and not new where should they go?
"We had no choice but to come back to our birthplace."
"No, no, no, no...." said the small creature. "You cannot stay here, it's not healthy! You should find another way out soon, or you'll turn into ghosts!!!!"
"Ghosts..." muttered all the words-she-left-unsaid.
"Another way out..." this was unheard of..
All the words-she-left-unsaid looked at each other in fear and awe.
"Yes, yes, yes..:" said the creature. "I shall give the order to the hand to fetch a pen and at the right moment you have to jump out, timing is crucial here!" said the little thing.
"You should leave immediately, you have overstayed as it is...you look a bit airy already... and smell the air..anger is rising. There will be a storm unless you get out of here. We don't want another flood...no,no,no,we're still mopping from the flood of 2004." The little scared creature looked up at the red sky, as if it could actually see it.
"A spark of insipation will carry you to the assigned place"
"Maybe we should wait for her at the feast.." all the words-she-left-unsaid said.
"Hell no! The last thing we want is to get you fatter than you already are...Aaahh..I am told that she is here. Goodbye, I hope I never hear the same of you again!" said the thing and went inside the glass palace.
The spark of inspiration raised its sails and carried them though the beating heart, to Cape Right Hand.
Then the Hand started to move and pure light fell on ther feeble heads. Their time had come, they will not be unsaid any more.
One by one they joined the light:

You-stole-it-you-sick-little-thief jumped first and turned to light.

You-died-before-i-had-my-chance dived and let out a joyful shout.

I-still-crave-for-your-acceptance danced in the air.

Stop-undermining-my-intelligence-you-fat-bitch turned into smoke and disappeared.

I-won't-buy-you-anything-else-unless-i-get-my-money-back turned into a smudge and lost all consciousness.
I'm-sorry-for-not-being-there-I'm-just-not-strong-enough was washed away by a passing tear.

I-hate-seeing-your-distorted-grumpy-face-all-the-time turned into a smile.

You-are-obsessed-and-full-of-guilt-stop-harassing-me broke the pencil....

thank goodness all of them were out...or were they?

Poor I-need-more-time-to-write stood there trapped and watched its small limbs disappear....




(painting by Octavio Ocampo)



The whirlpool in the sink and the stolen car (in the dead of night)

Dead tired she was

with a ton of things on her mind,

all she wished for was sleep

yet she couldn't find the strengh

to leave the dishes behind.

So she washed and she scrubbed,

until all was really clean,

then she pulled out the plug,

and stared at the whirlpool in the sink.

When even that was gone,

she headed for bed,

thinking intensively

of what she could have done instead.

She could butcher her husband in the dead of night,

she can eat her children alive,

she could go to a weird bar,

in a brand new stolen car,

and flay the patrons alive.

Her eyes closed fast,

she was sleeping at last,

her subconscious self,

armed her with a machine gun instead.

She won battles, she killed armies,

and her boss and the grocer,

nothing but a loser and a tosser,

she had stolen the car,

and had gone to the weirdest freaking bar,

her husband was there dressed as a nun.

She was laughing out loud

they were having some fun,

then she started to run,

all the way to the sun!

There's nothing better indeed,

than a good night's sleep,

to let out some steam,

in a wild and bloody paranoid,

sweet and sour dream.

Goodnight.



Painting by William E. Rochfort

The meeting

"Where are you?" the thin mental voice asked.

"I'm on the train to Rome" she thought hurriedly back.

She closed her eyes and saw her there,

sitting in a Queen Anne velvet armchair,

drinking red herb tea.

"Listen carefully for I shall speak of this only once,

we can't afford to take another chance."

"I hear you, go ahead and talk about the task

speak fast, it's only a few hours before dusk.

"The loom that weaves the cloth

which separates the worlds

is kept beyond the dying ashes

of the burning sea.

Once a year the loom weaves

the magic veil

which thins and fades as the year passes

until it can't be seen.

The night that darkenss conquers light,

the night the veil falls at witches' will,

that night we shall cross the gate

and find the loom before it starts to weave.

The candle shall burn

for hours nine

enough to brew, enough to cast the spell.

Its cogs and wheels, its threads and heddles

shall be altered beyond repair.

The newly woven veil

shall always grant us pass

to all the worlds at last.

The darkest spirits and lightest nymphs,

will be called to do our deeds,

for all I want and all you wish

we and only we shall keep the keys.

The woman drank her bitter tea,

eyes glistering

she looked at her,

the smoke had all but gone,

her smile shone back beneath the veil.

"What is it that you wish?"

"I want to roam and fly free wherever I wish,

I want people to shrink at my command

and keep them in a chocolate box

to play with when I please".

A knock was heard on the door..

"I need to go, take care.."

the smoke, the train were gone.

She placed the herb tea on the pink lace tablecloth and sighed,

twenty-two nights were not that long.

"you have a childness in you that I would like to crush"

Most people misunderstand it, others feel intimidated by it but most are absolutely envious of it.

It's the sparkle of enthusiasm that comes out as a flare and blinds the soul-dead. The unhindered laughter that echoes in the adult -club of the overworked. The life that is perceived as an infectious disease to the zombie- sedated, money-driven, self-obsessed grown-ups of today's Matrix.

"I cannot allow you to have something that I have allowed to die. You must be what I am so that I can feel good about my self."

She is pressured from all corners. Closing her eyes she takes a deep breath. Fresh baked bread from the bakery across the street, the vaccum cleaner making a racket from the flat above, the soft mush of the gutted pumkin in her hand....

Something like that never dies, it lives on even when you are dead. It leaves ripples in the pool of life that affect others for many years after. And then it is recognised for what it truly was. A strong appetite to harverst all life's potential.

-"You have a childness in you that I would like to crush"

-"Hearing you say it scares me. I'd rather go.."

getting there

I'm all set and with the best intentions. All I wanted to say is on paper, all revised and checked. The wheels are in motion, the story is on the run and there is no going back now. The characters are waiting for me to give the signal to fight to the end, more blood is going to be spilt, destinies will be decided and kingdoms will perish. Some will die, others will live and I, the all mighty God of their universe, am standing on the highest hill overlooking the battlefield waiting for the right moment.

I shouldn't have picked this outfit. This is a battlefield after all. Boots and pants would have been more appropriate but its my feeling that I will come out of it unscathed and victorious that led me choose these shoes and the white dress. I wouldn't want my characters to look better than me. I want to them to feel at ease at this dire moment.

This isn't a battle of good and evil, right and wrong, love and indifference, this is a battle of characters, of power over others, of personal fears and insecurities in a fictional land where there are no rules. Everyone is playing their game, and some games are just not good enough. In a land made of blood, death is irrelevant, physical pain is non-existent and the concept of life is negotiable.

Yet I am happy for it, therefore the shoes.