What good is a broken man?

What an era to be alive.

Yet how can one call living with no dignity living?

Crawling on knees to get to a safe place to release your bowels,

Begging from mercy from an overweight class traitor with shit aim

Only to get 6 bullets in the back.

For a cell phone.

Can it be called it living to beg for help?

Only to be denied it?

Only to be killed for it?

Only to be mocked for it?

Can it be called living?

So many men,

And even more hurt women,

All because therapy is either too expensive,

So we put the burden on the femmes.

Therapy,

Too expensive,

Or not manly enough.

Wouldn’t want weakness, or tenderness to show,

No,

That’s how you end up with six bullets in the back apparently,

And lose your ability to walk,

Think,

Or breath.

That and skin of deeper tint which will act as hate’s magnet,

For what good is a broken man?

What good is fear?

What good is pain?

What good is a broken man?

And who can love something that is broken.

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Gramercy, The Journey of Jack Lewis Chapter 15

Chapter 15 Gotcha, in the Cops and Robbers Game.

 

Jack had stopped listening long ago.  It wasn’t a voluntary thing, he was just too captivated by the sight of her to care about anything else.  After she had stopped reading she caught his gaze, which was locked on her eyes.  They both smiled and kissed a kiss so passionate that it belongs in a movie.  They damaged her mantle piece with the love they made.

 

Later, he sat on the edge of the bed, brooding.  Jack never brooded in jail, but he brooded now, naked, sweaty, and coming down off an endorphin rush.  His busty satisfied lover next to him sleeping and breathing heavy, happy breathes.

Jack truly did love Kate, and because he loved her he had never been more conflicted.  Jack knew that the reason he hadn’t been caught and thrown back in jail so far was because he had managed to move from place to place.  So now he had to make some choices.  He had been here with Kate for three weeks now, he knew if he stayed much longer it wouldn’t be long before the cops would catch up with him.

“What do I do?” he thought.  Does he risk getting caught and keep her at risk, this living gift that Jack had received after years of apathy and suppression.  Or does he flee, leaving a note for his lover explaining why she may never see him again.  Either way, he knew he would hurt Kate, and that was exactly what he was trying not to do.

 

He sat on the bed for two hours, trying to think of a way to elude the police and keep Kate.  The more Jack thought about it the more he realized one way or the other Kate was going to find out that Jack was a fugitive.  If he told her and she was okay with it, she would get locked up for aiding and abetting, and that was something Jack would never let happen.  He would sooner take a bullet than let this woman go through the hells he did in prison.  Especially a women’s prison, where she will be subject to the already sadistic guards.

 

He needed to clear his head and think.  He put on some clothes and shoes and a beanie Kate had given him that she knitted herself.   He kissed her cheek, then walked to the corner store to buy a pack of camels.

 

This turned out to be a mistake.

 

Jack got the cigarettes and left the 7 eleven with no confrontations, as he usually expected when going to a market at 3 at night.  He lit one and smoked as he wandered the neighborhood and parked his ass on a bus bench, chain smoking and trying to figure things out.

 

Jack went through four cigarettes when he first heard the sirens, he thought nothing of them.  He hadn’t been here that long, there was no way they could find him.

 

They did.  When one of the six squad cars parading the area turned the corner and started speeding towards him.  They braked suddenly by the bench, the red and blue sirens illuminating Jacks face from a fierce and distressful red to a chilling stunned blue in a taunting back and forth.

They blocked off the sidewalk with the car and before Jack could react or flea, another car came and blocked the sidewalk in the other direction. Jack had a cop car blocking either side of him and he now had four cops standing in front of him blocking him from fleeing across the street.  Each one was strapped in kevlar and had their gun drawn.  Within another the ten seconds the helicopter appeared and the light was right in Jack’s eyes.  In a last attempt to keep his freedom, Jack blindly sprang to his right and managed to leap over the hood of the cop car and out paced the spot light momentarily.  But he didn’t outpace the rookie’s taser which sent 50,000 volts into Jack’s body for what seemed like an unreasonable amount of time to take down an unarmed fugitive.  When Jack came to he was in handcuffs, sitting on the curb with some schmuck in a suit and trench coat standing in front of him like some Law and Order SVU cliche.

 

I’m agent smith of the FBI, as you can guess you are under arrest Mr. Lewis.

 

Jack nodded. he read him his rights and then took in one of the most wanted men in America.

 

The news hit the media in less than an hour.  While he was out Jack was just another transient to the world, now he that he was back in he was a celebrity, the entire world was captivated by the man who walked out of prison. Hashtags started trending for days, ones like #LongLiveLewis #JackAttack #WeLoveJackLewis  he had become a folk hero of sorts to some.  To others it was a chance to reveal their darker side of the internet once again with hashtags like #frylewis #LifeforLewis and the less creative #wehateJackLewis.

He used his phone call for Kate, he got the machine, she was dead asleep.  Jack said he got arrested, gave her the station number, and said don’t bother trying to bail me out, they wouldn’t let it happen, there’s a lot I didn’t tell you, but if you give me a chance to explain… I will.  I love you.

 

As he hung up he realized a bunch of the deputies were watching him and laughing at him.  and mocking him  “I love you..(grunt) yeah right”

 

“Bullshit”

 

“You’ll say anything to get people on your side won’t you.”  were some of the jargon.  This officer then shoved jack’s head, not enough to be called brutality, but just enough to remind Jack he was in and was powerless.   That’s how the police operate in this world, they remind the citizens they are powerless.  Jack knew this game, and he had played it his whole life.  Who is the court going to believe the cop or the three time felon?   The cops were going to remind Jack of that the entire time he would be in holding.

The other cells were full, so they threw Jack into the drunk tank but kept him under round the clock surveillance.  It was futile effort Jack just sat there hanging his head until Kate arrived.  When she saw him she leaped to the cell door and hugged him and kissed him.  She asked what happened before Jack could explain a cop had his baton between the two and he pulled Kate just out of arm’s length.

 

“At least two feet from the bar Miss.” jack noticed when the guard started pulling Kate away with his arm his hand noticeably brushed Kate’s breast.  Kate noticed it, and Jack definitely noticed it.  And the deputy definitely confirmed it as he smiled small but smugly as he walked away.

 

Later this cop would be sorry.  Jack made sure of that, the next time he came to tauntack he had a surprise for him.

 

But now he had to focus, Jack didn’t hesitate, he wanted this to be as quick and painless as it could be.  So Jack just spilled the beans, he told Kate everything; the escape, the wandering, Nancy, the head wounds, the crippled hand, Alice and the sorority girl, all of it.

 

Kate was speechless for five minutes, then when she got the chance as the guard wasn’t looking planted long wet kiss on Jack’s lips.  “Let me know when the arraignment begins. I’m there with you the whole way.  I love you.”

 

“I love you too” jack said and meant it.  He never knew one could fall in love in such a short period of time, but he did.

 

Kate left, confident she could help Jack in someway, unaware she had helped Jack in the best of ways.  Her presence in his life had given him something to live for, something to fight for.

 

Jack was left desperate for more of her company, this look was blatant on his face, and it drew the cop who just sexually harassed Kate over.  He had some new material to taunt Jack and was about to use it. Jack hadn’t been in there for twenty four hours and already sixteen different cops have taunted him right in front of the holding cell door.  This time the pervert cop got greedy, and opened the cell door and stepped in and out and in and out.  “Look at me” he teased “ I can come and go as I please, just like a certain Mister Jack Lewis thinks he can. I can just waltz out of here and visit my friends and go and have sex with my girlfriend any time I want and wait, why don’t you too?”  He kept the door open and stood aside while he raised his palm directing Jack like he was free to go, sarcastically of course, but the cop finally made a mistake he did this standing inside the cell.  The three drunks in the tank made a leap for the door but were immediately clotheslined by the cop.  “not you drunkies.  Come on Lewis.  go for it.”  Jack hated it when he was addressed by his last name; this was the final straw. Before  the cop could react Jack grabbed his outreached arm, twisted it like a motorcycle handle, then brought it down with all it’s gravity onto his knee.  The bone began to stick out through the flesh as the elbow was now bending the wrong way, the guard yelped with pain, and Jack used the cops weight to chuck him on the ground, smacking the back of his head on the concrete floor causing a nice concussion He grabbed the cell keys and the gun. He stepped out and slammed the door and locked it, and told the drunks to “go nuts.”

 

The cops injuries were so bad he was given early retirement.

 

Jack made it out into the hall in a sprint but was once again stopped by some offensively high number of volts that leaped out from behind and bit him in the back.

Gramercy, The Journey of Jack Lewis. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  The Happy Couple

 

Jack had finished the story by the time Kate was long out of the shower. Now that he had come to, he decided that although the author of these stories was very talented he was also greatly disturbed, or at least in a very dangerous state of mind when he wrote these.  Jack figured maybe it was a fine line between genius and crazy.

Her return broke him out of his feast of literature, and he directed his attention to her lovely, curvy, soft pale body.  He grew hard as instinct began to take over.  He wanted to be with her now, and not the books any more.

 

“I see you’ve got quite the collection here,” Jack commented on the room full of Poe and Shakespeare. As he got up and gently kissed her on the neck and snuck a soft hand down the back of her towel.

 

“Oh, well thank you,” Kate said in that tender, erotic whisper that was her bedroom voice.   He had such strong hands yet such a delicate touch.  Jack’s kisses slowly began to trail down her back.  “Yes, I really love reading.”

 

`“Me too,” Jack said as he moved her arm up, allowing the towel to fall so that Kate stood naked, wet, and helpless, Jack’s lips got closer to their target.

 

“I try to read everything, classics, contemporaries, obscure authors and works, essays, journals, but my personal favorite, are my art books.  I love art, Oh my god!”  She wasn’t going to be able to contain herself anymore.

 

Jack began to dig his tongue deep into her as she tried to carry on, but she just couldn’t.  For some unknown trail of time Jack buried his tongue and two fingers into her body as fast and gentle as he could until the inside of Kate’s legs were gushing and sopping wet, and her screams of pleasure echoed throughout the house.

 

The two needed a minute to catch their breath in between their loving and congratulatory kisses of climaxing.  “Would you like to read with me?”  Kate said in a sudden spur of smiles, love, and inspiration

 

“Sure,” said Jack as the two laid down on the bed to rest.  “I read that last book while you were in the shower.  The guy who wrote it is pretty twisted…”

 

“That’s nothing, you should read Naked Lunch,” Kate interrupted

 

“Anyway,” Jack carried on.  “I’m kinda tired of reading, so why don’t you read to me, while I just lie at your side and kiss you until my lips are sore?”

 

She kissed his chest in order to signal that this was a splendid idea.

 

Kate picked out a book and the two made themselves comfortable on the bed.  Kate made herself some tea and Jack poured himself a strong full glass of bourbon.  Kate showed Jack the book, it was a collection of essays and poems by the same looney who wrote the other stories.  Jack wondered why she was so fixated with the author,  but he didn’t care. He was just glad to be with her and to listen to her read.

 

She carried on  and she began in that amazing theatrical style she did so naturally while Jack cupped her left breast and kissed her neck, gently finding his way down her stomach to the bottom of her leg and back again.  He did it soft enough to make her smile and not distract her from the reading.  She selected her favorite poems and began.

 

wishes by crazy modernisms and former external instincts.  

By natural unnatural intoxication knowledge.

Depraved yet smiling on another winded day.

But so of another wandering light of love on milton forgotten days.

What so can be said of a forbidden lust and wandering capture.

What escape and what a love of such a word of that and what!

By lyric

By center and by try these all and forever will and will not,

ever by light of the modern, and the former, and the knowledge,

 

and the forgotten days.

 

“Beautiful,” exclaimed Jack.

“Yes, it is a good poem isn’t it?” replied his love.  “It reminds me a lot of e.e. cummings.:

“No,” exclaimed Jack.  “The way you read it.”

His love blushed and turned the page, carried on with another poem as he continued his kisses up and down her body.

Gramercy, The Journey of Jack Lewis. Chapter 12

Chapter 12  I’m With The Band

 

The next morning they all awoke one by one at the early hour of dawn.  They all rubbed their twinging necks and backs and gave each other shit for being so stupid for sleeping sitting up on the couches, especially these couches which they found in a scrap heap, and had hints of scabies when they first got them and cleaned them.

 

They recovered from their twinges with whiskey and a hearty breakfast, as well as a hash pipe session that Seth was so kind to initiate.  Jack asked what the plans were and Conner responded, “Well, we have practice today at five to eight.  Before and after that we’re free, but before practice I’m gonna take a nap.”

 

“You know what we should do today,”  said Hal, “role a fat joint, and I mean cigar sized, and we go to the forrest, drink some beers and have some fun.”

 

After about forty five minutes of rolling joints, packing food, and arguing for shotgun, they shipped off in what was an hour long drive into where Jack had no idea, it was some transcendent place in the Cascades.   The more they went on these nameless freeways and roads that went deeper and deeper into the trees and fields the more Jack was getting lost in the awe of the sights before him.  With every turn, with every mile came more and more beautiful blue sky lines dotted with puffs of white and the ground was just a bloom with the most vibrant greens, browns, and reds.  The almost neon technicolor wildflowers sprung from the hills and dotted the green horizon.  Jack had never seen anything so beautiful, so worthy of awe, in his entire life.

 

They eventually reached some huge park that Jack had never heard of, it was a popular local spot.  After they parked the group carried their blankets, food, and drugs deep into the forest on some painful yet pristine path.  Eventually settling on a spot deep in the woods far away from everyone, right next to a small lake surrounded by a grove of trees like a white picket fence, protecting our friends from the harms of the outside world.

 

They began their day.  Joints were lit and the boys talked, some vented about their girl troubles, Hal went on tangents about the need for music and art in society, while Conner strummed a small acoustic guitar, and Jack just got high and listened.  He was paying attention to what his new friends were saying and taking all of their words and perspectives truly to heart.  However, he wasn’t in the conversation; he was not even looking at them when they passed him the joint.  He was still lost in the awe that was before him; the shimmer of the lake, and the shine of the sun with its sweet reflection on the clouds in the sky, along with the circle and the bounty of the trees before him.  Jack couldn’t help losing himself in it for some reason.

 

Jack was amazed and lost in the beauty before him.  It wasn’t until Hal said something that he was shaken out of his nature coma.

 

“JACK!”  yelped Hal with a smile.  “You good over there bro?  You haven’t said anything for a while.”

 

“I’m fine,” Jack replied.  “Just, you know…”  Jack was too stoned to think of an eloquent response.

 

“Just lost in the forest, huh?”  Hal completed with a smile and without hesitation.

 

Jack nodded, “Yeah.  I don’t know why, it’s just so..”

 

“I know why!” Hal interjected again.  “It’s because its’ the brain kicking in your natural instincts.  Our brains are so caught up in the artificial world we feel we need to survive we ignore the states of emotions we get just by coming out of the artificial.  Just by coming out here you’re just getting a taste of what prehistoric man saw and experienced.  You’re getting a taste of what the Natives saw before we stole their land and you’re feeling what the first pioneers must have felt when they saw the world beyond what they were used to.  Now anyone could say these aren’t natural instincts, these are romantic fairy tales, that being awe struck isn’t a natural instinct but just psychological romanticism.

“But they are wrong.  All our emotions, are somehow in-tuned to some animal instinct we have.  Our awe of nature is our instinct of reflection on the self and the world.  It’s through this reflection that we are able to see who and what we really are and can be the more wiser for it.

“It was the awe and beauty that ancient man felt that inspired him to create song and paint on walls, which are the things that make life worth living.  Now some say that still isn’t natural and we don’t need those things, but again they are wrong.  If it wasn’t for our songs and our art and these outlets, these entertainments, then we would be just like every other animal. That’s what makes humans so cool, we not only have animal instincts but our instincts also become both analytical and psychological while still standing in the romantic.”  Hal paused for a minute and tried to remember what he was originally talking about.  His speech returned to its normal speed when he said, “So I know why you felt awe struck.”

 

Jack didn’t say much in response.  he just smiled nodded, he said that it made sense, and passed Hal the joint.

 

The hours passed, Jack and the others had become incredibly stoned, they were blotchy and red from the sun, and were out of food.  As the sun slipped away and the sky began slipping to its tri-colored beautiful warning sign of the night, they shipped off and returned home.

 

Once back, Seth gathered his things and left to go back to his place.  He said his goodbyes to Conner, Hal, Jason, and Jack and promised to be back for practice the next day.  Jason left soon after.

 

Once Seth and Jason were gone, Conner got a big box of Pizza Bagels and heated them up while Hal put on a movie.  Conner then passed out beers and they sat and passed the hours of the night once again.

 

“When’s your guys gig?” asked Jack when he remembered.

 

“In two more days, at 10:30 at some house party.”  said Conner.  “It should be pretty awesome.  Tons of beer, tons of girls, you know just a fun time and a hopefully good show.”

 

“It will be good,” said Hal with his usual enthusiasm.  “We got lasers and bubbles!”

 

The days passed in the manner that Jack had become accustomed, in a smoke filled haze.  After hours and hours of pot smoking and cartoon watching, the day of the gig came.  They all left for the party, and Jack acted as sort of a roadie.  He helped them set up and enjoyed the benefits of telling the passers by at the party he was with the band.

 

The crowd grew and built in mass.  Soon the house was full to burst with people like a 19th century ship on the Atlantic filled with East European immigrants. Jack was front and center when the show began, first with a cover of the Red Hot Chili peppers’ “Can’t Stop.”  It was the minute the intro peaked with the guitar solo that she walked in.

 

Jack was frozen stiff.  Jack had never seen anyone so beautiful, so original, and so soft of an air.  Thanks to a stroke of luck, her eyes caught his, and both looked away with a smile, and both drifted closer and closer to each other as the band played their set.  Eventually they met, and Jack extended his hand.

 

“What’s your name?” he yelled over the deafening guitars and drums.

 

“Kate.”  She said with that sweet auburn smile that hypnotized Jack.

 

“I’m Jack,” he responded, searching for the next thing to say.

 

“You have a very strong grip.”  Kate said to him.  Both couldn’t help but giggle at how awkward and dorky the other felt.

 

The night carried on with the most minimal and awkward of back and forths between the two, but one thing was desperately obvious.  The two were already falling in love with each other.

Jack didn’t want to believe it, but he did.  He didn’t know what it was, but there was something about this girl.  The more time he spent next to Kate, dancing with her, talking with her, the more he couldn’t bare the idea of being apart from her.  He wished the music wouldn’t stop and that this party would never end.  Jack had never felt like this before in his life.  The warmth of her body as he held her close sent a sensational tingle up his spine.  He didn’t want her to leave, he did not want to let her go.

Soon the gig ended, and the party slowly dispersed, but they still held each other close and still talked.  On the surface it seemed like idle chit chat.  Yet Conner and Hal could see in Jack’s eyes that he was falling for Kate, and decided to help him seal the deal.

 

“Hey Jack,” said Hal, “I see you met our friend Kate.”

 

“I did.  She was telling me she’s learning to be a nurse.”  Jack replied.

 

“And I was about to ask Jack about his tattoo,” added Kate, much to Jack’s despair.

 

Kate saw the frozen look of despair on Jack’s face and she knew that it was her last comment that made it happen.  But it confused her to no end.

 

“What’s wrong?”  She asked.

 

“I didn’t want to tell you so soon.  The barcode is a prison tattoo.  They’re my numbers from when I was in Leavenworth.”  Jack, for the first time, felt pure unadulterated shame when he had to say that, the only thing Jack was ashamed of before this was trying to tell his dad he loved him when he was five, and his dad laughed and beat him and called him a faggot.

 

Jack couldn’t even look her in the eye when he said it.  Hal was so uncomfortable he just slipped away.  But Kate only smiled, she lifted Jack’s chin up with her fingers, and led his face toward hers.

 

They kissed, and for the first time in his whole life, Jack let his guard down, and he let the warmth of the woman he loved into his life.

Ah, but Soft in a Kiss

Ah, but soft in a kiss

and then gone.

This is not a love poem

but a poem of lust lost,

lust lost but found afresh

and anew.

A new lust and spring,

cleansed of spite of old

and self.

A return of not

and never return need

be to the rhyme

and timing of our

spike and spiteful,

wandering off and

away.

6/9/14

The Burden of Empathy : Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I dreamed I fucked her again.  This time without the ending event, we just fucked and fucked and fucked.  I would actually have the same dream not to long after this one.  It was a perfect dream, not because it was about fucking, just because I knew one day I could have her.  I wasn’t the murderous monster I thought I was, so there was no reason why she wouldn’t be with me.  When I woke up I realized this was sort of true.  

Unless she outright rejects me, there isn’t anything keeping me from at least talking to her, except for me.  I made a mental note of this, when I went back to sleep.

 

At 2:14.

 

To Question

What ever was there to know,

Whatever was there to have

on hand to so be questioned.

To question

answer

but on and off again,

Sinful friendliness

you are no help

at all.

Only past misconstruction

and always trifled hours.

2/16/11