Hammer Time Feast

Hammer Time Feast
The man with the hammer 
Stalks the pristine tourist beach
He looks for women 
To steal and rape and eat

Especially ones there 
With their rich husbands
This gives him the ultimate thrill 
And total unquestionable power

He wears bright orange shorts 
And a green Spam Vest
His hammer is plastic and dog chewed
And very effective in its job
Just like he always is

Look there a woman to kidnap!
The crazy man walks over 
He looks like a jogger so its fine
His victim and her partner are unaware

The psycho goes over and acts
He swings his pastry hammer and connects
The husband falls to the sand
His wife screams and gets slapped

Her mouth is a wide O and face red
She goes to run but I trip her
Her face hits the sand
I drag her by her feet 

My boat is close by and we leave
I've hit her to quieten her
We reach my desert island 
I go to work and am fast

The first act is done and is quick
I feel the release of energy and intent
Then I skillfully skin her alive
She dies as the last skin is removed

I carry her bloody body to a pot
I took this off the dead natives
The corpse boils and stews 
My recipe is rather yummy

I cut bit off her flesh and feast
She tastes like a tender steak
In time I'll consume all of her
Not a trace of her will remain

halloween madness

halloween madness

And so it is there inside
As it always is
This thing with a life of its own
What do I call it?
A friend, companion, bed fellow?
This ravenous thing in my head
Which controls me and drives me
Guiding me to Hell and back
And there and back on and on
Doing what needs to be done
To satisfy its thirst for blood
A total fucking cliche

The axe man in the forest
The knife man in the mall
The shooter in the college
The grenade thrower at the mosque

You see I am the psychopath
I am one of ten people
With this special gift
Not the one that kills but another
The ability to become 1 of 10
Ten lifetimes in one

A priceless gift from the Army Experiment
This failed to make a super soldier
It made me instead

I am Jacob's Ladder
I am LSD
I am all the bad things
I am the thing that will hurt you
I am the creature of the dark
I am all that you fear

The cliche of death
So be very fucking afraid
For now I must kill

For Emma And Bruce

For Emma And Bruce

We've all heard the tale of random strangers meeting for the first time then getting married. From bumping into each other to tying the knot, less than a day. Is this true or made up by an exaggerating writer like Jimmy?

Well Jimmy met such a couple. He was sitting at a cafe having a coffee when he saw history being made. A small man was reading a newspaper while he walked. A few yards away was a lady, standing chatting on her phone.

The absentminded man walked into the girl. She screamed and fumbled with her phone and the man discarded his paper. He exclaimed and shouted at the woman. She retaliated and slapped him!

Jimmy watched the spectacle unfold with a smile. The man's left cheek was red. He didn't hit the girl; no, he kissed her. She stood there open mouthed and shocked. Then she dropped her phone!

She was about to knee him in the balls and actually brought her knee up but then changed her mind. Instead she retaliated in kind. When she kissed the man it was full on and real. Was it all a joke?

No, it wasn't. The man picked the girl up and twirled her round three times. He looked into her eyes and saw something. What? Himself there? With great care he put her down and apologised.

He was about to run off. Why? Because he saw himself in her eyes and vice versa? She grabbed his arm and shook her head repeatedly. This Jimmy noticed. His gaze was strange. They were both in tears.

Both remained close, as if any distance between them was fatal. Not allowed. He looked around as he held her. Upon seeing Jimmy, something in his demeanour calmed. Jimmy finished his brew.

And was ready to meet his look. The man indicated Jimmy join them. Jimmy left cash for the bill and strolled over. His eyes never left the couple. It was obvious something special occurred.

Jimmy nodded and said Hi. His new friend said he was called Bruce but faced the girl when he spoke. His girl replied she's Emma. They kissed again and looked at Jimmy. Both grabbed his arm.

We want you to join us. Be our best man when we get wed. We'll get married today. Come on. Please. You saw this happen. You're part of this. Would you  do it? Jimmy nodded. He couldn't refuse.

Jimmy knew the town. He led the couple to the registry office. It was open. Bruce had enough money to pay. Emma pointed to a charity shop with a lovely mauve dress in the window. They went in.

Bruce picked black trousers and a turquoise shirt. Jimmy got black jeans and orange shirt. Emma bought the clothes. In a surreal happy moment, the couple ran down the street. Jimmy followed them.

It was a quick but special wedding ceremony. Jimmy filmed it on his phone and blue toothed it to them after. Then it was to the pub and an all day party. Bruce told Emma he'd take her to Portugal for honeymoon.

She nodded in delight and they kissed and kissed and kissed. Jimmy would pay for the beer that day. He'd witnessed a beautiful event. Two strangers meeting and getting married on the same day. A dream?

That was fifteen years ago. Today our couple is happy in love with three cute kids. Jimmy calls round every few weeks for a coffee. He made two lifelong friends that day and did this poem.

Green Woman

Green Woman 1

There's a woman who lives in a bottle green painted wooden house by the sea. All alone because she's a bitch. A strong statement for someone you don't know. Would you want to know her? I wouldn't. Not after she said she'd shoot herself when her dog finally dies. She was caught in the woods by some kids and hurriedly hid the gun. She lied to them, said it's picnic time.

Green Woman 2

What do we make of this lady who lives by the ocean, alone? In a green wooden house. Some would call this paradise. Does she? She's a little mad. Her family ignores her. Her husband died and she was going to top herself. Down in the woods with a pistol. A group of kids caught her. No food. A shaky lie: I've ate it. The gun hidden. Why is she this way? Would you talk to her? Be her friend? I wouldn't. I'd tell her what I thought of her. Show her the imbalances that torment her mind. Imagine her talking to herself in her little green house. A world of her own making. madness abounds.

Green Woman 3

What do we make of Olive? Her son won't speak to her. It was a row. His mum found out he got wed 2 months later. Not talking keeps the peace and works really well. But imagine the lost years. Gone forever more. In their lucid moments this family will be terrified. What the hell have they done? Especially the mad mother. Does she miss her dead husband? Why did she want to die? Grief or depression or insanity? Such a shame she doesn't enjoy her pretty green ocean house. Or does she? Assumptions.

Pet’s Revenge

Pet’s Revenge

For example a Dachshund dog was thrown 5 floors to his death

The owner photographed this and posted it online

His dog looked like he was sleeping but was dead

I tracked the Dachshund Dog’s Killer down and killed him

I put him in an 80s violent video game with block graphics

I hit him with a stabbing dagger in both shoulders

Then machete chopped half of his pinto skull off

Finally finishing him off with a flick knife in the gut

Next there was the case of the animal rescue centre

9 pussycats were murdered for no real reason

Except they were living in the centre

I drove up to the animal sanctuary in a Technical

I beeped and they opened the gates and I saw him

The Pussycat Murderer who swaggered about like a real man

I aimed my remote control 50 Cal gun with my PS2 controller

And popped the motherfucker with a hundred 50 Cal Raufoss rounds

A woman cut the foot off her dog with a machete

Because the dog annoyed his owner

All this was filmed and posted online

I found the Limping Woman who made her dog painfully limp

I said Hi and smirked then tightly tied her up

And had my way with her 25 times in a calendar day

Her pussy was sore and needed stitching due to the table leg

As did her feet when I sliced off all her damn toes

Most bizarre of all was the small dog

Who was partly skinned alive by his owner

This dog was rescued and given treatment

Dog Skinner was a hard man to find but not hard in a fight

I threw him a knife and said, ‘Skin me or be maimed...’

His lunges were slow and unskilled and embarrassing

I blocked them with one hand and closed my eyes

I snapped his spine with one single side kick

And a man drove his car and threw out his dog

Like a bit of trash with duct taped up feet and muzzle

The cops rescued the dog and jailed the man

I impersonated a Police Officer and ‘apprehended’ the suspect

Who had just been released from jail for leaving his pet dog for dead

He let me into his house and I Tasered the bastard and duct taped him up

I dragged Dog Duct Tape Man to my fake squad car and put him in the trunk

I drove him to a secluded spot and did a very enjoyable EJK

I enjoyed each and every act of Pet’s Revenge and Murder

This is my new job and I always enjoy it and get away with it

I have backing from Big Brother and the Illuminated People

Art Image

Art Image

The artwork hangs there on my wall

As it has for years

A simple framed image in a frame

Nothing special to look at

But it is special in ways

The frame has a gray arm

And hand that rests there

Ready to punch any robbers

Who dare to steal my art!

My ordinary strange painting

With a Martial Art trained limb

ANGRY POEMS SAY IT AS IT NOT ALLOWED ON FACEFUCK FUCK THE ZUK

Blow Them Up

The THUNDERBUGS were a cool gal guitar band from 2 decades ago

1 gal German, 1 French, 2 UK

Who did 2 ace singles and a cool album

UNRELEASED album due to record company bastards

FUCK THE RECORD COMPANY MOTHERFUCKERS

With a CLUSTER MUNITION \m/

Pet’s Revenge

For example a Dachshund dog was thrown 5 floors to his death

The owner photographed this and posted it online

His dog looked like he was sleeping but was dead

I tracked the Dachshund Dog’s Killer down and killed him

I put him in an 80s violent video game with block graphics

I hit him with a stabbing dagger in both shoulders

Then machete chopped half of his pinto skull off

Finally finishing him off with a flick knife in the gut

Next there was the case of the animal rescue centre

9 pussycats were murdered for no real reason

Except they were living in the centre

I drove up to the animal sanctuary in a Technical

I beeped and they opened the gates and I saw him

The Pussycat Murderer who swaggered about like a real man

I aimed my remote control 50 Cal gun with my PS2 controller

And popped the motherfucker with a hundred 50 cal Raufoss rounds

A woman cut the foot off her dog with a machete

Because the dog annoyed his owner

All this was filmed and posted online

I found the Limping Woman who made her dog painfully limp

I said Hi and smirked then tightly tied her up

And had my way with her 25 times in a calendar day

Her pussy was sore and needed stitching due to the table leg

As did her feet when I sliced off all her damn toes

Most bizarre of all was the small dog

Who was partly skinned alive by his owner

This dog was rescued and given treatment

Dog Skinner was a hard man to find but not hard in a fight

I threw him a knife and said, ‘Skin me or be maimed...’

His lunges at me were slow and unskilled

I blocked them with one hand and closed my eyes

I snapped his spine with one single side kick

And a man drove his car and threw out his dog

Like a bit of trash with duct taped up feet and muzzle

The cops rescued the dog and jailed the man

I impersonated a Police Officer and ‘apprehended’ the suspect

Who had just been released from jail for leaving his pet dog for dead

He let me into his house and I Tasered the bastard and duct taped him up

I dragged Dog Duct Tape Man to my fake squad car and put him in the trunk

I drove him to a secluded spot and did a very enjoyable EJK

I enjoyed each and every act of Pet’s Revenge and Murder

This is my new job and I always enjoy it and get away with it

I have backing from Big Brother and the Illuminated People

Messerschmitt BF-109K

Messerschmitt BF-109K

Flight 233, a British Airways Boeing 757 from Glasgow to Paris was flying over the North Sea. It was a regional flight and flew at 41,000 feet. The pilots were First Officer Ted Clark and Co-Pilot Mike Tompson. They had flown together for the last three years and were a good team. On this flight something would happen that would change their views of what was ‘normal’.

For off their left wing was another aircraft. It was flying in formation. Because of its size it was very small. The pilot spotted it first. He was both shocked and curious.

“Hey, Mike, we have company. Another aircraft off our left wing. Look...” Pilot Ted pointed.

Mike peered over to look out of the left cockpit windows. He had to lean fully forwards to see the other aircraft from his seat. He shook his head. “I see him. What the hell? That can’t be right...”

“I know. A 109. I’ll radio him. He should have radioed us.”

“Must be that restored one on the way to an airshow in Europe.”

The pilot tried the radio on three different frequencies; there was no reply. “Nothing. Like he’s a ghost.”

“Maybe he has radio problems?” the co-pilot added.

Suddenly the Messerschmitt BF-109 changed position and flew right over the cockpit. He was so close they could see the oil stains and rivets and patched bullet holes. A green shoe was painted on the cockpit side and dozens of kill markings on the rudder. The plane’s propeller was a whirling almost invisible fan. He was a hundred feet above them.

“What the hell? I’m radioing Paris,” the pilot said and did so.

The reply was immediate. “We hear you Flight 233. Our radar only shows you. He has no transponder signal and is too small to pick up. Descend from FL41 to FL 39. Keep us informed. Over.”

Pilot Ted acknowledged and descended to 39,000 feet. The 109 remained at 41,000. He stayed there, above them and at the same airspeed, 550 miles per hour.

“The tail wind must be adding to his speed. There’s no way that a Messerschmitt 109 can keep up with us. And we are too high for him.” The co-pilot peered upwards at the small dot of the German fighter.

“We can find out who the pilot is when we land and ask him. Our speed is 550 miles per hour. If he had a speed of 410 and a 140 tail wind he would keep up with us. Not sure on the height though. I don’t know much about vintage warbirds.” The pilot went back to flying.

***

All was fine for a few minutes. Then it happened. The German pilot joined them! He appeared in the passenger cabin and passengers and cabin crew started screaming.

Co-pilot Mike left his seat to investigate. He looked through the spy hole on the armoured door. And rubbed his eyes and looked again.

“It can’t be. It simply cannot be...” he muttered. “He’s here. Inside the plane with us.”

“What? The German pilot? That’s impossible. His 109 is still there above us. Look...”

The blue painted 109 still cruised two thousand feet higher. It was impossible for a pilot to leave one aircraft for another while in mid flight.

“Open the door Mike. Be ready...” Pilot Ted ordered.

Co-pilot Mike unlocked the cabin door and was confronted with a chaotic scene. Passengers and several air hostesses cowered in fright from the German pilot. He was standing in the aisle facing forwards. He was wearing a black leather jacket, pilot’s helmet and flight suit.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing on my flight?” the co-pilot demanded.

“Who am I? Why I am Hauptman Gunther von Snitzel at your service.” The brave and confident looking German pilot offered his hand and the co-pilot automatically took it. It was ice cold! He took a step back and then noticed the cabin air was freezing.

“Who and what are you?” Mike was now scared but wanted answers.

“I told you, I am Gunther the pilot. In the Luftwaffe.”

“Yes, yes I know that you’re a German pilot. But what are you? How can you be here when your plane is two thousand feet above us? How the hell did you get in here?” The co-pilot asked what everybody wanted to know.

“Oh... that. I’m a ghost. I was shot down by a late mark Spitfire in the last week of the war. Now I forever fly the skies. It can be quite lonely. So please forgive me...” Gunther looked sad and lost. His earlier confidence left him. He looked out of a cabin window for a minute.

“A ghost? You were shot down by a Spitfire in 1945? Oh my God,” from Mike.

“I came for a vodka.” Gunther said, perking up and managing a smile.

“Give Gunther a vodka. Now!” Mike instructed a shaking air hostess, a girl called Emma, to do so. She opened a bottle of vodka and poured some into a glass with ice. The German took it. And the open bottle.

Gunther drank the ice cold vodka and smiled. “It’s been a long time. Thank you. Now I must go.”

Then in a puff smoke and flash of lighting he was gone. Passengers shook their heads, some prayed or cried. One or two had taken videos on their phones.

Mike ran back to the cockpit in time to see the small blue Messerschmitt bank steeply away and disappear from view. Ted was shaking his head and muttering under his breath. He radioed Paris to say the 109 had gone. He didn’t mention the visitation. Nobody would believe this for it was impossible. But video footage was already uploaded online and it was changing the world. For what had been impossible was now the possible...

Aurora's Night

That night in the bar was THE night. It stayed with me. We were having a lad's night. The usual stuff.A load of Buds, shooting pool, eating burgers, listening to Rock n Roll and dancing with girls. I was 23 years old. A graduate from MIT and Caltech. I got a job at Lockheed's Skunk Works₁. They made them all: U-2, SR-71, F-104, C-130 and a few secret ones. All were cool. In-between pool, beer, burgers, gals and my mates, I made a paper plane. I was bored! It flew over the bar for sixty feet. My mate watched it.

"Hey bro.You should enter that paper plane competition. It's next week. There's free beer. Be warned though. Some teams there take it very seriously."

I drank my beer and thought. Why not? It's about planes and there's free beer. Cool. I could even win!

"Why not? It sounds fun. I love a good competition..."

***

The week later, I entered the comp and won! Can you believe it? Me, the winner with my small paper plane. The more experienced 'teams' weren't impressed! Did they know I was a 'Skunk'? Working for Kelly Johnson's world famous Skunk Works. I bet they did.

***

One week after that, I was called into the boss' office. Why? Had I screwed up my job? Had a jet crashed? No, I'm too good. Why then? Did I talk when pissed when I was in bed with Sally? The hot bar girl I met. You should have seen her legs. Went on forever! No. The boss read me like a plane book!

"Relax son. I've a job for you, if you want it. You know how we work here. Hush hush. I heard about your paper plane win. Well done. Listen... build us a plane. The coolest plane ever built. You up for it?"

I nodded.

"Build us a Blackbird replacement. She needs replacing."

"Wow!" I exclaimed. "I'll do it."

"It needs to be twice as fast, fly twice as far unrefueled and twenty five percent higher. We've got a new engine design team. They're good. They made an engine. We call it the 'Donut'. You'll see why when we test it. It's new..."

I drank my coffee that my boss' secretary gave me. It was good. You should try it. I looked at the desktop plane models of his: U-2, SR-71, F-104, C-130 and the other secret ones. Wow! Wish I could tell my mum. She's gone. A nasty bout of cancer last year. Things aren't the same now...

"Glad you're on the team."

"Yes, thanks." My plane will be cool. And stealthy, that's the new buzzword round here. Invisible to radar. But she won't 'exist' in the real world. How sad. No civilians will ever see her, love her, wanna fly her. Only her pilots. We don't exist here. We are ghosts. My boss told me this, again and again. I nodded.

He stated, "Call her 'Aurora.'"

I nodded again and said the word, "Aurora.A pretty name."

"Yes, it is. Design me the plane. We have the engine. It's Pulse Detonation. Uses methane.Same things that cows make. It must also look cool. The coolest plane ever built. Like our Blackbird."

"Cows?Methane? All right... I've just the design..." And I had. You know which one.

Three Years Later

The Aurora plane designer, called Grant, died aged twenty six. He was still a kid. Cancer murdered him, like it did his mum. He never smoked and ran two miles a day in the cool desert mornings. He died three weeks before his plane, the Aurora, first flew. But before this, when he saw her in the hangar as he was cared for by hot two nurses while in his wheelchair, he cried and said she was an angel. When she flies by at Mach 7 and 125,000 feet altitude, she will be and touch heaven. And Grant will be there, looking down with his mum at his plane. And he'll say, There goes my bird.My beautiful Aurora. I designed her...

_{1 Skunk Works is Trade Mark of Lockheed Martin Corporation}

my mewe writing group

my mewe writing group

https://mewe.com/group/5afbf90ba40f300e7adf6b7f

Hill Sky Upward

Hill Sky Upward

I am stuck earth bound

Glued to the ground

This is no good

For I want to fly

Be as one with the wind

Experience the mountain like a bird

Up above so carefree

Not worrying about hunger

Nor growing cold in the rain

Beautiful scenes and Nature

Part of my essence

I belong to the high ground

Always flying free for you