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Monday, December 24, 2012

A Christmas flight

“Damn!!” Alphonse swore under his breath.
One hundred meters ahead the Gnomes crested the rise Alphie was scouting. Alphonse “Alphie” Acornshield quickly scrambled to his waiting fox. Alphie had the dubious luxury of being a scout in the specialist core assigned to the third battalion, seventh division, of His Most Illustrious Elfin Army. Normally that luxury was far from dubious…Being a “specialist,” as they liked to call themselves meant good food, fine drink, and feems, the finest feems in all of farie.
As his fox sped through the dense foliage Alphie thought back to the previous evening’s staff meeting….

Laughter rang throughout the tent as Alphie entered.
“Those pitiful gnomes will never learn will they?” Shouted a drunken red faced elf…his pointed ears even redder then his face, and the buttons of his uniform straining against his prodigious girth…”We will trounce them handily!” The ultimate commander of the Unified Elfin Army’s deep and commanding voice was at odds with his comic appearance.
“At most they will send a few battalions of those summer scum from the west! Every year it is the same thing on the front…we form up the day before Christmas, they throw a few thousand Scummer gnomes at us, we stomp a muddhole in um, and then we party Christmas day…this year will be no different!” the officer in charge of the specialists stated scornfully. His appearance couldn’t have been more at odds with the Ultimate Commander’s if they had tried. Tall and trim he cut a fine image for a young officer. His pristine uniform well fitted and crisp, all his medals lined up smartly. Where the Ultimate commander’s face was bright red and bulbous the Specialist officer’s was angular and tan. Colonel Oakenbrand was a fine officer.
“Scout Acornshield, come here lad,” colonel Oakenbrand snapped sharply, “go to the northwest end of the front and sit for the day; you have earned a rest…don’t want to let the feems down tomorrow…and we can say we covered all our bases”

Those words echoed in his memory as the sound from the present shook him to his bones.

“Thrum, Thrum,Thrum
We march to the beat
Of our drums
We’ll take their meat
And then we’ll eat
From their
Kidneys and livers
And Lungs…”

The chant thundered across the valley as tens of thousands of Winter Gnomes crested the northern rise, effectively flanking the elfish Army. Alphie flailed his fox for more speed, with very little hope of being able to prevent the massacre about to be visited upon his fellows.

“And their kidneys
And livers
And lungs!”

Merry Christmas friends and family! This Short fiction piece was written in response to a prompt By Ben Ditty over at Nice Old Spice  , although Ben was nicer to his characters then I :-)

Chris McQueeney    12/24/12    2:22 P.M.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

the walk

commencing this
Journey? path walk, destination
in a place that will be the same
place I and Mine

Where you and yours may
to some day get
the solute
bang bang
bag pipes and trumpets
a flag just so

The grass green
sights laid out just
so so so
morbidly preening
that spot is a better
place to sit for a long, long

sleep aludes me
so I trod the well worn paths
where my children play
jumping from stone
to stone...writing all over the place
brings lives pinpoints times
magnifies how csprecious
fickley fate can be

Chris, McQueeney

Brian has asked us  to take a walk, for dVerse poets pub. Aross from my house is a cemetary...the kids love it, and a small scar forms as I read the children's stones. I actually want a traditional Indian above groud  buirial, or a ground level rock carn..leave my  my remans to feed the animals...they fed me long enough

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Upon a night

Just so

The lamplight
Struck Your face
Just so
Time stilled
Just for an instant
Indelibly struck
Molding my soul
The feel of you
Won’t let go
Aimlessly at times
I wander
Searching to find
Trying to get back
Inside that moment
The lamplight
Struck your face
Just so

Chris McQueeney    12/16/12    3:43 P.M.

Friday, December 14, 2012

See you again

I awoke

I dreamt a poem
As I awoke it
Went away

A number of years ago I had been sober for a time, then relapsed. I had just got a rather large bag of rock cocaine…I had an awesome dealer (I thought he was awesome), he had consistent product, strong, and he always answered his phone…and I was driving home to get fucked up.
Driving up my road I saw three of my sober friends standing on the road in front of my home. Fuck! I was loaded, drugs in pocket, and the only reason for those three to be together and at my house was to do an intervention. Now if you don’t know what in intervention is, it is where friends or family and sometimes even a professional confronts an addict and tries to get them to give up, get sober, to live. Jeff, Red, Mike, all standing there waiting for me. As soon as I saw them I thought about just driving past and going somewhere else, but my street is not big and they would know I did that. I loved all three of them, they were good friends, so I decided to stop and talk to them.
I parked the car and got out…picture this, it is dark, the street lamp lighting us just enough to make out each other’s faces, I was all fucked up, they were sober…and walked over to them. Now unless you have ever done an intervention you wouldn’t know how strange they actually are. Everyone knows each other well, usually, but no one is comfortable. The sober parties are apprehensive because even though they know the addict they don’t know what they are walking into; addicts aren’t known for rational behavior (I laughed as I wrote that; the truth is that addicts are insane). The addict will be uncomfortable for a host of reasons. Hell those sober people may try to stop them from getting loaded.
None of those guys really knew what to say, I think Jeff said something like “how you doing, you getting fucked up?” I laughed, no shit was I getting fucked up, “yes.”  “Ok, do you have drugs on you?” “Yes.” “Why don’t you give them to us and come hang out.” “Nope.” “So you are going to do the drugs, and not come with us?” “yup.” “Are you planning to do anymore driving while you are all fucked up…will you give me your keys?” “Sure,” knowing that I had a spare set, “here take them.” “Are you sure you won’t give us the drugs and come with us?” “Yes I am sure, I am going to get good and fucked up, but I will get sober tomorrow. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” I said as I was walking away from them to go inside. There was more, but like I said I was fucked up so that is the gist of the conversation.
They all talked, they all tried to talk me out of going inside with the drugs. They did all they could.
I proceeded to smoke the coke all night long, leaving at one point to get some more, and got all fucked up. The entire time I was getting high I was in my bedroom. In some ways I probably resembled Gollum if not on the outside, for sure on the inside. I was consumed by the drug, feeling euphoria not obtainable any other way. And being consumed mind body and soul.
I smoked like six hundred dollars’ worth of rock that night, and it was good. But inevitably the drugs ran out, and I started coming down. I still had money, but I told Jeff I would get sober that next day, so I called him.
I can’t remember if Jeff picked me up, (and to tell you the truth, I think it was the next day, it might have been a week later…drugs will do that to you, a day turns into a month pretty easy) or if I drove over to his place. At that time Jeff lived with Rick, another friend of mine who was in recovery as well.
Rick let me detox in his spare room. Detox from Rock Cocaine is tame when compared to alcohol, or heroin, or benzos. Mostly you feel like shit, I mean really like shit! Coke eats up all the endorphins in your body and inhibits its production. So in reality you can’t feel good without more coke, or time. I slept for a couple of days, smoked cigarettes, and talked to Rick and Jeff. I have no idea what they said. I’m sure I can guess though, they talked about recovery. I do remember that Rick took me to a meeting at the Grotto in NE Portland.
That was many years ago, and I stayed sober for a few years because of the things those four men did.
About two months ago Jeff gave me a call…Rick was drunk and not doing well. Jeff and I went to Rick’s house, Jeff having moved out quite a while ago, to do an intervention on Rick. We got there after the ambulance and fire truck. When the police found out we were sober and in recovery they let us deal with Rick. His wife was drunk and balling. His daughter was drunk and trying to tell Rick what he needed to do.
All Jeff and I could do was have the same conversation with Rick that was tried on me. “Why don’t you come with us.” “Nope.” “Why don’t you give us the booze.” “Nope.”  “You are going to keep drinking?” “Yup, but I’ll get sober tomorrow.”  As I left Rick got up and gave me a hug, “you’re a good man Chris, I love you.” “I love you too Rick”
     Two Days ago Jeff called me to talk about his granddaughter, and a book cover he is designing for me. Towards the end of the conversation Jeff told me why he really called. In the background this stupid fucking show called The Amish Mafia was droning on, I hadn’t turned it off when he called. “On a sadder note, Rick drank himself to death. He was found this morning in bed dead.”
A good man died, was sentenced to death, and his only crime was that he couldn’t quit drinking.

See you again

With tears in my eyes
Tremor in my voice
I say good bye to a good man
A friend
A loved one
Sleep well my friend
Rest with peace
And when I go
I hope to see you again

Chris McQueeney    12/14/12

Rest in peace

To the families of those lost today my thoughts and prayers go out to you, which may be of small comfort, but it is all I can give. Please if you comment leave the argument about guns for a more appropriate time and place, show some respect for the dead and wait at least a few days.

This is being linked to Friday Flash 55 at Mr Know it all"s my 55 is broken in two pieces, I awoke and See you again title and verse come to 55

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Guest Post by Ben Ditmars on his Book, Haiku in the Night

Hello, everyone! It’s Ben Ditmars again. Chris McQueeney has agreed to let me do another post on his amazing blog. It’s been a few months and I bet you wonder what I've been up to. No, it wasn't a safari. The closest I've got to wild animals was playing Oregon Trail and I’m partially responsible for the decline of the American buffalo because of it. What I have been up to is equally exciting. I have a new book out titled Haiku in the Night. It’s a collection of free-verse and traditional haiku. I had a vision, ladies and gentlemen, or conversely jezebels and hooligans.

I wanted to really explore haiku and show its versatility. You know, break down rules, stick it to the man? I think I succeeded in sticking it… in the most platonic way possible. I don’t think poets should be turned off of it because of its rules. It’s a beautiful form of observation and succinct emotion. Syllables are not near as important as the meaning behind them. I think this is true in the Japanese tradition as well as the American. My organization for the poems is four colors, an homage to Basho’s by season. Please, check it out or read a sample. For just pennies a day you can keep this poet off the streets. Maybe I'll even send you a drawing to prove they haven't sold me into prostitution. Here's a few favorites I'd like to share with you:

Twilight spins
Spider webs of hope
Lost to sight.

We are slaves
Bound to this
Wild West of love.

I swam inside you
Becoming waves and ripples
In your heart-shaped lake.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Been a bit off lately.

easily break

This loss of mine
Makes it hard to find
to keep some piece of mind
Where would I be though
Without this loss
in a life of ease
They say a rolling stone
Gathers no moss
All I can say
Just one day
One week, one month
a year
Can I be a brick
or block
a tile or stone paved way
They all may get walked on
For all of that
They don't easily break

Chris McQueeney 12/10/12

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Friday 55

As they bite

Fuck you
You don’t know
The pain inside
Because it’s right here
In my face
In my life
It is impossible to hide
Those tiny little gears
Are all I hear
As they grind away
At my soul
As they bite
With their teeth
They take more of me than
I’ll ever care to know

Chris McQueeney    11/26/12    3:16 P.M.

FF 55 flash fiction friday in 55 words as per request :-)