Dazzling Tales of Broken Truths Vol. I

In middle-age
I decided
to get myself
a narrator
and take up
the life
of a protagonist.

Critics found
themselves having
a few problems
with this approach:

a) In the book, the narrator early describes the protagonist, Mr. X, as “…the only man in his class in school who is unlikely to wield a pitchfork.” But then, later on in the story, Mr. X is described as “…the only man in the county who could run the family dairy, manage the town’s small hotel, maintain several properties, is the seventh son of a seventh son, and spends his time on learning books as a hobby.”

In other words,
they found
the narrator
unreliable.

They went on
at some length
with their critique:

b) In the book, the protagonist, Mr. X, describes himself as “…the most intelligent man in the world, with three degrees in mathematics from a four-year university.” But the narrator, who is Mr. X’s roommate, reports, “There are two things I can’t write about in this story…my name and the names of the people I worked with and their jobs.”

Mr. X (punctuation marks removed, emphasis on “him”) says one of his supervisors writes in an annual review:

“This guy is a fucking genius! He’s got two degrees, he’s got a doctorate, and you’ll never see him in a story book. Give him all the raises!”

c) In the book, Mr. X, says “I’ll work for anybody you want”. The narrator describes Mr. X as someone:

“…who loves work. He’d rather sit in his office, alone, and wait for the sun to come up and his job to end than spend time for any reason with any woman or child he co-created.”

The critics
seemed unsatisfied
with my fictions
and the fictions
of those
around me:

d) In the book, the protagonist, Mr. X, talks to Ms. M, his co-worker. “I’m always a good liar, especially when I tell the truth, and no matter what happens, I always get away with whatever needs gotten.” The narrator describes Ms. M. as “…a woman who is constantly telling lies, and never even tries to avoid them.”

e) In the book, Mr. X, says “I never get tired of lying about anything. I can just sit down and lie about anything. It’s something I’m born for. It’s my work.” Later, in the book, even the narrator says “I can’t talk without lying, because everyone knows I lie. It’s my work.”

f) In the book, toward the end, we are led to believe that the narrator is Mr. X, the protagonist. This is perhaps the most distasteful sequence of the entire story.

Dazzling Tales of Broken Truths Vol. I

Fountainverse: Friday, 10/11 Schedule

4-7PM : BOOK FAIR @ CAPSULE

SPONSORED BY PROSPERO’S BOOKS | KC

ART IN THE CAPSULE EVENT SPACE CURATED BY THE SMALTER GALLERY | KC

7-8:30PM : FEATURE 1 @ CAPSULE

RIVERFRONT READINGS | KC

SUSPECT PRESS | DENVER, CO

Host : James Benger

Riverfront Readings Features: Huascar Medina (Poet Laureate of KS), Lindsey Weishar, and Jermaine Thompson

Suspect Press Features: Eliza Beth Whittington and Brice Maiurro.

9-11PM : OPEN MIC @ CAPSULE

JUMP START ART WITH SHARON EIKER | KANSAS CITY

Host: Sharon Eiker

Features: Phillip Emanuel Frost Bounds and Waco Porter

Fountainverse: Friday, 10/11 Schedule

Melatonin Redux

I dreamed of kicking bears in their blood-stained teeth as they chased me up to the top of tall trees.

And I dreamed of fighting children armed with aluminum bats and covering their visages with riot gear masks.

Then I dreamed I saw a gargantuan arm in the distance and I knew I was no longer dreaming.

I walked towards the giant appendage and saw another arm waving to me from afar.

I knew I wasn’t imagining things.

Then I blinked and saw arms stretching from treetop to treetop.

I saw hands grasping at me and yelling words in a signed language.

I witnessed arms springing forth from my arms and I knew that they couldn’t be from any another arms but mine.

I knew the new arms were attached to my old arms, my own weak and weary arms.

I wanted to shake my own hands, pat myself upon my own back, climb up the trees like a monkey spider, but as I tried to leave the ground I felt something pull against my leg and I toppled.

With a great effort I picked myself up and looked down to see arms had sprouted from my legs and were carrying me over the edge of a ragged cliff.

I knew that I was dying then, dying in my own arms.

The arms propelling me over the cliff were the arms that I never knew I had and that I had recovered in my dreaming.

Yet I knew I wasn’t in my dreaming.

I knew that I was falling.

I could feel all my arms flailing, hopelessly treading air.

I felt my new arms break and splinter from my body as I hit the ground below.

There were so many arms upon the dirt that I grabbed one and lifted it up to my eyes.

In the web of its hand, between thumb and forefingers were bloody teeth and a dark, hungry mouth, like a bear’s.

I thought about kicking the arm in its bloody teeth, but felt that wouldn’t help, so I thought instead to hold tight as the arm lifted me in the air like a bundle of helium balloons.

The world turned again and I looked toward the sky.

In the passing clouds, I saw my mother’s face.

She had fangs and a smile and around her head danced cherubs dressed in riot gear.

“I tried to tell you about dreams,” cloud-mother said.

“Yes,” I said. “Sometimes I remember.”

“And sometimes,” she sighed, “sometimes you forget.

Melatonin Redux

The first time we saw an asteroid, we were in a war

There was once
an asteroid
with a core mass
of roughly 10.3
billion tons.

What made it different
from other asteroids
hurling through
our solar system?

Well, we learnt
from the natives of the asteroid
(that’s certainly different
from other asteroids)
that this particular asteroid
came to Earth first in the 1800s
and that it left Earth
as all asteroids do,
quiet and humble,
like an old woman
farting in church.

Scientists from the 1800s
studied the asteroid leavins
and they figured,
using their gargantuan
human brains,
brains bigger than a weasel,
brains smaller
(but more efficient)
than an oliphant,
brains about the size of
an ape brain,
figured to use their brains
to extract all of
the valuable metals
in the hopes that,
in a hundred years henceforth
(they wrote words like that in their journals
along with naked drawerings of
mermaids and faeries),
so that in a hundred years henceforth,
humans would understand
how to make
precious high-end toilet seats
from asteroid metal.

There was a lot of excitement,
as they discovered
that the asteroid
also left behind
a recipe for Toaster Strudels,
and they tucked that away
in henceforth hopes
for a future
with a toaster oven
or two.

They further henceforth hoped,
that with this valuable asteroid
the human race
would one day make
ALL of the planets in the solar system
as valuable
and productive
as Jupiter,
that big-ass gas giant
of a big-ass planet
that 1800s scientists
loved more than their
own
dear
mothers.

The asteroid
also left behind
some itty bitty asteroid people
to help the scientists out.
The scientists called them,
“the local, indigenous population”
and hired
some mercenaries to fire upon
the tiny alien sources
of infinite, cosmic wisdom
with teeny wittle arquebuses
and eensy weensy cannonballs.

Humans never say die, do we?
No, sir, humans do not.

The first time we saw an asteroid, we were in a war

Does Whatever a Spider Can

oh! you spiders

oh! you little creatures that cause so much fear

oh! you symbols of evil and danger lying in wait

oh! you funny stories

oh! there is no one who actually is a spider

oh! you creations of the military/industrial/entertainment complex

oh! you modern mythological villains and heroes;
you are not pure anything, just frustrated and lonely and broken and confused

oh! you reflections of the present

oh! in every single one of you, there is a hidden message

oh! you are stories and stories and stories still

oh! you are stories that are supposed to be told

Does Whatever a Spider Can

And Then I Had to Tell You My Secret

Love love love

Love will break break break

Love will break break break

You wide open

Still

Love love love

Love is all All All

Love is all All All

All that matters

Screaming Chaos sings sad songs to the cold bright night while the A.I. continues,

“Read the Rising Wind lyrics:

When you’re sick, you’re lost

When you feel lonely

Your world is crumbling away

When you’re broken down

You are the world

Wake up, don’t cry

Love is all All – You can be able to

You won’t see the light and see the sun

That you’ve fallen for the wrong person

Love is all All – Not what you thought

Love is all All – I’m not able to

Love is all All – It’s not a lot

Love is all All – It’s not that which it is

Love is all Love – Not not perfect but not

Love is all All – Not not

Love is all All – I have not what you thought

Love is all All – I have no things at all

Love is all All – Not no things, nothings

Love is all Love – I’m not a perfect thing

Love is all All – I didn’t have the thing

Love is all Love – Is not not is not

Love is all All – It wasn’t all that bad

Love is all All – There is no need to rush.

And Then I Had to Tell You My Secret

Right On the Verge of Figuring Things Out

Who am i
   you’re an old man
   who am i
   you’re an old old man
   who am i
   you’re an old man
   who can’t find his friends

Who am i
   you’re a lost man
   i ask who am i
   you’re a lost lost man
   who am i
   you’re a wanderer
   with two, blind eyes

Open the door.
It’s me, the old man.

Please, come in, old man.
I beg you.
Enter, enter, old man.

The old man
is not there.
I have been waiting all day for him.

Enter!, I said.
There’s no one here.
I have waited all day for you.
Enter!, I said, I said.

I ask him for the key.
I begged him. Open the door.
It’s me. It’s me.
There’s no one here.
I have waited all day for you.
Enter! I ask for your key.

It’s in a box. Please, open it. “I beg you. Open the door.” It’s me. Please, enter. “There’s no one here. I have waited all day for you. Enter!” I ask for your key. It’s in a box. Please, open it. “I beg you. Open the door.” It’s me. Please, enter. “There’s no one here. I have waited all day for you. Enter!” I ask for your key. It’s in a box. Please, open it. “I beg you. Open the door.” It’s me. Please, enter. “There’s no one here. I have waited all day for you. Enter!”

Welcome to the world of the lost!

I remember everything I do!
I know everything I do! I
   don’t want to die! I
   want to live another day! I
   can never ever die! I
   want to live another day!
That’s – that’s just how I
am!

For now, I
   will tell you something I
   know.
I
   remember everything I
   do! I
   know everything I
   do! I
   don’t want to die! I
   want to live another day! I
   will never ever die! I
   want to live another day! That’s just how I
   am!

Please, let me live another day! Please, let me live another day!
Please, let me live another day! Please, let me live another day!
Please, let me live another day! Please, let me live another day!

For now,
I will tell you something I remember.
I remember everything I do!
I know everything I do!
I don’t want to die!
I want to live another day!
I can’t die!
I want to live another day!
That’s surely truly how I am!

Please, let me live another day! Please, let me live another day! Please, let me live another day!

Please,

Right On the Verge of Figuring Things Out