Apotheosis

I knew from the moment I darkened the doorway I found my purpose for being.

For God or the devil who can say? But my vision went red and I was all-seeing.

The churches will shatter at the foundations and the temples will fall.

I will be there to watch the masses flee in terror, reveling in it all.

They will devour each other from within severing communion with a tiny nudge.

Bickering and fighting over the most absurd until they’re neck deep in sludge.

When they realize it will be too late and they will wriggle like worms to death.

All while Hell comes up to swallow them with its putrid burning breath.

The “chosen” will look up to me as they drown in lies questioning why.

Who am I? And why did I come all this way just to watch them all die?

Because I no longer need your sacraments and rituals of life.

My apotheosis is come gleaming in night at the edge of a knife.

-CL Fuqua

Lethargica

Here I sit with my mouth wide open and drooling like an idiot for all to see.

I can’t really remember when the sleeping sickness claimed its victory.

I was energetic, driven, hopeful and full of passion to put the world aright

When I slowly yet surely witness with indifference, my endeavors set alight.

I was aware to be sure, indeed I could comprehend the steady death of my world.

But there was nothing in the universe to motivate me to end this downward swirl.

So I watched to the bewilderment of those around as my castles crumbled down.

I wasn’t even so bold as Nero to play while the kingdom fell, not so much as a frown.

I was going to be somebody, I was going to make my mark.

Instead I’m just wasting away inside my body alone in the dark.

Oh sure, friends and relatives still come to gawk and stare at me with sad expressions.

They fancy me a freak of nature, not even alive enough to hear their worst confessions.

But I am still alive within this rotting shell of a body.

Incapable to lift a finger or know the joy of feeling haughty.

I doubt I’ll ever be resurrected from my waking dreamlike condition.

No specters of mind or spirits from beyond here for me to ask permission.

Just me with my thoughts and the sad ramblings of whoever happens to be near.

Though the thought that I may indeed outlive them all, yes this is what I most fear.

-CL Fuqua

To far greener lands I go

It is to far greener lands that I go

Away from all that I think I know

To the lands only hinted of in my purest of dreams

Where death is forgotten and all is just as it seems

I will travel light not bringing anything of my past

I only need a view of new horizons infinitely vast

The deadened brown of decay slowly gives way to lively fresh green

Around every curve in the road is a new adventure previously unseen

The sky is crystal clear and blue

Birds enchantingly sing on cue

They croon of new possibilities for me just up ahead

Of sins and regrets discarded for new life instead

It is to these far greener lands that I go

I renounce all that I have come to know

My industrious wisdom and its cynicism are naught

By the light of life and nature shall I be taught

If life will have me as a humble pilgrim in its land

I will serve it faithfully until the end as best I can

I see clouds so smoothly curved and white

Painted perfectly by God with no end in sight

Light shimmers in crystalline patterns through the tears in my eyes

Visions so beautiful it seems unreal and yet here there dwell no lies

I am walking onward to these lands of emerald joy

I will leave behind the man I am and become a boy

In the innocence of my youth I held these lands in my heart

But corruption and pride slowly tore me and the lands apart

I go now and I go for good

I go just as all boys should

It is to far greener lands that I go

Away from all that I think I know

-CL Fuqua

Lazarus

Lying dead awake in the cold seclusion of the tomb

The perverse inverse of the innocence in the womb

How long has it been, Lord?

How much more time can I afford?

Didn’t I deny you when I was living my life in times past?

When the faith of my fathers was considered only last

Is there hope to be found in the grave where all life withers?

Surely life must stay dead when death has come hither

Dancing around my field of vision are the wisps of memory

I am losing myself like an internal wound slowly hemorrhaging

My sanity is a fond remembrance slowly fading as I keep sinking

This process of death has no real resolution, just infinite unthinking

Who can rescue a soul in the state mine is in?

And not only the soul but the body its housed within?

It has rotted and the flesh is falling off the brittle bone

More dust now than man I’m becoming more and more alone

But there is hope yet even in the icy embrace of death

A voice shouting out words fiery and alive with breath

Please stitch the fragments of my spirit back together

Uncreated Light cauterizing my wounds shut forever

A new creation gasps for air being pulled True North

As the voice of the God-Man shouts “Lazarus, come forth!”

-CL Fuqua

All my best mistakes came with big brown eyes

Well I like fire as much as the next soul, my love.

But to set a whole city ablaze seems a step above.

We never intended harm to them did we, my dear?

Love was on our mind yet we inspired so much fear.

All my best mistakes came with big brown eyes.

You saw through all my self righteous prudish lies.

When you said I would be yours I knew I wouldn’t fight

For being the weaker sex I can never win try as I might

Weren’t you supposed to be loving another?

Is he not enough for your passion to smother?

I remember the night we lit the fire

It was the same moment I became a liar

Doing what I said I never would with a women who was not mine

Being a devil in the city of angels all the while feeling just fine

We stepped back hand in hand admiring the growing glowing flames

They stretched higher and higher as if to heaven exposing our shame

All my best mistakes came with big brown eyes

After the city burnt down we severed the ties

But I can still feel you in the dark of midnight

I still smell your skin when I am alone in moonlight

You will haunt me until I am dead

Playful words better left unsaid

-CL Fuqua

Hrafn

I’ve been caged all my life.

Waiting and growing incubating in strife.

With the slightest flutters of my glossy black wings

I wait until the day they can stretch out and sing.

I listen intently for the unmistakable sound.

Blaring horns and the baying of the hound.

The time has come and I will not be kept hidden any longer.

The Great Raven black, winged and full of death is stronger.

The prayers for the humble meek light in me have withered away.

Now the black force of nature has burst forth ready to play.

HRAFN

HRAFN

HRAFN

HRAFN

The virus in you

Aren’t we enjoying this dance?

Totally bound entranced?

I could watch you die for all time!

To cut the show short is a crime!

The plague swims its way into your body but then

Its most dazzling spectacle is what happens when!

What we thought was so immortal comes tumbling down!

And with it, our leaders stupid smiles crumble into frowns!

Who knew the End would be so sweet?

Not I, but I’ll savor every single tweet!

The smoke from Babylon rises to the nostrils of God.

Sweet smelling incense on our way to the land of Nod.

Should I be dancing in the midst of all this calamity?

Are my feet so swift to shed blood in this insanity?

I am like a great raven black, winged and full of death!

The monster at the edge of your world with dragon’s breath!

I am here to live!

Finally I can live!

The world gave up the ghost

So now I am your humble host!

-CL Fuqua

End of my world

It began with the unthinkable. Sideways glances towards one another in the closely-knit community. Where once was fraternity and trust, without warning, doubt and suspicion crept in. It didn’t take long after that for war to break out like a flood through eroded dams. Natural disasters spurred on by the shifting ecology ushering in apocalyptic vistas. We didn’t see the portent of doom. The prophet’s cries went unheeded. Was it always destined to end up this way? Is it a question of predestiny? Is there destiny? Monuments cracked, splintered and finally fell. The symbols of our past crumbled before our eyes as the blood soaked bodies piled higher and higher to take their place. Pestilence and sickness on wind’s wings swept through us like a demon unhindered. Panic and fear finished off what was left. It was not the end of the world. It was the end of my world.

-CL Fuqua

CRACK

“The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”

I’ve descended into a frenzy of hunger and thirst. I didn’t know a human could be this thirsty. It’s been at least a week since I was stricken in this bed. My roommate left for a week long family vacation the night it happened. He’s come home since but suspected nothing. He doesn’t know I haven’t left this bed all that time. My spine was in a particularly agitated state that fateful morning. I twisted and turned to alleviate that gnawing sensation between my shoulder blades but to no avail. All day I worked and went about my business with it slowly building in intensity. Like a sticky spiderweb creeping its way from the middle of my back outwards until I couldn’t stand it anymore. That evening as I laid in bed I contorted in every conceivable way to get one glorious crack. Just a solitary ecstatic pop to release the pain and melt my skeletal grief into blissful oblivion. It finally came! I had set a tennis ball right on the spot that ached most and forced my spine down upon it with all my might. My back protested in agony but I persisted until *CRACK*… ahhhh sweet relief. I lay there for a few minutes before deciding to move off the ball and get to sleep but as I turned my head the rest of me wouldn’t follow. I strained and strained but the legs, the arms, the shoulders, nothing except my neck and head could do anything! I lay there, a living head on top of a dead man’s body. I yelled and screamed but in vain. My roommate was already gone and I was in my room locked from the inside. I descended into a panicked maelstrom, yelling and screaming until my voice gave out with the rest of my body. All the mental and physical straining caused me to pour sweat. One week later I still lay, so thirsty. I can see a cup of water on my night stand a mere 2 feet away. I’ve begged God to make it tip over and spill onto my face. It is an insurmountable task. I could no sooner reach for that cup than pull the titanic with a rope. I’ve seen 2 or 3 roaches come out of hiding as I lay here day after day. They’re rather large. Glossy brown with antennae pattering the floor and wall as they scurry here and there. I would give away my wallet and credit card if one would mercifully crawl into my mouth.

Suddenly a glimpse of hope shone through my darkness as I heard from a short distance someone turning a key in the front door and entering the house. My roommate! Had it really been a whole week since I lay here?? I heard him walking heavily to his room. He must be carrying his bags in. I strained to call out but my throat was parched and already hoarse from screaming for days. A barely audible groan weakly seeped out. He heard nothing and I could tell he had turned in for the night. I silently wept but held onto hope that he would come to check on me in the morning.

Morning came as I lay there sleeplessly watching with my weary eyes the daylight chase the night away. I heard him moving about in his room and as he exited his room he knocked quietly to tell me he was heading to work and would be going straight to a friend’s afterward to spend the evening there. My throat and neck muscles contorted in agony! Pure desperation to try and move something, anything! I breathlessly screamed and screamed but all for naught. My dehydrated and starving body wasn’t capable of even a whimper at this point. He hesitated as if waiting for a response but then left closing and locking the front door behind him. I wept until my body could no longer produce any tears. Why has this happened…..

That very night as I went in and out of consciousness from pure exhaustion and malnutrition I thought I heard a rustling and clicking across the hardwood floor. It sounded too large to be a roach. Was it coming from my room or outside? I was hard to be completely sure in the pitch blackness of whatever late hour it was. I slowly slipped back into sleep like it was a warm bath. I don’t know how long I was out until I was suddenly awoken by a crunching then a loud crack followed by moist and mushy squelching. Something was in my room. I could smell something definite. Blood. That iron smell. It was presumably mine but I couldn’t do anything about it. It went on and on until the daylight slowly crept in and I summoned what little strength I had to peer down at the edge of my bed. At least two rats had made their way into my room. Large ones. I’ve never seen a proper rat before. Just mice. Are they always this large? The sheets were soaked in blood. Much of my bones were expose with raw flesh hanging off in strips. I would’ve puked but there was nothing left. Nothing besides blood which was quickly on its way out.

*Knock knock*

Knock at the door

*Knock knock*

“Who’s there?”

That’s funny….

-CL Fuqua

Reflections by the fire Deux

“My old friend I hope you know just how truly cherished these times by the firelight are for me.” I said, watching a smoke ring slowly ascend into the dimly lit study.

“Yes it is for me as well.”

“Speaking of cherished things I was reflecting the other day on ghosts.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, you see, I have on frequent occasion been abruptly awakened out of sleep sticking to my sheets in a cold sweat and frightened beyond all reasonable measure. My eyes frantically dart hither and thither expecting to see a dreadful apparition. Like something from a Dickens tale!”

“Ho ho, oh goodness! Well have you seen this phantasm? And I thought we were speaking of cherished things, dear friend?”

“Yes yes, I’m coming to that. You see, I haven’t actually witnessed any figure manifestly present itself and for many tortured nights I struggled to identify the source of my infernal agitation.”

I took a minute to pause, dragging long on the pipe as the hypnotic crackle of the smoldering log spoke in our silence. My friend knowing me well also took the opportunity to look after his pipe and admire the fire’s unsteady glow.

“I came to the amazing realization” I continued “that I had been having pleasant and cheerful dreams prior to these evil awakenings. And not mere dreams of fantasy but concrete memories from times past. Friends and loved ones sharing meals, laughter, conversation, TIME together! You remember many of them I’m sure. Holidays, religious gatherings, or just the monthly escape from the monotonous trudge of day to day life.”

I took a second to swallow hard.

“They’re all gone now. They’re my ghosts and they are in the past with those memories. How on earth I have come to survive them I cannot say… but I consider it a curse. These moments with you, my most faithful friend, are of the scarce snippets of happiness I have left. My friends and family are all gone. I wish I had more time to eat and drink together, laugh together, and embrace. But alas, all I am left with are the ghosts of their memories. They haunt me.”

-CL Fuqua