PREFACE

Sep. 18th 06

Never the less, a large part of imagination must play in the healthy activity of the mind, and to the need that there is, in the healthy an imagination for altruistic and personal stimulus one cannot but regard the neglect of the altruistic emotions by the privates, writings about the self, and past events, close and dear to the heart, memoirs of Men & Women of their time. Espirit de Corps My realistic meanings in literature, have been written in the clearest and most positive manner, and Ive expressed it in the plainest and most direct way as to not lose your attention, the heart and mind can wonder into different realms both intently and unintently, I hope these writings are to not only a source entertainment, to you, as well as too inform you, to share your thoughts openly, freely as to be real to yourself as well as being true to others, using your god given resources, both consciences and subconsciously. There is nothing that you or I can think of that we cannot write, or express, in such a way that it would never have to be repeated, this story telling is communicating in such a way as to let your emotional ties, and personal prejudices stand second, not to interfere with the subjects, or ideas you would like to share, so if you are to read these allegorical studies that have been well thought, and reconsidered for the relief of separating our true feelings of pain, keenly we accept both the truth and the lie. The secrets of the heart and mind are forever private, it is only to the beholder that such information is given, remember that the mind can belief anything we teach it, so too the heart and both must try like everything else what is real and what is unreal, the soul and all its senses can and do play tricks on itself. Once, we write, and read our writings, then we can separate reality from fiction, so enjoy some of my writings, never to forget that it is a fine line from the truth, that which you dream and that which you live.

Fantastic voyages into dreamlands faraway from a normal life take courage, just as much courage to write it as to actually live it. Intense concentration and due diligent take command as you set free your wonderful thought process. Enjoy the grand escape of omission and errors, learn to critique your imagination, twist apart your characters to fit storyline after story; merging the real as fantasy, read the post script and laugh how wild it turns out. Keep true the real world and control the fantasy. The Mind and Heart lead people into spiritual places, places that thrive on emotions, build on tragedy, and seek despair. Our spiritual consciousness praises the strong, supports the beautiful and hates the weak. The Greek and Roman Gods imposed impressions that all Christians bend towards, yet My Native American bloodline protects me from the bigotry of our past. <

LOVE YOUR DAD

Sleeping with liquid dreams of My Mind

Twisted are these moments, each one vivid as the next, each passionate vision harbors its own pain, inside these sleep worlds I find sanctuary, thus seeking shelter from the anxiety and anguished created by the Heart that is toyed by the Mind, a simple decision to think about. Once I lay my tired soul down upon the realms of sleep, a slithering sensation sweeps along a wall of silence, similar to a bordering realm, a place where dreams and consciousness are measured. The tightening noose is vibrantly soothing me into a deep sleep, thoughts moving about my heart and mind, it meanders about each breathe, liken to a Snake. It, the snake consumes my minds eye and toys with the heart generating anger, creating the most sincere primal screams. Powerful words of wisdom from century old prayers comfort my awaken soul moments before delivering me to the edges of sanity. Seeking a refuge from the daily event called life; I comfort my heart and mind as a shroud. The energy of lifes mortality continues and pursues happiness, as if it were awake an energy with a life of its own capacitating worth, yet inviting all senses of lifes expectations, not with holding cardinal knowledge, this too is enhanced long after this penetrating sleep is apparent. Mixed are the millions of thoughts that tangled together emotional ties, seeking truths worth having, seeking the facts from illusionary; to that which is real verses that which is an illusion. Sleep eludes our heart and mind, The existence of my awaken hours are not for this life, what sustains purpose of such existence are the dreams brought forth by it in-sleep. Awaken hours of life are for my pleasure of it, but that which is found in the sleep state is why the existence forth bears. The soul energy continues forwards deeper into its own revelation, yet as the flesh remains as dust from that date and time of its creation of thought. As it has becomes one.

Episode 1
Swimming with the enemy, Its very dark and cold, I feel that Im swimming against the currents, then all of a sudden, Ive reached the surface, air, I inhale as much as I can, knowing not where nor how I got here, I just awoke, treading these icy cold waters, looking for land. The moon is high, it is bright white, far away in the distance it clearly lights up the night, with full circle, a beacon holding testament that Im aware of my need for light. Pelting waves forces my body hither, as salt water splashes into my mouth, the waves are crashing against my head, my legs are tired, all my strength is gone. I think to myself? < How long have Ive been swimming and where am I? > < I sense that I am alive struggling the depths of an ocean, waves and the night sky, my breathes need oxygen to exist! > Suddenly! Im brushed against a slimy, rough surface, a creature from the depths, something bumped me again, I look under the watery surface, and see a large dark shadow swim pass me, it is circling me, again I felt a tug this time it has hold of my legs, I try to dive under water to defend myself, but this creature has me, it is taking me into the deep, as I see the moon receding Im pulled deeper beneath the surface, the only light is the full moon. Im being taken into the abyss, this creature is going to eat me, yet Im conscious, aware of my defenses, I feel the cold dark waters, also the cinch wrapped around my legs, as this serpent has a bite on my legs. Suddenly, another creature is staring into my eyes; it is a sea serpent, snake like. Immediately, I notice this is a larger one, I look deeply into its reddish crimson eyes, this serpent is only passing by for now, encircling me, I feel the snake like grip, the body of this creature is wrapping and hugging my chest, squeezing the life force out of me, I reach into my belt and grab my knife, naturally my will to survive and all the primal skills of warfare, chop at this creature, swiftly I dice it into three pieces, I hear clearly the cries of death, as I struggle, and start to swim towards the surface, the bright circle, that so familiar, yet my only beacon, of light, the moon, soon and once again, I reach the surface, gaping for fresh oxygen, the needed life source, once again the salty waters , waves crash into my face. The moon is very bright, and I see the waves, of yet another creature, it is heading straight towards me, shark like, its intentions are clear, it wants to kill me. This creature is not concerned about its fate, the only directions it knows is to kill, and eat, nature has formed this beast into its own realms, it has evolved into something hideous to rule the sea. I brace my self knowing that in just moments, Ill have to kill again, certainly, as I suspected, it grabs me from the bottom, securing my legs, I dive to fight. Once again, Im being pulled under water, into this creatures battle grounds; Im swimming and struggling against a serpent much larger then me. I grab my knife, its ever present, willed by warriors of long ago, I command this battle same as the last, I fight the water, as I chop off the head, and the serpents body, sinks away into the abyss. I

have hold of the creature cephalic mane, as a trophy. Its eyes are still life like, staring at me, the head is the size of my chest, yet it is light in weight, so I tie it to my belt. I continue to swim, toward the moon, seeking to find land, or perish. Im exhausted and feel faint, into the night, I float above the freezing waters, the skull behind me, and over and over the waves splash my face. I drift into unconsciousness, letting the currents choose my fate. The sleep snake has visited once again, the wrenching satisfaction of a surreal companion whom is threatening by my will to survive! Sleep for now my heart and mind will shine on like a diamond, securing strength from legends of psyches before me. My thought of existing has conjured a snake weaving in and out of mine own awareness and the thus this awareness is that of a snake, it will return, for it thrives on challenges of life and death.

Episode 2
The Centaurs weeps, and prays, Harmony comes from faith. The sun is beating down and burning my back, a loud screeching sound is pounding in my head, my ears are stretched, I cannot tolerate the screeching, my head is about to split, I open my eyes and see, the palm trees, sand is all over my body, I sense that I have survived the sea. The sun is shrouded, something flew by as to create an eclipse, I stand up and see, that which has been tethered to me, the skull, I sense sounds, creatures screeching loudly, yet my own soul is alive, sand on my face, I realize I survived the night, yet how did I get in this realm of existence, and who am I? I pick up this skull and cut off the mane tied to my belt. I look at this creatures head, I had killed in battle so as to see what it was, I focus my eyes, and then I see the eyes of that creature, that passion to eat me is still on its face, I brush off the spiders, and the crabs, just then a large centipede crawls out of it. Then, a large shadow slowly walks upon me, I turn around and then I know Im not alone, above me its a Centaur, its hooves kick the sand into my face, the Centaur is curious as a child, It says to me, in a language hardly familiar, foreign, although I sense this Centaur is benign, almost friendly, I drop the serpents skull on the ground, just then did I notice how large the Centaurs really is, he must be 12 feet high, his back is large stout like a donkey, his chest must be 4 feet wide, yet human, his arms are long, as that of a warrior, one conditioned for battle, I listen as the voice turns into faint words, Hello! What are you doing on my island? And how did you come upon the cephalic remains, a skull of Medusas child, she will forever haunt your soul! The Centaurs mouth is large, with big teeth, yellowish, and square, yet like a horse, they can chew and tear meat, like a lion or tiger, his voice is deep yet soft as a parent talking to their young. I spoke curiously back, My friend, I know not where I come from, only that I have spared my own life, by slaying the sea serpent!

Hence the ocean gave me up to rest upon your island, and I seek food for strength, and fresh water. Then the Centaur started to laugh, bellowing deeply, he moved his tail, as to slap a fly off his back, as he began to speak, he dug a hole with his powerful hoofs, My young friend, slurry snot crested beyond his nostrils, panting feverishly, I care not of thee, you feeble man child! This hideous skull maintains such power deep within our psyche, you conjured it from the endless seas with-in your mind, I only can place the skull of Medusa child under the sand, protecting all minds, And SHALL I NEVER LOOK INTO ITS EYES AGAIN!!! Immediately, the beast kicks the skull face down into a large hole, a fresh grave, it is deep, 10 ft. as the giant beast covers the grave with speed, and agility. Swiftly he looks at me, as he is stamping the graves cover, groining with sadness. He is angrily piping wisps of air from his heart and howls, then his knee is bent facing the great sea as he preventively scorns the heads owner, then his clefs shoulders weighing down, as a statue bowing as to pray. I look up as to be friend him and notice, at this time the huge beast is mourning, weeping. I turn around and let this mystically grand creature savior its ritualistic prayer, I start to leave and walk along the beach. Moments later, Im by myself looking back about a mile, that poor soul, harboring such feelings of such an ugly, sea creature, I see clearly the gloom is expressed, a visage of the near future. I continue to walk along the beach, concerned as to my own feelings of my own purpose, why, and how did providence impose such realms of existence? The studies from worlds apart, each having similarity of the fate that dwells deep inside our primal existence, that which we must find relief from such interludes of insanity, sleep conjures a snake from our minds eye, that place nobody can visit, yet real to our senses.

Self recognitions, my dreams my problems, a revelations of such a fright from my memories, such is a need to be disposed of.

Episode 3
Looking around the dense forest on my right, and the open ocean on my left, I think of what that dead serpent of the deep really was? I keep searching for clues, to that which I am, and what forces of nature brought me to such a place, my purpose is to survive; yet that too is vague. The powers of the mind have revealed such manifestations, my own creativity, and my own imagination of painful events, from a faraway place. Somewhere inside my thoughts I realize that it is good to be King. I must return to save my people, and teach them our ways, but who are they, and where are they. I continue to walk looking for shelter, and food, for the daylight is fallen fast, and soon the night will be here, as before I wonder about this place, and how I deserved to visit its nightmares. The sunset is bright orange, as the day is ending. Suddenly, Im awaken from my drunken stupor, the loud sounds of that Centaur, howling, as it races towards me, it is mad, coming angrily, it is carrying something. I search for cover and see a high bluff, so I climb to the top, it lead me only to a cliff, that beast is right behind me, so I jump, landing into a pool. As I crawl out of the pool of water, Im covered with leaches, I peel them off and look up at that beast, standing ever so strongly, it is holding one of my first victims, from last nights battle, that first serpents head high in the sky. I see the darken outline against the sky, as the Centaur begins to yell something out loud, Why my island, why my abode! Evils presents has arrived here, why my home my island, Tomas Demophoon conjured such from a realm sleeping without him! Why? Why mine! I only can think that I didnt mean to bring this upon such a place of beauty. I start to walk away, as two more leaches crawl on my back, I brush myself off, again I look up to see the Centaur began to dig another burial site. I just realized that we are not the only inhabitants of this island, I sense that there are many eyes watching me, as I struggle to keep alive. I start to prepare myself, I know that thru my keen senses, Im being stalked, by many more enemies, subjects that can tap deep into the primal senses, alarms are ringing, my adrenaline is racing, the heart beats have doubled. I look into the forest, and I see only eyes peering back, I look into the ocean and instantly my spine has chills, as something large splashes water, as to inform me that it waits my return. A constant sound

is piercing my mind, that sound is familiar, yes I remember, the same sound woke me up this morning on the beach, I recall a loud screeching, again a large bird like creature flies high above me, again it has shrouded the sun. I think that this bird has been watching the events unfold, a cunning display of power, all the lurking creature inside the forest scatter amongst them selfs, the forest is quite again. I search the sky looking for the large bird, it is nowhere to be seen, yet my gut tells me that it is near, closer than I feel comfortable with. The Centaur is howling as a wounded pig, for the sound is so familiar, as a dying man in battle, the howling is emotionally distraught, for it cries, as little child scared of the dark, with intermittent gawks. My only companions, true to the end is my sanity and my weapon of choice a knife, both are willed into service, upon a moments need; Ive been trained dearly, as the an original warrior, defending the eternal causes; by the teachers of armed forces only such centurions have had. Im a King lost outside my kingdom, my own mind has failed to recall my past; dementia is merged into fear as the darkness is creeping about. I sneer at the unknowns, and awake their death! I fear not those that can die, only the river of Charon, and the wage fair due to Erebus; the fear of that dark place under the earth through which the dead must pass before entering Hades. I still have no clue as to whence my deliverance, have I yet arrived, or is this only the beginning. This is the prelude, for what is next; I shall follow the streams of time, and conquer that which has slowed my destiny. Chance has not willed this, Ive wandered too far into the cosmic scheme, and the mental Orbs invitation has been accepted.

Illusions of lust and misery cloud the dreamscapes of sleep; patience is waiting along side of insanity. I must find sleep here in my souls existence.

Episode 4
Ruhk wants to play mind games, as the bird of paradise swoops into the dense forest of time. The Ruhk is a simple tempter of fate that watches diligently inside my heart and mind, that of a dweller.
The visions continue to haunt me, my soul is consumed by the past events, and this place wants to try my sanity. I seek food and shelter, needing help from something, my mind is welcoming the Orb, the inner place of my thoughts. A large bird like serpent is prowling around, seeking to serf, realizing that only I can release it, it waits for me to answer. Ruhk screeches loudly, and I look up, but the sound came from inside my head, suddenly Im startled, am I a puppet, controlled by a puppeteer, or am I controlled by an outside source, what is happening?

Tomas, you only have to listen, the heart will lead you and the mind will protect you, Tomas dont be confused your only dreaming, soon you will awake! Im walking, Im driving my motorcycle, Im aware of my past days of change, and then the lunatic in the hall takes away the mood. It is sunny outside, and the weather is fine The sound of the radio, KMET 94.7 rocks, I lay in bed, the year, 1982, I just got home from a long journey, the USNR, has sent my duty papers, they have gave me my award, my graduation certificate, OS Chacon, Fleet Combat Training Center, Atlantic, Dam Neck, VA. Im so excited, finally I get to go out to sea, my dream sheet, San Pedro, CA., my duty station, mostly everybody else, didnt get the duty station, or base as ordered, I guess, that is just my luck, I cant believe that Im back in southern California, I cant wait to get under way and start drills, my ship is the USS SIDES, FFG-10, life is good, but I just keep thinking of that dream I had the night before. Ozzy Osborne, Ritchie Blackmore, Iron Maiden, the music is loud and Im home with my friends, what else could compare to this, heaven on earth. The siren and whistle from War Pigs is playing loudly, as I enjoy some of the good stuff, Somas, we all need some of this, Somas. Soon Im asleep again, Ruhk is laughing at me, Tomas, the three goddess of fate, Clotho, her sisters Lachesis, and Atropos, they are calling for you, soon to visit, stand strong Tomas, youll survive, How did this link of conversation come to be? From whence did this relationship start, how have you reached me, I ask you this, Ruhk, ye, seekth and found, are the strings of fate tethered upon you thru me? And are the actions of my own carrying thee!? Pictures of the past flash by, Bye & Bye, such is time, the pictures are true, the poor Centaur is still weeping, and that demon head is still searching the ocean depths, yes, I see you Ruhk, as large as an island, your shadows big enough to block the sunlight, your screeching has penetrated my mind, Hence you come my way, together we will survive. I know that in a moment this dream will be gone and the nightmare will begin! I awoke in the hospital, 7/28/83, Holy Cross, intensive care, the Surgeon is Dr. Kanovsfky, and he looks into my eyes, Tomas you are one lucky man, son rest, youre going to be alright!

Im listening to rock & roll music, Guns and Roses, Paradise City, pounding in my ears, two weeks after the accident, Im looking outside the window, Im on the 9th floor, full body traction, I have road burns from my ass, all the way to the top of my face, Im still not sure what is mine and what will work, all I know is that half of my body is not God given, only the flesh, but I have so much metal attached too and thru me, I dont know, more morphine, and demurral. I did survive, but how and why, I start to think about it, but fall back to sleep. Fleetwood Mac is playing, another rock & roll tune, Dont stop thinking about tomorrow, KLOS 95.5 Rocks L.A.

Hospital visits induce plenty of off the keel imaginations, dreams full of life and pleasure abound, yet next to death, life fights to keep its own.

INTERLUDE: Centaur finds a Nymph, snared into a trap, It was early in the morning as my stomach ached; hunger settled deep inside my gut, the smell of flesh was in the air. I followed the sweet scent, deep into the valley the scent got stronger, as I continued further along the path, until I seen what caused such an alluring invite, three silvery mystical Nymphs. They were as beautiful as anything the mind could imagine, fully encouraged by lust, they were in heat, and spring passions fill the valley air. The mental images I had of them could not compare to the sights that I have right in front of me. I stand behind a eucalyptus tree naked, for Im a Centaur the last of the forbidden creatures. The afternoon continued as excitement overwhelmed, the smell of their bodies, that freshness of womanhood, my mind rampantly imposing the needs of capturing one of the Nymphs, for I have the need to breed as well, and I have no mate. My large body shivered once I focused my eyes, my nostrils flared as the sight of three Nymphs bathed; laughingly they played, giggling and teasing each other, bathing in waters below the falls. I knew it is forbidden to glaze upon such beautiful creatures, as they passionately admire each others bodies, frolicking as Nymphs washing each others breasts, tasting the many flavors of their womanhood. Although my hunger for food has changed now; as lust is now guiding my hearts intent as a powerful flush of blood increases my animal attractions. I pant waiting on top of the cliff; my sweat is dripping from the heat, as the sun is beating my back. Therefore, I walk over to the pool, at the cliffs edge, and bath in the cool waters. In the shaded elms, one of the Nymphs discovers that they have an admirer. Tending to her own fleshly needs, she suddenly realized that there private sanctuary has a visitor. She too has desires, yearning deeply between her thoughts; clouded confusions of her lustful demands kindle as she is soon watching my body, while I clean the sweat from the heat. Shortly her friends gather, intrigued by my differences, they point at me, now I am the watched while I bath, my inner thoughts are that they sense my animal magnetism; my own excitement entertains them. I swim over towards the shore, standing naked, exposing my intentions; they are amazed as one has reached out to touch me, and then I notice it was a trap. She called her wolves to attack me, I was the morning feast. Fleshly delights for their immediate needs, they never knew I was the last living Centaur.

I lay under water as they tear apart my legs, the pain is excruciating, my torn ligaments, as the blood bath begins, my flesh is ripped apart, their lust intensified their hunger. I manage to kick away my attackers, again they rush towards me, I stand up and get my footing looking at the beautiful creature, as she waves at my attackers, wolfs the same size as me, attacking from all angles, biting into my body, I fight for my life, as they are intent to have me as a meal. She whistles as to call off the pack, the leading wolf retreats, leaving me thrusting upwardly out of the water, covered with blood, my body emerges onto the beach. We are alone, as the other Nymphs felt that she must have a claim to my soul. I look at her, yet she has tried to kill me, my inner being is willed by her beauty, she controls my weaken body. She walks up looking at my wounds, and then begins to speak, Man horse, you are here to nourish my soul, yet you see me with eyes of lust, my body has evoked your desires, these pounding thoughts of natures own; animal magnetism. We have been without, yet yearning for these feelings of conquest, you my captured friend must understand that we are meant for each other. The eons of natures cause ways evolved into our existence, I my beastly friend have needs too, fleshly needs that maybe you can help me?

She stepped closer reaching down below my sides, she holds me, her desire is to have me, and then she pulls my head into her bosom. I smell her scents, they permeate my nostrils, as my lust intensifies, and her arms are softly wrapped around my neck. She turns her body away from me, leaving only her hands on my back, as she now is leading me out to her abode. My leg is bleeding profusely onto to ground, a track to surely draw the attention of her peers. I sense they are watching from about, as Im lead as a child into her bedding, I hug her naked body, as she resists slightly, we engage into the games of excitement, that untold prophecy, of us two mythical beasts mating. As the evening has now covered this place of such miraculous events, a sparkling of frosted dew rest upon our shoulders, we have christens our engagements. The low clouds that provide us shelter just above in the sky open-up unleashing thousands of tiny little fairies, all so colorful, cheering amongst each other and fluttering about, this sparkling in the skies around us is a pleasing sight, and truly add to her lustful eyes, visually intensifying her beauty. She awakes before I do, and rubs my wounds, preparing me, so I can regain my strengths, for she has now fallen in love, for I have completed that which I must. We sense that these blessings are directed by the powerful elements surrounding our kinds. As with all the creatures of earth some only exist for a short period only to aid in the end results, as is our offspring combines all the chemistry selectively brought together by the forces that choose whom and what shall procreate among earths atmospheres. The elements of fire and water throughout time leads into a stronger breed of human, and not to procreate another Centaur, for Im the last, and we can only breed one heir. She has child, for I sense these things, my lust has been diminished.

Four hundred years have passed since we were as one, she is still with child, and I feel it moving about her, as she is with me every moment. The tides of the oceans have turned red, and all the creatures have left our island, for they know once our child is born, they surely will perish, for there is only room here for mankind, it is mankind that will destroy the earth. These revelations we know will pass, as the nights pass, soon the days pass, leaving only memories of our kind, deep within the minds of man. Our son was born, he has the powers to kill for sport, lust dwells deeper than any creature for he knows only his mother, and she will teach him what I have not. Many generations have been born to mind, as each has willed their own traits, the serpents seeds are everywhere, for the daughters of the Nymph have had their ways. Curious are my children to see what breed of man comes next, for each is to be the last. Yet millions of years have passed, same as in my era, for the prophecies are only succumbed by one prince, for that prince will bring more horror to earth any preceding breed, they will walk, and create their own forms of metallic beasts that will be stronger, smarter and faster than any fleshly creature before. The end of times will have many types of pleasures, beyond the imaginations of simple kinds; they will enjoy the sensations of combined souls, mingled together by electric eyes, inventing newer ways to entice the lustful beast within. For it is natures way, to make mankind devour his own, as cannibals they eat each other until only one is left, he shall be the prince of darkness.

My last moments alive is seen her prepare my body, watching my son run about frolicking in the meadow, thousands of years we spent waiting for his birth, now Im no longer needed and I must die, providing her one last pleasure, to be her last meal. Soon her sisters will gather with their wolves, circling me, watching, panting feverously, knowing my demise is nearing, they anticipate sharing with her my flesh, soon they will intently gather to feast on my soul. Mesmerized by all the excitement I lay my weary soul to rest, next to my centurial beast of burden, the first bite begins a frenzy of delights; as Im diminished into morsels of flesh and blood. Castles in the mind are reflections of hours in life that surface about like seeds of our soul, memories that randomly escape the vivid summer afternoons of our youth. The mind and heart create a passage into our personal ventures. Rapidly the seeds grow like weeds choking the very existence of such revelations.

Episode 5
Ruhk continues to play games as he knows her name and not telling me. This is the most sad day July, 5th 1977, instantly I realized, that it was over; no oil in the motor; my 1972 Grand Prix, a true muscle car with a 454 motor, complete with a four barrel carburetor, it now has a blown head gasket ; I just paid for a new350 turbo transmission. O well, I guess it was plenty of fun while it worked, fuck the electric windows, O my baby, why dont I listen to Mom, she is always right, less than a buck for oil, this car has been the best thing I ever owned, Im so sad, I cant believe I blew the motor, I could just kick the dam thing, < In the back ground the radio is blaring rock & roll music, Bob Segar, Night Moves> I love this song, as I turn around I see Ed Elsa drives up, screaming out his window, Dam Tom, you were going fast, about 120 mph, I couldnt keep up, hey dude, look your motor is shot! Fuck you Ed; I know its shot, give me a ride back to town!

As we leave my car, Im pissed off, salting about what she is going to say, I light-up and enjoy some Somas, Hey, Ed what are you guys going to do, spend the night at the Columbia river? The boat races are going to be the best, there will be tons of kegs full of beer, enough for us all, and the bikinis, wet T-shirts contest, I cant wait. Ed says, Shit Tom is that all you can think about is pussy and beer, what about your car? I respond confidently, Yea, and about my car Ill trash it and get another one, now pass that stuff. We drive up and everybody is running towards the truck. I just laugh, as I get out of the truck, she is walking towards me, Hey Tom, wheres your car? I just shake my head, and look down. She pushes my shoulder, Hey, Tom Im talking to you, look me in the eyes and tell me how much you love me? I just look at her, she is very pretty, I look around and think wow Ive made the big time at last, as she gives me a kiss, and walks away, I watch her thinking she really is cute, Ed slaps me on my arm and says, Tom, wake up, and stop daydreaming! The past dreams have opportunity to resurface such as the days of our life, they are pronounced by such actions of an existence. What do we believe the truth or the lie? What is more real the dream or the days bye gone? The past lives of forever gone relationships unknown to others keep our identity sacred for peering eyes of deceit and bigotry, for our fellow man can only see what you let them, same as they hear only what they want to hear, so let you tell it, so be it, let the facts remain as stated by the story teller, and the listener be aware of sounds in the dark realms of your own demised soul. Judge yeah whom can be judged not yeah whom seeks fault in life and death.

INTERLUDE: Games must be played, as the music of our life, continues, Ruhk. Rock & Roll jams, rapidly repeat, over and over again, The Who, Queen, Rolling Stones, as me and Sandy lay back and turn the T.V. on, Saturday Night Live is just starting, Im soon falling into a deep sleep; Ruhk has plans, I sense that ever present feeling. Tomas Demophoon, you carry the knife, that I forged from your heart, your true source of direction, always follow your hearts first response, and use your mind, it will protect you from yourselves own emotions, the psyche strengthens with every passing moment, you have total recall, think and you shall be, therefore you are, and I be, Ruhk! I felt totally coherent; all six senses polished, as this story has unfolded, as I willed, touch, sight, sound, smell, and taste, cognitions of the self, the Ruhk flies away high above me, circling in a spiraling ascension, out of sight, and disappears, within my mind. Again Im on the beach, walking next to some large trees, thinking what I can do to get off this island, I hear the Centaur, as he weeps, mournfully every hour ritualistically, he thinks his faith can ward off something evil, cleansing that which has already happened. I keep walking, I think about last night, that sea creature; she really is going to haunt me, the rest of my life. I sense that she or it is seeking revenge, but I dont even know where it came from or how I began to battle it. The only sure thing is that I felt the pain, all the disparity imposed by that bitch, my nightmare is real, her claws, and the slimy touch of those creatures scale, I felt and smelled the stench, and her voices are real. The heat from the sun is real, the want for food, water, and to get the hell off this island is real. I hear sounds coming from the forest, sneaky little creatures are tossing rocks at me, and I see them, monkeys or tree rats, something unfamiliar about this place. The Centaur is repetitively moaning and grunting shrilling like the beast he is, groping over that bitch. I just hope he is not interested in a fight with me, for that decrease my odds of survival. I look at my knife handle; it has inscribed on it, around the emerald stones, the name TOMAS DEMOPHOON. I just place it back into the sheath.

The Ruhk has been watching everything from beginning to end, mostly peering at me, yet my flesh is no concern of it, his concerns are only to view and study my past, the vivid images of my being, empirical events of choices to survive, that which has made me a man. The wisdom of my youth, as a young man, the deepest dreams; that of daydreams or my night dreams, awake or sleeping he collects the answers; I wait for tomorrow. I prepare to defend that what is mine, things that I hold true to my heart. I think constantly of the past, as my mind is tethered on to a mental realm borderline insanity; for not only are the intensely vivid nightmares continuing, but I transpire myself moment by moment into the past. I wonder if I have died, yet death is without sensations, I have sensations, all too real. My fear of death is not the concern, what Im concerned about is how I die, I must fight for whatever is this state of mind, I believe it to be, so it has to be, both the truth as the lie. For my state of mind is the center of my sensations, so all the emotional sensations will unravel into my creative dreamscape, either real or make believe; only Ruhk will decide what is reality. My state of mind can and does recreate the world, for what I have already experienced, for I only can judge that which I myself hold as true. I set the stage for what I believe to haunt me; she has imposed the devilish tricks her mental aberrations into me, thus my passions run rampant, out of control. I relive the happiest time in my life to escape the saddest time in my past, for her tethered grasp is unforgiving. She will kill me, if I believe she can. The tides of change will allow me to survive if I keep her where I can control her, for if she can hide behind lies then I will lose, and die. My mind hold many pieces of my youth, such as swirling thoughts that confirm a life, a life full of an adventurous and energetic teenager. Many such memories of a positive and ordinary young man, a life time ago yet seems like yesterday. My life as seen through my eyes, felt through my physical senses, thus in my time. High school had found tribulations that leave me pondering about this one day. That day I skipped school, skate boarding on Hanson Hill, sweet deliriums of days long ago inside my head, a testament to my teenage world so many decades ago. Bleeding visions of life, from hither to far, so my existence left foot prints inside the lunatics mind.

Im recalling visions of another sunny day back when I was in school at San Fernando High CA, 1979. The visions that only I can explain, you know, the saying, Let, you tell it, yet only I remember how that day ended, and now the Ruhk is peering into my past and energizing itself from my life; maybe that is why I survived all the horrible, disgusting rainy days. I wont share, not even with the Ruhk, well maybe some things; what I decide to recall is all that can be studied by the Ruhk anyhow, therefore we coexist in a balance of wits, accessing each other as needed to sort the passionate lies, illusions or any fantasies that I make a conviction for, thus eliminating those inflections I imposed upon myself, hurting myself by worrying about nonsense. The portable radio was playing loudly, Queen, Another one bites the Dust and We are the Champions, early 1981 rock and roll. My girlfriend Sophia is laughing as Frank Hernandez grabs my skateboard, I keep telling him not to do it! Frank if you start out, dont stop, once you are committed, go all the way to the bottom! He just takes the board, all I could see was that he is too high for this, we already took a few good hits, the good Somas stuff, and I knew he was going straight for a parked car, he hits it hard, and loses three front teeth, were not laughing as we run down the hill. Sophia is pissed, her brothers mouth is full of blood, I told her, Sophia, look how high this hill is I can do this because I do it every day, to me it is nothing. Frank wanted to try it, I told him not to! Frank got up and threw my board on the curb, as to break it. I just get on it and start to leave, Sophia is screaming Tom come back, I didnt mean to blame you. So we smoke another joint another good one, Somas. We walk back to school and Frank goes home, I cant believe that he even tried, to conquer my hill, most people wouldnt even try it on a bicycle, I must be nuts, no Im the nuts. That day was the first time I made love to Sophia, she was my girl for three years, then something happened, we grew older.

My personal space has been violated; if I can share my thoughts with just the Ruhk then I'm O.K. with that. If the only entities to share my most intimate thoughts, our memories so be it, but as I have figured out, other people read me, from what I show them in my actions, that which I have learned from my heroes, and models in life. The best thing about Ruhk is that I choose only the thoughts that I want him to recreate, re-conjuring my past to share, consciously and the sub-conscious; it is these personal thoughts and events I allow him to access; maybe he will share the truth with me. The Ruhk can symbolize or reorganize all the past and present actions of my state of minds. Such powerful studies will help me to understand the most complicated representations of the realities. Most of my emotional states are unclear, that maybe why the Ruhk has appeared, so to help me figure them out, since my visions may be foggy; say if I miss something from its contextual intent; true intent and he didnt. Friends are forever, even if they leave, the impressions left on the mind is impressed as the memories linger around to imitate the feeling that were enjoyed; those funny little events of a good feeling of friendship. Unfortunately, we can only choose our friends, but sometimes sadly we cannot choose our family, the separations of family and friends is not difficult because we seek others who we can learn something new, we study our family and get bored, so we seek new companions. The source of our pleasures is that recognition of others, to be in the spot light, me the center of the universe, plenty to share, please notice me, and everybody welcomed, until, I decide that I cannot learn anything from you or you decide that I'm not interesting any more, that is it in a nut shell, Im the center of the world. The fact that I need to be stroked, verbally or physically is natural, god gave us the need to be stroked even if it is a lie, and yes sometime even that is enough to keep someone interested, the Ruhk has to believe me because I decide what is the truth or what is a lie. A conviction of self worth, a conviction of self preservation maintains a healthy mind, balanced with a heart of truths from lifes general setting. We all carry the same pathways with challenges and dire tribulations that shape our world. The fight to survive is innate, automated with a force wielding unbelievable revelations of triumphs.

Every soul has a tree of knowledge, and Trigg is mine, that is where I must go! I keep thinking of my daughters, how to interest them in this old man, this father, so I can share the ideas of this life Ive lived, and how much fun it has been, even with all the mishaps, or let downs, live is good, all the memories are as real today as they were yesterday or last year, or even my childhood, I can remember all those special times. I hope to never lose these thoughts, the good and the bad, that is or was my life.

If I could only remember her name, or where I met her, for she is and was my best friend, I only wish that I never let her leave mad.

Somas, the food of Gods

Be careful what you wish for, dreams come true, Somas. We are what we dream; our thoughts create our reality from which we continually seek advice from our peers.
The moonlight is brightly lit, shadows at night increase our innate desires to hunt, we move forward, as the winters are lasting far too long. The buffalo have all been slaughtered, killed by the thousands and their bones are stacked high, now they are scarce. I pity the wrath of their vengeance, although we all will feel the loss. Skulls are left unburied, sun bleached; my heart says for they know not what they have done, still they are to be punished; I ride the currents of time as I watch how much they damaged the land, they have me as a prisoner on my own land. The company is aware that we have watchers, Arikara Indians everywhere, at all the hillsides and cliffs we posted sentries, young warriors to keep a diligent eye on the passes. Each of the trailheads has been beaten down by sheer numbers, masses of people are moving west. They bring colorful words that enlighten the young hearts, confusing them. Holy books full of illusionary quests that fill the mind of illusionary dead people; for what they preach, has glory for only one cause; their cause. They have eliminated our connection to the earth, the moon; then blatantly inviting pure evil spirits, allowing the mind to wonder into the mental shadows, a place they call hell. Full of carnages that empowers them creating heroes, and forgiving man killers, for if you sin, you can be saved, just by a single prayer; their prayers to their gods, a secret weapon; Calvary knowledge. Land grabbers, erecting walls everywhere, hiding behind them, developing studies to conquer each other shamefully, they need to change everybody, they have no understanding of culture, of diversity, how nature works best is by choice, variety. Each groups are divided full of individual selfish goals; greedy little people with hunger in their eyes. They bleed from the eyes yearning unattainable wants, never knowing we already have what we need. Many have been taught to waste, hordes of greedy souls, breeding the dead, for they are keepers of the faith whom kill for sport. Poor is the living yet to cross the trails, for the power of the sleeping souls will rise and taunt the favors of these men of evil displays. All the creatures of the day and night, those who lived under the trees; too include creatures high up in the sky, they all have been pillaged or raped and chased into frenzies of fear; they spread far away from the natural comforts of earth. The Ghosts Dance is heard playing war drums in the passing rains, the cries from earth have been heard, and their wrath is on the way, to take back the Gold.

INTERLUDE:

GOLD GOLD GOD GOLD GOLD GOD GOLD GOLD

It is there that I first learned that Wapato was to be my mentor, the willed evidence of my incorrigible need to learn; likewise I was intent to follow his thoughts. We had a natural tendency to try out the powers innately developed by my own people of the sun, pagans they would call us, savages. Our plight was simple; we learned their curious ways, as they too tried to learn ours, and they would keep records of our tribal ways such as the accomplishments, exuberantly displaying us to crowds of onlookers; crowds of hungry eyes. My first visit to one of their inner cities, that of large permanent dwellings; I was awestricken, seeing statues of the dead, and paintings of the Greek devils erected in favor of individual deeds, seekers. They amazed me with all the magical books, time keepers, record keepers, always writing events down claiming the first to have acquired the task. Reading scribes of manuals of how to live, rather than fallowing their instincts, feeling the sensations of right and wrong, allowing the soul to lead. They learned from many clans, our last tribes try to teach harmony, they took that as sign of weakness. After learning simple tasks, they would unfold the deeds, eagerly displaying self made versions of something, or recreating the deeds for gainful wants. Wapato said to listen to the winds of change, for it will protect me from the massive impositions such as riotous ritualistic traditions; he said to listen to the colors, hear the signs of magical allegiances, the spirits are fighting among their many tribes. They have lost their motherland, scorned step children, cultures that have lost its own culture, who dared the Somas, betraying their own.

Soon the many misunderstood collections of such deeds were sent to others, then rejected and held subversively and regarded simply as magical, mystical witchery. Although if it benefited the pockets of such record keepers it was self invented, such as the magnetic attributes of our musical relations of nature, songs that entice inner spirits, or telepathy, or sharing the privately explicit ways of our forefathers, the words of charms, our collections of food for the heart as well as the mind, Somas. I would show off my knowledge as well, for I had learned our ways far before the invasions came, I knew the demise of the people of the sun was eminent. We had reached our pinnacle of oneness with mother earth; we had formed allegiances with her. Unfortunately by forgetting to gather our strengths in numbers we were taken by surprise, by never securing ourselves as one organized group, thus being able to collectively protect that one giver the earth, and the sky. The waters of life have been taken for granted, for a baby would naturally expect the tit from a mother, so did the invaders, as they soon negligently spit the life given fortunes upon each others feet, once maturing. We have neglected the simple fact to shelter her, Gaia from our inner self. The push pull of nature, the light and dark forces have also been growing alongside the children, we have let the mother earth down, collectively, and still the blessing are granted, but only shortly, for the buffalo alone cannot save the inner spirits of the earth, her soul is taxed by mans own developments, curiosity. Thus is the multitudes compounded a willed of greed, such as the earth has never bear, we collectively allowed this, by not building alliances for her protection, we shall all bear the wrath of a demise, such as only nature could wield. The people of the sun have wandered far too long, away from unity, family spiritual awareness that teaches unity, uniformity among many, working together as one, not many. For without the needs to learn to fight as one nation, we separated our similar cultural types leaving our center of existence exposed for the taking. By not training, our young to be aware of the less esoterically clans whom are living beyond the waters, as many invaders have came and went yet a new species have landed. Taken us off guard, thus our annihilations began. These are the forces of natures at work an unbiased reality; the strongest or smartest survive. Failure to collectively bargain the new views of the world has led us into self-imposed demise, brought on by not listening closer to the tides, as the ebbs of change and destruction are natures ways, for it is that way.

The fruits of our labors, were paid off, for life was too easy, we harnessed many natural attributes, such the world has lost, for there are no more teachers, they have been taken away, for we neglected to protect them; by being too relaxed with Mother Nature. Therefore we shall step back as required by the courts of public opinion, the loser shall be alienated, retrained or killed. The new forms of magical fellowships are wielding destructive ways, against the light, forwarding and supporting darkness. That void inside the mind, darken shadows that of the invaders have dreamed, to kill, to conquer and destroy, the world. That is what has happened to my world, temporarily it is gone; until the return of the Ghost Dancers begins; we the Chieftains will delegate forever more in-Somas. It was too late to serve the sword once we figured that the warfare was present, we had given everything first, to the taker, thus not leaving our self anything, fortunately we still have our spirit, so we call onto the Ghost Dancers. Time marches on for whom the bell tolls, shall they fight the spirits of the past, or the future, for the peace on earth is only in the minds of the living, not the dead, they are mislead by books, words of intense descriptions of illusionary deaths, never to die, if read, again and again. This is not what they used to be, emptiness is filling their hearts, the growing darkness has taken them, changing them into something foreign, they feel as if the whole world has no place for their kind. There devil is crawling along there trails, reliving the nightmares they dreamed of.

There is a devil lying by your side, he is controlling your dreams, since you are now trapped within your own spell, Heaven and Hell. As children of Mother Earth we wondered about eating what she provided, yet thriving for centuries as eons have past; we learned to harmonize, with her trusting her gifts. We learned to harness the ice, and fire, we learned to give and share that which we have to give and share. The magical wisdoms of our forefathers, such as the ability to cause the mountains to move, or change the directions of rivers, telekinesis, or telepathic powers needed to speak with the animals, or the trees, as to help everything balance out against the darkness. The darkness is where the dead spirits want to take everything organic; too a colorless kaleidoscope. We would enter dreamscapes to shape our dreams into the comforts of the light, which is natures way to shape our future, although that ability was no longer taught, the invaders claimed it was evil, and that dreamscape was taken away; same as the last breath from our forefathers.

Our people have used these techniques to improve our kinships, tribal likenesses, to help populate the lands. Yet our own failures, as children ignorant to the simplicity of innate desires, those desires deeply embedded inside our species; has opened opportunity for the warring clans to come and deceive, to come and conquer; never to share, only take, that is why there is no more magic. Our souls that have willed the physical into psychic; thus a union of self-procreation, our actions gilded by our collective dreams have taken us to the doors, or windows thru time; allowing us as a species to enter such realms evolved of man, yet not for man. Wapato is the last Chief to conjure the spectacular displays of traditions of my kind, to spread the connections of my spirit to that of the earth; for nobody will connect again once he decides to pass into the long sleep. I wander about consuming the Somas, praying to return to my home. Women were the first to recognize the dwellers within the mind that caused the rebirth of many in the likeness of one. We are entirely responsible for our successes as well as failures, for we did raise both our naturally good qualities alongside those quite naturally bad qualities. Together gathering like the fish at sea or the birds in the sky, we as a species are seeking the intimate likenesses; as all creatures two legged, four legged, swimmers or flyers, all want the same thing to procreate our own. The formulations transpired unity into governments, who then taught their subjects how to be, how to die and how to breed. Selective mind controlling is the power to choose or create our deepest dreams; those of man.

By assimilating the masses, sectors were formed like the working bees subjects delivering unto the Queen. The studies of our world turned inside out, to follow chaos, we needed to be structured, secrete societies were formed early on to propagate their identities. These social plans to protect the likeness of each others faith, innate ways of mankind is to forget what they are doing, focus on what we are doing, kill first and ask question latter. We as the first, the last children of the western sun have developed many spiritual types of personal entities, segregating ourselves from one union into many, thus wreaking our communities. Unfortunately, soon varieties of good clans as well as bad clans changed the aspects of learning natural ways, twisting the mystical unknown into bizarre cults, without reason or rhyme. They examined the ethereal realms disgustingly acquiring cultured magic, from the dragons of the voids. They were the first to develop the less fortunate esoterically wronged, uneducated in their ways, turning into savages; starting with the youth we partitioned our children with hatred, racial identities alienating the fruits of social beings, cultural diversity, accepting the natural qualities of believes. Thus, unknowingly allowing ourselves to be conquered, ruled, and disfranchised. Evil did what evil willed, the spirits within our minds have only to be welcomed to work with the dead as well as the living. Perplexity and paradoxes our natural prospects as vivacious creatures, because we are a combination of dreams and miracles. For example, once I displayed in front of the Chieftains, a leader of their statutes, something simple, a task; that is to bring forth fire. I stood up in front of the crowd, they were full of disbelieve as I tossed a flicker into a fireball, bluish flames from my fingertip. This unconsciously simple task amazed them into a firing frenzy. They shouted at me, they said that my task is evil, conjured from one of their gods, the devil. Yet I laughed at their ignorance towards nature, fire is our true gift from earths inner spirits. We were taught many ways to use natures gifts, such as fire, water, magnetic forces, gravity and time, all to be used as a blessing, and to be willed only if respected, for survival and comforts. They hurdled amongst each other, questioning me for more ideas of natural effects. I showed them what they requested, the harmony within; how to control the thoughts of many at one time, and then I showed them how to travel amongst the prairie lands and communicating with others by signals of the heart and mind. For weeks I was interrogated, never once did I believe they were helping me or my kind, so I served them what they ordered.

Such discoveries taught to me by Wapato eons ago. For my own youthful integrity stood strong against the bewildered or frighten. I had to know, and I would learn how not to be confused. The Professors followed by the Clergymen, soon called their Generals and President. Many elected sources congregated to discuss my ability, as I soon was so comfortable among their elite. However not all were first intrigued and soon many met in large stadiums to admire my native ways, looking, seeking for alternative measures that contained the secrets. Many soon gathered intently watching me display simple tasks of our naturalistic ways. Secretes taught to me by Wapato those visions of my Grandfathers teaching to our kind. The dreamscapes of my kind, being accepted, allowed helping their kind as we did when they first arrived, most of their kind were as starving children, weakening from earths elements. We clothed them, feed them, loved them as our own, once they healed, matured they alienated us and our ways, taken the land, and killed our people and animals for sport. I was likewise amazed and equally disgusted at the variety of interesting devices they had to kill each other, weapons of willed hatred, books full of history, facts of warfare; they fight for imaginary cause a lord, a King of Kings; displaying flags, multi-national societies of money, paper pushers, collectors of signature, a fallacy of traditional bigotry.

I seemed to be followed by a black panther; it seemed to me as if whenever I would walk, it too would walk, although once I stopped it too stopped. The mockery was intense; subjectively they only listened to that which they could attend to seek, completely missing the truths of my actions. Collectively my personality was to them a subjective character full of only prepositions; they were only seeking foolish trivia, sorting simple comparatives, ending only by competition within their circles. Their own limitations created walls full of deceit, and lies. The serpents of split tongues exited their faces, they showed their excitement pitifully; I had to find a personal place. Then I conjured myself by fully displacing my mind into a foreign sanctuary; meantime they were as desperate as squandering maggots, living inside the fesses of that book of records. The highest priest called a clergyman of science; I considered a witch doctor came into the lyceum to retrain me. They scowled about the reformations needed to introduce traditions of the old world into the new world traditional ways; these new formulas were scrutinized then requested by the government to explain these talking books, these biblical ways to live a better Christian life. They gathered extracting my inner prayers, thoughts that were private, then declaring my ideas insane, corrupting all that would listen. Many soon came to pick apart my new language, imposing English words that had no spiritual context, only definitive actions. Soon they formed a committee to help formally save my soul from aberrations of my own kinship. These misinformed people were dressed wearing spiritual countenances of hatred that consumed all other realities, a mob uncontrolled, with such severity of unearthly proportions. Ultimatums to scare the living out of children; visions of fallacies to psychologically lead the listener, into truces of prophetic proportions; preaching such as knowing when our Mother Earth is to die. Sourly I looked at their childish attitudes; their carefree motives read like watching children play in the waters at home, I felt lonely yet wiser than them. Who so ever shall state the end of this world has already died, sorry is he who thinks of death continually, saddened I thought of an eminently cause to the end of the whole world. A church of respectful followers, agreeing on washing me, thus rid me of my own spirituality, a baptism. They taught me to repent and seek redemption of sorts to begin cleansing my heart and soul. He said I would be saved from my own traditional ways, thus be a better warrior for their King.

I hear the last thing the horrified children of the killing fields screamed, They killed Mom & Dad, Run for the hills, Run for your life! This man of acquired stature told me of culture differences; he spoke of powerful entities that existed behind the mind, serpents ever watching and manipulating the inner spirits as curators of the self. He taught me how to pray for help, so I did seeking retribution; soon I was exhausted to my wits end I felt as my inner spirits were tied down to a stake. Sanctuary from these ritualistic gleaners is all I wanted; to return home to the Black Hills. The dogs of war bite hard; grinding their teeth, leaving only gums to eat with, soon to die of starvation, scowling repent. In addition, Wapato impressed upon my mind the importance of my sweats; I needed to sweat and communicate with my Grandfather, to let him know how powerful the Greek/Hebrew gods were, they owned things. They had spirits of many forms of evil; they had flying beings that desecrated the earth from written books. I feared there gods, they where from elsewhere, dragons, giants, talking snakes, and water walkers. Instantaneously my ability to absorb the hidden meanings within the books confused the scribes; my answers simplified the logical, confusing the believers The poor fellowships gathered together, starvation was one form of repent, according to the new books. Many came upon me; they claimed I was a poltergeist, one whom posses knowledge only saved for the kings priesthood, keeping company with their created enemy; that thing living inside of them, the devil. Soon I learned how easily they could be led so I redirected them, speaking clearly I said to them, Let the games begin. First, for some strange reason they all compared their notes finding out that they wrote down nonsense; jargon full of unreadable quotes, and words without meanings. They then soon realized, before they would ask me any type of request or question that included me; I already prepared the sorts, eliminating them of their works. I confused the smartest one to believe that he too was partly responsible, thus he became the center of their inquisition; his constituency placed him upon a stool, having him wait his turn to speak, calling him a dunce. Then I was able to walk away freely, as they all fell in a state of mind resembling a deepened sleep, content with their selfish dreams of grandeurs. I lifted my arms high in the sky; once outside the building; I was lost at first, but then I noticed sage smoke.

Once outside the grand lyceum, I sensed my own illusions, instinct led me to follow the smell of sage, smoldering, and I continued to wonder the city seeking my own kind, yet I soon realized I was the only one of my kind. A woman waved at me, her windows were high up on a rock house, she placed sagebrush on the sills, smoldering, swirling into the autumns air. I followed her intentions, taken in by her charms; once inside her dwelling she held me next to her breast, caressing me, telling me to feed from her. She said God led her to me; I believed her, for she seen me as I caused everybody else to sleep. Sandy is her name, she was a half breed like me, she looked more like my aunt, then my sister, I fell in love with her instantly, my body relaxed for the first time in two years. I laid down to rest as she covered me with a deerskin blanket, her life force tasted like fresh Somas. She cooked elk meat, large steaks with potatoes, and cream corn, wheat breads and fruits of all kinds, berries smothered into jams like I remember when I was five. God has sent her spirit for my safe return home.

Seven generations have passed, and the waves of leaves still blows across my Grandfathers graves, winters have come and went, summers have come and went, the sun is my light, and at night I rest and sleep, for this is the land of our kinships, yet only a few will believe why. Even our tongues speak foreign words, the invaders, have continue to invade, they still are the record keepers, they still build walls, and preach the end of the world, now the multi-cultures of the world live here on our land desecrating it as their own forefathers did their homelands. They follow weak blind misguided magicians, called politicians, yet only a few will ever know why, we tolerate them. The Ghost Dancers will only eat with their own kind, the natural remedy to lifes confusions, Somas.

Somas is the spirit inside my mind, she is a blessing, she protects me from my own nightmares, she supports my dreams helping me follow the paths that safely leads me to my dreams. Otherwise some dreams can turn into nightmares.

tdchacon23@yahoo.com

DREAMS OF THE MIGHTY DRAGONS,

They are on their way, as the prayers have been received, now they are mad with revenge, their abode has been defiled, all the creatures from earth are scared of this new breed of man; the reptilian man species have conquered the world, neglecting the natural mammalians sub-species and all the varieties of birds and the serpents of the earth including each and every kind of amphibians or fish are dying. The strongest have won, called the conquest Dorians have succeeded in mind controlling; selectively choosing mass hypnosis as their weapons; used to pillaged all of life forces; first to go are the foliages. The primary source of life is the tree families they are dying of suffocation earths atmosphere on earth are poisoned. Pollution of the waters, and air is too much and has gone beyond the point of no return, the state mind of the new age of man is greed, voracity to gather and own, not to share; individualism has created a selfish breed of man, they have transformed into evils mirror. Large populations of tribes migrated throughout the world raging uncontrolled rampages; political endeavors to eliminate the challengers by out witting the weak; killing the nonconformists, mentally segregating whole societies thus building a monster called The Ghost within the Machine. It has since evolved into an uncontrolled entity, perpetuating evil desires; crushing the human spirits by using the deranged sex operates. Prolonging the tortures of the children of the sun, is not acceptable by any species, for all of earths creatures are showing signs of worn distress; they are dying. Immediate help is needed, so one tribe began praying nearly a hundred years ago, that was the start of the Ghost Dance. The statutes imposed by traditional and political gains have intently mesmerized the followers, as a snake, slowly it meandered into a beast; a serpent grown within the freedoms of free wills; that which have opened the doors of the mind into hideous forms of mentalities. Thus allowing a variety of abnormal species; these spiritual aberrations have fed on the good of man, too devour the morally sound. Thus eliminating the trust of man as being the dominate species on earth. Mankind has lost touch innately with his will to fight, accepting the reformation imposed by the subliminal actions from the Ghost in the Machine. This Ghost within the Machine has eradicating all bases of ethically right judgments, continually neglecting the earth, and all the natural attributes that sustained mankind before the technology of book keeping, or fence building.

The old world of our forefathers had strong beliefs, convictions that sustained the daily needs for our families, as well as sustained the earths fragile ecology; before the invaders they taught oneness of our existence with the ground we walked upon, keeping our identity as man, separating the needs of all earths creatures, and sharing all the blessings of earths hearths. Those sound judgments have since been eradicated and are forgotten. Rendering our childrens minds to the many books of the dead prophets, wizards that conjured various types of manipulators of the mind, whom are leading each generation by intimidation of death to conform, inside the mysterious evils of mental aberrations such as religion, or irrational beliefs of witchery. Those convictions have lead the smartest thinkers into a temptation stronger than lust, that of greed. Combined with the powerful sex drive, the subjective manipulators held mankind by contempt, as procreation was lifes primary goals turned it into capitalism. Such deceivers changed the mind set to belief immoral qualities as normal operate; the demon of lust simplified the world. The governments have evolved into powerful entities acting as the puppeteers, condoners of spiritual apostasies, allowing a multitude of warped idealism; since their acceptance of pillaging for the individual became more important than the social well being of the community. Money and sex has created more emotional drives into frenzy, such as a vortex securely leading mankind to a self imposed annihilation, the demise of man is brought into play by the book writers. The mental health of a nation is reflected within its society; dysfunctional societies are matured by the desires of neglect and the desire to be free individuals without control. The whole world has closed in, everything is now limited; we live inside a four walled box as rats, scurrying about to find peace of mind; something that is now forever a lost pleasure. Centuries of warfare has been the chase, the kill is the reward for the Ghost that has became calloused too death or the total extinction of its own species and the planet. From within the hearts of man this cycle has been nurtured, and from the hearts of man will it lose. A spiritual intervention of our own will power to survive and save the planet from the abuse of war is our only savior. The spirits are coming and they are pissed at these last two centuries of mankinds ruler ship, they are the Dragons, willed from within the minds of mankinds own instincts. The Ghost Dancers have reached their listeners; conjuring all the spirits from the past to save the future.

Many times I awoken having Sandy pulling on my back, or just slapping me, turning my chest red from long sessions of continuingly slapping me for hours, before I would awake. She said that I would speak strange noises that made slight sense, yet the words would curve into dialects of garbled grunts, she said they were scary; they meant something to whatever I spoke too. She said in the middle of the night I said that Dragons talked to me, telling stories of the void, before earth was populated by them. Today we bought a new motorcycle; she picked the color, deep purple, with a reddish pearl wave; the paint looked like flames yet they curved into crashing waves. The bike was all we talked about, I told her this is my dream come true. I have waited for years for these two things, and now I have both, Sandy and a new Super Sport semi chopper. We planned a road trip for next weekend, to Mexico; our first overnight ride so with Sandy holding on tight we head for Mexico. Two hours later, we are drinking Coronas at Hussongs Bar, and throwing change at some kids laughing out front of the bar. Keith and the Gary followed us, they never needed any reason to go into Mexico, they just went for the score. High-up in the sky they would always be there; the Watchers enjoyed seeing us play. Our game was always about the score, and we never traveled alone, two riders against the world, my back-up the Ace of Spades, and The Dog, my name is The Joker, my girl is Sandy, and we when we play it is for keeps. Anybody that was interested in action would find their way into our paths; we were bikers from the San Fernando Valley. Our crew is few biker relics known as the Wizards, from San Fernando Valley. We were just one of many Crews who left hell to party here with the living. We were constantly looking for players, punks who try to be what we lived, hard core drug dealers, users and cold blooded gangsters, from the old school. We believed in biker traditions, ethics that meant something; a place in time where you know who you are, and people had respect for your reputations earned. Frankly, people needed us; we provided the action by organizing setups. The birth of the Illegal Street Races, street parties formed by old friends looking to score, we made the rules, we played the game to win, most people never see what we created until the final score, at that point it was usually where we would leave with the score.

We had a clean record, for if the set-up was to rob other dealers, then we had to work as a team, confusing the victims. Many dealers never knew we had control of their next moves, years later they would still deal.

Our Crew was small yet we were the Premier Crew and everybody knew not to fuck with the SF-Wizards. That night in Tijuana Mexico, we arrived early, we had our same rooms as every other time we came to score, we stayed at the El Gaucho, a dump full of drug lords and prostitutes, yet the Ace of Spades was comfortable there. He knows a hell of allot of losers, and that is the game were in. Sandy and I are looking outside the second story windows as the crowds outside below set the pace; three hookers are hustling in front of our hotel, and Keith convinces them to party. Sandy already knows tonight is going to be interesting so she dresses to play, soon we are heading down stairs to join the fun; too the party we go, I slap her on her ass as we descend down the old rickety stairs. The hallway is narrow full of stale smoke and we hear clearly thru the walls as couples are fucking or fighting; we laugh knowing that people must have heard us not ten minutes ago; soon we are in front of room #103. I knock on the door, as The Dog opens it, reeking of tequila, and The Ace of Spades is dealing out the poker chips, and one of the whores grabs hold of her blouse as The Dog intently grabs a hand full. Sandy is laughing, and asks if the bikes were O.K. parked in front of the room. Gary speaks out loud interrupting Sandy, Fuckin bikes better not get Fuckin messed with! He turns smiling at me slurring as he speaks Jokerman, dude your guys bike is awesome, how much did you buy it for? Gary trips towards us and Sandy says, Yeah you like to get Fucked-up, fuck-up too and Gary answers Yeah I like to get Fuck-up Fuck-up Too! Keith passes me five hundred in chips, tells me to sit down and join the poker game, that is my game so I oblige willingly. The first couple of hands are set-ups, Keith is always playing to win, four other players have no clue we are a crew. The whore with dyed blond hair says in broken English, Lets party and get really Fuck-up, too I laugh at The Dogs slurring, and Sandy just snaps her eyes at the whore. The party moves along as I win most of the cash at the table, more people enter the room as it starts to change gears. Some troublemakers invite themselves in, so we ask them to join the poker game or get the hell out of here, they through two grand on the table.

I look at The Ace, he smiles, knowing we are leaving Mexico with that money. Sandy plays a good hand of poker, although she plays a team player better. She is my wing, confidently working all the angles, soon I have most of the cash, and one of the guys get really pissed off. He senses Gary has sobered up, The Dog has the look in his eyes that mean I will kill you, if I find some reason not to like you! The skinny whore, who never said much suddenly, starts to argue with the person losing; she knew him from somewhere else, the conversation turns into a scuffle. Sandy stands up, on my queue, she slaps the bitch, causing Gary to co-cock the main player, thus the fight begins; I take the money, standing in front of Sandy, as she is ready for anything. The biggest Mexican pulls a knife, hopelessly noticing The Ace has his Glock 9 and Gary proceeds to kick some ass. The federally cops were waiting out front, they know it is pay off time. The whores are beaten by the federally' cops, since the troublemakers were from Southside San Diego, the federally cops had everybody pack it up. We kept the money and paid Mexico its dues. The crowd outside the motel are worse than the crowd inside, as the federally police multiply; people make way for once we started-up our motorcycles; everyone stood still admiring our status among them; the epitome of such lowlifes. A Crew from the valley, our back-up was standing on the porch, brandishing his equalizer a12 gauge shot gun. We all start to ride as the Dog trys one more time to grab some ass. Sandy is loving every minute of the scene, we thrived for action, adrenaline junkies, that is the center driving force of the game. We proudly pull away as the federally cops continue to beat-up some poor bastard in the street. Far away in deep space are legions of bat like creatures, they gather together to share the sympathy they each have for the living creatures of earth. They share concerns for they hear cries from the whales, and cries from the little children murdered by these warring species of man, the followers of the new age. They prepare to return to earth and clean it, to rid its surface of those pillaging; the self centered new age societies, for they have ruined the rivers and the mighty mountains have been scourged by their greed. The air is choking the rain forests, and the sun has penetrated the earths surface in the name of the new age of mankind. The game is no longer just for fun, the price of control has moved to the next level.

The Dragons are returning to earth, first they send a fair warning, for they are kind to their distant cousins on earth, they are going to kill those who have killed their likenesses, and save the earth from eons of neglect. The sky is full of shooting stars as we ride further south towards Rosa Rita Beach, just north of Ensenada. I point up at the sky admiring all the spectacular falling stars, entering earths atmosphere, unknowing they are the cause of my nightmares, the mighty Dragons from deep space have arrived. Sandy is so exhausted from the current events, she isnt interested at all about the event, and she just leans her head on my shoulders.

Sandy suggests we drive down just past Rosa Rita Beach, another hide out, so we all fallow the Dog, half an hour latter we pull into a villa La Casa Royo. A very familiar spot, we spent numerous nights here trying to kick the Somas; as I know that the monsters are real, enjoying fresh buttons; mescaline dreams inviting the Dragons; already heading my way.

The shores are filled with waves crashing against the rocky crags, as all I hear are the sounds of the Dragons; saying repeatedly, Tom whence thou delivery is released upon thy mind; mighty legions will be set aloft, encircling the voids insides of thou mind; the bequest is thy honor. Sandy is passed out lying on the couch, she has had a long day but now I need her, they have returned to collect what is right fully theirs. I sit next to her holding her soft blond hair, groping her body as she is always willing, she purrs, slightly awake, I stand up and carry her to bed. She says Tom I heard those voices too, we will fight them together Slowly she falls back to sleep as I kiss her all over her body trying not to sleep. Pain and pleasure consume my mental awareness; I concentrate on her soft body; as my emotional feelings run out of control. I dream about sex, fantasying illusionary episodes of us, as the impending voices demand all my attention. I focus on the simple pleasures of her body; I try to partake indulging my senses when a strong tug on my shoulder stops me. I turn around expecting somebody, but my instinctual reaction was they have come out to play, and I am the toy. Many voices at once speak, Joker man, stoned half of your life, yet only I know when I will collect, never, never Tom your are mine, only mine, Jokerman, Jokerman feeling like a freak on a leash, feeling like you cannot breathe, tonight you fall from grace. Sandy slaps my face, and is screaming. Tommy, wake-up they are shooting outside on the beach! The Dog has killed somebody and Keith is running towards our room, I look outside the window, and call out to him Keith you guys head to the Hide Away and we will catch-up with you guys there.

The federally cops are swarming the hotel by sunset, me and Sandy get on my bike and head to Ensenada, we finely have some time to our selfs. I really was not interested in what happened last night, I always figured those guys are grown men and if they had too, then they had too. I love riding alone with her on my back, nothing beats this feeling. I enjoy everything about her; as she is resting her head on my shoulders, god only knows what she is thinking, sometimes I leave her thoughts alone. These are the best of times of our rat race of a life, that I am sure. The goddess Athena has stepped back allowing her to take control of my every mood. Sandy is my perfect companion, I tell her that, as she brings me a cold beer, smiling at me she says Tom you had it bad last night, I felt like I was going to lose you, maybe we should go up to Hoopa Valley and sweat with my cousins, they have the good shit, Somas from the seventies. I agree and we pack-up; both of us are tired of the Mexican Rivera coastal beaches, and head north, towards Oregon. Two days later we are in Santa Barbara, the hotel is the same one on the cover of Hotel California, the Eagles album. The mission was built with old Spanish stucco, and alligator lizards are resting on the walls, crawling everywhere. A subtle display for my own entertainment, they are teasing me, small hints the Dragons are on their way. Reminding me they can be anywhere, those mighty reptilians. The snakes and birds both have ambitions to live life twice; inside each others minds one flys high next to the heavens; the other slithers amongst the dead. Feeding on the mental fruits of mans inner spirit; residing within the mindscapes declaring themselves as imaginary visions that can tease or tempt the soul. Each creature intertwines upon each other; such an existence can take limitless forms from life as millions of forms of energy co-existed for centuries, before the new age of man. Such realms allow subspecies to populate, swirling into existences consciously existing into both dimensions. As the first amoebas arrived on earth, from stardust they patiently waited for the right chemistry that would support its existence, thus evolving into these multitudes of species. The earth has provide for eons, all that was needed to support live from the photosynthesis to the modern day man, green

trees are no longer healthy, the waters are impure, and the culprits is these new age man. They will arrive soon; many will spread about the earth as the acid rains, devouring all that they land on. That of my physical world, has changed, thus I must be merging into my minds sleep states to visit; then to play around within the unconscious realms; that is when or where the Dragons will enjoy being mans savior. We settle in our new room, a beautiful villa with a private patio; that is where we go laying in the sun; basking as it is so familiar for us to do after our take; the score in Mexico gave us plenty more cash so we enjoy and dance under the California sun. An American eagle is sorrowing high above us, Sandy looks into the sun, she is sure that is a sign we will have visitors tonight, and that she should share her little present with me, mescaline, Somas from Ensenada Mexico.

The Chumash Indians own this hotel, this is sacred land taken only one hundred and fifty years ago, prior to that thousands of Chumash natives lived here. I ask if any sweats are available, the receptionist looks puzzled yet she smiles and says yes. I will call you later, settle in for a while, and somebody will come to visit your room.

Sandy says that she is hungry for a steak, so we go straight to the restaurant, I order for both of us, top sirloin. Her appetite is always to my pleasing, we order some wine and settle down looking at the ocean views; the brightly colored sun is lowering far away behind the waves, she is smiling as I slip into a trance. I see many women whom I have slept with and thus my mind continually reminds me that they meant absolutely nothing to me, only Sandra has a place in my heart and mind. Softly I her someone it is Sandy Tom this place brings wonderful visions into my mind, I see you picking me up, choosing me over many other girlfriends, proudly holding my hand I ask her Sandy was I talking out loud a moment ago? Sandy answers No Tom, I was thinking about us, and then you said to me that you loved me. I reached over and kissed her cheek, she was so hot looking I would be proud of her anywhere. Then I hear another voice, a confident and stern man Hello, Tom and Sandy welcome to my home, please enjoy your dinner, then come up to the penthouse, I will be happy to entertain you two, by the way my name is Orcalianus I am full blooded Chumash; we are the people from the sea. He walks away as silently as he came over, he is a stout man, he looks like a Californian surfer lost back in the sixties, his hair is long, yet he has the executive authoritarian presents. I ask Sandy if she was interested, she says of course; let us see what kind of prayers they have; during their sweats, maybe we can ask for help from the Chumash. Those Dragons seem to control you at night; if we sweat then maybe we can contact them, and ask them what they are planning to do. We eagerly finish our compliment meal and head towards the elevator, this hotel is so elegant, it is ancient, for the size is overly built, with all the modern amenities as any four star hotel. We press the button at the elevator doors; Sandy has always enjoyed getting high, and this time we are going to meet the Chief of the Chumash.

My first impression was this guy is a millionaire, for we dress as if we have plenty of money, our demurs can fool mostly anybody, we are professional cons, always on the take, as that is not why we were invited, we are invited because he knows about my dreams, the dreams of the up-coming Dragons. The simple fact that both I and Sandy are American Indian is enough, for we all pray for the return of the Ghost Dances.

Orcalianus began his speech willingly displaying a sense of fear from the Spanish conquers. We werent even inside his penthouse, for as soon as we walked outside the elevator; Orcalianus begins his introduction, reaching over to me, admiring my biker tattoos, and he mentions that we have the eyes of real fighters, that we are just what they are coming for. I hardly noticed that he was holding Sandys hand, and then he lead us into his studio, another room adjacent to the elevators exit. The room smelled like fresh sage, and all the artifacts were original pieces from another era. I was just as amazed as Sandy, as once we entered the room Orcalianus waved his hands, and a small flame appears on top of the granite table, it being the center of all his possessions. He waved his arms high above his head, then the room changed into another chamber, it was a longhouse, framed as if it were standing for hundreds of years. I look at him and he says Tom you have been chosen, you and your woman have been chosen to defend our people, for we are the only ones that will survive the comings of the Dragons.

We sit down, and hold on to each other as he continues to speak, we are offered some invitational Somas, that has been around for three hundred years, long before the new age of man, these were ceremonial Peyoti, combined with mescaline, we had one hell of a trip ahead of us, I look into Sandys eyes, she nods approvingly, as we consumed the sacred food. Ambrosias enter our drug craving veins as both of us never felt these sensations before; these were the best intense euphoric highs we have ever been able to enter into. Orcalianus speaks of an old time passage; The mission Indians were being slaughtered, and the only survivors live under the water, in-between the waves, they would play as little children coming onto the beaches; likewise we would now-a-days enter the shallow areas, next to where the oceans waves would break. The sudden exodus or disappearance of the two-legged natives disturbed the curious children of the sea, and the mighty ocean called them away from the California shores, they now are living elsewhere. Another home has been provided, the former things of this earth have come to pass, a stench has replaced the sweet smells of sage, and now the whole of earth has been scourged. Orcalianus momentarily paused to pour us a stiff drink of aged bourbon. He continued to talk as he led Sandy to a large leather couch, next to a window overlooking the nights beauty. Then he waved his arms up high and said to me that he was very interested in our cultural ways, How did we really learn to use the Ghost Dances, they have worked, proven to redeem the ancient tribes, our ancestral warriors are returning. The end of innocents would include a total invasion, insanity covered the hearts of the people, and they lusted over the lands, virgin territory. I sat for days watching a vivid display of my own families horrors, my eyes full of despair, as we seen the faces up close, the white of their eyes, those killers. The whites migrated, those whom will eat your food, learn your ways, to get strong then kill your children. They had a devil, his name was greed, soon they will realize why we smile, for our kind will continue to exist with or without the structured histories, we are content, ours is a future unwritten, yet theirs is predestined as they describe, for out of their own mouth shall they see their own demise, returned to a place they created Hell.

As expected our screaming souls reached the ears of our ancestors, and they are returning to see what carnages have taken place. It is only one thousand years of times passing, since our Dragons became aware of the sudden changes here on earth, for it is a day of rest for one more battle is nearing. We will all see the truth, for we are the minds and the hearts of those precious souls of humankinds children of the sun. The dogs of war will take that what belongs to them and conquers no more, we smile to all our earthly families. The fish, the birds, the two and four-legged will soon reap what we have so patiently waited for; the return of the Dragons. The Ghost Dances have reached in shame for the peoples of earth have turned into pillagers, raping the skies, the lands and the precious waters are all tainted, our air is full of stench. They are near, for they scene all that has happened from start to finish and they are mad, from trillions of light-years away they gain speed heading home to earth, soon they will open up the heavens and wash away the tears of wars childrens. Time to play the game and the rules has changed, for now we have intentions grander than any written in a book by the split two-tongue reptilian man!

Orcalianus is exhausted telling his visions of how the Dragons are returning to clean the waters of earth. He has aged, and his hair has turned white cascading down the front of his shoulders, he grins at us with a sneer, smiling about his prophetic desires. Then Orcalianus asked us to enjoy some Somas, in his sweat so we follow him down stairs to the beach head. His private beach is a sacred place protected with cliffs, surrounding a cove, which led to a sweat lodge. He said that this sweat has been here for thousands of years, one of earths first doors to heavens realms, home of our kinships and the spirits from lifes beginnings. History, the way it was, not the fabricated, bandages of rewritten gospel of this current worlds, philosophical explanations to hide and fabricate a new structured history. Christians have two believes one for them, then another for others; such fallacies of conjecture has misled the first California Indians to help the Spaniards; baptismal trickery with alternate motives towards the missionary truths. The first waves of insurgency was not to save my people, it was to destroy them Implementations of a deliberate war to undermine and infiltrate thru mass hypnosis, they said it was time to play the game; it was all about control, thru segregation. Identity thru physical attribute, identity thru birth rites, they killed those who were spiritually stronger, from fear of our gods. The real truths are forever gone about how the kindness of nature cleanses itself, warning to the enemies, for we always believed it was not a game. We believe our lifes continued after death; as where they went to heaven or hell; we know we stay here on earth flying, swimming or walking we stay where we were created to be. Never will our spirits be taken away into the molten depths of hell or into the freezing realms of space, for our place is here among the waters of earth. The rain dances have prepared us for the return of laughter from our fallen children is eminent. The mighty chief of the Ghost Dancers has landed, to secure what is rightfully his. The new generations of our people will be stronger than ever before, that is our next move for the last battle has changed the method of operations, in these new battle grounds will be us above the killing floor.

The trip with Orcalianus was truly a good one, for I have not experienced any more Dreams of Dragons, as both me and Sandy have completely sobered up, turning a new leaf, swearing to stay sober until we get to sweat at home with Wapato, we have many questions to ask, about life as we know it. We head straight to Washington State nonstop.

Thru visualization in my sweats I have seen the slaughters of the first, original children of the sun! They were giving directions to one group, and feeding another group, when the Calvary began;, the senseless shooting at any and all living natives, satanic rituals brought inside the religious leaders as they consciously were aware of the invasion intent; yet the slaughters continued until the waters of the oceans receded with rage. Greed was the vicarious intentions that the leaders had, to keep the old ways beneath the ground, to retrain the populations; their agenda that society cannot function without the puppeteers, our governments evil agenda, that is to resolve a complete mixture of state and religion.

DREAMSCAPE ARIKARA / MANDAN / HIDATSA / AMERICAN

10-01-07

The over populated states of which our lands have transverse into are filthy with political and religious venues, all in the name of Corporate America. The future of our statehood is jeopardy at no end, such as a Mexican Poker game. No winners at this pace, no turning back, the momentum is ruling with-out balance, tipping the course of existence into oblivion. The American way has twisted as a Snake, meandered a totalitarian agenda that conquers the fundamental bases of a Union. Our psyche is controlled by Media Operates.

Tom Chacon

tdchacon23@yahoo.com

INTERLUDE:
Deep inside a history of rituals, faraway in a place on Earth, this setting of a simple village, home to Spet and his family traditions that hold true to their Hearts and Minds that life is beyond our passing and is a wonderful place to be. Ever diligent is our heritage, our Grand Fathers and Grand Mothers who partake in the watching.

Spet
Same as before, he laid there watching the sunset, as the rain clouds slowly moved away, leaving the evening sun time to spread heat; as it finalized the day, curling further away drying the land once again. Spet was soaked into the sand, returning to that place which he had been longing for since childhood, away from the dry heat, his soul is consumed by the wetness, as the sands open up space for his tired soul; as water is absorbed upon the sandy beaches of hell. He knows now that he will never want again, feelings of aches or desires of confusion or yearning for answers to why some tribes have disfigured members, wrinkled withered members that die a miserable death, full of pains. They allow their parents to age into despair; that which the dry days cursed upon the living; to age withering away as the fallen leafs of a tree in autumn. The inheritance is for the keepers, special little young souls boys and girls with bright imaginations, full of curiosity, openly descriptive and having no convictions; full of spontaneity. These children are wise to the rules, for dictatorship is willing, for it is natures way; their hearts are pure, full of excitement, simple needs. They have untrained minds that can choose the dreams for many, creating soft comfortable landscapes, warm and cozy abodes, they are the future. Yes in this tribal setting the minds of the youth generate the type of future for their children, by dreaming them. Those whom have youthful little minds can open up their dreams, only they can have the pleasures of sensuality, purely for the tribe; lifes mirrors. The first to leave are the water givers, then suddenly as calm as the night a dry spell takes the last survivors into madness, drying the outside from the inside, the mind realizes that water is needed, once it is gone. The skins of those amphibious souls are blistered as the moonlight brings no vapors, no more dew to frolic in, no more laughs, the splashing about is forever gone, as they too lay their heads upon the dry earth, waiting for the morning sun, to take away that which is wet.

Spet was thinking back, about his childhood, full of wonderful sunny days, the springtime memories of yesterday. Playing and running about holding his parents hands, joyfully they skipped around, his Father and Mother would show Spet how to fish, or gather fruits and vegetables, simple tasked, which was always fun and rewarding. Then as he aged he was taught how to give, he was instructed that giving included sacrifices, valuable sacrifices, soon he was able to accept the ceremonial gift, that dictation of a sacrificial ritual, to release your own parents to the rains. A ritualistic act that brings forth a prayer that invites the Dragons, singing songs for his Parents safe passage to the mirrors side of the mind, to sit next to the watchers and enjoy time passages. Among the tribe there was plenty to share, all who was in need were gladly provided for, the seasons of harvest pleased the senses, full of tasteful delights; eat and drink for today you are alive and well, soon as you will all figure out that; eventually time has a price. It is the end of the dry season, the end of the aging process, for nobody is allowed to age more than twenty summers; as they gather together to accept the ritualistic ceremonies; that is to sacrifice their remaining years, for the youths. According to tribal dictum, every tribal member has their last rites; to include the facts, or acceptance that soon the elders will leave never to return; for the rain washes away the dry and old, cleansing the lands. Therefore as the youthful minds of the people are concentrating, waiting for the rain, that is when they must say good bye. The river continued receding, leaving small pools of water all along a washed up path, where once a mighty river flowed. Still many fish swam in the channels, and swimming near the surface. Spet worked hard, as sweat dripped from his brow and his arms were blazed with a bronzed tan by the noon sun. The fishing was good as he rapidly collected the fish from the fish traps, swiftly returning the empty traps into the water, as he piled his catch into a wicker basket salting the fish. He was pleased, winded from heat exhaustion yet pleased for he had done so well, the catch today was plenty. His mind was cluttered; he was preoccupied with recollections of last nights feast, women and children happily about, sharing all that was provided. Deep inside his mind, yet only if, he thought, if only the rain would not return for another year, that would be plenty of time to share more with his family.

He is now old enough to take the journey, the long sleep, forever giving away all that was learned, to watch by their side, never to reach and hold his children again, yet to watch them age up to twenty, then they will come to sit and watch. That is the creed, condemned forever sitting among the youth watching silently. His tribe is the first to pray for rain, they are the first to watch the sun return. This is how all lifes balances are, for it is only natures way of regenerating the lands. For all landscapes, both within the soul as outside the soul, the landscapes are mirrored from within are the dreams, the connection of everything and everybody starts within the minds visions of how and what we must do to thank our ancestry for providing us with such abundant fruitful surroundings, cool waters for all to drink. Well springs continue spurting bubbling waters that are the rejuvenated lifes forces, as the Children of the Sun learn to protect our traditional ways, appreciating the choices made by their forefathers. He was completely entranced by anticipation of tonights feast to come, for tonights the night that many new comers are planning the ritualistic prayers for the rain, young adults will take control of the tribe, as the elders return into the earth. Knowing that they must watch the choices made from many dreams develop, willed by his generation, are the dreams, of today, tomorrows realities, for all to enjoy. This was the season of many special meals, cooking herbs and roots and delicious delicacies with fish. Tonights feast might be the last he would ever have, for a haze was thickening over the horizon, and tomorrow the rains might come for him. The clouds above sent a warning for the tribal members to gather, and prepare a meal to thank our forefathers for such wonderful dreams, visions of today they dreamed for our comforts as Spet knew he could do as well. Lost children of the sea, for some said that it is over, never to return into the voids of our minds, passions full of deepened craves hidden from light is where they sleep, sending visions of their hermitage, our keepers yearn to return yet; it is impossible, yet to watch is the only relieve they have. Many self imposing inflections, swarm among Spets conscious thoughts, yet not even he has a clue as to lead him into the other realities, those realities that he will soon visit, the long sleep is all he knows about that place.

Spet walks up that so familiar hill, sand in between his toes, he smiles to himself, carrying his fish to his family, knowing so intently the happiness they will share for all his hard work. The abode is humble as everybody is excited, seeing the cloud burst, grand thunderheads are gathering high above his village. Children run about seeking something sweet, as Spet grabs berries from his pocket, passing each child a small portion, they thank him and run off to play. The Watchers are also gathering about, waiting for the prayers. In some mystical realm; a far off place where everything is soft and everything is bright, vividly clear, and the music is intensely alluring the ears, playing in the back grounds of your mind; visions of a play ground for young adults. The sensations of being as simple children, hidden within the memories of childhood, scurrying about, tickling each other and playing chase or tag, withholding no convictions of blame. The mindscapes of the Dragons welcome the open invigorating minds of the youth, for they are the only true contacts, they will listen and obey for they are sure of themselves. These are the direct descendents of the faith, caretakers of the psychic realms.

Time has punished many who have not understood that it is relevant whence thine passing cometh, age is thou bequeathed upon thy souls as passages must cleans th all souls, soon to be, as thoust pass, along times quarry, we seek true believers upon thine realms within thine mind. The prayers will open up the windows of each believer own; such is the mind, holding that scent to which only the seer, the hearer, the touchier, the taster, has believed to be. The nonbelievers will not be permitted to enter upon the dreamers landscape, for the realities of the long sleep are either for the light or for the dark, either place has its own revelations. Those who choose that what is their own destinies, warmth from the feelings of our past is seen in the eyes of our youth, for ice is the same as fire, both wielding thoughts from the Dragons The illusions are a mystery, who will write the history. Spet has aged into manhood, procreation is such a blessing, it has once again reached its maturity; perpetuating elements of the powers that be; for his family, soon he must be returning to the river, he must seek the reasons why his dreams are so comforting, why he has been blessed for so many dry seasons, yet his heart will stay here with his children. He stands up looking into the vast crowds, many tribes have gathered to pray, for they will all give back to the Dragons; once the rain starts to fall. The desert is quiet, nothing is about, as Spet bends over picking up a pebble, he tossed it far into the river, chanting a prayer, to find that pebble when his time comes to sit and watch the returned rains, a drop of water splashing on his shoulder frightens him, soon he was thinking. A huge crackle of lightning flashes above him, as he hastily sits, next to an old dried up tree, laying half way in the water, it is an old oak tree, the symbol of dominance, once a pillar of this forest, lays testimony to times wrath, for all shall have the acquaintance of such. The dry seasons are good and bad for everything counts on change, for that is where it all began, separating the clones within, allowing change, giving change all that it needs.

The security of Family and Tradition is like that of oxygen to our life giving blood, all the forces that collectively have bargained, the mixture of chemistry, the tempters of life needs merge all these collective thoughts of Faith, the belief of our Forefathers is our statue for procreation. Once mankind is detached from his original Faith a limb is severed and never will it grow back.

Spet wept, for he will never again be able to touch or hug his children, he will be destined to only watch, and behold the future of his tribes quest to exist among the forces of the Watchers, those puppeteers who dictate the weak followings of leaser beings. The rain clouds have darkened, and the piercing sounds from thousands of children chanting, high up on the hill; their voices are reverberating, intensely the chants are shrills of pains, glories of giving all that a person can, yet losing that what is so needed, and dear to them their parents. The nights quite sky eludes his attention, he sit down waits for a sign; A Stranger walked up next to Spet, and proceeded to burn sage around the ground from which he laid, chanting friendly words, foreign, yet very soft was his tone, Spet laid entertained watching the stranger; thus he was confused why such an event was even happing, the acquired situation as having a complete Stranger do such things. Spet tried to stand up yet his whole body became limp, and drawn to the ground, then Spet tried to speak yet his mouth would not open. As Spet soon realized this Stranger was only a child, dressed as a sky warrior, feathers, downed with leathery vest, and brandishing a simple weapon, a dagger of brilliances design.

The rain began to start picking up pace, drizzling upon both him and the Stranger child. Spet ignored the child, as soon Spet managed to stand, he so much taller, yet amused at the childs intense demur as panting became his winded tone, the Stranger prayed for the rain to stop. It was dangerous to ignore a Stranger, and Spet knew he was not to try to speak of such blasphemy, to change the ritualistic coming of the rains. But to make the normal peace gestures and agreements would be implying that the Stranger was from a tribe of the enemies. Nobody bleeds for the dancer, as the sounds become overbearing from up on the hills far away the children chant, as the night is soon to befall upon the ceremonial events. All the children were singing, chanting lovely tunes getting ready for the seasons to come and change the dreams of both worlds into reality.

Spet preferred to be polite, so he pretended not to care for which the Stranger had suggestively presented, prancing about, thus that which was implied. He draws a line in the sand, for he was not sure of this man, as why he was so mysterious, prancing about. The waters are rising, a sign that rain is near, as the river starts to swell, and raging waters soon engulf the rivers edge, flowing from high up on the mountains the rains began falling; first next to the Watchers.

If he lived thru the night, and was able to see the sun just one more time he thought, then life was complete, for the blackness of nightfall has arrived. Spet turned and could see the huge fires rimmed along the cliffs, as the ceremonial events picked up pace welcoming the rains. All the children were singing, chanting as he did so many times, each year as the dry season ended. The Stranger continued to dance, giving reason for the attempt to cheat and escape the ritual event, yet Spet knew what this child was doing, enticing a temptation of freedom. To live longer than twenty summers was forbidden, yet a momentary thought at that, just to think of such a request. Suddenly the old Stranger was tired from dancing, his reddish brown transparent face, was full of desperation. The Stranger was turning remarkably ugly, his youthfulness has passed as a leaf changes from lush green to tanned brownish; a warning that the summers wrath will soon be coming to dry the earth. The night brought little light although Spet could see the Stranger transpire; the ugly scaly wrinkles upon his skin, and withered hands weakened by forces unseen. The Strangers back was hunched, his hair seemed to change grayish, thinning as to partly be bald, and all his pearly white teeth were gone. The aged Stranger was in pain, arthritis, and scouring the every sign of youthfulness away, tormenting the feeble creature; blindness sets him as he is waiting remorsefully for death, as it lingered about, he was slowly deteriorating right in front of Spet. A frightened countenance pressed his face back. Spet never reached out to offer his assistance. The Stranger was appalled, Spet turned around swiftly; thus ran away, fading into the darkness of the night. He stopped only to rest right next to that old oak tree, truly a testament to his life here, it too soon to be consumed by the falling rain, lying halfway in the water, buried inside the sand. Spet was breathless, panting, holding feelings of emptiness, missing his children, painful strikes pound his heart as flashing bolts of light beamed into his eyes, he rests. For whom the bells tolls, as the children chant songs of relieve, singing songs that welcomed the rains, for that is what saves his tribe for natures calling to a torturous demise, times quarry.

Sagaciously the Watchers are aware of Spet, for he has passed the first of millions of challenges, windows of temptations, that many have failed, thus trying to change the rituals, eons of desperation for the innate passions of man have unending fulfillment, only to acquire the skills of a Dragons lair will mankinds mind rest, thus have true peace. The morning dew was dripping off Spet, as the rains were still yet to unleash their powerful deluge, for the dry seasons are now over, and the Children of the Sun have prayed. Many speak of two tribes of children, those who are of the sun and Children of the Sea. Both came from the sky as well as from the depths of the ocean floors, half of our species came from stardust, as the other half came from the swelling volcanoes deep under the ocean floors. The birth of fire and ice were wielded by Dragons from our distant past, keepers of the time dwellers, dreamers of fantastic voyages. Since their belief that they have came from either place, or that they may return to that place from which they have started. That is whenever their soul departed into this life that is where they shall return, therefore only the Watchers know from where each man has to return too.

The return of the rains are here, soaking the mountains and covering the peaks washing away the waste from the higher realms first, for everything must flow down ward, leaving the ebbs of only memories for the listeners. The desert was lush green, as the clouds kept close the mountains, Spet listened for any sign of his tribe, for the stillness and quietness made him feel lonely, for he could vaguely hear last nights chants, the shrilling voices of his faithful kinship. He scanned the waters of the river, noticing fish swimming about, as now the morning sun was turning the horizon bluish, purple, slight tints of orange, bouncing off the darken nimbostratus formation luring just above. Spet feels them in his blood, adrenaline races throughout his veins, he knows soon he will sit next to them, quietly observing his children, watching as do all Dragons.

High above the rainbow, scattering about and swirling as dancers the Dragons return, by the cover of the clouds, they come for elegantly fined tuned songs of the children. The music is an enchantment; euphoria encapsulates the mentality of the mighty Dragons, as they swoop towards the sounds, encircling the tribe. The peace from the finely tune chants evaporates the senses into the minds of the children, they sing favorably for the rains, totally engulfed by the spirits from above.

It was possible that the Stranger last night was just an illusion, a ghost to warn him that his choice, that choice to be a Dragon, was him, completely accepting the sudden relieve to be taken away from his children; received by his own parents once again. For his vivid memories of his parent were short lived, yet joyful, moments in his past; shared as with his own children have; the look of happiness, completeness. For Spet knew that figures in dreams were often sent before hand to tell you something and often they could not speak, but the way they looked and the signs they made were meant to give you a message. The brown ghost was shaped like a youngling, until the nightfall, then it aged in front of Spet, a visage of what the soul would look like if it aged fully until death, the loss of youth meant the total loss of control, that of controlling the body as well as the mind. For eventually the mind and body, with all the muscles, will tire and die a painful death. Perhaps this one came in the daylight instead of a dream, to see Spet before his long sleep, to parade once for him, a pleasing farewell; the ghost dance was so vivid inside Spets thoughts.

Spet had realized the cold facts, as water was running off his arms, he stretched outwardly, reaching up towards the heavens; he seen the sun piercing thru the morning clouds, praying for rain. The rivers water was edging closer towards him, the rapids washing trees downstream and he looked up high on the cliffs. As rain drops increased, he screamed trying to communicate with all the by standers, the children were watching as the rivers were now filling up, returning the waters that are so needed. Singing songs of praise, hearts full of glory as Spets fate has been dictated. Another ending for the season of dry, has passed once again relieving the old from the harness; that sensation of ageing, that weakness inherited by life on earth, gravitational pulls, and the static magnetic forces luring time into a frenzy to consume everything, one particle at a time. The Dragons swarmed high above the children, screeching and imposing penetrating vibrations of emotional thoughts; comforting the children with vivid visions of their Grandparents, sending loving messages that they too will soon be invited to watch. From high above Spet, edging on the cliffs, all the children chanted louder and louder as the rains continued, one young boy and a girl walk over to the edge, they see Spet, their father; between the rain fall the young boy sings louder, and the rains kept coming, as the young girl sing intently along; as the rains take him away The thought was frightening, as Spet seen the Strangers ghost standing right next to him, The Stranger spoke with a stern voice out to Spet The ground is no longer dry! Then he pointed at rivers edge, smiling at Spet waving at him, a slight gesture as to comfort him, leading him; a gesture to follow. Rain fell down hard, splattering a sensation throughout Spets body, tingling warmth from his excitement covered him completely. Spet seen the children waving good bye, as he sat on the ground, happy that the Dragons were diving down heading towards him. Rain fell intensely as the brownish ghostly figure melted into the earth. Spet sat waiting as he was amazed at how many fish were jumping out of the water, splashing about, he felt his soul withering slowly away into the sandy mud, sinking beneath the dampened earth, his body was soaked, soggy as the earth absorbed him completely. The clouds, nimbostratus opened up displaying the Dragons as they flew higher and higher up into the heavens. Sept. 13-07

Let it Rain, unto Me

The Rain just keeps pounding the inside of my head, I see clouded visions of Sandy, and then they vividly swirl into Susan, as I see her in my rear view mirror. The road is winding upwardly into the tops of the pass; Susan is trying too sober up, she had a little too much Somas. Her nerves are racked from the daily routine we left behind at the Rock House; something very few people could survive, yet her love for me and my bike, is where she learns to keep that strong willed spirit, her party was over for now, but she is tuff, a real trooper, just what I need next to me. We are passing HWY 96 straight thru Mount Adams into Indian country, home. She is amazed that we got out of there alive, her eyes are still full of excitement, youthfully intrigued, as she rubs my shoulders; I speed it up a bit, passing a trucker, he honks his horn admiring us; checking her out, her renegade looks. I know there are few thing in life that compares to complete freedom, as a biker has, nothing sexier then a biker with his chick trying to get away. The pass is full of family types, husband and wifes, children screaming nonsense, carloads full of dreams. Yet our only dream remains at fire lake, the life we choose has no other out come, she rests her head on my back, and falls asleep as I purr my bike, cruising in and out of traffic heading straight to my buds house, the great legendary Wapato. He will have something to clear out my mind, to help me wash away the rain within my head. Submerged inside inflections of my sinful ways, the dread of knowing we spent so much time together, now she is gone, replaced.

Sons of vengeance come to rescue me, as I am tied to an old oak tree, screaming into the night, the wolves are hounding getting closer moment by moment; I wait. Screaming in the night I would die for you Sandy would whisper sweet nothings into my ears, and I guess when Susan did that I instantaneously fell in love. She has replaced my rider, and filled my heart, I had plenty of friends, and I didnt need any more, but then there she was. I would see her heart rise with passion as I told her my story about a loss love. Sandy was forever a part of me, instructing my waking hours, always watching for my safety, maybe she caused Susan to find me, so that I would not be alone. I knew it all along as she too had losses, someone very special from a bad deal gone wrong. She would say laughingly Im jealous of her, then stop and looking into her own memories, then would slap me, as I started to tease her, she would say Why dont we ride out of L.A. We belong home back in the woods, where the spirits fly, we could be as the great eagles, that is where we belong, our hair is liken too many feathers caught in the winds of change, away from these rainbows of illusions, crazy idiots aboard this ship of fools, eagerly clawing at us. I was never afraid of loosing her until last week when the gunfight nearly killed me. She stood up and told me Tom I know now we must leave, tomorrow, together; this is a calling from Wapato, he is waiting. When Mike and Keith heard Wapatos name they new that our party was officially over for now, we packed the next mourning heading north.

The yard was as if it had not changed since the last time I was here, It

didnt remind me of anything, just Susans face in the mirror, would change back and forth from Sandys, two beautiful women of my life. Wapato was standing on his porch grinning. He was looking at Susan, talking to me, You two survived the Rock House the legendary Joker, I guess you will need to rest, come inside; my abode is your home. Its another lonely evening, in another lonely town, I never stop to worry when a women gets me down, its another empty bottle, in another red light nightmare with another empty heart; but I know what Im going to do, Im going to ride on. I broke another promise, yet Im know that Im not to young to notice, that I must get right back on the track; its another red light nightmare, on another red light ride. I got myself a one-way ticket, and do not know why I got it going the wrong way. I am going to change my evil ways, one of these days. I take another hit, because Im so lonely, I think Im going to die, Im going to ride on looking for a truck, I must keep on riding on, too find myself a good time one of these days; hells boring. Wapato is a tall Yakima Indian about fifty or more; yet he has long hair, coal black and his statue is demanding. He has the look that only close friends would understand, a friendly yet demanding stare. He is wearing a top hat, wrapped with snakeskin, and an old black bandana. He has on a leather vest tattered but clean, his arms are full of biker tattoos, mixed with Indian dreams across his back, his voice could mesmerize a snake, as I hear him and Susan in the kitchen, cooking. He calls Susan a Gypsy, she looks more Irish then Indian, although Wapato already knows who she is, a cousin from Warm Springs Indian Reservation. Susan your true name is Woman Flys inside Dreams, your grandfather the Eagle named you, that is your Indian name, Susan laughs out loudly, saying to Wapato Stop Wapato, Tom doesnt know my name, we just met two months ago. Wapato says sternly, Woman Flys Inside Dreams, you have always knew The Joker, he is a Water Buster, perpetually flying into the void returning with gives for everybody, he returned one day with you! Susan was intrigued, listening to what Wapato was saying. She walked into the living room and kissed me on my cheek, Tom wake up, dinner is ready, here is a cold beer, how is your arm, is it sore? She pulled back my shirtsleeve looking for the bullet wound, the scar was gone, no evidence of a bullet wound. She looked puzzled, turning and looking into Wapatos blue eyes Wapato laughed, The Jokerman has always been a shape shifter, yesterdays bad events are nonexistence here at home, he is where he belongs, as are you!

I stand up and chug my beer down grabbing Susan by the arm, I tell her to follow me. I take her out back, and point at the sweat lodge, she smiles and says Tom, can we please sweat together, I really need you next to me, and I miss you so much. The happiest place for us is the other side, which is where we belong. I hold her hand and say confidently Of course we are going in together, but first we must pray with Wapato for safely getting us here. Now come hurry lets go look at something special, my private place to dwell and think about stuff that really matters, the sun, the moon, the sky, the earth, me and you. I have been with you there only in dreams, come lets follow my dream of sharing it with you.

We walked for a little bit looking around, the trees here are really tall, they are evergreens, blocking the sunlight, as it is soon going to be sunset, I ask Susan if she wanted to walked to the cliffs, she says O.K. It takes about twenty minute to walk, but I have been there before and know exactly where they are, we got there just in time to see the sun lower itself behind the mountain glaciers, a spectacular view, bluish hints reflected, mixing with orange sky line, she holds me tightly as we both sit down. I throw a piece of granite over the edge, moments latter it hits the sides of the cliff, just before splashing into the raging river. She ask me if I knew she was Wapatos cousin, I said yes I figured her out in Santa Monica, I told Wapato about you and he laughed, saying something in an old Yakima dialect.

He said to me three months ago that somebody is on there way, to follow me back home, and he is always right, that is how I knew that you were from Oregon, my own legacy started here on this mountain, years ago. I stand up and tell her to lets hurry back, before he leaves, and forgets that we are here. We run together like two children so comfortable and so secure being here, nothing has penetrated our minds, the whole evening is only about us, and each others comforts, sober. When we get to the back door, it creeks out slowly, as if it had a mind of its own, Susan looks at me smiling. Wapato is kneeling in front of the stone fireplace, he is holding an ancient Rosetta stone, the flicking deep reddish blue flames seem to take command of the whole room. As we pass the table, I smell all the food, red meat, dear steaks, potatoes, baked breads, and of course mushroom, sprinkled with sage. I stand next to Susan, and she holds my hand, bowing her head. I follow suite, and the back door swings shut, as the room seems to darken, the flames grow hotter. The Wizard has entered the room, waving hello to everybody, we are now inside the middle of a grand circle, many people are here, mystically they chant. Susan is taken away from me, as the Wizard is passing out handfuls of crystals to everybody, he stops right in front of me and says, So many souls have passed thru your finger tips, yet your hands are as clean as my own, Jokerman, lets party one more time, shall we? I willingly take my share of crystals, looking into them. The Wizard turns away, and the room fills up with purple smoke. Susan is still holding my hand, and Wapato ask me if I seen any thing, I just sit down and open my hands to look at a tiny collection of stones, jagged edged, multicolored crystal. I place the crystals on the table, they sparkle, rhythmic vibrations emanates from them. I cover them with my hand, as to calm them down, the vibrations, slow down, pulsating as my own heart beats, rapidly. The first time she served me, she was so elegant, she has a natural demure about her; sophisticated yet mature. Purely her actions revels how much she is willing to please me; I tell her thank you, please sit down next to me, and I will cut the steak. Wapato enjoyed our company, he said that nobody has been here since the last time I was up here, and he likes to spend allot of time inside the lodge, he says eagerly So eat up you two, the sun will be rising soon, we must enter the lodge before sunrise. we continue enjoying the accommodations, for the road trip had many twist and turns, for our life style, it was continuing into one near miss, into anther, the challenges were game, time to play Wapatos games.

Susan is wearing a beautifully decorated dear skin dress, her eyes are so alluring that they put me into a trance; I too have changed, old traditional regalia fit for a true warrior. I vaguely remember leaving the house; I still have food in my mouth, the delicious taste of fresh venison. Wapato is bending over pulling open the draped bears hide which is a cover; to the entrance of the sweat lodge. He too is wearing ancient regalia from times quarry, of an age where we only wore clothing from which we knew belonged to those whom have lived and provided us knowledge. I follow Susan into the lodges entrance; she is holding my hand tightly. This place is so familiar; the redwoods twist upwardly, bent wood that spirals into a curved ceiling, the familiar smells of sage, and pine. Although, we are still holding each others hands, I see her about a hundred feet in front of me, her clothing has been removed, she is holding a sickle, standing in water with wings as large as ten feet high, her back has a silken smooth cloth, perfectly exposing her natural beauty. I call out to her, as I step forward; she turns around and gestures at me to be very quite, we are not alone. Then she spreads her wings and flys out of the watery earth into the void; I only see tiny little sparks, as thousands of tiny little creatures gather together, aligning themselves in cadence, resting on top of a large marble deck. I move closer into the lodge seeking a perception as to what I am, I too have shaped shifted, my body is superior then that as a mortal, I soon find myself flying closely next to Susan, her and Sandy are only inches in front of me as we land together in front of legions of friends. The sky here is pink, with darken red blots, and blacken gaseous forms, leading millions of miles away, into unknown places. The chant continues for hours, as people are slowly moving in closer to us, encircling us, the marble floors are smooth, and warm to the touch for we have no shoes on. Our wing tips brush up against each others only then do I sense a multitude of feelings, as I soon realized Sandy is here right next to me. Her face is as perfect as the first time I seen her in the Hide Away, perfectly smiling at me, she notices me, although there is a grander picture here. The Wizard has appeared, at which time all my childhood memories come together, those happy moments when I first believed that I was truly my own person. The Wizard waves his staff, pointing at Susan, she turns and points at Sandy and they both turn looking into my eyes as one. They begin to speaking in some language foreign to me, yet I know what they are saying. Tom the Joker has been able to use the powers of love, to help us see truth in the wickedness of the awaken souls, yes we want to marry him, us

three as one, a union of souls. The Wizards staff sparks a lighten bolt into my direction, which at that time Wapato appears, instantly at my defense. Upon the realms of the society of our creed, we acknowledge this union upon the Jokerman. I step forward and begin to speak, I have been throughout the ages among many with the likes of the creed, those whom are not part of our creed, still benefit from our believes. I take the unions that bond our kind, back with me; the crystals are already upon the table from where I have eaten last. Then for no apparent reason I snapped back into the dining room, where Sandy says, Tom, wake up, finish cutting the steak before it gets cold Wapato stands up and says, You guys hurry up and eat, it will be mourning soon and the sun will rise, then we can enter the sweat lodge. Susan eats her food with such grace, she bites into the steak smiling in my direction, with intent on her mind, she says Tom when, and how did you get a name such as the Joker? I finish the food in my mouth and drink some wine; I look at her smiling, and begin the story. I only told one other person, Susan, you know enough about me by now to believe what I tell you, there was once another desire I had as a young man, before Sandy, and before I took the powers as a warrior. I really wanted to learned and to understand what charisma is, so everybody could be relaxed around me, I found out people are easier to befriend if you make him or her smile. For smiling brings good will, the Wizard told me this, thousands of years before I was born, and when ever I tell somebody this the say that I was joking Susan kisses my cheek and smiles, calling me The Joker. I get up swiftly batting at something flickering inside my personal space, she follows me as we walk outside looking for Wapato, and the sky is clouding up, as large blackish grey clouds move in blocking the rising sun. Mourning has crept upon us, it is so spectacular, the freshness of spring in the air, we head towards the back of the house. We call out his name, he is gone, and nowhere to be found, then a large thundercloud high above us cracks, and the rain pours down soaking Susan and me. Pounding droplets, of springs natural cathartic rinse, we are as one hugging each other enjoying the sun as it is rising far below the thunder cloud, a rainbow complements the moment. Wapato, lives high on top of Mount Adams, just inside the Yakima Indian Reservation, he has been a friend of my family for as long as I can remember, he named me the Jokerman. We hunted, fished and hiked these

mountains, lost for days, sweat lodges, placed along our trails, something ritually respected, always before and after each kill. Our ways include many friends, Crews from both sides of lifes sensational realities; spiritual oneness. Susan is very interested as I told her how Wapato, raised me, and how I followed some of the bad ass biker crews that hit the seventies, from L.A. to Seattle, to include some of the Indian political movements. She slowly opens the sweat lodges door holding my hands, looking into my eyes, she says, Jokerman, I already knew that! Late that evening we leave to eat, as the sun is setting behind the clouds, more move in and it begins to rain lightly, sprinkling fresh air, positive feeling are absorbed as we walk, talking about the games people play.

The Washington spring, brings April showers, which cleanse deeply the damages brought down from the passing winters freezing snows. I tell Susan exactly how I feel about her, and ask her if she is ready to go sweat. She smiles and says Tom lets play in the rain for little while, I love the feeling of you and me playing in the rain, I push her to the ground and make love to her while the clouds pour lifes energy unto us. Tom Chacon Aug-07-07

Bow Down Listener

The King was sadden when he woke up, his jester was murdered, his subjects heads were still rolling about, as the scenes were still echoing about, Bow down before your King! All hail the King! The next command is On your knees nonbelievers; there is only one King! That is the last thing they heard, as the swords, hacks of their heads. The King said, For all you subjects not playing The Game, I shall take your off your heads, so learn how to play The Game, or I will take all your senses from you, letting you see your body hits the floor, your heads will roll; for if you cannot think with it, I shall take it away from you! He laughs, drunk in his own rules, for many subjects had argued throughout the years as to why, such games must be played, the Kings chambers are silent, as many players were instructed the night before to sit and watch as the King displays the rules, for all to listen. The King walks about, kicking his dead subjects, names are called out as he steps besides the fallen victims, leaving his mark, deeply embedded, for no one will judge him, or break his rules, he knows he is King, here and there, he is the rule maker. Rule number one, listen! We road for two days, leaving the coastline, the beautiful beaches of Oregon, HWY 101 we exit, heading east from Lincoln City, to Spirit Lake, that is were we are heading. Last week was a trip, I lost my mind, and Sandy kept me together, for the Somas, took control; the only game in town was to stay alive. We left party barely alive, Sandy will fix me up, I have been bleeding off and on since the fight, I won I thought, and he lost. My trusted bike, it will roll home, no matter what shape Im in. Ive had worst things happen, just this time I included Sandy, and she was there just in time. She saved me, as I could remember, I grabbed the take, and was on the bike the same time she was, we rolled away, hearing gun shots, that were meant for us. Twenty some miles, I raced about, twisting down roads, up and down canyons Ive never been thru; my rider holding on tightly trusting every curve, as we often raced for fun, but this time it was for our lifes; we lost them, there was four or five vehicles, including cops, after a bit. The take was worth it, seventeen thousand cash, two kilos coke, and the thrill of it all, the set-up was easy, dope switch game, and we played it before, like an old song, or learning to ride again. I parked the bike, and opened my jacket, showing the take to Sandy, she is

pleased, we ride on.

We reach the cabin, her family owns half the mountain, I call the Ace of Spades, he heard about it already. Then we make plans, as my bullet wound was nothing to worry about, Sandy has dressed worst knife cuts, she knew what I needed. The stitches were barely healed as four bikes rolled up the hill, about a mile away; they knew I was watching, for we all lived here last summer for a week. Nothing or nobody can leave here unless we let them. Every score we make must be reported to the crew, for rules are not to be broken, and we knew why, for heads will roll if you dont.

The barbeque was in full swing, as the girls returned with plenty of beer, the first order of business, take care of the wounded, which meant me. Soon we all ate, and the matter at hand included everyone but the girls, only Sandy was allowed to stay inside and listen. First the Ace of Spades, AKA. Keith Pain, our leader, and then his back, The Dog, AKA. Gary Humphrey, they told everybody in the crew what to expect from each take. I had a beer, nobody else drank during a gathering of the minds, for people only spoke

once, we had to listen closely, for if rivals such as other gangs or bikers had clues, then the games would be breeched, the future depends on how the take is accepted. If some member from another crew step outside the rules it was taken as weakness, and the whole crew paid dearly.

Sandy told the story, she was good at that, for nobody really cares about the truth, they only cared about results, the value of the take, and of course the cost, if someone died. Zeek Wickwire, AKA. The Druid, he was the only member in the crew who was vested, he knew everyone in the North West, including Mike V. The attitude towards our take was why I let some asshole live, they implied that the take included wasting The Hurst, a member of the biker crew known as The Souls. They rode the beach cities, Seattle, Portland, and as far south as San Francisco, they where aloud to deal small time trades, but they got greedy. The Hurst waxed one of the members from the Mongols, leading into breaking the rules, biker rules. Twice this year alone we were added to the ladder, the ladder is where smaller crews had permission the Rome, to play the game. This was where the problem got even more dangerous, for soon the recruiters were out enticing everyone to cheat, this simple rule, cleaned the crews from the inside out; thus a natural way of weeding out the weak. Two lane living, our way and your way, we decide who is right or wrong, for once in, trust no one, you only have one way out, laying on your back, thats rule number two! Four years have passed since the King had subjects that were less then desirable, for the subjects had talked about simple things, things placed as cheese, for mice to eat. He was very interested about who said what, so he would feed his mice, soon the fat ones were lined up one sunny afternoon, for the townships to see, at high noon they were decapitated. Now that the King was feared again he was pleased, for subjects that knew the rules were smart, to keep the Kings ideas to themselves, to speak the rules softly, for this game is played in the mind, the King was the best listener, for he believed that true subjects would watch everything, talking about everything they see, returning the gold to his kingdom as that is the rule. Time to play the Game, for your life is only worth the value of your last words, we all know what a whisper can do, especially by a snake. Bow down and obey your master, he is inside your mind, his name is the Ruhk. What is said when you are not there, shall only concern you if it is about you, for nothing else matters, unless you are listening.

You are the King, you choose who keeps their head, and uses it to eat cheese. My mind was clearly attuned; for someone was killed, two hours after the take, it was The Druids girl, his rider, an old girl friend of ours. That upset Sandy, yet she knew not to show any emotional ties, that is the game. The crew was nonchalant, they had bigger problems, and our take was not part of the business today. Three weeks old, and still we have not figured out how to divide the take. Keith argued with people, yet nothing was said, for now contracts have been made; they could be bought, as anything can be bought. Sandy was relaxed, she had nerves of steel, she was completely composed, as news got back from other riders that she knew the bitch that was killed. That didnt mean much to the crew, but it did because it is unwritten rule that nobody was to be connected out-side the take, although it was set-up months ago, nobody figured in Sandy. My contracts piled up, I have a few, but never have we had one on our rider. I talked to Mike V. he said that was business, keep out of the way, lay low it will change, for everyday something new happens, somebody will remove it, that is how we do things, let the take cool off.

Mike and Keith were my friends, beyond the crew, they suggested I take a ride further north, go home, they will chill out, and fix things. I talk to Sandy, she likes the idea, so we head to Wapatos property; home.

Sandy had game, her rules were my rules, we lived for each other, if they take her then I go along for the ride, our rules. No worries as we head north back home to visit the mountains spirits, true friends to the end, and beyond. Two months pass, and a letter arrives, Mike V. says the contracts are forgiven, something was traded, we can ride the hwy again, for that is our lifes passion, next to getting high, soaring into the edges of reality, our game, that is the way Sandy and I like it. We talk about the take, I listen closely as she says that we must sweat about her friend, forgiving her soul for riding along the edge includes the past as well as the future, spirits of the dead, are the same as the spirits of the living. We prepare for the sweat, and invite Wapato. The roads were different, leading up to our private sweat lodge; it seemed they were a mystery, for twice I took the wrong turn. Sandy said it is an illusion, for we both knew these roads, we grew up around here. I park the bike, and we make love, which always opens up the mind, thus expose our presents; an invitational calling allowing the spiritual games to begin. Sandy is running as fast as she can, she hits my back and says, lets go Tom, I pop open the clutch, as two people came running right behind her, she fired two shots, as I pulled away, not knowing what she hit. The take was inside my coat, and Sandy was holding on screaming at me, telling me to go faster, they are right behind us. I was good at mountain roads, especially here in Oregon, I sped away into the darkness, and night cover was my biggest asset. In my mirror I seen the headlights fade, soon we were in the blackness of the night. My arm was bleeding, as Sandy held the blood inside me, placing pressure on my adrenaline junky body; it drove us to safety. I felt her next to me, our life was ruined, for these are the moments that people like us thrive for; we are adrenaline stoners, for nothing is more satisfying as the moments during a take, better than any drug, only renegades have the need for more, Sandy was my twin, we enjoyed the game. Finally Wapato walks up, he is laughing at us, as Sandy puts her clothes on, what happen Jokerman, you past by me twice, I waved at you guys, and you drove right thru me, as if I was not there, then you turned around and did it again. Come with me, you are seeing illusionary tricks, for your minds need to rest, here take these they will help you reach never never land. Sandy steps out in front of me, and give Wapato a hug, she accepts his give, and passes me my share, Somas. We reach an old tree, and sit down to enjoy the rest of the day, for it seemed as my last day here, an odd, errie

feeling entered my mind, then I was high, watching Sandy make love to the drug, the adrenaline rush, she enjoyed more then having me, that was plane to see. The macabre stories of passion, how these women play mind fuck games with their rider, which is what she is trying to tell me? I listen to her, for what is in her mind may not be what is really in her heart. My Sandy is always thinking how the game is played, she is a master, yet for her to even think of playing mind fuck games on me was totally out of the question, yet? Wapato appeared out of nowhere, he is always leading us to the point of no return, he explains to Sandy that mind fuck games are only played by the lonely, for lost souls are lonely, and that the Jokerman has never really been lonely, he only has to reach inside his mind, for Ruhk is ever present, protecting him from the saint elsewhere, they cannot reach him, he is protected, same as she is, we are one under the veil. I stand up and ask Wapato, What is inside her mind, that she can talk freely about how the riders cheat, playing mind fuck games on their men? Wapato ask me to sit back down, for we are almost at the sweat lodge, the entrance is only a thought away. I look at Sandy; she is oblivious to what I herd her say, as she is telling me more of how the mind fuck game rules were played. It only matters if they are confused, the results of the games count; not the rules. As we enter the realms beyond consciousness, I hold onto my love, she is completely happy, for we would never want to be anywhere else, definitely alone. Wapato is not around any more, or at least I cannot see him, as me and Sandy begin the journey. I stand up and take her arms, they are hot to the touch, she has slipped away, her clothes are the only thing Im holding, the sky is deep purple, as fog is now replaced the sunny day. I call out for her; she steps out in front of me. She is laughing, holding something, I ask her to see it, and she hides it behind her back, turning around secretly admiring it, totally selfish. I again try to grab her hand, then I get hold of it, but as I pull her towards me, it too, fades away as a ghost. I think that Im having a bad trip. The memories of before her, the times in my life that was fun before making love to her were, all but gone, only the life I had with her circulates around my head, then vaguely I remember her saying mind fucking games. I call Ruhk, and then Wapato is barely visible, he is slowly walking backwards, he is frightened, as from the sky a blade removes his head, it rolls next to me, facing up at me. I call out to Sandy, she is nowhere, I call out to Ruhk, he is not around, then Wapato, starts to scream, his last sounds are that of a screech owl, I hardly could stand the piercing, yet I bent down

and pick-up his head, he was still alive, trying to say something. Then Sandy comes out of the purple fog, she is carrying something, inside her palms is Ruhks head. I drop Wapato and run towards Sandy yet the closer I get, the farther she moves away. I sit down, and wait for my head is next, I know how she thinks, she will have anything she wants, that is my girl, my rider.

My game has been played out, for there are no others that can enter my mind as her, once she did I had to follow, those are the rules, in any kingdom. I let her enchant me, for we would always say things only once, therefore I had to listen to my Queen. Tom Chacon Sept. 27- 07

Heading south too California, and Lisa is my new rider,,,

We watched the sunset behind the trees, far away over the mountains across the Columbia gorge, two miles past Snake River she lay half-naked, still drunk from the party. Deep down I really could care-less she is with that guy, its temporally; yet she was my rider, for six years she rode across the country on the back of this bike, now she is with another biker, camping. Lisa and me just hooked up last week, she is cool but allot younger than Sandy; I think for a moment why, then we get back on the road, were heading to Spokane, Washington. This city has allot of history, we cruised this scene many times, this is Mike V. country, between here and Madras Oregon, he runs all the major scores coming in or out of these parts. Sandy was always my back up, I just wish I knew why she decided to leave, hell she was my rider. These streets look so different with somebody else, Lisa is scared, she is only eighteen, just here for the ride, I guess a few years of hanging-out with me and she will be wise enough to handle anything these streets can throw at her. I pull into the back alley, my motorcycle can purr like a cat, it is dark already but I have been here so many times before, these are mean streets, niggers and white trash, killing each other one day, getting high together the next, I could never figure out these guys, I just deliver. I see the look out, he recognized me and waves us on, the gravel road leads up next to a rocky ravine twisting narrowly about thru old evergreen trees, then suddenly to an open pasture, I see Mike V. looking straight at us, waving from his porch. We drive right up to the porch, five other motorcycles are parked, lined-up next to where I park, Lisa is scared, she is not used to rough bikers and we look mean compared to her high school buds. Mike tells Lisa to come over and meet Gloria, she is from Spokane, Gloria says she knows Lisas older sister Lindy. That surprised me, Lindy was my girl back in Madras before couple years before Sandy, and I then realized that Lisa is from Madras not Warm Springs. These women have me all confused, back to business, as I reach over my saddle bags, and toss too Mike two kilos, pure Columbian coke, a good score for quick in and out job, nobody hurt but the

Pusher, thats our biker name for dumb ass dealer. Two days later we are sobering up, Lisa says she would like to ride to California again, and ask me if I would take her next week. I tell her that I will think about it; she leans on me covering both of us with a blanket. The fire is fading out; so get up and toss larger pieces of wood into the smoldering flames. Lisa smells so good she was in the tub soaking in strawberry bubbles, now she is cozy enough, I lay back holding her. The noise outside is rock music, as different biker clubs come and go, I sit here admiring Lisa, she has a way of entertaining me, a special meaning in everything she does. Mike has most of the score sold; facetiously grinning he walks into the room without knocking and throws a package on the bed next to me. Once Lisa opens it, I see immediately her eyes widen, because inside the leather pouch is ten grand, and a large baggy full of cocaine, code word Somas my cut for delivery. Not bad Lisa says as I see her face light up, she gets out of bed totally naked, she exposes herself proudly, her perky tits compliment her wavy blond hair, she smiles bending over the table; and lines up three fat coke hits, the music is playing Led Zeppelin. I shake Mikes hand, thanking him for another lead. Scores are hard to come by, yet our team seems to knock them out pretty regular, as a team we are hard to beat, we follow the rules, honor is our code of ethics. Honor thy Crew and thy Crew will Honor you, we know the business, for every score somebody must take a fall Lisa and I walk around the property, it is beautiful as ever, these woods have a way about them, something totally natural, that brings an euphoric mood to my senses; Lisa is so young, five years younger then me, yet not so innocent. Further, down the valley about five miles the lake sparkles, reflection from the morning sun. I shout at Lisa because she is hiking ahead of me climbing high on top of a rock; her body fits this scene so naturally. I tell her to look up, behind her is a Bald Eagle soaring just above her; she is so sexy yet I miss Sandy. Sandy knew my next move every time I made a move. She is only letting me play awhile with Lisa, she knows I miss her, yet I never let her leave, she left on her own, neglecting a fight, she would never tell me I couldnt fuck Lisa, she just didnt want to watch. Tuesday, four-days since Sandy left me, her new biker dud is some punk, twenty-one, and I am sure worried about me, she must have told him who her x-rider is. The Joker from SF-Valley AKA the Wizards, my only problem is once he finds out he will leave her stranded. That is of course if he wants to stay in the northwest, with a pulse. The biker codes are simple; you could fuck any girl that wants you, but never one who is not above you; that is in the ranks. If I were below him, he would not have a problem, since

over half the biker clubs know my Crew, and me; he has a big problem. He has to be very careful not to ride up next to one of my biker buds, a road warrior seeking some opium favors, watching my back, as secretes about women dont last within crews. They would have to ask Sandy where I was, and then proceed to educate that poor soul. The sad dilemmas for the crews women are that they are property, some are touchable, and some are not, the price is always the same, obey the rules or die. We pack-up heading south, Lisa is higher than a kite, she has not had I line all week; we try to stay sober the first two days on any road trip. Her first trip to SF-Valley, she promised not be bad, she will do exactly as I ask, her natural high is contagious, I kiss her just before I pull ahead onto the road. The heat from the last score has settled down, as always we make the core look, as the fallen Pusher is responsible for the loss. The smoke from my score is clear as we hear that the score naturally blamed on another crewmember, a dead man at that. Whenever small timing drug dealer of pusher is conned or robbed, the memories of them not taken seriously due to the simple fact that within the minds of the users. Truthfully, most druggies could care-less for the suppliers and most crews could care-less for the Pushers, the vicious cycle creates losers everywhere. The only problems are if by chance, we interrupt other Crews affiliations, or someone is mistakenly murdered. Sometimes shit happens, but not this time, we are soon waving goodbye, a team of twelve riders, head into the setting sun, our first stop, Vancouver Washington, next door to Portland OR. The teams break up at Moses Lake, three riders head north to Seattle, as my team continues toward Portland. We finally reach Vancouver, Shooters strip club is closing for business early, the owner Robert Padillas knew we were coming to town. It must be around eleven-thirty pm, as we park our bikes in front of the bar, all the lights stayed on until daylight, not a cop or anybody uninvited showed, only dancers from all over kept pulling up, looking to see who was in town. Lisa knew all so well, that in this crew, she had to compete; so she did, she danced all night watching me watching her. She was good at dancing; I met her right fuckin here with Sandy three weeks ago. Every place we go we are setting up another score, or some kind of hit, for the game is the life, and the life was worthless without the game. I talked to Robert about next month, if I had the place reserved, I needed allot to happen, I was inviting the Ace of Spades and the Dog,

Captains from the Valley. That meant something big is going to happen, as everybody anticipated my next move. From Portlands drug scene all the way to L.A. our Crew was making deals, we played crews against each other, biker against biker, we had only one truth, that is our family, the SF-Wizards, everybody else we never trusted, my back this trip is Zeek Wickwire, known as the Druid.

Two things I never share that is the Somas, or my rider, I guess Zeek felt different about Lisa, he is always testy, but he respected me only because we are family. She has to learn allot about bikers, on her own time, we are the wrong two bikers to be mind fucked or played against. The first thing he said when he seen me sitting at the table, Wheres Sandy? Jokerman, is she O.K., I heard that bitch on stage is your new rider, Lisa right! Right then I knew that once Lisa had road with him, and he still felt that she belong to him; that has changed as I since I now have her bags on my bike. We have to agree to the rules, when it comes to family members, and women, the rules are tricky. Two reasons why bikers are either maimed or killed, one is women, the other drugs. The Druid is an irate bastard, I carried him for two years, back home in the Valley, the city rats wanted him waxed. I backed him as a favor for the

Dog, Gary Humphrey; that will be my only safety here in Portland. This is Gringo country, the Arians run this town, so I need to leave, quietly, or Mike V. will be hearing about me from the ditch. I never cared so much for the Druid, he was always cold, he knew too much about me, and could start a war if he really wanted; we go back as far as the beach cities in So Cal. The surfers from Toes Beach, introduced us, he brought allot of shit to the Crew. We made a few big scores at the biker rallies, and stood together at the Street Races, we had one truth, that was we respected the creed, the code of ethics, was the family first. That was how things worked, only it didnt include our women, they were always first come first served, he respected me, and said that she was his old rider, last summer, she twisted. That is she got too high and ran away, I guess riding with the Druid could be frightful, even worse he is an asshole from hell. When Lisa seen him, she ran next to me, she said that the Druid was mean, that he hit her and abused her. I looked at the Druid and told him, Hey brother this is what is, she rides with me now, so keep cool, find another chick there is plenty of meat in this house! The Druid smirks and walks up to the stage, he grabs the chick that is dancing and pulls her towards the restroom. They fuck for hours in a toilet stall, as the party continues in the Playhouse strip club. The next couple of days we continue heading south, stopping in Klamath Falls, then straight to San Jose, picking up members, some from clubs that just ride for the numbers, safety in numbers, over the road it was common to see rivals cruise the hi-ways together, separating in the city. Lisa and me enjoyed the trip, as for the Druid he has another chick riding with him, I feel all right now that we are back in Cali. Every biker from anywhere in these parts knows better than to make a move around San Jose, that place has to many ghost riders, every Crew on the west coast has family living in that city. I call Keith Paine, the Ace of Spades, our boss, and let him know that the score in Washington is successfully done. Therefore, we wait for orders, now we are back in San Jose, but the Druid is acting strange. He has got into trouble over some stripper bitch from Oregon; I guess he beat her brother into a vegetable, nearly killing the guy. OR. State Patrol has his number, we just leaved town so the CHP is not hot on our trail yet. The Ace of Spades laughs, and tells me to twist the Druid, find something for him to do for a while in the bay area. I call a bud, they send him to Half moon bay, and he could chill out there for a few months. The Wizards got the heat pressed on hard, L.A.P.D. is closing a case,

they think we are responsible for two hits last summer, it could be true, I do not really remember. The boss said hurry back, we need to talk about our next score, and it is big. In addition, as he hangs up the telephone phone, he said I should call Sandy; she is back over in Spokane, at Mike V. ranch.

I send an airplane ticket, and tell her to return home, San Fernando Valley could never be the same with-out Sandy. I am just not sure what to say to Lisa, she is welcome to stay as long as she wants; this house is open to all family members of the Crew. Nothing ever stays the same, which is why I love my life style, we challenge all on-takers, if they try to come-up then that is the game, for now we are very hard to beat, the next score takes me back into Mexico. Some guy named Chulo from EL Paso, is bringing a package that needs to be delivered, somewhere up north, whatever works, this time

Lisa cannot ride, I must take Sandy, she knows how I think, and knows what I need, she is my only back-up. Two weeks pass, these two get along good, I choose to separate them by letting Lisa stay in the guest-house, and Sandy dont mind, she is just happy I didnt give Lisa the master bedroom. Besides I have bigger problems since the Druid pulled into town, he is at The Dogs apartment, talking shit about me. I think the Dog has had his fill with the Druid otherwise Keith would have called. I need to get shit together, we are heading to Phoenix AZ. to see another crew leader, me and the Ace will ride together; we should be back by mourning. The ride thru the desert was nice, we arrived in Glendale around four am, the place we went too looked like any other biker joint, just that we were the only bikers wearing colors. The guy we were to meet was not there, and another guy stood up for him, his name was Stick, that name fit him, he was a tall redneck from back east, yet I trusted his actions. He led us in back, that is where things picked up pace. The black-lights were flashing on and off like a broken strobe, as three dikes were naked, half awake staring at us, they were higher then they new was safe, I looked at the Ace of Spades, his white boy attitude was lets get the shit and leave. The Stick came out of another room, he was caring a shotgun, and two thugs were standing behind us, I grabbed my gun from my pocket, yet it wasnt necessary, the Hurst came out of the room from behind the Stick, he yells at the Ace, and calls me by my name Jokerman, we are relaxed now. The Hurst gives the Ace a small package, inside it is pure heroin, ordered by the crew in L.A. We leave Phoenix as soon as possible the sun is beat in down hard on us as we pull into the driveway. The Druid and the Dog is talking out front, they both look relieved to us.

Foxy;
She is deadly; all men are only toys; as she plays; creating finely intricate webs of lust; her weapon of choice. Yet her body is fragile as silk, she chokes life from the unexpected fools, foolish men of wants, seeking the challenges of lifes quest. Foxy lady of yesterday, memories of her linger deeply within the mindscape of my life as lovers, her heaven & hell, my day and night as only time knew how we would end up. The sweet taste of her passions filled my mind with happiness, as flowing rivers flood my senses, clear fantasies; visions impressed upon my psychic, my mentality has been controlled by illusions she has puppeteer. Suddenly the deposit has been made, her eyes no longer look at me with need, only hate, as her own fears slowly demised the rational oneness, we together as one has past. Now our only escape from times swirling currents, is the death of love. We have aged slightly only knowing why we need to separate; we are longing the taste of something new and fresh, never wanting to return to the arms of each other. Evil thoughts have breed under currents, secrete places found alone, we enter that solitude that have led us away from each other; since the beginning to the now. The end of our fun has borne to mind true hate, a fever of lust turned to deceit.

I must continue to see my fortunes from which I could extract from these manipulative ways, her personality has pleased, and teased me into a frenzy of hope. A feeling of emptiness encompasses my soul, her side winding ways have allured others into the web of passionate solitude, her alone with others brought painful emotions of delusional pictures of how and why, when only it was meant to be, me alone and outside her heart. Time has proved that the lust of love is also soon to pass, thus just striking resemblances of yesterdays enjoyments. Now as I walk fully awake by the strength acquired by the dead feelings, I notice how really happy time has opened comedy to me, my tragedy has matured into laughs of joy, relieving myself from the wicked web she had entangled me in.

I felt as if; myself within is freed; free from assault, the impending resolve gathered after long hours of despair, wickedly I ponder my actions of

revenge, yet I could not even hurt the one thing that has inflected such morsels of delight, evils wrath. The wanting to return to the bed of death, the slaughterhouse of my manhood, delightful sensations take over my consciences mind, the wanting to be where I dont belong perpetuates as a winding road. My life spent with her was like a small cup of water, one she can pour into the toilet, her whimsical emotions has taken us to the next level, that place of no return, ultimatums of sorts, negligently she conjures up a new form of punishment; to please then take away that which I enjoyed, tempted the desires of the flesh. My cold feet first, as she warmed my arousal into a feeding frenzy, only to watch me yearn for the cold blood, her smiles of conquest.

The night has brought even more loyal and faithful memories lost moments of the past, including the highly intense. Many passionate moments, licking and cleaning those delicate spots, kissing that consumed my every thought; extreme intensity, a colorful collage of some very interesting events, true reddish bluish figures vividly displaying emotional ventures. A sting of joy slowly passes thru my mental aberrations as a feeling of guilt, her not knowing why I smile at the adversaries. Those evil ideological words which she pronounced over and over

creating dilemmas, to incur pain and despair, thus hate began. I look into her eyes and move on, we together sleeping along the road of illusionary demands, that which we both hold as true. The life she has led is as confusing and amusing to see her ways unfolding in front of all that she tried to hide from. She is confused as to why I smile at her, yet Im hurt but relieved from the sting that she imposed upon me. I reach deep into those dreadful memories of yesterday, changing those bad events into comedy, awaking into an improv, situational comedy, that is her glares of despair, I have moved on.

Today was another fine example of lost love, the perpetuated imposition that I must leave behind continues to evolve, pinching my side. I look deeply into the future wondering if she will return to finish that which she created, the demised of my demented soul, the dying floor. The wonderfully bright blue skies above loom high, the sun has covered my body completely. My shadows follow me, seeking refuge, as the heat raises my body weakens, and drearily I want shade. I like the warmth of the sun, until the clouds move lowly above, I cook beneath the rays. A thunderhead forms spectacularly reminding me how alone this winding road has been, I sense that she has been gone far too, too long. The horizon is waving illusions of the past, where will I go, I need her so bad. I felt dizzy from heat stroke, then the first sign of rain, I continue to walk alone as water is pouring down, I feel comfortable knowing someday she too will miss me. I look back at where I have walked, the smiles of her clearly laughing, reaching up to grab my hand, then lightening strikes as thunder crackles miles away, a sweet reminder that she is laughing, but with someone else. My mind racing about how they please each other, never the ware of my dismissal, yes my heart aches, for me memories live deep within.

I continue to walk straight, leaving the false security of the paved road, I follow my intuitions, my yearning for change, to lose my trails of despair, only if I could return to her arms, she holds me yet, manhood dissolves instantly. I look once again back searching for the signs of civilization, nowhere is where I am, the road has been lost, even my own tracks are gone. High in the sky are night clouds, strikes of lighting pound the far away skies, I am lost, no way back to the road. The moon is high, dimly hues of crimson orange, a screech from a bird informs me that Im being watched. Then I notice I have climbed high up from the desert floor, vaguely I can see the road, ten miles away, thru cactus, brush and sage , whirling dust clouds spiral upwardly, the desert nights air is hot, no signs of rain, only dry heat radiates from the killing fields.

The fresh smells or her women hood, personal scent sparks multitudes of memories, which totally engulf me; I see colorful visions of her laughing reaching out to hug and touch another; them passionately kissing. I stop and watch the full circle, as the moonlight passing above, knows all of which I bleed for. The tiny sparkling memories, pounding insistently, glittering visions of her passions, I stop and look up for help, I see only the specks of celestial star caps. I tingle with the painful thoughts of her as the orgies of illicit behavior her engaged with sexual delights, lucid actions compound my mind; it fills up and is mesmerizing me. I cry out loud, please just one more chance for her involvements, her tangle webs are choking me even now, and I lay down. Early in the mourning a strange dream awakes me, I try to catch up with the vision, yet as I try to catch the comforts of my dream it fades, the moon is gone, only the desert is lit, as if from the grave, I try to run. The chains of loves bite have control over my emotional despair, the sounds from that creature, chuckles and it gurgles as if mocking me. I know now that these chains will not leave me, her vengeance is real, her conjuring ways run deep into my heart and mind, now something else has taken control, her horrific ways pleased me again, she visited me in my sleep, awaking me to this nightmare. The electric fires rage deep inside my hearts contempt, against the flows and ebbs which sustain my life force, she has put a lovers wrathful spell into my soul. Even my sleeping hours are running scarred, of the awaking dreams I have of her lost lust. My mental derangements are flashing as her body lays next to mine, her breast are hot, touching me, her hair has kept me tied up. Then for no reason she walks away, waving well bye. I turn towards her as if we were just married, I chase her, holding her long brown hair, she stops and kissed me. I taste her flavors, sparkling excitement fills my groins, yet it is only another memory of her. My solitude increases the pain, never will I be able to forget the moment we learned to hate. I loved to feel my pain, I was resolved to relive her presents, just to have had her once in this life time. It relived those cherished moments in time, my pity goes in vain, as I know she will never return to my waiting arms.

The desert is burning hot, and the clouds are gone, I must have fallen down, from this jagged cliff, landing below these crags of dust redden stones, deep in the deserts valley. The dry dirt has stopped my legs from bleeding, clumps of dried coagulated blood crack out from my ripped pants, and my arms are bruised. I hit my head hard on something, there is blood everywhere, my body is weak, from exhaustion, and I thrust my arms upwardly, with no response, thirst takes command; I realized that I havent drank any water for two days.

High up in the sky a vulture circles above me, I cannot move, only my eyes move, slowly more vultures gather around, coming closer towards me, encircling me, they land. I watch as they slowly walk my direction, coagulated blood stains cover my back, I could smell the stench from these evil birds. I stare into the grayish eyes as one pecks at my leg, I feel the meat tearing away; as two and then three blacken beasts begin to feast, on my crushed soul.

Something happens, she grabs my arms, screaming out my name, I roll over and look at her, and she is pale white, crying at me. Why did you do such a foolish thing? I get out of bed and wash my face, then I ask her what she was talking about, she just looks at me and slaps my arm, Tom you know good and well what you did, that is why I love you. Tom Chacon 8/01/07

Timber Wolfs
EVERYONE RUNS WITH THE PACK, OTHERWISE THEY DIE OF STARVATION ON PAYOTI Tonight is the night; she says tonight will be different; and get ready for something is surely going to happen. We walk over to the bar, and Susan orders a round, I drink Jack Daniels, and she drinks some mixed drink. Susan and I have been dating for some time now, she is a beautiful young Native American, her family is from Warm Springs Indian Reservation, I met her two years ago. I think that she has shared all that is important with me, since I have been with her almost every day, I know her wants, dreams, likes and dislikes, I sure was wrong. Unbelievably she had a past which she never told me about, she shows me something different tonight, I totally was surprised that she had the spirit to follow her dreams into a place such as this, the Hideaway, my old hang out; a dirty biker bar, in the valley.

Hurry up, Tom you are going to miss it! Susan grabs my arm and pulls me into the elevator, she smiles back at me, Tom, remember that time you said that you wanted something special for your birthday, well I have something to give you, something we can share together. Just then the elevator doors open, and standing there, in front leaning on the wall is Mike V. He looks the same, black leather jacket, dusty brown hair, grinning like he knows he just got caught, my bud, and an old friend from the Crew. Back in the day, the S.F. Wizards ruled the valley, from L.A. to Washington State.

I look at Susan and ask Susan, how did you get Mike to leave Oregon? Tom the Jokerman, whats up? Mike says holding his hands out, showing me a package, a brown paper bag. Susan pushs me out into the hallway; I walk towards Mike and give him a hug. He pats my back and says, Hey Jokerman your little woman called me two months ago, she wanted you to have these. I reach over and take the bag from him. I tell Mike What the fuck have you been doing, how the fuck did she find you, lord only knows that I tried to call you Mike says Tom I got to roll dude, I felt that these belonged to you, so enjoy. I shake his hand, and ask him to stay awhile, and lets catch up on the past, our roads split apart after the Ace of Spades was shot. Mike was always stoned, and tonight is no different, but he is the only member from our Crew still around, kicking it, never missing a beat, for back in the day we ran together. Susan laughs at me, and says Wake up Tom, lets go to the room and see what he gave you, hurry room #1113 at the end of the hallway. As the elevator doors close, Mike stares at me smiling, his smirk was genuine, my back up, man have the years past by. Suddenly music, jamming out, and I hear allot of people, I realized that she has called some of my good timing buds, sure enough a party was made, she was able to keep this from me, and I thought I knew her, she is smart, a really cool chick, Im glad to have her for my rider. The key would not unlock the door, I look at the number, it says #1114, this is great, we knock on the door, and it opens immediately, I cannot believe who is here, they all scream Happy Birthday. I hold on to the brown bag I got from Mike V. Susan parades me around, as old friends all try to talk at once, music is pounding loudly, AC/DC is commanding the crowd. I grab a drink from a bottle of Jack Daniels and start to mingle hugging old friends, then I see her, Anita is here, with Lindy they are both smiling at me, I start to walk towards them, Susan is gripping my arm, following closely. These two women are drop dead gorgeous, stunningly perfect tits, peach shaped asses, and I have been there before, they are my dreams, the past has some great memories, and they were a major part of my past. I stop just in front of Anita, I smell jasmine smoke on her, her cocaine eyes tell it all, then Lindy with her sultry smile, blonde hair down to her waist, I give Anita a kiss, that lasted for five minutes, then Lindy squeezes in and takes me away from her grip, I start to kiss Lindy passionately, as I notice Susans demure changes.

She turns away laughing, Tom happy birth, your gift is not those two bitches, come follow me! I let go of Lindy and tell them I will be right back, wow I sure never expected to see those two. Susan takes me out side on the patio, she says Look into the bag, see what I got you. I look into it and I cannot believe all of this is really happening to me; she smiles with a nasty look in her eyes, pulling the baggy open to see inside. Motley Crew is blaring to the point that I cannot hear myself talk, Susan stares at me intently, hugging me, kissing me hard, rubbing me, and taking my hand and placing it on her crotch. I caress her, rubbing her ass and nibbling on her ear, biting softly, her sweat smells perfect, like lilacs, she gives me a smack on my neck. I guess she thinks that will slow me down, and keep those two bitches away, as she so eloquently put it. I give her a grip tightly on her ass and lead her back into the room; she says, What, the fuck is your hurry Tom, I want you to look into my eyes and just kiss me softly, then we could go into the room. Behind her is the city lights, sparkling around us, the sky is clear, and Hollywood is busy, as usual, this place never sleeps. Her hair is auburn light brown with small natural curls, and her well kept body shows no signs of wear, I know she is concerned, that maybe she started something, that maybe she shouldnt of. I turn her around holding her right in front of me, as we lean against the railing, I point to Sunset boulevard, and I say Susan do you remember where we met, it was right over there. I pointed higher up above behind the Hollywood sign, a light was blinking, it was the Observatory; she was working there at the time. And I was cruising the boulevard looking for action, I found it that night. Susan is confidently amused as we walk back into the room, holding hands until she lets go, eyeing me intently. We finely get back to the party and the shit is going on, this is one hell of a gig, we stayed awake all night, people kept circulating around, each person trying to get more then the last, dope, drinks, strippers, and the remainder of my Crew. Mike V. and Wapato were passing around the shit, and the girls were enjoying the party, dancing around teasing everybody, lending no time for imagination, tits and ass, these girls were hard core. The sun was raising outside the windows; we could hear the L.A. mourning traffic, people starting to go to work. Susan is showing signs that she is tired, so I tell everybody that we are going to our room right next door. The adjoining doors opened up; then the party moves to room #1114.

Once inside the room I close the shades and ask her if she will join me in the shower, she smiles willingly, making her snooty gestures of approval, we intensely observe each others qualities as I kiss her. The room is noisy for the crowd next door is pounding on our door, to let some come over, they intend to crash my little party, theyll have to wait.

I reach over for a towel, as we get out of the shower, we can hear people talking loudly, half of these people we dont even know, most of them knew Keith Paine, and The Dog and that also meant they somehow knew me, thru the Crew, we new thousands of pushers and dopers, our crew was at one time, a Premier Crew. L.A. street scenes always included us, every week end anywhere in the city we knew people, some we liked and some didnt. I walk out with my towel wrapped on my waist, and Susan stayed longer, she was feeling better now. I unlock the connecting doors, and a flood of drunks, pile on in, as Susan came out of the shower she waves most of them back next door. Our bed was in the back so we could have a little privacy, and we sat talking about our good times, that time when the whole Crew was still around, before the Wickwire Events.

I begin to get tired and asked the party diehards to take it next door, that I will catch up with everybody in a few hours, no problem. Susan comes back out of the shower, her body is covered slightly, and her breast are pushing their way upward, as she comes and lays next to me she says, Tom are you ready to take some now, are you ready to enjoy yourself, too fuck me hard. I look at her and think to myself hell yeah, every time I sleep with her it is like the first time; we just fit right, her body next to mine, her ways are so close to mine. Then she grabs the bag and opens it slowly, inside the bag is traditional Peyoti, her fantasy has always been to trip with me, us together on the other side of reality, our traditional ways is to live on both sides. The awaken hours that merge into the sleeping hours, smoothly I take a small portion as so does she, we consumed it timely, so that we both would reach a climax together.

I hold her hand as we ran from the wind, up and down hills, skipping along, jumping over ridges, landing miles away, laughing together knowing that our sleeping life is more fun than the awaking hours, she slows down and stops. I hug her tightly, and she ask me if I could follow her into a dream she had as a child, I say sure lets go. Then we are lying together, my body has silky pewter webs spun, as to cocoon us, we are lying below the tall grasses, in the shade on a high hill.

Somewhere in Oregon just above the Columbia River, a million years ago, Susan and I are absorbing the twilights of a summer day. She stands up and says Tom come with me into the Bears Lodge I look at her confused because I too feel as though Im only six or seven years old. She laughs at me and calls me a scary cat and that Bears cannot hurt you here, they are our relatives! So I follow her up a jagged ridge; I hold on tight to the rocks, and see how high we are, the river is below us, Cello Falls are just below, raging waves are crashing against two rivers edges, the freedom of the mighty Columbia is unrestrained, never have any dams been built; for this side of sleep all manmade structures dont exist; only natural causes are present in this realm. We are here on earth beyond the awful destructions of man upon the animals; this place is how it was meant to be. Finely she turns around and I see her pretty little blush face, she looks older than me, maybe ten or eleven years, still a virgin, yet holding on to her boyish ways, she grabs hold of my hand and pulls me up on top of the ridge. The celestial sky is blue, yet I see tiny sparkles of pink, brightly fluorescence as we continue walking, her forehead is sweating, and I see her young beauty is awe inspiring. She is just starting to develop her feline traits, perky breasts, shapely waist and a pretty butt, yet as a boy my sexual attractions are enlighten. Susan stops suddenly, bending down she grabs my arm as we look through some sage brush, and she covers my mouth with her hands, as to keep me quiet. I smell her body; my natural instinct, was to fall in love, she is my main attraction. Susan looks at me with a serious disposition, her hands on her sides, and tells me to wait here; she is praying, silently I watch her, while she goes ahead to see if the coast is clear. I get nerves and worried, so I run and catch up to her, I hold her arm as any young boy would. She turns around smiling, Tommy, dont worry, we are only dreaming, here we are the makers of everything, good and bad, so behave, think of only good funny things, and we will continue having the time of our life. Im comfortably relaxed next to her, my girl. She was wearing a choker, and a long dear skin dress, her hair is darker and her eyes are wider than usual, she smiles and says Tom we are going to shape shift, I will be a Cat, and you can be the Bear. I like this idea, she is so fun at playing games, then she runs away, instantly she is standing high above me, on a large granite rock, her tail is curling upward, as she purrs, growling and moaning, glaring into my eyes. The smell of fresh pine needles and the evergreens complements her.

Then she jumps out at me and tackles me over, I feel her soft fur, and her paws scratch me ever so lightly not to hurt me, yet her claws are sharp, she leaps away. I stand up and growl back at her, I notice my strength; I have the power to leap in front of her and cut her off, as she lies willingly beneath my huge paws. I have become a grizzly bear, toying around with her. She is communicating with me, telepathy induced thoughts, and she agrees to let me lead our next plan. So I decide to climb down the same mountain ridge, only this time we are descending as creatures of the forest. We reach the edge of the river and I grab two overly sized salmon and toss her one, we eat then move on, playfully enjoying the afternoon. The night is full of exciting spirits; many gather around proudly displaying their approval of our existence, the thunder heads high above us are full of lightning strikes, as thunder rumbles in the far distance. The forest is beautiful at night; all the nocturnal creatures are parading amongst us. A spectacle of grand proportions entertains our senses, living in natures reality, not having a care for mankind. The mighty Eagles fly encircling us watching, as do the Elk, and the sky has blown warm winds to comfort us as we lay down together watching time pass.

Then momentarily, Susan is caressing my body, lying naked on the bed, she laughs, and said So Tom you were the mighty Grizzly, on your birthday? I focus my eyes to see if I was dreaming still, I notice that the party has moved back into our room, were not the only naked people either. Lindy and Anita are sleeping together on the foot of the bed, and they obviously had some time last night. I jump out of bed and throw Susan her leather skirt, she sits up, her breast are perfect, then I hear Mike V. Some party Tom, you always knew how to pick the right chicks, you two make a good couple, thanks for the invite. I turn around and see that Anita and Lindy are awake as well, Susan tells them to put some fucking clothes on. Mike V. looks at me and asked me if the shit was good. I said hell yeah, I love to trip, brings back memories of when I lived up north, in Yakima. Anita turned her attention to me, So Tom when did you dump Sandy? My mouth drops to the floor, we all knew that answer already and Mike V. slaps the back of her head, Bitch shut the fuck up, you know what happened, why fuck with his new girl, Susan is great, she can handle The Joker just fine. Lindy throws a beer bottle at Mike V. and says Yeah Susan hang on to your man, Tom is cool, he put together some incredible gigs, back in the day, and he was a master. Susan looks at me and said well then lets party some more, she draws the curtains shutting out all the light. We are all quiet, as we slowly prepare for the next event, the ring. Wapato is sitting at the edge of the bed, he reaches over and begins to pass around the Peyoti, first I take another hit, then Mike V. then Lindy and Anita, finally Susan. The daylight outside is vividly bright, mourning in L.A. Hollywood to be exact, sun can penetrate even these curtains, so we take the blankets and cover up what sun light we can. Mike V. takes the mattress and leans it next to the door, so nobody leaves, and I take out all the furniture and put in the next room, the party is just beginning. As I close the doors behind me, a large snapping sound, similar to a large tree branch braking vibrates the room, and then everybody is barely visible. I see the eyes, of something staring down at me, as we gather next to each other and tell stories of the past and our the future, just about anything is interesting when you are as high as we get. We all hold each others hands, soon the Peyoti takes control. We all know how it works, and slowly we enter the zone. As I ascended above everybody, they follow me, taking heed to the fact that once they enter this realm we must stay together; otherwise if we lose someone then everyone will have a really bad trip.

We usually are like school children running about cheerfully, playing childish games, happily spending our lives together, the sleep side is where the angels reside, they love our company, and soon we will be over there. I stand up tall above the pack, and say You were always on my mind, so please come and join us, lets play some more like yesterday every body starts to giggle in harmony, saying little nonsense jokes, pitter patter, little Rosie pocket full of cozy, come and play, we have returned, so wake up Rosie. The room ceiling caves in; flowers are sprinkled about, we all start to pick up our own favorite colors, reds, blues, greens, yellow, white, black, purple, pinks, crimson blood; then a loud crackle as flakes of tar pour out onto the center of the group. I tell everybody that we have arrived, and to be very careful not to lose their grip, hold on to each other during the transformations. The room is engorged, filling completely with liquid tar. Mike V. stands up, he tells everybody that today he is going to stay, that he likes being here, and fuck that other place of the awaken hours, here we can enjoy all we are supposed to. Anita and Lindy let go of his arms and they too say that life is better here in the sleeping side. So then I look at Susan, she smiles at me and says, Lets join them Tom, it is only right that we stay and enjoy what should be enjoyed. I fall down into the tar pit, and everybody is trying to grab hold of each other, but the tar separates us, and we sink deep into it. Watching each other sink deeper and deeper, first Mike V. sinks out of sight, then Anita, soon to follow Lindy. Susan smiles at me and says We are still together, we have not separated, come along Tom were waiting for you, and Sandy is there too! The last moment before sliding down I feel Susans hand grabbing my leg, her nails gripping into my flesh, the tar is heated, getting hotter as I sink. Then everything is black, no more oxygen, Im smothering, I feel legs tied around my face. Im buried in-between Susans legs, she is sliding next to me scrumming, tugging me. Frantically, everybody is struggling around, pushing and pulling each other, for everyone is swimming about the blackness, smothering. Blackness is covering everybody, submerged inside a cesspool of tar, we are totally scared. All my senses are fading as she stops moving, dying maybe lying entangled next to me. Then suddenly somebody else bumps next to me, Im smothering, and cannot see nothing, as the tar is pure total blackness, only the touching sensations of two bodies slowly tugging at me. Then I feel Mike V. pulling at my hair, he is the strongest pulling at us; finally I reach the surface, to breath.

Mike and I are soon fighting the weight of everyone, pulling everybody outwardly, not to lose any one, tugging upwardly. Then I feel the girls as they too realize we are not dead, we all fight the tar, and one by one we are pulled to safety. Inside a tree trunk, the blackened tar is sticky, we still fight for freedom. I look for Wapato but he is gone, we dare not reach back for him, for the tar would retake any one of us as vengeance. We rest falling into a deeper sleep, everybody seeking Wapato. Lying next to a large fire, we awake rested, the air is clean as winter, yet the flames from the fire comfort us, and the rains of spring, dripping upon us wash away the blackened tar from our bodies. Anita and Lindy hug each other pulling Susan and me into one large hugging group. Mike V. has also joined us as we separate and start to dance, laughing as if we were high on pot. Nobody felt weary or concerned for what just happened; we all started to walk briskly up and out of our sanctuary; leaving the tree cave hidden deep inside the woods. Hoopla heya plea, we chant the songs together as childish nursery rhymes, dancing about, following the bright purplish light. Upon exiting the we find a wonderfully decorated blue oak table, the decor was viands displaying every sort of beers, wines, and fruits, cooked fish, and red meats. All prepared next to colorful vegetables, that pleased the visual as well as the palates delight; we devour the variety and feast to our hearts content. Every one pleased by such sensuous pleasure, our hearts were wanting nothing but rest, a slumber-party we feel back into an afternoon nap, each of us snuggled together, warming each. Slowly we awake leaning, and comfortable lying against each other, knowing how much we need each other, when suddenly a great earth quake shakes the earth below us, and we all stand up; not noticing that we have all turned into a pack of Timber Wolfs, wanting fresh meat. Then something moves from behind a large rock, it is Wapato, he is not a wolf, yet he knows we are his friends, when he talks we misunderstand him. Mike V. growls; attacks him, they tumble about; Anita and Lindy jump in to defend Mike, for Wapato is a mirage, toying as a ghost. Wapato grinning while; we all take off running as a pack of wolfs; Wapato begins throwing balls of flames at us, he is a Wizard, and he hits me, at that moment I shape shift back into a man. Thus all the rest of the pack notices, and one by one he changes them back into people. We look around and try to figure out where we are, for the dreams are turning into nightmares, that s not good, if the Peyoti wears off, it leaves the lonely user entranced forever.

Ready Tom, Susan takes my hand and runs as fast as she can, then we both jump, into the wide open spaces, over the edge, we are flying as two eagles, turning about to see, the others leaping of the cliffs edges, first Mike V. then Wapato, then the girls, soon we are all sailing into the heavens, enjoying a sunny morning looking down at the earth, as we all land on a large tree branch. One by one we disappear, whisking about, whirling into flakes of stardust, leaving no trace of our existence. The room next door has cops, their radios on and are noisy, static hissing is a warning that we are being invaded. I wake Mike V. he is in a delirium state, yet soon he awakes, all the girls are deeply enjoying their comatose ventures, as I quietly look out the window. Something big has happened for my birthday; as the front door swings open, two L.A. Swat cops kick the door down and begin shooting at me and Mike V. Then she is laughing about, pulling my hair, tugging at my shirt screaming Tom wake up, this is Sandy, Tom wake up this is Sandy! TOM CHACON AUG-03-07

Sati, IN THE COMPANY OF FRIENDS To many nights alone, waiting for the sun to rise, for the day brings social acquisitions, people whom I can associate my problems with, people that I can spend time with. Believe me when I tell you that you do not have to pretend, your imaginations unchained melodies can and do pronounce amazing results. Unbelievable results, for these last few weeks my own revelations have taken me to near insanity, the introduction to my own friends whom Im sure you would care not to meet. For now Im sure that these following words of minimal descriptions, tried to describe many forms of energy. Displacement of emotional fears such as only the mind can manipulate; thus the dreadfully realisms of grand and vivid proportions. Yes that which can be thought of can be envisioned as truths which the mind believes, the soul too fears as reality. So the beginning of the most terrifying night for which I wish never to impose such unbelievable friendships upon any the wiser, you the reader. Yes you the believer will intrigue your own friends, from within your own mental acquisitions, those whom have been with you since birth. Tempters dwelling within our senses, our own consciousness, the sleepers who are playing around within each and every one of us. Thinking of daylight, to hide the friends of the night. Daydreamers are what they call people like me and you, time waster, seeking pointless ideas of how to spend wonderful afternoons about, carefree, wishing on the stars above for a companion, somebody to play games with, somebody like me, who believes in fairies, dragons, and all the fun stuff, like magic. One day as you could only imagine, me by myself walking along the road, next to frog pond, the water splashed, something jumped into the pond, as my imagination willed, it was only a little troll, skipping across the top of the water, trying to impress me, dancing , prance to and fro, giggling about. This troll was, so tiny I barely noticed it, its tiny little features, with expressions only I could laugh about, it looked just like me, yet it was just my own expressions; reflections off the watery surface. This is only the start, the first of many very interesting recollections of how and why I have excitedly invited you to my youth, to spend just one time with me as my childhood was full of spectacular daydreams. Soon I was surrounding myself with many more colorful friends, small armies, creatures great and small, from the deepest of space to the furthest villages. Many faraway places beyond earths simple realms, I could pierce into the crystal ball, thus learning to travel and visit these imaginary places and people.

Soon as I grew older and wiser we learned many new ways to play together, doing things privately, creating a virtual secret garden of play things, toys with instructions that would include players whom had to play back. Thinkers that could manipulate, and then they intimidate me, devising simple yet intriguingly complicated mind games, which enticed my lucid imagination, leaving me with vivid respect for their existence. I was soon a wizard, completing grand tasks that inevitably collaborated with the elfs, directing herds of dragons, sparing all the tiny fairies, those hiding from the darkness, voids of lost memories. Conjuring enemies that sparkled about consuming my favorite friends, leaving nothing so much as a shadow, not even a slight memory of their existence. I slept late into the endless summer days, seeking ways to enjoy my skills, finding friendships with all sorts of cool creatively spiteful creatures, whom I conquered, and divided, sorting the good from the bad. For I willed all that was available, until one day I made a very bad miss judgment, I allowed them to prepare and take part in the developments of my minds eyes, my factory of evils existence, opening the doorways into both the comings and goings of those whom belong left alone, demons. To perceive complete villages of miniature companions, elfs with fairies; complete families having all the attributes of my own family. Thus many little personalities, little mean ones, little bad ones, and soon all the good ones ran away, for I had more fun with the bad ones, they played the most trickery. Although I made them up, they would create or evolve into special little characters that would take off, growing into gremlins & ghouls controlling that which they were allowed too, and then some. For instance they would soon be wiser then me, making me defensive, for soon they were real. The funny thing about these little creatures within my mind was the fact that they could train each other, prepare conflicts of war, thus waging against the tiny little families. They would collectively go about gathering elves & fairies as too farm them, thus eating them. Building up such desires as to watch the fears of them scared squirming frightfully; a countenance, visages expressed as they were eaten. They paraded around dangling the little fairies upside down spinning them about just before they slowly place them into there jagged jaws, crushing them, squirting bloody splats, displaying them proudly in front of the surviving clans. Colonies forever consumed, lost within my mind I lost all contact with cherished friends, whom were dear and close to my heart, gone forever. The gremlins taken control of my mind, my world, my soul, thus I retreated to regroup and fight back, yet how do I wager a battle, a war within my own minds eye, my own imaginations vivid existence.

I was enchanted, by her smartly dispositions, she was cute in every way, as she was the first to befriend me. Her tiny little smile was no larger than a dime, she had the ability to tickle me, just by her smile. I was lost in funny ways; as soon I would seek her; at first not knowing how she was conjured. The night was eerie, not a star was in the heavens, as I sat there on my bed, wishing that I wasnt alone, I looked outside wishing for a friend, somebody who could help me, help me stay awake, for if I fell asleep then I would miss out, miss the first comings of spring. Then she appeared devilishly she enchanted my every being, I was hypnotized by her delights.

The gathering of the chiefs, the gathering of the clans, her desperately and impatience ways, warned me, for haste would always bring wasteful things, yet I listened to her. She would laugh, enchanting me to follow her to where her family lived, deep inside an old sacred willow tree. As my minds imaginations left little to spare, I followed her, deep into the trees trunk, I could smell musk, mildews from centuries of existence. The center was dimly lit, as a huge bell hung just above my head, it tolls loudly piercing about the inner walls of her secrete chambers, her hermitage. From a far off distance I saw flickering lights, as many more fairies came to greet me, her family. That was when I first met the spiraling collages caused by his eminence, Tommy the Elf, King of the clansmen.

Sati was pleased to invite me into her world, that faraway place inside my minds imagination; she was pleased to introduce me to Tom the Elf King.

Sati was confused, bye and bye I laid immoveable, again I tried to awake, yet I was pinned to my place of rest, next to an old tree, I slept. I could not awake as usual; for whenever I wanted to awake it happened, yet not today, I was forced to sleep and not able to be consciously awoke! I was a mere child of ten simple years, not quite old enough to be anybodies suitor yet still young enough to be a liability, dependent on my uncle Joe. Many years past, for the night would shape shift into daylight, yet I never awoke, as the days turned into months, I laid watching my youth pass by, soon the winters passed as a train, twenty then thirty, soon I sat up, with beard, and wrinkled hands and face. The aged pushed away my health, and my sight was lost too, for I could hardly see much. I stood up as to stretch and suddenly realized, my body was weaken, from time has imposed multitudes of stress, gravity called me closer, I fell back hitting the ground, falling deep into a sleep. She was gone, my mind was sharp as I realized how my youth was forever gone, I laid thinking of her, and how she enchanted me. Sati the pretty little fairy, my quest was to find her, then it happened, laughing, screeching, growling; it was moving out of the shadows. Standing above my old wreck soul, it stared at me smirking, sneering at me, knowing how withered I was, how tired my aged soul has became, the source of evils dwellings has came to collect, it reaching out to lift my body. It scratched me, for something held me down, not allowing it to take me away, it tore my arms to shreds, yanking at me, although it could not have me as of yet. I then realized for what I was doing, I was at war with the gremlins, those trickery games from which I created played from my own minds eyes. I then stood up, pronouncing my own willed strength, the powers that be, I forced it back into the shadows, and willed myself into a strong fighting warrior, the King that I shall be, has returned to fight.

The second time I sensed her, was whenever I rose to inherit my kingdoms, all the glories and foes that which becomes any realms within my mindscapes, Sati was center of my attentions, she the enchantress. My adult life has been quite boring for somewhere I lost the ability to create such exciting places, to conquer many mysterious battles, those of the forces that be. Yet somewhere they all still existed, for just recently they returned, such was the frightening feeling that it plays tricks; moving about things, hiding stuff, causing confusion about my awaken hours. I was intrigued as to the simple facts willed by youthful frolics, imaginary friends whom entertained me, spicing my youthful afternoons, have returned. Once upon a time, as all good stories have began, there she was sitting on the shelf, legs crossed, smiling at me, her demure cleansed, as her youthful ways once again enchanted my desire to play; once again to find those places hidden away for so long, just to visit her, just to spend restless evening about sparing nothing towards the glories, a place I found within her magical world. At a price which I was willingly led to pay, unknown to me she was asking for my soul, to be taken back into the realms deep within the willow tree. I had not even begun to choose my intent, as soon I found myself taken away, exciting passions from years ago. I willed the dangers closer, as I was once again just in front of the grand entrance, for I knew if I entered that place I could quite possible never return. Slowly I entered, as the bell tolls, I seek about looking for my subjects, which nothing brightened me, for I was once again teased, and tricked by it, those ghouls had me, this time they planned to eat me. I was taken and chained to a bed, as displays of ghouls and gremlins devoured the simple subjects of my kingdom, torching each for my despair. The tides of choice,

ebbs curling about, and my minds evils had powers unknown for the good has been eaten as strength encompassed the victors; I lay chained within my own insanity. The fires of hell have burned intensifying the souls from which I have toyed about, unleashing these beasts from deep within my own creative subjects, as this is where the uncontrolled are kept. To be selfishly displayed, toyed with, as the unseen are wildly uncovered to charismatically scare the weak hearted souls, for I have. Now Im with those whom I have always wanted to be with, watching continually those subjects, crushed by the mouths of decadence. TOM CHACON Sept.18-07

Lightening Strikes,
We are able to truly know who we are; by what others think of our friends. When the skies open up, lightening strikes someones heart forever; leaving a hunger for something else, never satisfying the desires of love, only leaving hungry eyes. Time is liken to love, the harder you hang on to it the slower it gets, thus thinking of the past ages you faster. My younger years of success was nothing more than taking advantage of an opportunity. Therefore I learned the hard way; leave sleeping dogs lay, because the dead cannot breed the living; so I learned not to dig up bones. Just another day, we all have tried to catch up to her, she is much stronger then we are; she is a Saber. I knew that she was special the first time I met her, she had the eyes of a cat, and she knew I would fall in love with her, just as planned. Again we proceed, diligently I follow her scent, the blood stains are left every where she roams; she is deadly, spiteful and possess an unwilling hunger. Her scent has been noticed, she is in heat, and needs to breed and I am adding to her temperament. I shot into her twice, not knowing the extent of the damage. I think she is slowing down, although she is smart, maybe setting a trap, to lead me into her lair.

The sun has set far behind the mountains, and the desert is dry, for all these trees around here are old, thousands of years old, I have no place to hide, only rocks and crevices to crotch down into. The air is stale, and yet her scents of passion is everywhere; I lose my sense if direction, she must be close by, for the moonlight is full, only one cloud in the sky, miles away, I hear something! The sounds are approaching towards me, I look up turning my head around, and it is her! She is so beautiful, yet I know she will kill me once I sleep with her. I could hardly wait, I have been absorbing her scent for days, and desperation engulfs me. She leaps towards me, and we wrestle for a bit, then she lets me access her, she enjoys the moments, passing moment by moment, I too indulge myself, not caring about my fate. She swiftly turns around exposing her wounds, I have delivered two mortally displaced wounds, and I feel saddened knowing I have injured her. My only attempt was to catch her and befriend her, so maybe we could live together, just at that moment she claws my back. She whispers to me Hold on tight to your dreams Tom, they are always only a day away, and a nights moment then she bites hard into my flesh. Pussy licker is the last things he said to me; just before I left the bar, he knew most of the chicks, and he knew how I was, her name was Sandy. We were talking about a road trip, to just leave and travel over the

mountains far away from this place. Sandy was not from around here, but her type and style was nothing new, she has all the right moves, says all the right stuff, and could paralyze the best of players; with just one wink. Joe Padilla, the players player, my best friend for ten years or so, he knew too much about everybody, especially strangers, they were the easiest for him to figure out. He taught most of us the tricks these chicks play, like bait and switch, or whos lie is it now, all the original one liners. Joe liked to watch the games people played; most of the time he would write books on the characters; reliving their adventures, recreating their fantasies. He got so good at people watching that he could predict their next move. Couples that were dating, anybody any crowd, he knew the games people would play on each other, watching from across the room. When he seen Sandy he called me and said that she was worth the trip over to the Hide Away; a local biker bar, home away from home.

My body has become comatose and it feels so good, the life-force is depleted, and I feel so relieved, yet my vision is almost gone. I could smell her fragrant change, as she is completing the task, anger engrosses her demur. The faint chance that she will let me go is forever forgotten, once she begins to consume me, the impending actions of loves ritualistic games begin, starting with my brains. The encapsulating demands she imposes by telepathic forces, controlling my primordial senses developed into a causeway that emerged into a powerful trance. A hypnotic trance induced by our mutual lust; only two within this mental state of engagement could reach. Vaguely my pulse is withering away, I feel hers gaining strength, as I relieve all my love into her, she has taken my live, mentally and now physically. We both lay pleased with our successes. Two days and three nights, I lay barely alive, as she licks my wounds, she is indecisive, she has made her first mistake, and she is in love. Something a Saber is incapable of, she has willed to me, for me to survive, leaving only one option for me, to kill her once my strength returns. Her fear of me is tormenting her, if only she would believe in me, she would not have to fear me, but she could never understand me. She only understands what has happened, that unexplained paradox where a female Saber could deeply care for another, and bear their child. The sudden ending of her kind has started the total annihilation, she imposed upon her breed. The threat of instinctive destruction, her acceptance of having me, the moment she conceived my male child. She must let me survive to raise it my own way, in the ways of my kind, with my own traits to our son. A powerful being such as myself, the first to conquer and break the centuries old ritual, to penetrate the mind of a Saber, into believing in such a fallacy of love. Yet her wisdom precedes her, she withdrew from me, thus the natural chain reaction. Her ruining away leads me to follow, thus the scents I absorbed posses my own psychic, to chase, mate and then kill. Two more nights, I lay wounded, my ankle is sprung, and I sense that she has changed her mind, my ability to defend myself is not worth the fight, and she is bored with my inabilities. I must try to make her believe in me, that Im still powerful, and only temporally wounded. As she prances, eagerly displaying her strength, she starts to show signs of a threat; I mimic her, inducing a challenge, we engage. Then as the lust rekindles, we find each others anger stimulating, soon we are purring next to each other resting after another quest; one we both felt as a control factor, the strongest will survive, that is the rule in the jungle.

Sandy struts right pass me, ignoring my direct eye contact, an obvious trait meaning she is either pissed off or cannot control her composer, my last comment to her was meant as a complement, how did she take it? I look back at Joe, he seen everything and is laughing, what did I miss, how come she snuffed me, she is ridiculously mad about me or she dislikes me completely. I wait patiently for her to return, then after few minutes she walks back over to me, Tom lets get out of here, right fucking now or forget getting laid tonight I hold her hand as we walk outside the bar, Joe knows what happened, and signals me, waving good bye. We get on my bike, it is next to Joes, as she ask me to take her for a ride up to the beach, I say alright lets go. Sunset Boulevard is ugly this time of day, traffic takes command of everyone, and soon I reach Ocean blvd. Then we proceed to the Santa Monica pier. When we get there I see that Wapato and Greg are prowling around, pushing dope, the Somas, the night trips are on their way. Sandy asks me if I knew those two guys; of course I did they were, a major part of my crew. We hanged out at most of the local bars, and went to most of the street parties, all sorts including the street races. They liked the Rainbow, or the Roxy on sunset, hard rockers from the seventies. We delivered most of the hard stuff, for we knew almost everybody, at the street scenes, that is of course the people who liked. We cop some hits and walked along the beach, the waves were just as perfect as she was, the sunset added to her beauty, behind her was a ship passing by, about two miles out at sea. The day was almost over, as the city lights began to turn on, a strange magic covers me, as she reaches over to kiss me. I ask her if she would go on a road trip with me, we agree to go visit old friends of mine in Oregon. The sunshine, the wind blowing into our face, this is why I ride, my girl on back, and my buds preparing a welcoming party, like only Mike V. can. All points and direction leads us towards Madras, Oregon, the Rock House, my home for five years.

The first day we end up taking the HWY 101, along the coast heading first to San Jose. Joey and Lisa road along with us, they have family and friends that live there. All of us enjoy the freedom of picking up stakes and just heading north; somebody called Lisa and suggested that detour into Monterey, for some Somas. The Ace of Spades, Keith Paine, the first time we seen him he was surfing the Monterey Bay, he was well known throughout the beach cities, Half-moon Bay, Santa Cruz, Venice, Playa Del Rey, La Jolla, you name it he partied there. We met his crew in Jalama Point, they lived there. They would ride along the coast camping and surfing, that was there life, and I should mention his closest friend The Dog, Gary Humphrey. These two guys had more angles then sin; it showed because they had the knack that allowed them to escape the grip of the law, so many times. Me and Sandy loved the idea of being renegades, so we hung with this crew for awhile, they were a little more than surfers, they did jobs, odd jobs that taken us to the next level,

things we found more exciting then drugs. These guys were born to raise hell, and take all on comers, that is when the games began. Sandy and I made a pack that whatever happens we would always have each others back. That night at Jalama beach we all drank until the sun came up, talking of past experiences, that is when they decided to check Oregon out, our team just turned into a crew. It is time to play the game, follow my rules and you survive, it is all about the game, and how to win. The riders all agreed to spend some time in San Jose, the Mongols, ran that town; they were arch enemies of the Hells Angels, yet we all knew each others next moves if any colors that flew, they were only flying out side of certain areas. Its all about the game, and whos going to make it, look over your shoulder and try to figure out who is involved, never sleep among friends without someone watching you, your closet friends will take you down, that is the game. You know you cant pay me but you know that you cant take me, those are the rules, for you will have to pay, just who and when that is totally up to you. Slipping once is not accepted, life is cheap among the dying, and every one on dope accepts death. For with the eyes open we are covered, for there is plenty of time for darkness, sleep is not of this place, when we have a need for speed.

My boots fly, gliding inches from the pavement, wingless creatures reaching speeds over a hundred miles per hour, Sandys red boots are a crystal complement to mine, they are only inches from the road, as her thighs wrap comfortably around my hips, we are as one with this bike. Her breast keep me warm, and her arms message me as I drive for hours, only stopping for fuel. This crew is now official, we are cruising into Mike Vs motel, the Rock House, fifteen bikes strong, and six loaded guns that I know of, this is nothing new to Mike V. We had over two hundred bikers at any one time stopping to cop, score or deliver, that is the life we live. Mike V. is the only other friend besides Sandy that I trust; I still have to prove this crew Keith and the Dog. We think about each other constantly, as the plans change moment by moment, Sandy has a way of thinking for me; her attitude is we are one. The last two weeks on the road have been quite amazing, yet we never expected to ride with a heavy crew such as the Wizards, hard core dope feigns, that is what we live for.

IN THE MIND LIVES THE WORLD, THE ONLY PLACE FOR US IS WITH THE CREW The sky is full of protection, bats everywhere waiting to consume the weak, those who are scared to accept the rules of the game, flinch under pressure and you die an ugly death, time to play the game. Headless spirits choking from memories of one simple mistake, forever lost in time, lonely are the wicked. The first night at the Rock House was cool, I got my room 103, corner to the road, and the only room with a back window. These rooms are made of brick, bullet riddled walls from years of drug deals; if only these walls could talk, I would spend allot of time listening to myself con the best cons, stealing what is right. My theory is if we all agreed upon something then we all agreed to take it down, at all cost a mans word means something. Honor among the crew, those are the basic ethics, if we decide to take some down , that is what happens, if accepted by the crew it was worth the take. The meeting with Mike and Keith went with out a hitch, the next night was totally different, the whole crew bonded, two rivals showed up unexpectedly mingling with the girls that was alright. Although Mike V. figured they owed something from the past, time to collect the death certificate from a rider twelve years ago. Nobody seemed to care about the beating those guys got, they only wanted to see the bosses work together, security in numbers, that was rule number two, the game continues, as three weeks pass, and the party is just beginning, another delivery is expected. Mike looks at me and says Joker bring the tool, meet me out back, its on! I know what is on, as I see two shadows, behind Keith and the Dog, Mike walks up in front of them, What the fuck is happening Ace, The Dog needs to cover your back better. Just then a gun fires off, small caliber 38 special, one of the shadows drop, I fire my glock at the other, somebody turns on the headlights, and I see that our company just turned into our enemies. Mike and Keith run behind a large tree; they fire at the vehicle as the wounded man is carried into the old pickup truck. The Dog is hit twice on the leg and Im fired upon; brazed my shoulder. As they sped off down the highway, Sandy and Anita came running out side, expecting the worst, they too were packing, everything is soon under control, and we have a beer, to settle down, laughing at our take.

The excitement is just begging for more drama, as less than an hour a drunk biker skids in front of the motel, off the highway and hits a tree, he stands up not knowing that his head is split wide open; as he falls forward he waves, he is dead before he hits the ground; the coroner told the ambulance driver that the poor white trash biker was so high that he never sensed the pain. The Rock House always had drama, the local Cops only came with the County Sheriffs, due to the fact Cops werent liked up on the hill. Evolution created these scenes, time has created the mob, and the mob has created the crews, for within the crews we survive, loners always die alone. We all have two riders, one is our girl, the other rides on our shoulder, ever watching, ever deceiving the minds eyes, for death is our only friend, to keep him happy we stayed high. That night I made love to her, so passionately that we exploded, into colorful visions of lust, the drug induced sex was hard to repeat, our mutual acceptance of our crew, the crazy mind fuck games, the creed we all believed in. Truth to the most realist of peoples, any society of social structures would have to rethink the pubic opinions of our life styles, fast bikes, and faster women, that was the precursor of the following years to come, our early years, before the hard core Street Races.

TOM CHACON

AUG-6-07 09.

THE END IS NEAR,

As I swiftly walk along the cliffs, the wind blows consistently onto my face, and the warmth covers my blood soaked body. I look back thinking that I could have beaten that panther, yet she was too much for me. Im lucky I could still see, all that has happened to me since she tried to mate; her wanting made me even hungrier, the taste of her blood is still lingering on my tongue, stench fills my nostrils. Fortune has passed my way again, as I limp into crashing waves of destiny, my whole soul is relieved knowing she has to carry my memories deep inside her womb. I stop to pick up the tattered pieces of my flesh dangling loosely next to my knees, I look at the coagulated patches; the wounds inflected by her fever, passionately I grin. My paws are huge, two chipped claws and a torn ear; my rewards from her allowance to spare my life. The sounds of moans echo deep within the jungle, she is advancing towards me, I sense she is near as the air is stale and the winds have blown her sweet aroma, suddenly all at once, vivid memories of her; good feelings are passing thru me, consuming every thought, her strength imposed such pleasurable feelings, yet painful. Yet the wanting I still have for her shoots thru my body as a bullet, and then round two begins. Two summers have passed since I seen or heard the bitch, and now I have many reasons to just let her memories pass as the days and nights have, forever to be left behind in my minds quite places. My right claw is permanently damaged, and now my tooth is chipped, me the Saber, king of these forests, wounded by passion, my ego has needs that cannot be repaired, twilights approaching soon. The longest days of this year are gone; the solstice has brought fresh wanting; this fall I shall enjoy new company, I will not be lonely anymore

The wretch has conjured war, My time is limited, for the pains of knowledge have a price, to consume the waves of experience, aligning all that is needed to use, faculties working all my defenses, the battle with her is on. My superiority tactics and plan of attack, will be, as we say in the Navy, It is a fine Navy day, No slack in the silent Attack! The will power is available to all that use it; to be willed is a glorious revelation. All, whom listen to my words, shall prove to be happy; the power to erase the enemies course, to lead them into the abyss, curiosity is for the young. Wiseman have died, never to notice the golden flakes, the golden thoughts, the ability to read all that is in front of you, the fallen leafs, of the human PSYCHE, tell, tell signs, everybody shows them, to see behind the curtains, what a wonderful talent, the human body is limited yes, but unlimited as far as his ability to create, innovation, is our strongest weapon, gracefully we shall conquer that human weakness, emotions. So Rukhs help, is the evaluation of the sub-conscious mind, a daily venture, to see inside the matrix, our lyceum of beliefs, and a storehouse of informational power. Terra strata - stepping stones in life, Lift the self by the self, and dont let the self-drop down, for the self is the selfs only friend, and the self is the selfs only foe Trigg is preparing the psyche, only the mind can exercise in my sleep. Leafs, fall below the branchs, to mix with Rukhs benevolent golden flakes, alchemistic, derived by the mighty Odin. Rukh continues to sprinkle serious in his actions, the trails are followed closely by the lucid thoughts, the grabbers of greed, yet they rest in a snare, never to be shared. Rukh! Can you her me, Im calling out to you, can you hear me, Im in need, your help is willed, I speak your language! tabula rasa Yes, Tomas, Im hear you, where have you been? Ive searched the deepest parts of the psyche, with no success, how can I assist you? What are your needs? Flashings of lighting bolts, static electrical storms, and the sky are illuminated, as thousands of gargoyles, fly towards me. The caves of the southern hemisphere open up there wrath, that which has been hidden for eons, monstrous beasts have been released, men whose souls have been casted into dragons, hideous fling bat like creatures, seek me, my death is there command, if thy will be done, such is the kingdom of the southern skys.

Evils of the deep slosh in the murky waters, the stench of carrions, repulsively the Crones odors permeate, the oily lagoons of their lair, as they gather to gossip my fate. Odium is stirring about, seeking the evil serpents of the nether world, calling their forces to build an alliance, for total control of the northern realms. Rukh Im in the clouds of inner space, Trigg has provided me the knowledge to conquer my enemies, the new world is impending certain dangers. Odium has spit out his sickness, upon the lands, I must return to earth, the old world has past and the former things as well, has past with it. Rapax is in control of the wrongful deeds, the darkness from unnatural senses lurk, for the mind can be teased, be aware, of Rapaxs revenge, he is a cheat, a liar, and will continue to pillage your mind, if he succeeds, youll never sleep. Tomas Demophoon the battle has started, many souls need your protection, please return home, screams from earth. See Rukh, the repast of Odium has began and Im not there to protect those that are counting on me! Weapons for the mind, Ideology, men of this old world have fought far centuries, imposing static beliefs of selfish greed, individualism, mass hypnosis, east verses west, the silly yet serious doctrines of cultural traditions, religions, all have hindered the natives of this planet, the beliefs of man made governments, those societies that ignore and neglect the naturalist calls of the wild, thus nature loses, then mankind. Religion, forgot to care for Gaea, yet daily our lives depend on her constant blessings. Tradition, forgot to care for our likeness, the beautiful diversities of mankind, the deliberate pillaging of the weak, in the name of traditional beliefs, capitalism. The eminence cerebration has now awoken, the trivial rhetorical fashions that all the studies of our minds has developed, is interesting, but intelligent comes from the heart, we are born with it, we need to survive, that much dont take brains. Still the majority of people belief that we must follow like sheep, to the slaughterhouse, we cry together, but we dont fight? I have to believe that the choice to survive is an individual quality, innate, our children need us around, the fallen leafs of information, the golden flakes of experiences, only we can relate to our own kids, not the peoples choice, not our current governmental statues. The cessation must begin within your own psyche, your will power to save the peoples of Gaea, the self. Faith, logic, reasoning, stoic, or epicurean attitudes are examples of lifes paradoxes, such as dogmatic issues, all based on canons, various suppositions of formal training. The most important learning is your choices of informal training, that which consists of heroes & poets, the models of success, we yearn to learn, and we watch our favorite models, aspiring to imitate, acting as they do, the strongest do survive. The animal with its head down gets eaten! Xenophobia; thus the oracle has stated to thee, as for the heart, you alone know its awful secrets! To greet the unseen with a sneer Novitiate; Thus the verities are in the hands of our gate keepers, the beholder is the mind, the self is the psyche. Panegyric; everything is small if you are a midget! and you best be getting at the getting place Esoteric; There is one thing in the world more wicked than the desire to command, and that is the will to obey!

Shrewdly the collections of the lyceum are worth the study, Observations of the whole senses the human being is the perfect receptor, in all the senses. Death is nothing to us; for that which is dissolved is devoid of sensation, that which is devoid of sensation is nothing to us We the living Enigma; Nothing that has to do with Faith, can be the concern of the Reason. The history is always written by the winners, the strongest and the most knowledgeable peoples are ones who study. Look around and see what the winners are doing, then follow suit, beware of the loser, you can learn how to survive by watching others die. Armies train very hard before every battle, thus learn your enemies, its not the enemy you fear, because they are watched, it is the ones closest to you, they are the ones to fear, they know what you know.