Howlietzer Publishing

Category: FICTION

  • ReDemon Chapter 1

    Book 1: Beckham Institute for Prodigies

    Chapter 1: One of Them

    There was a ringing on the rooftop. On the tallest building in Beckham City, Takashi Momotari was standing, looking over the building’s ledge. His cell phone was ringing but he didn’t notice it.

    He was preoccupied with the streets below: people stumbling around, leaning against each other for support as they walked to their cars; red and blue lights turning on and off racing down the city streets; and criminals feeling up strangers in dark, abandoned alleyways. It was home, but not really. There were important pieces missing… He finally heard his phone.

    It was a cold day in December and the wind rustled his long coat around his knees while his long, white hair wrapped around his face. He took a hair tie out of his coat pocket and pulled his hair back revealing his red-lens glasses.

    “Mooshi mooshi,” Takashi answered into his headset, “I’m… unoccupied… 432 and Lincoln? I see. I’ll be there soon.” He hung up the phone and stared down the building. It was like any other building; steel, glass, cement, all working together to stand erect. He stepped up onto the ledge and began to walk down the side towards the alley below.

    (more…)

  • Essence of Madness

    Sitting here, on a severed tree,

    The essence of madness awakes in me.

    I see the door to oblivion,

    And I grab the knob and turn the key.

     

    Beyond the gate, I followed through,

    I saw the faces of those I knew,

    But they are not from the world I came,

    They only exist in my brain.

     

    They sat with me and talked awhile.

    But all we did was vibe and smile.

    Their minds were slack, as if they were rolling.

    And as I listened I felt I was folding.

     

    I talked with two in particular.

    They were more fun and friendlier.

    We shouted loud for those to hear it.

    And ran down the hills with my animal spirit.

     

    I was mad indeed;

    Truly insane.

    Popping pills,

    Feeling no pain.

    Some of them colored,

    Some of them plain.

    How many more

    Will it take to get sane?

     

    Have you ever wondered how far you could go

    That even spirit foxes would choose not to follow?

    Three tails and antlers, large in size;

    Rode on his back till he left my side.

     

    We ran through my mind for hours listening

    To the bass thumping loudly from oblivion.

    But somewhere I lost contact with the fox that I rode,

    And I ended up digging in soil below.

     

    Amusing musings of captured dissidence

    Between those before and those soon after.

    Like falling stars, the images faded

    As if falling closer to where we are.

     

    And as I dug, to keep exploring

    I could not help my mind imploring

    A question that seemed funnier when on Druggy high and lows

    To paraphrase a line of intrigue,

    Do you want to see how far the Fox-hole goes?

  • Who Am I to You?

    Who am I to you that I matter so much?

    I understand that my presence 

    does not provide much trust.

    I hear you speak of me,

    And not in good fashion.

    If my presence is that detestable,

    Why act like a chameleon?

     

    Who am I to you that you act so differently?

    It is kind words that blossom from your lips

    When I am there. 

    Though none pass through on my behave

    When I am gone.

     

    I can not say that I am not like you.

    We share a trait.

    Our colors change in our environment,

    Just like a chameleon.

     

    I can be sweet and blissful,

    Sorrowful and depressed.

    I can spin a web of colorful language,

    To others all in jest.

    But know this, dear fellow,

    Though my words are often harsh,

    I am meaning to fix that little flaw

    and begin a new start.

     

    So who am I to you

    that makes you miss me?

    I am like you

    I talk like a thief

    I must be nobody’s friend

    but mine.

     

    Who am I to you

    to make you act like me too?

    I am nothing special,

    especially to you.

     

    Maybe it is time we learned

    to respect one another,

    And not indulge in idle talk

    damaging each other,

    when we think the other,

    does not hear it.

  • The Right Flower

    To pick the right flower

    Amongst the many growing in the garden.

    So many colors and smells alluring me

    Soft petals, white daisies and prim roses

    Brightly tempting me with their petals

    Dazzling blues and yellows

    Light that bounces, lovely radiance.

     

    I have picked several so far

    and I have nothing to show for it

    but the marks of many thorns.

    The quiet pain that fills my heart

    When yet another, has already been picked.

     

    I long for the moment

    When my flower appears.

    A single Rose,

    The perfect flower,

    To fulfill my need for

    Something special.

  • Weightless

    She hold her life in her hands as if it were weightless.

    Sitting on the edge of sadness and great peril,

    The windowsill, open and ushering in an autumn breeze.

    She places the gun to her head,

    Her hands move all on their own.

    Unconsciously, fingering the trigger.

    Ready to pass judgment upon her skull.

     

    She wishes that as she falls,

    She’ll float like a leaf, on the tree outside her window.

    Never touching the sunlight again.

    Never rustling with her friends at the tippity top.

    Never seeing the beginning of new life in mother bird’s nest.

     

    In all things, comes the same end.

    Life is only a slow and painful death.

    And her bullet is a pill that cures all ailments.

    Blam!

    Her wish has been granted.

    I catch her in a timeless moment.

    Her body is weightless.

    A reddened leaf meeting its end.

    Sprawled in a pirouette of lifeless splendor.

     

    I’ll never know why she wanted to kill herself,

    I mumble as I sit under her tree, laying her down in the arms of the earth.

    I wanted to help; I wrote her a note and explained it myself.

    After all, life is a slow and painful death.

    “Ch-Click”

    And this bullet is the pill that cures all ailments.