THE ENCHANTED PRINCE
By A. Jarrell Hayes
Smashwords Edition. Copyright © 2009 by A. Jarrell Hayes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
THE ENCHANTED PRINCE
“It was only a tiny microgap between unconnected tissue … a little cell, perhaps, that failed to form, or died too soon! But it left, forever, a flawed engine, an imperfect instrument, invisible and unsuspected, inside a healthy body.”
From “A Life Force” by Will Eisner
I am an Enchanted Prince:
The empty space in my brain
Is my crown.
My throne is the capsule
I stand upon, balancing chemicals
With justice and law.
Invisible voices are my advisors:
I heed their counsel daily.
They strategized the assault
Against Reality: assimilating the land
Into my realm, and casting my foe,
Genius Intellect into the dungeon
Of my memories.
And for a time there was peace.
But vile raiders from Reality
Sacked my chief city of Fantasy.
They scorched all they saw:
My home, my possessions;
All that they saw!
As this went on, Genius Intellect escaped
And usurped my throne.
Now the denizens of Reality
Co-exist with the citizens of Fantasy;
And with his job completed,
Genius Intellect dispersed
My advisors and handed me
Back my throne, saying
He will be my only advisor.
His peace still reigns,
Yet I forever will be
An Enchanted Prince.
ELECTRONIC DEAD
I live nowhere;
I only haunt
The places I travel.
Am I a rider
Of vengeance?
A tormented soul
Looming only to share
My agony with innocents?
Shed no blood
On my account.
I am only here
To soothe my boredom;
Perhaps find a kindred spirit
To share the afterlife with.
I am a ghost without a shell;
There is nothing holding me together,
Only intangible bonds
Form my outer casing.
Onward I float
Searching for meaning
In the meaningless gobbledygook
Of other ghosts
That don’t know they’re ghosts.
I wonder how they’ll
Take the news
That they are only
Spirits without vessels …
Without hope.
Would their petty pleas
And tiresome complaints
Continue to ooze out their mouths
Like chicle from the sapodilla?
Even if they knew no one alive
Could hear their supplications,
And that ghosts offer little
Or no consolation,
Would their lamentations persist?
I may be a ghost,
But I am not totally heartless.
I’ll let them continue undisturbed
In their afterlife,
Not knowing they are merely
Apparitions,
Specters of the dead,
Oblivious of their demise.
NIGHTMARES
Sing ballads of nightmares,
Strong and true;
Booming melody,
Peaceful tune.
Living legends,
Creatures of dark
Delight;
Howling snow storms,
Moon lit fright.
Sleep with three eyes,
While cycloptic foes
Terrorize Odysseus,
Bringing him woes.
The haunted is greater
Than the peaceful rest;
You wake-up more alert
When covered in sweat.
TOILET BOWL CONFESSIONS
It feels good to be cleansed;
To relieve myself from the
Infestation
Of waste. Solid, liquid, and gaseous
Waste expel from my bowels,
My bladder,
My soul,
And I sigh in relief, like a prisoner
Being released from bondage.
When I eat fiber, and my bowels
Move effortlessly, like a solid
Waterfall, my face shines with joy;
It is the mass consumption of cheese
That makes this world constipated;
Struggling to force out
The foulness that fouls our lives.
Our leaders cut the cheese and
Feed it daily to us; like fools
We greedily devour the
Government cheese, blocking up our bowels;
Allowing our feces to grow inside us
Until we begin to revere
Our own waste, the fertilizer
For the fall of Western civilization.
SUICIDE IN SCIENCE’S NAME
Today is the day
That I have decided
To no longer live.
Truth is
That no man knows
The day he will die;
The truth is
That I am a scientist.
This life I live is
To gain knowledge of every-
Thing in the universe:
The wisdom to defeat God.
The last thing I need
To know to complete my
Tiring quest to know all is
To die.
Today is the day
That I have decided
To die.
TEDDY BEAR PICNIC
Teddy bears have cold eyes,
Silently stalking children in their dreams.
Filled with nightmarish screams,
The children rise to the bears’
Glee.
The teddy bear feasts on fear,
Which is why they are used
As comfort tools against the
Fright of their sustenance.
Their comfy exteriors
Only disguises their dark designs.
They suck out joy and
Dine on terror,
Absorbing hysteria in their blood,
Like insulin shots for diabetics.
CLOCK STOP
I still move even though
It stopped.
If my clock is time,
And the hands cease to
Move, then my body,
My conscious soul,
Is beyond time, like a
God in heaven.
When I cease movement,
And the seconds tick away,
I have used my god-like
Abilities to allow myself to
Be free from time’s
Choke-hold.
Time, just like my existence,
Is only in my mind.
SIN AND DEMONS
Depressed in gloom;
Swallowed by a pit.
Sucked into a chasm;
Dragged inside the abyss.
Shiny rivers float in the sky;
Dragon breath reigns below.
Dancing cherubim leap between stars,
Sowing seeds of serenity.
Dangling between two extremes,
Straddled with no safe ground;
Doomed to be a serpent’s meal, I
Stand unshaken by fear.
Sanctuary I sought and found;
Demons best beware.
Screaming voices are now
Drowned in the blood I choke on.
FORCEFUL
The same life force
That gave rise to the
Cockroach Empire
Compels humans
To scratch and steal
An existence in this world.
A life force,
Unseen and mute,
Guides us to shun death
And embrace life.
But this life
We are to cherish
Is as mysterious
As this life force.
Form without meaning
Is useless.
Life without meaning
Is the cockroach’s share.
I am here!
I have a purpose;
Otherwise, I am just
Another cockroach.
THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS
SLOTHFULNESS
Sit there in your own filth; too
Lazy to stand trial for your
Own self. Before you mounds of
Tasks in life, left undone, reach
High into heaven, and cry
For the removal of gifts
Uselessly given to you.
Let the pile come crashing down!
No god or man could
Express the error of your
Sin better than having life
Slowly seep from your stiff hands.
LUST
Let your dark desires roam
Unchecked and freely in this
Sinful and sick world. We live
Twisted and destroyed by lust.
ENVY
Everything you have I want.
Nothing you have you deserve.
Vengeance shall be mind when I
Yank all your blessings from you.
PRIDE
Put me before the fall; I’ll
Ride away unharmed, because
Immortality I’ve gained
Doing feats that no other
Earthbound mortal could perform.
COVETOUSNESS
Come to me; I desire
Only everything I see:
Virgins and wives and houses –
Everything! Properties and
Tomes of knowledge, rare metals,
Organic matter, even
Useless stuff. My desire
Stabs at my heart and I cry.
Nothing should be outside my
Embrace. I will not fail in
Securing what I covet;
Sin be damned! I’ll have heaven!
ANGER
Another day is just the
Next opportunity to
Get frustrated, to become
Enraged beyond any real
Reconciliation. Argh!!!
GLUTTONY
Give it to me all! And please,
Leave no pantry, no cupboard
Untouched. Give me chips, give me
Tasty cakes. Give me roast meats, and
Treats sugary and divine.
Offer a feast and I’ll
Not only accept, but eat
Your meal all by my lonesome.
WHAT SPIRITS DWELL HERE?
The old castle has been standing
For ages, since the first landing
Of the Invaders. The castle protected
Us then. The old king had erected
It for that purpose. But that was in
The past. Centuries ago was when
That era ended. And now I travel
To that grand, ancient castle
Of my ancestors. That treasure cove
Of knowledge, and wisdom, and love.
And death. Legends say that ghosts
Live in the highest towers. These hosts
Of the netherworld patrol their home
When unwanted visitors come
Into their domain. If that is true,
Which I think it is not, then the rule
States that I can enter. For you see,
I am heir to the castle of my ancestry.
The ghosts better be prepared to let
Me in, for I will feel no regret
In expelling them into the drear.
Still, I wonder, what spirits dwell here?
Are these ghosts friendly?
Are they mischievous and deadly?
Or are they playful and happy?
I will find out with the moon;
Am I heading towards my doom?
A risen rock, reflecting light;
O! how I love the night!
I stroll through mist not formed by nature,
Through forests deep. How I picture
The grandeur of my birthright shall be!
Yet my vision is not reality.
This ancient castle that I find
Is covered and hidden underneath vines;
Masked from all eyes to see.
I cursed the foolishness of my ancestry.
How could they let such a tool go to waste?
Filled with anger I made haste
To at least reach the iron gates
And step into the world of lost fates.
The castle had not one candle glowing;
The air was stale and not freely flowing.
I found a torch and set it ablaze.
I viewed my home through its haze.
It wasn’t half bad, though it needed renovations.
Maybe I should spruce up its sanitation.
Without hesitation I searched for the tower
Where the ghosts maintain their power.
As I walked, wicked laughter filled my ear,
And I asked aloud, “What spirits dwell here?”
Silence fell, no one answered my call.
I continued to move, not wanting to stall.
I found the stair that led to the tower
As an ancient clocked chimed the 13th hour.
In the damp air there was a chill.
It forced me to shiver against my will.
I desperately tried to remain brave,
Because fear is a scent for those beyond the grave.
Lights flashed, and there were drums in the sky,
The hail dropped, and I thought I’d die.
A sinister laugh I heard very near,
And I asked it, “What spirits dwell here?”
The voice chuckled as it made its reply:
“We are the spirits that refused to cry
For mercy when our minds were split.
We are the ones considered the world’s shit.”
I nodded in response to the voice,
Realizing that I had made the same choice
Before I fled to this old
Castle. The tower became intensely cold
And more damp. My hair became heavy and wet.
And that was when the ghosts crept
Closer to me, smelling my fear.
I cried aloud, “What spirits dwell here?”
From out the mist, a ghost rose without a head.
It spoke: “We are the spirits of the dead!”
The thunder roared, the lightning flashed,
And at that instant my life turned to ash.
I knew why I went to that castle so old.
For, you see, that castle is my final abode.
DARK MAGUS
INTRO
I sit at my desk
To pin such things never seen,
Only felt in the realm of
Consciousness.
This instance struck me with
Such ferocity that I hastened to
My room to put what I felt into
Words; though language fails me there.
O memory! The file cabinet of sensation!
Give me strength to recall
The sweet pleasantries and
Melancholy sorrow!
O! how I loathed and loved;
Made peace and instigated war;
Nurtured and destroyed.
Close your eyes, my friend.
Close your eyes so the Dark Magus
Can be born again.
PART ONE
… And so she stands, as
Glorious as the sun.
Such beauty and elegance
Man could not afford
To disregard.
Down from Heaven fell a bard,
Leaving testament to her ethereal beauty.
The downfall of many man and
Many kingdoms comes from such
A creature; my number added
Amongst the millions.
So she sits,
And I sit by her side;
Wooing her with words and lies
With my hand and eyes.
I gain favor with her;
Though the digits to her heart I
Dialed a week later.
This week did not weaken
Nor did it slacken
Such strong mutual affection.
Love blossomed, the love
That invalidates all reason.
In two weeks we were engaged;
Another month later, wed.
Such powerful desires swelled
My loins and head
That she and I were locked in
Passion all night on
Our wedding bed.
PART TWO
Ah! I remember the rush
Of flaming rivers;
The birth and death of a
Thousand beings well!
The taste of the sweet
Nectar she produced
Lingers still on my tongue.
A powerful sexual and
Sensual love we shared;
A boy the product of
Such actions.
The boy had all of my name, but
Was filled with the blood of his mother.
For this Dark Magus, whore
Of seduction, has placed a spell
On my heir, to forever loathe
His name and curse his sire.
PART THREE
At the end of the river’s affair
Lies a fall.
Such was the case when
Love between man and wife
Ceased to flow; frozen stiff
By lust.
As it happened to be, her
Womanly pheromones
Attracted another male
To rob from me both
Her attention and affection.
Not only from her, but
The baby boy, also.
Yet he was too young
To perceive her
Future deceits.
And so a single
Father I became,
Though married;
Knowing my wife’s betrayal.
When annulment became an
Option, anger became her offspring,
Falsehoods her scion.
So detained was I
For the beatings of her lover.
The prosecution rests,
And now another
Lives in the house I
Provide. Parental right
Is expunged,
Dirty laundry hung,
And the fate of a son
Is later decided.
CONCLUSION
It has been told, in ages past,
How the wheel of Fortune spins,
At last, for the rich and powerful.
But they failed to understand
That the hourglass of the rich is
A lifetime; the hourglass for the
Poor less than an hour.
Such atrocity plagues us all,
But more frequent is the common man’s
Minimal fall,
Compared to the gigantic leap
Of the wealthy.
Regardless of the distance travelled,
The plunge did unravel
My common sense.
And blood and madness blinded
My vision, staining my memory
With a dark note and story.
CRAZY ON YOU
The phrase echoes
In his memory,
In his mind.
Past actions
Become future
Reminders.
Nobody has
Your back;
Not even family.
“Watch out;
He’ll go crazy,
Crazy on you.”
That’s the familiar phrase
That sets him in a rage.
He’ll be what
They expect,
Though it is only
His doppelganger
They witness.
“Watch out;
He’ll go crazy,
Crazy on you.”
LAUGHTER OF TEARS
It was humorous to the point of hubris...
Or, at least I thought so. And who am I?
The irony hunter; a forbidden game –
Like those who are ivory hunters.
I hold myself too high; my illness allows
Me to do so. And the cost?
Death by separation.
The suffocation
Of my social lungs,
Caused by mental capabilities,
Made me choke on my unrequited love.
I thought you had to love me
Simply because I am I.
But you don't, so I cried...
And now I laugh!
Yes ... it was hubris to the point of being humorous.
DEATH IS BEAUTIFUL
I shuttered when the wind blessed
Me with life, because I knew that
The wind had somewhere else to go.
Thus, I learned of mankind, though I
Was born of the flesh. And so not
A day goes by that I do not
Remember how I was blessed, or cursed,
Depending on how I feel. My life is a
Speck of time; and time is nothing.
Thus, it is futile for me to remain
As I am when the nothingness of life
Brings upon the fullness of death.
Therefore, as I speed closer to the
Beauty of death, I must array this
Gloomy life with happiness and joy.
Such is the way when the north wind
Brings the pure wintry snow to the
Chaotic season of summer.
ALCOHOL
Another day, another drink.
Liquid remorse for actions;
Calling all breweries:
Open the flood gates.
Happily drowning in
Oncoming traffic, until the setting of the
Light.
THE DIONYSUS CONNECTION
My head is so heavy
It is crushing my chest.
It needs to be perked up,
For it cannot remain erect.
Yet the perkiness of intelligence
Is lost in a cloudy mist.
And the migraine I endure
Is brought by Bacchus’ fist.
But the connection does not end there.
I awake to a dream-like setting,
Full of a web of blond hair
That bears Dionysus’ familiar smell,
And the body lying next to me
Is sweet to sniff, warm to touch,
But cold to my memory.
Yet the connection between last night
And this morning is made complete.
SELF-DENIAL
Who can tell me I am wrong?
Is your way of life
The model for me to live?
I think not,
Because I see gaps
In mortality
And sink holes
Where you made mistakes.
If I listen to you, I deny myself.
And I live! I breathe!
To deny my life
Would mean
To lie to the world,
And heaven above,
And hell below.
But to continue
In foolish,
Self-destructive
Behavior
Only justifies
Their case against
My sanity.
FACE OF A GUN
I tried to warn him of this:
Fast lane leads fast
To your death.
But he thought he’ll never miss.
“Sorry” was last
On his breath.
Tough love and tough guy syndrome –
His vice and virtue.
Life is fun.
Things were falling down at home.
His son lacked nurture.
But all he
Ever listened to
Was the cold face of a gun.
One day, the gun spoke.
JUST A THOUGHT
My brain can fathom
No decent reason
To continue functioning;
Being nothing more
Than a mere drone
In a world of madness.
How shall I end
This suffering?
I could play a samurai,
A warrior’s proud son,
And in a religious rite
Gut myself like a
Newly caught fish.
Or perhaps imagine
Myself a heartbroken teen,
Of emo-trend,
And slice my wrist
While in the bath tub
Staring at a photo
Of an unrequited love.
Maybe I’ll commit suicide
As a hero,
Dashing in front of a
Speeding truck
To save a wayward child.
Another option is to leap
From the top of Wall Street,
Like those who lost fortunes
By gambling on crashing stocks.
A less painful choice
Could be to go out
As a drug addict,
Too doped up to realize
That as the calming pleasures
Of the drug courses through
My veins, attacking my body,
Like some malevolent virus,
The vision of a peaceful pasture
Is really the Elysian Fields.
Or I could take
The simple and direct
Approach:
Gunshot wound
To the head.
That way, my brain
Will be first to feel
The results
Of its depressing thoughts,
Making permanent judgments
For temporary problems.
ROOM WITH A VIEW
Lively jingles jiggle
Outside my window,
Teasing me with gyrations
That tell a story
I cannot interpret.
So I sit confused
And mockingly stare;
Patronizing myself with
Doubts.
In anger and
Frustration,
I slam the shutters
SHUT!
RANDOMODERATIONS
So sing such
Melodies, mostly
For fawns. Forget
The thrashing tigers
Dancing dawn’s
Ritual.
We wean whelps
In
Heaps, hoping
To teach time
About abundance.
But better
We would
Serve seniors
And amateurs
In incantations
Of
Randomness.
A PERFECTLY WEIRD WORLD
There really is no use
Attempting to make sense of it all.
Priests may pray,
Philosophers still rant,
Sociologists examine,
And psychiatrists diagnose,
But they’ll never understand.
We are all individuals –
Even twins share not
The same essence –
We are each unique,
Strangers left alone
In a similarly
Perfectly weird world.
Judge me not,
For my mind
And my life
Are my own.
Your authoritative
Jurisdiction is
Limited to your first path;
Do not place your blunders
Upon me. The choices
I make are perfect
For me, and they make
Who I am a
Reality.
You can’t understand me,
So don’t even try.
Just let me live my life
Until I die.
If I can do that,
I’ll have no regrets.
Don’t waste your energy
Converting a lost race;
Simply be content
To live within
A perfectly weird world.
THE DRUGS DON’T WORK
For the craft
To last
I need the final laugh.
Ha, ha, ha!
Ha, ha!
The sadness falls,
Imagined and unreal,
Full of worlds to unfurl,
Phrases to unwind.
This cocoon of depression
Incubates,
While happiness freezes,
Imagination
And schizophrenic visions.
This dimension of darkness
Is where my third eye truly sees.
WHEN I SMILE
Distance shrinks,
And watchdogs think
When I smile.
Cardboard trees,
On suicide watch,
Leap into fire
When I smile.
People haunt ghosts,
Sending them crashing
Into one another
In drunken flight
When I smile.
Intoxication and death,
Servitude and foolishness
Are one and the same
When I smile.
NURTURING
It’s easy to grow tired of living,
But the end is far reaching.
A broken heart may give up
But the lungs still catch breath.
Evolution’s instinct, the survival gene,
Is dominant in despair.
I recede to an amoeba,
Blobby and moving with a
Method to the madness of
Single-cell life.
Pieces I feast on are the
Waste of another’s joy.
But it nurtures me
Out of depression.
ABOUT THE POET
A. Jarrell Hayes writes poetry and fiction. His latest collection of poetry is the chapbook To Woman, From Man: Love Poems.
All of his books are available online at his website www.ajhayes.com.
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