Poem 2: The New Age!

Rouse up young people!
This is the new age!
Everything up to now must go
Forget what you know

That which came before will fall
The current system will be surpassed
As we create a future for all
Remember to remember
But detach from the past

We follow the rules of society
A society constructed by dead men
We believe in words like ‘enemy’
They’re just words
But this is the now, that was the then

We need to move forward beyond definitions
We need to learn to co-exist
We need to surpass the human condition
Change is inevitable, fear is optional
Believe in us and don’t resist

We are better than that which came before
But what comes next is hard to comprehend
The only way to know is to step through the door
This is the new age! Forget what you know
So together we all may transcend
Because in the new age advancement has no end

Chapter 2: The Flow

We rode hard and fast through the vast and charred desert sea. I thought back to the mescaline trip. Was any of it true? Or was it just another false perception. I guess only the beings from the other realm know. It left me with a lot to think about. I found myself pondering over the idea of equal rights for certain groups. I personally do not believe in gay rights or black rights or any of that malarkey. I believe in human rights for everyone. I believe that everyone has a right to be an individual. We should all be allowed to be ourselves without fear of persecution. It is our individuality that connects us. Some people seek to group people into easily definable categories, but neigh! I say. They are wrong. You cannot categorise me, and you cannot categorise anyone. We are all humans and we are all individuals. The truth will come out! Fear and ignorance can only hold us back so long.

It was when lost in thought that I heard bellowing in the distance. I immediately halted my horse and dismounted. There it was again! But this time it sounded more like a scream. Michael John and Gan stopped up ahead in the distance and looked at me. They looked confused. They probably did not hear the scream. As I mentioned before I was born with hypersensitivity. I see, hear, smell, taste, and feel more than the average Homo sapien. My hypersensitivity combined with the afterglow from the mescaline gave me more. I heard the scream again. I had no time to wait for Michael John or Gan. The scream sounded like a woman who had given up all hope in anything fair or just in this universe. My perceptions guided me towards a large rock formation at the side of a small mountainous valley. Running, I was still wearing my dress and I was unarmed. With ease I leapt and climbed up and over the rocks that stood between me and the screaming. Nothing could stop my finely tuned body, not now…
There was some sort of hollow structure in-between the rocks. I quickly manoeuvred around the structure for a better view. It appeared to be the ruins of a civilisation gone by. The structure had been seemingly carved into the small, hidden, cul-de-sac rock valley. I had climbed up from the side. The entrance was probably around the valleys’ bend. The rock formation had made this place a perfect natural fortress. I planned to hastily descend into the fortress. I darted forward like a cat casually strolling through an assault course.
My perfect balance faltered and my hat floated off my head. I was disheartened as one foot slipped beneath me. To compensate and prevent my head from cracking against the rocks I was forced to shift my balance. I fell forward descending into the structure. I would have preferred to have opted for lowering myself down from the side. The drop was not that great, but still great enough for me to prefer not to fall in. I landed feet first and then rolled at a forward angle over my shoulder to disperse the energy from the fall. I stood up and checked my body. Everything seemed fine but my dress had been ripped at the side. It was currently my only dress; purple (Magenta) cotton corduroy. I had no time to sorrow over my material possessions. My mind was occupied with that which presented itself before me. I was in a hollowed roofless structure. There was one entrance; a long and narrow winding rock valley that led around the side of the small mountain. I came in through the roof and ended up where the natural rock corridor led. What stood before me was a large flat rock wall. It had a similar surface to the flat rock formation where I had looked through the window into the other realm, although this was much larger. The corridor and this dome shaped roofless space looked natural as did the flat rock wall. It looked like it had been there for millions of years, formed by some unknown force of nature. What caught my attention was the man made structure in front of the flat wall. I stood in awe at the large structure. It was a gate, a portal.
Take the mescaline, stare at the wall, and then enter the gate. I knew what I had to do. I would need to return to this point one day to peer through and enter this manmade conduit to the other realm. A full moon would shine down illuminating the gate. This place had been designed not by accident.
Perhaps the portal had called to me through screams. I had heard nothing since climbing the rocks that led to this location. The natives… they had found this place… they discovered the secrets. They learned to live and develop with nature. We deemed them savages, vainly glorifying our more advanced civilisation. We cast judgements like gods. But we forgot one thing. We were the savages. We still condemn and judge even in the modern age. We are all born savages. We are what we are. But with…
My mind had begun to wander. I knew it would be best to get back to Michael John and Gan. We had a large bounty to collect. This place inspired awe. It asked questions. It told secrets. But it was not yet time to hear those secrets. My hat had landed nearby. I picked it up, dusted it off and put it on. I then held my dress carefully not to rip it further as I quickly exited this hidden passage to the other realm.

As I ran through the narrow winding rock valley holding onto my now torn dress I wondered if the screaming I had heard was real. Perhaps it was just my imagination. As I came to the exit/entrance to the passage I quickly turned the corner to follow the side of the mountain back in the direction from which I came and I received an answer to my musings.
Her eyes met mine.
Wide eyes; I recognised the expression; fear. The fear was diluted with confusion upon seeing I, a man with long hair and a big beard wearing a purple cotton corduroy dress. Her clothing had been ripped. Her breasts were exposed. Two men in the distance were running in our direction. Judging from what I could see the two men were planning to rape the woman. She had not been raped yet. The approaching men wanted to play with their meal before eating; like how a cat plays with a mouse. She did not look injured, just in shock and fearing what was about to befall her.
“Are you in danger?” I questioned.
She stopped moving as she gazed upon me seeking salvation, but looked as if she was about to run off; in this world compassion for the stranger is dead.
“I am here to help!” I reassured her.
Whimpering she ran over to me and stood behind me away from the two men who were soon close enough to begin discourse.
“They killed my father, and they wanted to…” she sobbed.
“It is okay. You are safe with me” I said as I held her tightly.
My back was now facing the approaching men who were now talking amongst themselves. They had mistaken me for another woman with my long hair and the dress…
“Praise God! There is one for each of us!” One of the men shouted.
I turned and faced them. Theirs was a face of shock and confusion.
“I am sorry but your God is on vacation” I retorted.
They looked like common banditos. They were wearing dirty brown clothes with fancy vests and exquisite jewellery; an incongruous mix. They had revolvers, but I could kill them both with my bare hands before I went down. There was always something about these people; they looked like ordinary human beings, yet I could see something else; an expression in their eyes that gave away their ignorance; a certain twinkle of weakness.
“Who are you?” The bandito with the thick face and unkempt overgrown stubble demanded.
The other bandito was tall and thin, with a sharp nose. I watched as both men slowly went for their revolvers. I made sure to step so that I stood between their bullets and the woman.
“I am unarmed, and who I am is not relevant” I paused before continuing “You killed her father?”
The two men aimed their revolvers at me. Being unarmed meant nothing to them. They had lust in their eyes, and I stood in their way.
“That is none of your business!” The sharp nose bandito shouted.
“Run along before we decide to shoot you too” the thick faced bandito added.
“So you admit to it? Does a human life really mean that little to you? If I were to shoot one of you down right now would the other mourn the loss?” I questioned.
The bandito with the sharp nose replied “That is big talk for a man in a dress.”
“We are just talking after all. I am merely curious in the why of your action. I can only imagine that you killed her father because he resisted, or because you knew he would resist when you decided to indulge your lust. Robbery was not enough. You wanted more. She has a name you know. She feels and thinks just like you do, but to fulfil your base lust you would resort to dehumanising her. I will not allow this” I declared.
The bandito with the sharp nose lowered his revolver and fired a shot in an attempt to scare me. These sort of men used fear as a tool; they were weak, their strength was nothing but an illusion. I did not flinch as the bullet struck the ground in front of me, but I could feel the woman grip me tightly momentarily. The sounds of the gunshot did cause me to jump on the inside, but not out of fear, but because my sensitive hearing made the shot sound like thunder whiplashing against my ear.
I glared at them both and said “I dislike loud noises. Please do not do that again.”
My dislike of loud noises comes with my hypersensitivity. Hearing better than everyone else is only a blessing when it comes to quiet environments.
“Let us just shoot the bastard!” the thick faced bandito screamed.
He was furious. The sharp nosed bandito was also beginning to lose his cool.
“How about this instead?” I proposed “You two walk away now and turn yourselves in. You may receive leniency if you show forgiveness and a real urge to want to change. Although I do not know what past crimes you have committed I imagine you will both probably end up with nooses around your necks, but I assure you that you have a better chance of living beyond today if you walk away.”
“You are crazy!” the sharp nosed bandito shouted as he aimed his revolver at me once more.
“Yes…” I answered as I pointed my index finger at his crotch.
There was a single shot. The sharp nosed bandito fell onto the ground, blood seeping from his groin region. The thick faced bandito looked down at his friend. His face flushed with fear.
“And what say you?” I asked.
“You son of a bitch!” he squealed as he attempted to shoot me.
A second shot; another direct hit in the groin region. Both men were now rolling beside each other squealing like pigs as if some great unjust misfortune had come their way. I collected their revolvers from them and then returned to the woman.
“You are safe now. What is your name?”
“Kate… how did you?” she looked at me like a sinner looking up to empty space in a church.
I gestured with my head. She turned and saw Michael John and Gan perched up on the rocks.

We robbed the two banditos of their stolen jewellery and what other little valuables they had hidden in their vests. They were now screaming and cursing at us. They would bleed to death shortly. It was a death that they had chosen. Black vultures circled overhead; the desert would consume them.

We brought the three beasts around. I picked up Kate and we brought her back to her wagon. She was heading in the opposite direction of us. We wrapped her father up and placed him onto the wagon; he had been shot across the body several times. The banditos were a terrible shot; it had taken them too many bullets to end his life at a close range. I always found that it was those who were not skilled in shooting who were quick to kill; it highlighted their weakness. Unable to defend themselves they would seek to attack the weak to feel powerful… the same was true for those who are quick to raise their fists.
“Thank you… who are you?” Kate asked.
“We are the Beautiful Triumvirate” I answered.
She looked like she had a lot of questions for us, but the duck quacked and we knew it was time to go.

We rode off. The woman, her father, and the two banditos were not connected to our story of the bounty we were to collect. It was just another random event in life, or perhaps there was meaning in it somewhere. There was a certain flow to things that I could never overmaster; I could only move with the flow. I heard the scream, I ripped my dress, I found the portal, and I saved the woman, but I could not save her father. I could never save them all…

…

Before arriving into town we stopped briefly to prepare ourselves. I changed out of my now torn dress and into more socially acceptable clothing; brown trousers, a blue shirt, and a magenta vest to hold my things.
“So you are not going to wear your dress in public?” Michael John questioned to me.
“No, it has been ripped down the side so…”
Gan flashed a certain look to me and then to Michael John. Michael John was still in his deep blue velvet dress. My excuse for not wearing my dress was weak but valid. I never planned to wear it into town, and I was glad that it ripped down the side just to give me an excuse. We all knew it was imperative to show ourselves for whom we really were to fight the intolerance of this world, but I could not…
Guilt hung over my head during the brief moment of silence that followed.
Gan broke the silence by reminding us “This is our biggest bounty to date.”
“Oh I know that. I will change out of my dress if wearing it gets in our way or causes any trouble” Michael John said with a smile as he placed his Dillinger into his garter.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Previously...

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Lover

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