The Moniker Theory the theory of musical and photographic lore.

I say I’m not ok. But its only out of habit.

I landed on a planet
not unlike my own.
Men were caged like beast
monkeys free to roam.
Soldier apes on horseback
soldier apes on foot.
Learned apes with orange hair,
give you dirty look.

My ex girlfriend by Samuel Thomas

I feel heavy, my feet stick to the floor

I need to touch the earth.

My surroundings are vibrating

like they want to speak.

A dog is only as free as it’s owner.

The prophet had been diluted in a time of war and famine. Usually he is looked upon by souls to spell divine meaning out. Julius he was so named, for the people had loved him. The era they were in had once been bright and smoldering with technological advances. However, in the haste of a racing industrial revolution the sky had grown black. Though the town he lived was far from the reach of the fumes of the city. It’s sky too had grown black. The Great War had ended and their country had lost. At the loss came the attempts to destroy the leader. One side had not blamed him for the loss, the other side however wanted him dead.

Julius told the people before the end of the war that great change was indeed foreseen. But as a prophet he battled with telling them what the great change would be. Dare he tell them they shall be the losers? That their reign as a powerful country would end? He decided it was best to hide it, for the implications were surely death! It was May and the summer had become irregularly hot from the fumes of the war and industry that had taken over the land. Food was becoming short. For the disadvantage they had with this war was it was upon their land.

His real name was Samuel. The reason Julius acquired his moniker was he brought enlightenment to the people. He had changed them fixed the local problems. Gave them guidance when the church had failed. Let them complain of the sins God had committed against them! He was wise as if he had been around the world for thousands of years. Though his aged body was frail looking, he was actually quite strong. His hair was still there, his eyes were bright, he could walk without help. His senses had remained, nothing had changed for this man except his looks.

Night had fallen, Julius laid cold on the ground. After the loss of the war he had been attacked. People had asked why he said there would be a great change. He only replied “I never said the change was good or bad. You all let your self-righteousness tell you it was in your favor.” They were appalled at Julius! The prophet had failed them. Perhaps if they had known about the outcome things wouldn’t be as bad. That’s what they said to him,

“You should have told us! A loss like that destroyed us! We could have prepared and been ready for it!” He had no response he knew that his words would only anger them more. They had decided to strip him of home. Take all his supplies which were not much. He had been humble and too did not prepare for what was coming. Now all he had was his clothes that had become ragged and torn. He always relived that before he slept.

The sensation!

Driving away the words still echoed in his head. Each word fluttering towards his head and then burning it. “Frankly, I don’t even think of you. So why does it matter if you do or do not love me?” Just like that, a couple sentence trashed a mind. Took what was in order and shuffled it. He didn’t know how to respond; of course walking away and getting into the car and driving seemed the only thing left to do.

Passing the urban landscape with worn homes and bright colored flowers. People walking around with their kids, animals even. He thought it didn’t matter everything was an animal at this point, even children. The breeze was cold compared to the warmth of the setting sun in the western distance.

He figured the ocean might be calming with the aid of the weed hidden in his pocket. He drove on the freeway. Barely caring about the speed at which he traveled or the distance either. “These should be the last words,” he said while parking. He walked across the sand to the cliffs where everyone went when disorder needed to be sorted. He saw the same homeless by the stairs, waiting eagerly for maybe a hit or a bummed cigarette. He had thought of when he was close to the edge of living on the streets. Saved at the last minute by a job he hated. He never rationalized correctly. Just simply took it as fate never really thinking that fate also involved volunteered actions and choices.

The deep breaths he was taking matched the tide. With long fast inhalation followed with undulated exhaling with puffs of rings ending it. Thinking of the choice of just leaving without a word said in response to such a underhanded comment. Was it a right choice? Fear generally controlled how he acted and reacted to anything. Was the choice right or wrong? It mattered little if it was right or wrong because in his mind both were a scary answer. It would be the right answer and it scared him to actually have what he felt wasn’t deserved or easy to handle. It could be the wrong one and everything would eventually fall apart. The stars had began to brighten against an ever blackening sky. A trace amount of clouds lingered and crept around the moon. He went home.

“Then again we’re all assholes right?” He had said it with such confidence. I, looking blankly at him agreed. He just smiled and laughed cynically, I rolled my eyes as he drank more of his iced tea.