ANOTHER Letter To the Forgotten god

April 26th, 2015 by George Martorano

Dear Forgotten god,

Well, old friend….I write again. And yes, I have never written thee free. And in all due respect there isn’t that very much to say. For it is the same. I alone in cell, the narrows of the cell before me….And I write. Yet, in all deep truth creating this letter….I dozed off. In my sleepy mind brought a strange enchantment of which I shall relay….

The narrows of the cell’s floor became a country of delight, and hardship, blending from one to the other. Before me a barren land of endless dryness. A yellow beast of rocks and high stones as if waiting to ambush. There were cutting gullies and parched riverbeds; home to things that crawled. The wind, yes earth’s wind came hot, bitting dust pressing against face. There, in the dream, the sun set and dawn came as always yet with heat. When the dream brought night, it was a cold, black purple that in it….I screamed….Popped up dawn as if shining metal so bright that it squinted my eyes….Then, strange, although no humans about. There were the shadows. Shadows of different shapes and moving forms. Shadows of clouds, towering cactus and ugly shadows from high stone; giving off a dark gray of faces of past enemies. Shadows that crepted…. crawled to met my very feet.Yes, forgotten god. It was a land made just for a prisoner’s eyes; in a prisoner’s dream.

So, old friend I say farewell. And, I know thee are unloved as I unloved….Yet, we connect from worlds apart. Our letters that come, making us heal so we can be born again.

I subscribe myself,
George Martorano

***************************************************************************************************************************************

And for those waiting for the continuance of the play [ Render the Thirst ]. Of which will go back into production, soon ! Soon as we get Frankenstein out on bail ! For it seems his medical-marijuana card expired…. And, getting upset that he could not purchase, Transylvanian Kush…. [ he waited so long for, it is his favorite ]…. leveled the small town of Painesville, New Jersey….So, as the producer’s of the production….Please stand by.

By: George Martorano
copyright: 12973
4/25/15

Render The Thirst (ACT 2)

April 26th, 2015 by George Martorano

SCENE: The group of thugs have made up their minds, for….brutality….robbery!

THUG: [bald, tattoos on head face arms] “You and you since it’s Halloween, trick or treat, give us money, watches, cell phones whatever ya’s got.” [pulls out a gun points it at Frankenstein] “You can keep the lousy costume.” [the other thugs chime in with nasty remarks]

FRANKENSTEIN: “….leave, go now.”

ANOTHER THUG: [with a Mohawk hairdo, pulls out a knife] “….go, you say go, how’s I go with this across your throat!”

RELEASED PRISONER: “Hey, I just got out of a joint. I ain’t go no watch, no money just some worthless things in this bag.”

ANOTHER THUG: [shortest of the thugs, slips on brass knuckles] “….Shut-up, scumbag!”

SCENE: Frankenstein, bellows out! Grabs the one with gun and begins squeezing his head like a vice, lifting him off his feet.The thug on his tiptoes, shoots the gun several times right into Frankenstein’s chest….nothing. Thug is still being squeezed to death….the thug with the knife, jumps….Begins to stab Frankenstein in the back while the other thugs shout….Again, nothing, no harm being done at all to the monster….Then, Frankenstein does what he knows best….He snaps the neck of the one he holds….Quickly, turns to the thug stabbing him, picks him up crushing his ribs….Tosses him over the bench….the remaining thugs with weapons of all sorts….commence upon Frankenstein. Who bellows all the more and destroys all the more….the released prisoner begins to wrestle with one of the thugs holding a knife to the ground….One remaining, not dead yet thug….panics, runs off….Frankenstein through with them….stares down at the released prisoner who lies still on top of the now unmoving dead thug. the released prisoner accidently, kills.

RELEASED PRISONER: “….No, no! I killed him. I’m out of jail hours and I killed someone. Oh my God! I killed him!”

FRANKENSTEIN: [Roar of laughter] “….Yes, you, a monster as I.” [more deep, belly laughter]

RELEASED PRISONER: [stands] “….I, I saw bullets, stabs, right into you, nothing happened, you, you just stand there, are you, are you….?”

SCENE: We hear O.S. of police sirens in the background….Frankenstein looks about as does the released prisoner….then, the released prisoner stares at all the dead about.

RELEASED PRISONER: “It’s over, it’s over, I’m through.”

FRANKENSTEIN: “No come with me. I shall take thee down below to the last of torment. for this world has done the worst to me….now, to you.”

SCENE: An the released prisoner takes up his paper bag….following Frankenstein through the tall bushes….which he came….

ACT II [continues]

SCENE: [continued] after stage and theater went dark….accompanied by eerie music….moments passed….And, the stage and theater lights heightened….And, there upon the stage is a sub-undergound dwelling. Some forgotten part of the cities low, low subway system. Nothing but stone and pipes….Yet, there upon a beach lounge chair is an attractive woman in a two piece bathing suit. She is getting a tan under a large sun lamp as a radio plays music of today. There is a champagne bucket with a bottle of the bubbly showing….oh, and she has some lines on her great figure, scars from long ago….Enters….Frankenstein shoving the released prisoner along with the paper bag over the released prisoner’s head. I guess, so he does not know the way to the lair.

STRANGE BEAUTY: [Hears, sees them and stands] “….Al, what the hell is this, I mean it’s been years, now who the hell is this?!”

AL: [The monster, removes the bag from the released prisoner's head] “….Well, meet, say what is thy name?”

RELEASED PRISONER: [Pauses] “….Ah, ah my name? ….Ah, ah Frank, Frankie.”

STRANGE BEAUTY: [Shakes her head from side to side] “….Kill him Al, just kill him, you know the rules!”

AL: “Oh, Doris, he’s no harm he killed with me tonight. He just got out of prison, he can not go above. After all, it’s been us two down here ever so long. He doesn’t know the way here, doesn’t know how to leave, we can kill him anytime.” [Al turns to Frankie] “Hey, you play chess, cards? All she does is woman stuff.”

FRANKIE: [Afraid of course] “….Sure, sure I can do all of that, and more, I mean….”

DORIS: “You, shut-up! Al get over here….” [Al comes near here and they whisper.... While Frankie looks about.... At the new, strange turn in his life]

[to be continued]

By: George Martorano
Copyright: 12973
4/18/15

Render the Thirst [ Act I ]

April 26th, 2015 by George Martorano


SCENE: Night….It is a small park not too many benches. There are high bushes here and there, especially behind the bench center stage. There are a few lit lampposts also….Enters….A casually dressed, attractive male carrying a paper bag; all that he owns….For he is just released prisoner. Released on Halloween day. He walks as if he has no where to go. He just sits at the center stage bench.

RELEASED PRISONER: [chuckles lowly, takes a banana out of the bag, eats, speaks to himself] “….Hell of a meal.”

RELEASED PRISONER: continues [tosses banana peel behind him, pats his stomach, stares blankly ahead, then, begins to weep, some moments pass....and he begins to sing] “….I would scrape dew from hell’s garden, if doing so would render my thirst, render my deep thirst, for a drop of happiness, hell’s garden, oh for the like’s of you, sent for the dew, render happiness for me and you.” [then, he begins to hum the song]

SCENE: Behind the bench where he sits, still hums….the tall bushes begin to move, spread….and out walks, Frankenstein….The released prisoner stops humming looks at the man dressed as Frankenstein, after all it’s Halloween.

FRANKENSTEIN: [standing there, begins to sing the same song] “I would scrape dew from hell’s garden, if doing so would render my thirst.” [sits on same bench, still singing] “Render my deep thirst for a drop of happiness.” [And begins to hum the song]

SCENE: Frankenstein humming, yet staring ahead slowly turns to look at the released prisoner….who, in turn looks back at him….and begins to hum in unison with Frankenstein….then, they both cease.

RELEASED PRISONER: “Halloween, uh?”

FRANKENSTEIN: [in deep voice, shakes head no] “….Halloween.”

RELEASED PRISONER: “Coming or going to a party?”

FRANKENSTEIN: “No, I like parks.”

RELEASED PRISONER: “You don’t talk much, sing though.”

FRANKENSTEIN: “Singing’s good, are you good?”

RELEASED PRISONER: [chuckles] “Used to be, prison ate away at all that. Now, it’s nothing, a world of nothing.”

FRANKENSTEIN: “You hate all things, do you?”

RELEASED PRISONER: “Hate, well, all those years alone in the cell you become a quiet thing, yet, you mind roars. I guess hate is a part of me now.”

FRANKENSTEIN: “Oh, I know of hate, longer than you friend, longer than you. Tell me something of your life, tell me?”

RELEASED PRISONER: [exhales] “Can’t believe first day out of jail. I’m talking to a guy dressed up as Frankenstein.”

FRANKENSTEIN: [reaches out his long arm, placing his huge hand on the released prisoner's shoulder] “….maybe not, maybe not.”

RELEASED PRISONER: [looks at the arm latched on to him, gets nervous] “something about life, now tell me, okay?” [Frankenstein brings his arm back]

RELEASED PRISONER: continues “Well let’s see, it is said that a man to become a real man must wean himself from life. What better way than to be locked away within four walls.”

FRANKENSTEIN: [stares at the released prisoner, deeply] “Can you love again?”

RELEASED PRISONER: “Love, I can’t remember, remember how.”

FRANKENSTEIN: “To be truly alone is to count the very beats of you heart. I know, mine never stops, never.”

RELEASED PRISONER: [Grins] “Boy, you’re really into Halloween, ain’t ya?”

FRANKENSTEIN: “It is the only night of complete freedom for me. The rest is beneath ground.”

RELEASED PRISONER: “….Beneath ground?”

FRANKENSTEIN: “Yes, the underground dark with it’s smells and echoes and language of rats.”

RELEASED PRISONER: “Language of rats! Say, you off you’re rocker or what!?”

SCENE: Frankenstein with a growl comes up off the bench, he’s angry….He towers over the released prisoner who raises his arms to protect himself…. Frankenstein, ready to tear him apart….But suddenly a small group of thugs….enter stage….The thugs halt, whisper creating a plan of crime….Then approach Frankenstein and the released prisoner.

[to be continued]

By: George Martorano
copyright: 12973
4/11/15

My Poetic Paragraph

April 12th, 2015 by George Martorano

“Yesternights” …. Always, my thoughts fight not to travel, not to tramp on, to find the very first-hate of man. You see, caged so long I can even hear the bang from a drop of a tear. This handcuffed-course shows the very worst to the human eye. For I exist under love’s heel, leaving a print of human-mud. Even if I were bound upon a new road, never could I shuck new sorrow; it comes each day. Then, there’s the late hour, bringing dark colors like hurricane, painting my soul. I, long ago a fool, created such a storm to destroy my own ship, named heart…. So, the black and white prison-stripes of pain I’ve relayed….And Heaven above ! With time…. I have become attractive. Imagine that, “yesternights”, imagine that.

By: George Martorano
Copyright:12973
4/8/2015

Stories of Old

April 12th, 2015 by George Martorano

I kneel like saint, night for night,
I hear my prayer, deep, sincere
At words-end, I just sit to floor,
….wondering tis this, thee only script
A show to repeat….my God!
How it rips

Monsters

Years ago, the, then, prosecutor of my case falsified a document of violence. Of which once seen by the BOP I was labeled maximum-security prisoner. So for years I was kept in solitary until a judge finally straightened the lie out. These are some past happenings from maximum-security.

His give aka name within the state and federal prison machine, was, Chicken-Lips. A thin man not so tall, very ugly, with drooping lips….Chicken-Lips had been in prison since youth….He was, killer. If put in a cell with him, he’d kill you in some way usually with a knife. Usually prisoners were put in with him for a reason….To die. Die most likely for a violent offense against an undeserving staff….Since I was max security in transit I was always kept alone….Somewhere in America’s heartland decades ago. Chicken-Lips was also in transit from a courthouse no less for stabbing somebody or worse….In transit numbered-dash men are cattle. Things can mishap. Chicken-Lips who I did not know nor saw before was shoved into the holding pen with I alone. Immediately, he began scanning the holding pen for something….I watched….I did not know. I knew he was ugly, eyes crazed. Yet, I quiet, him silent he kept searching with his eyes….Easing himself around the holding pen, but never getting close to me….We did not talk….A lieutenant happened to walk by….Froze! Began yelling orders! Quickly a squad of guards were there. Yelled for me to back up against the fall wall….They cuffed and removed Chicken-Lips….Then, it was explained to me. Who the killer Chicken-Lips was….You see, why he searched the holding pen, was looking for a prison made shank that usually was hidden in spots Chicken-Lips knew. I guess Chicken-Lips thought he was put in there to kill me….But no weapon placed where his familiar eyes could find….The monster, Chicken-Lips.

It was in Lewisburg Penitentiary back then. Again, alone in transit heading unjustly for the worst prison in America, Marion, Max security prison….It was late. I slept. I woke….There, was a huge man in the dim cell light sitting upon cast-iron toilet….Staring I saw the scars from the top and sides of his head meet his brow meet the left corner of one eye. Clearly, a head that received many blows….He stared past me as if I wasn’t there….They put him in with me in the wee hour of night.
I sat up slowly….I had some food stored, sweets, a nice size piece of cake with vanilla toppling. I offered it to him. Still sitting on the toilet, he ate quickly yet with moans. When he finally spoke, he only asked for, more. I had none. So, he went to sleep on the top bunk. He did not remove his clothes nor boots. The black, scuffed-up prison boots got my attention. For in transit all prisoner’s get cheap slip-ons….This huge prisoner since it was a holiday weekend was with me for three days…. We did not talk much. I read for all transit, hold cells have old books lying about….Something told me to give him my deserts, maybe it is the way he moaned when he ate sweets. You see, you get desert with lunch and dinner. Back then, I guess we were on cake cycle….A friend of mine, a hole orderly saw to it that I got extra food which meant extra desert….God was looking out for me. Because come Tuesday morning….Panic! Many guards and high-up staff came and removed me….Fast! Seems the huge guy was at pre-trial status; that’s why the boots; he was going back and forth from court. His criminal-count, murder. He killed his celly over desert. He jammed a pencil into his celly’s Adams apple; ate the desert….Kept a course blanket over the dead celly until the stink brought attention….I cannot remember his name….I just call him, Desert.

Now, I change direction….His name was Mack. Mack was quiet always worked in the office part of the prison factory. Mack had that bookworm look. Worked all week and read all weekend….Well, lo and behold after many years, Mack made parole… They tell me he it was a super load trailer that brought the enormous wooden crate up to the very entrance of Leavenworth Penitentiary….I mean big! When the prison officials fought out what was in the enormous crate. They did not want it. Yet, not to take it meant more of an expense to drive it the long distance from where it came from. So, they got a crane and off loaded it….It, being a battleship anchor. Seems the last that Mack did at his desk was order an anchor. His job being, in ordering….Well, they put poor Mack in the hole of course, he did not get more time. For Mack swore it was a simple mistake….Where Mack is today if he’s still alive. Most likely giving off a small smile from time to time….Visioning….An anchor.

Monsters

By: George Martorano
Copyright: 12973
4/4/15