Saturday, 28 November 2015

Oh, brother (part 48) by Grant Harbison


Shear de Lite woke up screaming with fright
Fear marked the face of the hermaphrodite
“My dear de Lite, what is your plight?” asked Lord Dirgand. “You’ve been terribly restless most of the night.”
“Danger lurks for Gypsy Jess from a master of spells in the northern wilderness.”
“Who is Gypsy Jess and why would that cause you such distress?”
“The one you conversed with on that day you took me away. I must leave in the morn without delay. I need to stop harm coming her way.”
“I don’t understand,” said Lord Dirgand. “It’s been ages since you have seen her and her band. You say she is in danger, but how would you know? You’re not making sense and I forbid you to go.”
“My lord, I’m afraid I don’t have a choice. It would be very unwise to ignore the voice.” 
“Then I’ll assemble some men and we shall seek out her foe.”
“But the voice demands that only I must go.”
Dirgand became very annoyed. “I will see to it that they are destroyed. I will go and you will remain here. That is an order, do I make myself clear?”
“Sire, you and your men no nothing of magic. If you proceed with this quest, the outcome will be tragic. I really do have to go on my own, but the voice has assured me that  I won’t be alone.”
Dirgand was impassive
But she knew he was riled
The worst thing she could say was that she was with child
Not just one
There were two on the way
The voice had relayed to her the previous day
To Dirgand she’d wanted to relate
But the voice had informed her that she had to wait
And now she knew why
She had to act soon or her friend may die

Wednesday, 25 November 2015

Oh, brother (part 47) by Grant Harbison


Ilirium was relieved that the gypsy’s spell didn’t backfire
But fear was not enough to diminish his ire
And his need for revenge was now burning desire
Jess sat wearily staring at her ball. “The powers don’t be answering my call.”
“We can’t just wait here and do nothing at all,” said Ilirium. “What do you think is making them stall?”
“I can’t be sure, but mayhaps there be something in the cure. Great wisdom be required to make something so pure.”
“Is there anything you might know of such an antidote?”
“Afraid not, little one. There be all kind of flora in a place so remote.”
“Then we must leave immediately for the land of the Scot. I will have justice, no matter what.”  
“You be doing that, then ye surely will die. The man who made the potion be far too sly.”
“Then I’ll die if I must. Revenge for my brother’s death is purely just.”
“Oh behave; even I know yer not that brave. My heart goes out to you for I know that ye grieve, but it really don’t help to be na├»ve. There may be a way to avoid such peril. Up north I know a Wiccan by the name of Beryl. To the land of the Scot we shall go to see if she has a way of defeating yer foe.”
“Jess, I sincerely thank you for all that you’ve tried to do. My love for you has grown and continues to accrue, so I’ll abandon my impulsiveness and put my trust in you.”
“My little one, you are so sweet. I be so very glad that we did meet. For the meantime ye must put away yer sorrows, for there might be promise in yer tomorrows. Turn yer thoughts to something else instead; mayhaps ye’d like to join me in the bed.”
“I can’t think of anything else that I’d rather do; lay back, sweet woman and let me make love to you.”
“Something I be long anticipating; now get undressed, don’t keep a girl waiting.”
“Before I do that there is something I must confess. I think I love you, Gypsy Jess.”
“I love you too, my little one. But ye must hurry up so that we can have fun.” 

Tuesday, 24 November 2015

Oh, brother (part 46) by Grant Harbison


“Quiet as a mouse,” said Deplorium to Truman and Borium as they approached the manor house.
“What now, Deplorium?” asked Borium. “How do we get beyond the wall and into the ground?”
“Through a tunnel ah found.”
Truman frowned. “I don’t like the idea of going underground.”
“It’s the only way tae avoid the hound.”
“The hound?” queried Borium as his heart began to pound.
“Aye, big and black and furry wi’ enormous sharp teeth. The safest way tae go is underneath.”  
“How do we get through the tunnel without any light?” asked Truman. “The passage below will be darker than night.”
“It’s a breeze. We just move along oan oor hands and knees. Ah’ve done it a few times wi’ relative ease.”
“So small?” asked Borium. “I’m not sure I like the idea of having to crawl.”
“Och, it’s easy, ye’ll see. The two o’ you are half the size o’ me.”
“Where does the tunnel end?” asked Borium. “Tell us that before we descend.”
“Yes, and to what depth does it go?” asked Truman. “That’s what I’d like to know.”   
“What difference does it make if it’s shallow or deep? All ye have tae do is creep. We stop below the cellar floor and go up through the trap door. If ye have any more questions, ye better say. Because it’s gettin’ late and we cannae delay.”
“Nothing we say will make you sway,” said Borium. “We will go, just lead the way.”
“Okay,” said Deplorium and pointed to a tree. “It’s over there. Come wi’ me.”
“Where is the tunnel?” asked Truman as they approached the tree. “There’s nothing here as far as I can see.”
“This is it,” replied Deplorium when he removed some branches on the ground to reveal the pit.”
“If I die, please save my soul,” whispered Borium before he followed the others into the hole.

Sunday, 22 November 2015

Day of indulgence and others dismay by Grant Harbison


Oh, how we hate this day
Looking on in utter dismay
At the other children as they laugh and play
Rejoicing in the excitement of Christmas day
Girls and boys
Happily showing off their brand new toys
My siblings and I briefly stare at one another
Wishing we had a different father and mother
Yesterday morning was when we last ate
They drank day and night and will be sleeping late
We’re freezing and still we hesitate
For we know that both will be in a vicious mood
And we dare not complain that we want some food
We look once again at the other kids sharing sweets
So cruel that our parents are still between the sheets
We are dressed in rags and they couldn’t care less
Never thinking of our distress
Empty booze bottles on the floor and the house is a mess
But we’ll be the ones that they’ll blame for their shame
One of the other kids saw me and called me a name
“Scabby!”
My little heart hurts as I have a crush on Abby

Oh, brother (part 45) by Grant Harbison



Sister Agatha visited Mistress Paine in her cell. “Miss Paine, I trust all is well.”
“No, it certainly is not. Am I being left here to rot?”
“That depends on Brother Blaine, Mistress Paine.”
“This is insane. Am I being punished because of Blaine? All we did was have a bit of fun, but perhaps that word is unfamiliar to a nun. Maybe the exception is Elise Dunn. She’s certainly a lively one. I’ve heard that she likes many men in her bed. Methinks that she is the one who should be locked up instead.”  
“The wantonness of the former nun I do not doubt, but promiscuity is not what this is about.”
“Then pray tell. Why have you had me put in this cell?”
“To ensure Brother Blaine completes his task.”
“And what is that, may I ask?”
“To bring back two absconded monks for their crime. Until he does, you will be doing time. If he fails to return, then dear Mistress Paine, you will burn.”
“If the crime was committed by the other two, then why does Blaine have to do this for you?”
“Because his association makes him guilty too. Albeit indirect, he can still be tried for neglect. The only thing in his favour is that he didn’t defect.”
“Elected to defect I expect. If he trusts your committee then he is making a mistake. There is no certainty that he will avoid the stake.”
“In my detection, for you he has the fondest affection. He cannot escape his love for you and you can be certain that he’ll come to your rescue.”
“Is that a guarantee that both of us will be free?”
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
“Then I appeal to your heart. Offer Blaine and I a brand new start.”
“When Blaine returns, I will request pity. But it will take a unanimous vote from the committee.”
“Thank you for being so kind. Your words shall give me piece of mind.”
“Now it’s time for me to leave. Keep the faith as it doesn’t help to grieve.” 

Wednesday, 18 November 2015

Oh, brother (part 44) by Grant Harbison


Blaine started out with no idea where he was heading
And likewise quite how far he would be treading
But in order to avoid execution
And to ultimately acquire absolution
The arduous traipse was the only solution
His major dilemma was which way to go
As searching in all directions would be tediously slow
North or south
East or west
He made a decision that north would be best
Even if he didn’t find Truman and Borium
At least he could visit his old friend Deplorium
The last time they’d met was on the Emerald Isle
When the Scottish monks had visited for a while
The annual games they’d come to play
And for the Scots it had been a triumphant day
As it was the very first time that they’d won away
Blaine had faced Deplorium in a wrestle of the arm
And the strength of the Scot had been cause for alarm
Blaine had been the champ and had a title to defend
But the plucky Scot had proved too good in the end
Festivities had ensued and had lasted the weekend
And Brother Blaine had made a brand new friend
On that final day before they’d sailed away
Blaine had made a promise that he’d visit him someday
Upwards and onwards he continued to go
Through icy wind and falling snow
The thought of not returning crossed his mind
But he didn’t have the heart to be so unkind
Sister Agatha had told him that if he dared to defy
Then Mistress Paine would slowly die
The nun had made sure he didn’t have a choice
All of a sudden he heard a voice
“Another monk,” he heard a man say. “A toll is required if you want to go this way.”
“Are ye sayin’ that others have passed?”
“Two little fellows looking extremely harassed.”
“Many thanks for lettin’ me know. Now In order to go forth, how much do I owe?”
“Give me three groats and then you can go.”

Sunday, 15 November 2015

The kick by Grant Harbison

I have to go and never go back
I have to love me and not allow it to lack
I’m going forward you see
For it’s high time that I thought about me
I’ve been far too long stuck in a rut
A slave to self-loathing with a mind that had shut
But now I don’t want to be that slave
Pushing myself to an early grave
When you learn from someone and learn self esteem
That nightmare can eventually turn to a dream
Knowing that person will always be there
Kicking me hard if I ever despair

Oh, brother (part 43) by Grant Harbison


“Ah hope yer well rested and ah hope yer both prepared,” said Deplorium to Truman and Borium. “Tonight we’re goin’ tae rob the laird.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” said Truman. “Do you mean Lord MacBlach, owner of the land?”
“Aye, the laird. What’s the matter? Are ye scared?”
“Deplorium, have you lost all common sense? asked Borium . “Are you aware of the punishment for such an offence?”
“Aye, ah’m aware. But in order tae prosper, ye have tae dare.”
“Cousin, the manor will be under guard. Or is that something you disregard?”
“Relax, ah’ve got it aw worked oot. There’s a certain time when there’s naebody aboot.”
“That doesn’t mean there is any less threat,” cried Truman. “If we go ahead with this, we will all regret.”
“Truman’s right,” said Borium. “There’s too much at stake. Death would be certain from one little mistake.”
“Ah can see that yer anxious, ah ken the feelin’. But if there’s one thing that ah’m good at, that is stealin.”
“I would say other things as well,” said Truman. “How exactly did you break that spell?”
“A wonderful wee plant ah got fae the dell.”
“I’ll never forget that pungent smell,” said Borium. “How did you know it would make us well?”
“It pays tae have some ken aboot spells and black magic. Up here it’s rife and some stories are tragic. Yours wis a minor gypsy curse. Fae some other source, it could have been worse.”
“I think I know from whence it came,” said Truman. “Ilirium and the gypsies are the most likely to blame.”
“Yes, it would appear so,” said Borium. “Deplorium, you’ll have to teach us all that you know.”
“Soon, on the very first night o’ the quarter moon. But for noo there’s an important job tae be done; and it has tae be done before the risin’ o’ the sun. Ah’ll explain tae ye everythin’ on the way. Aw ye have tae dae is listen tae what ah say.”  

Friday, 13 November 2015

Oh, brother (part 42) by Grant Harbison


It pleased Elise to have so many enjoy her
And it excited her so that Derek was a voyeur
And if truth be told
He found it most gratifying playing the role of cuckold
At first he was surprised by the strange sensation
The arousal of watching and hearing her elation
But soon he found that he couldn’t get enough
Especially when the sessions got a little rough
But by far the greatest satisfaction
Was knowing that he would get the last of the action
And by then it was not just a matter of lust
The carnal desire was an absolute must
But while it was joy for Derek
It hadn’t been the same for his brother Erik
Although many monks had shared his bed
He just couldn’t get Borium out of his head
And day after day he’d continued to brood
Until someone had told him about the hag in the wood
Who would be able to envisage Borium’s location
Using her magic for a small remuneration
So into the wood he’d hopefully gone
Early one morn at the break of dawn
Deep in the wood an orange light had glowed
Lighting the path to the woman’s abode
As he’d reached her door and had prepared to knock
The door had suddenly opened and he’d jumped back in shock
She was by far the ugliest woman he’d ever seen
With a face full of warts and hair an olive green
She was only four feet tall and had bright yellow teeth
And had donned a black robe with nothing underneath
“You be the Viking seeking the monk for his mate. Ye’ll have to find him soon before it’s too late. I’ll show ye the way, but first of all ye’ll have to pay.”
Erik had paid the required fee. “Now tell me, woman. Where is he?”
“Far north in the land of the Scot, in the heart of the Highlands there be a secluded spot. Go there and ye will see. On top of a hill be a monastery. That’s where he be.”    

Wednesday, 11 November 2015

Message to all who view my blog




A big thank you to all who view. Views from far and wide; but special thanks to U.S.A and South Africa for your continued support. I promise to keep everyone entertained.

Decision from Heaven by Grant Harbison


Put yourself in her shoes
How would you choose?
When the one she loved only used
And even though he never abused
He wasn’t man enough to stay
Even with the knowledge of a child on the way
Left alone with a hasty decision
Fearing that people would vent their derision
If she chose to abort
Spouting vitriol of her and her sort
So put yourself in her shoes
No one to help and everything to lose
The sorrow of having to make that choice
Guilt conflicted with reality voice
Thinking that she’s committed a sin
That deep rooted indoctrination that stays within
You have done no wrong and never had a chance
But a soul remained in heaven for another to dance

Oh, brother (part 41) by Grant Harbison


The holiday was finally over for the brothers Conn
 Lepre, Ayre, Mod and John
And after a binge with Blaine till the light of dawn
They embraced him at the shore and then they were gone
As he watched them set sail in the drizzling rain
He felt the inevitable stab of pain
And wondered if or when he would see them again
He watched their boat until it drifted out to sea
Before he made his way back to the monastery
Suddenly the rain began to pour
And he hurriedly ran to the monastery door
The wind picked up and became very gusty
And in his rush for shelter he collided with Chrustie
The nun’s vociferous cry had a high pitched sound
As she lost her footing and fell to the ground
Blaine immediately sank to his knees
“My dear Sister Agatha, my sincere apologies!”
“Help me to my feet, you blithering fool. Grab a hold of my hands and pull.”
“Ye can count yersel’ lucky ye had a soft place to land,” said Blaine as soon as he helped her to stand.
Sister Agatha eyed him with disdain. “I’d say no more if I were you, Brother Blaine. Lest you want some serious pain.”
They intensity of her eyes shook him with surprise. “No, Sister Agatha. I do apologise.”
“Actually, it’s you I’ve come here to see.”
“Me?”
“The prank and the murder I took to our committee, but I’m afraid for your part, they were devoid of pity.”
Blaine fell to his knees and began to cry. “Please, Sister Agatha. I’m not ready to die!”
“There is another way, but you can’t delay. If you really want to survive; bring back the other two, dead or alive.”

Oh, brother (part 40) by Grant Harbison


May their bones be boiled and gorged by hounds from Hell!” Ilirium heard Gypsy Jess yell. “Somehow they’ve managed to break the spell.”
“But how can that be so?” cried Ilirium. “Breaking of spells is something they wouldn’t know.”
“Tis my assumption that the bearded one be the one with the gumption. I’m afraid the ball don’t give me much. It’s very blurry and cold to touch.”
Ilirium looked at her in dismay. “You mean to say that they’re not going to pay?”
“Little one, it all be very confusing. First I have to find out what they’ve been using. Someone must have a notion of brewing a potion. It has happened to me before in days of yore.”
“It matters not what happened then. You have to try again.”
“Little one, let ye be told. It pays not to be so bold; especially when the ball is still cold. Spells that are cast could return threefold.”
“So, all we can do is wait and pray that we don’t befall the very same fate?” 
“Like I said, three times worse. That be the power of the rebound curse.”
Ilirium became panic stricken
“Yes,” said Jess. “Thrice the size yer tongue will thicken.”
“But how can one be three times lame?”
“Yer legs, yer arms and pecker be doing the same.”
Ilirium’s stomach began to churn. “Please make the power of the ball return!”
“The ball works in mysterious ways. Sometimes the power goes away for days.”
“Please try to restore its power. We can’t wait for days, not even an hour!”
“My little one, yer face be awash with gloom. We cannot stop impending doom.”
Suddenly the ball began to brighten
And in hope Ilirium’s fear began to lighten
“Jess, is that a good sign?”
“Yes, my little one. It looks like we will be just fine.”

Sunday, 8 November 2015

Oh, brother (part 39) by Grant Harbison


“Arise, ye’ve had enough sleep,” said Deplorium to Truman and Borium. “It’s time tae earn yer keep.”
Both Borium and Truman woke with fright
“Deplorium, cried Borium. “It’s still the middle of the night.”
“Exactly,” replied Deplorium. “What ah do cannae be done in the light.”
“Tis said that those who toil before the dawn are Satan’s spawn,” said Truman. “Wouldn’t you say so, Borium?”
“Yes. What exactly do you want us to do, Deplorium?”
“Many fools are buried wi’ jewels.”
Borium and Truman stared at him aghast
“Och, dinnae look at me like that. They’re aw jist shells whose souls have passed.”
“It’s still inhuman!” cried Truman.
“Yes, Truman. I agree,” said Borium. “I’ll never do that. No, not me.”
“Well, if you’re not able, ye’ll have tae find another way o’ puttin’ food on the table. Ah’ll give ye time tae contemplate. Dinnae take too long. It’s gettin’ late.”
Borium gave Truman a look of dread
Borium understood and nodded his head. “Deplorium, is there something other we can do instead? We’re not very good when it comes to the dead.”
“Ye can dig the soil if that’s how yer feelin’. Ah’ll have a look tae see if there’s anythin’ worth stealin’.”
Suddenly Borium’s tongue began to swell
Truman lost control of his legs and to the floor he fell
“Great monstrosities fae the bowels of Hell!” cried Deplorium. “Ah know those signs aw too well. It looks like someone has cast a spell.”
Borium struggled for breath and Truman began to yell
“Relax, the pair o’ ye. Ah’ll get somethin’ fae the dell. Ah’ll make a wee brew and ye’ll both be well.” 

  

Love and delusion by Grant Harbison


Some say that in the kingdom of the blind the one eyed are king
But to those blinded by love it doesn’t mean a thing
Its power demands no requisite sight
Just total belief in all its might
Eternal devotion to those we adore
Blissfully receiving yet offering more
It’s an emotion that sometimes makes fools of us all
But so hard to resist when we hear its call
Love only requires that we feel and listen
So that its possessive power can make us glisten
But that power can create much confusion
When reciprocation is merely just a delusion
Allowing us to see
It was never going to happen and never meant to be

Thursday, 5 November 2015

1979 by Grant Harbison


First slow dance
First romance
First French kiss
Teenage bliss
No need for worry
Life was fine
Not a care in the world
For it was mine
Slowly changed in the years to follow
Learned of heartbreak and of sorrow
What it takes to stay alive
The constant worry and endless strive
But memories can be so divine
And those I have will always shine
Forever remembering seventy nine

Oh, brother (part 38) by Grant Harbison


Elise and Derek heard a knock on the door
Derek sighed. “That will be man number four.”
“I’m having so much fun,” cried the former nun. “Sixteen more will make a score.”
“I suppose I should let him in. And this time try not to make such a din. I’ve agreed to this, but you are a bit too zealous.”
“Darling, don’t tell me that you are jealous. You’re welcome to join.”
“Knowing that another is pleasuring your groin? Let me just let him in and you can bask in your sin.”
Derek opened the door and there stood a man who was only three foot four.
“Be this the room of the wench who can’t get enough?” he asked. “There be word going around that she likes it rough.”
“Just come in and do your stuff,” replied Derek in a huff.
Elise and Derek gasped in surprise
When he removed his clothes and they saw the size
Derek looked on in misery when he heard her cries
But then a strange sensation came over him and he began to rise
Part of him wanted to boke
But a desire took over and he began to stroke
Suddenly he felt ecstasy
Extremely aroused from what he did see
But for Erik there was only misery
And as he lay with a monk in the monastery
All he could think about was Borium and no other
One time lover
His favourite Brother
But words from Brother Blaine
Made his heart stain
When he heard that he had disappeared
And that he might be a murderer
Or murdered
It was feared

Monday, 2 November 2015

Oh, brother (part 37) by Grant Harbison



“Speak to me, Brother Blaine,” said Sister Agatha Chrustie. “Unburden that pain.”
“I can’t tell ye what I don’t know, Sister Chrustie. My memory is somewhat rusty.”
“You were heard talking in your sleep. Hardly surprising, as it must be a terrible secret to keep.”
“It’s just a vision of the man who was slain. A nightmare I’ve been havin’ again and again.”
“But surely if you’ve been having this recurring nightmare, it’s absolute proof that you were there.”
“I can’t honestly swear that I wasn’t there, but killin’ a man, I wouldn’t dare. What about the other pair?”
“You know as well as I do that they’re not here, but it is very suspicious that they felt the need to disappear. Or perhaps they are dead too. Did they threaten to expose you?”
“No, that’s not true!”
“Come on, Brother Blaine. Don’t pretend. The guilt is making you go round the bend.”
“It has to be Borium and Truman, don’t ye see? That’s why they decided to flee.”
“Would it be fair to say that you can’t control your aggression?”
“It sometimes happens after a drinkin’ session.”
“Maybe your aggravation was caused by being in a state of intoxication. And where is Ilirium? Is he also dead due to your drunken delirium?”
“No, Ilirium was sold. I think it was because he was gettin’ too cold.”
“You’re not making much sense. Who would commit such an offence?
“It was me. The poor man was tied naked to a tree.”
“And how did that come to be?”
“Borium and Truman involved me in their tomfoolery.”
“Ah, so they had everyone think that he was dead, and when Grover requested the body, they had to use the brother instead. Brother Blaine, I’ll be frank. I don’t think that you are guilty of murder, but you took part in their prank. And for that association, your punishment will be flagellation.”
“To where do I go for the punishment and pain?”
“To Maude the bawd in Brothel Lane. Tell her you would like to see Mistress Paine.”