Visit from a Lesser God: With a kick, a punch and a knock

Copyright © 2018 A. R. Forte

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Push open the gate, jump over the grate

The grind of the rust, mingles with the dust

The Port Cullis is up, you ponder at your luck

The pathway glows dark, through willow and bark

The air smells dank, with flusty and kank

The mansion looks shut, and boarded all up

But the door is ajar, as you look from afar

Hop down the path, suppressing your wrath

Knock on the door, and wonder what for

But no answer is nigh, you are wondering why?

Now enter the room, of musty and gloom

A crash and a boom, heralds your doom

Sit down on a chair, and look to the stairs

Why have you come, what do you want?

You forget who you are, but know where you’re from

A Spirit came calling, early one morning

It lurks in the loft, much to your shock

It is now on the stairs, stepping daintily down

You are rudely awake, and shudder and shake

Beg, steal and borrow, and drown all your sorrows

It has come for your soul, fulfilling its role

It whispers and sniggers, burbles and giggles

You scream and you pray, don’t take me away

The clock strikes nine, now you are mine

And with a kick, a punch and a knock

Brings a Visit From A Lesser God…

A. R. Forte

CONTENTS

Harry Bounces Back

Edgar

Enoch And Apollyon

North Clark Street

The Return Of Mick O’ Mara

Frantic Antic

Here Comes The Judge

Harry Bounces Back

Edgar

Enoch and Apollyon

North Clark Street

The Return of Mick O’ Mara

Frantic Antic

Here Comes the Judge

HARRY BOUNCES BACK

Oh! there you are Harry, pushing open the door of a derelict building. I can see you’ve slept rough again last night. You’ve lost one shoe and a sock, and by the way you stink to high heaven. And there is a gaping hole in the seat of your trousers and pants. I shouldn’t laugh, but you are tragically comic, almost burlesque in your appearance now.

What a terrible crash back down to earth for one of the top finance bankers in the World. It’s a long way to the top of the building, twenty two stories. Twenty two stories should be more than enough to do the job of jumping off to kill yourself.

Just in case you are interested the building was a massive finance centre before the war, which helped to finance the war that cost millions of people their lives. Do you remember that war Harry? Oh that war. The same war that the international banking system, which you were part of and presided over and had financed through ghost companies and holdings, who’s names of the elite who had a stake in them were kept very secret. You never thought that they would catch up with you Harry, did you? Well it has taken two years and the investigation has finally bagged a name in the top echelons of banking. Your name Harry!

Firstly they went for the corrupt, bought and paid for criminal politicians. Then the vast weapon companies like Lanz-Tec and Speer-electronics. You weren’t really bothered when a few low rent politicians and chief executives got whopping prison sentences. Because you thought they could never pin anything on you. But they went for the jugular, like an attack dog. It was a tough and painstaking task, but they followed the money. With dogged determination they broke down the smoke and mirrors and misleading corridors of corruption and began to climb the lower blocks of the pyramid. You only realised that you were in trouble when they netted Craddock, Corbett and Lovell all in one probe. To get themselves lighter sentences they just didn’t sing like canaries, they bloody well blurted out secrets that would have taken years to dig up. Oh Harry boy, your name was repeated parrot fashion so many times that they had to open a completely separate file on you. They all got twenty years in the five-bar-hotel anyway, so God knows what you’re gonna get. But they won’t get you Harry, because your fat, disgusting body will be splattered all over the pavement, cheating them out of their biggest and most revolting prize.

As you climb slowly up the stairs, a thousand thoughts reverberate relentlessly through your brain. Remember old man Golding. He taught you every thing you know about digital forged money, virtual money, with no backing and only underwritten by fresh air, instead of gold, or commodities. His slogan was ‘Keep the people, the useless eaters in a debt based economy and force them to pay us real money.’

He had big ambitions for you Harry. You were ambitious, aggressive and above all cunning, cruel and merciless. He even introduced you to other people in the industry, who had worked their way to the top. And you learnt a lot of tricks and tactics from them to boot. The problem for you was that old Golding would not retire, because his spirit was completely consumed by greed and power. So after brooding in anger and frustration for three years, you decided to have him bumped off. It all nearly went horribly wrong, when your hired assassin was caught carrying out the deed by Mr Golding’s housekeeper. So he murdered her in cold blood as well. Then he had the audacity to charge you double, which you had to pay out of fear of exposure.

Now you were right at the top of the vile parasite called the international banking system, and you have underlings like Craddock, Corbett and Lovell, who do anything to gain favour with you. In your game people can be bought and sold, beaten and destroyed like just another consumer product. All that matters is profit. Profit should be illegally financing illegal wars through the criminal political system. Or by any means at all. Because all that counts is profit and power. They have even discovered the massive tax dodges that you have managed to cover and hide.

Everything was going so smoothly for you Harry, but then the unexpected happened. The enemy who you had craftily financed began to win the war dramatically. Even the obsolete QB 101 tanks began to wreak havoc in our own infantry and artillery. The planned ten to twelve year war, which was expected to reap gargantuan heaps of profit for the weapons industry, hence the banks that had lent them the money at whopping rates of interest, looked as though it was going to be won by the enemy, within eighteen months. So the war department in league with the corrupt, criminal politicians frantically threw together The Anti Tank Corp. What a laugh you had, when you went down to their depot to see them when they were first commissioned and paraded as a fighting unit. Remember those boys, standing there dressed in their bottle green boiler-suits and knee length jack-boots. They all looked like bewildered children, wondering where on earth they were. When the infantry and artillery boys roared with laughter, jeered and derided them as a bunch of Irish square dancers, you laughed the loudest. Standing there, wearing your Party badge and flanked by a bunch of disgusting Swan-Vestas. But cold fear replaced laughter when the Battalions dog handlers marched past with the regimental Irish wolf hounds. When they saw you their hair began to bristle and they all snarled at you, with foam spluttering from their mouths. That’s because they knew who and what you are Harry. The whole house of cards had to fall down in the end Harry. All of the counterfeit, forged money, fractional reserve virtual money, or leveraging as its known in the industry, just could not sustain the false debt.

The banking cartels thought that everybody higher up in the pyramid could not be touched by any law, because they made the laws and issued them to the bought and paid for politicians. Yes indeed, rob, tax, rob, tax the public and call it austerity measures, rather than theft. Theft may not sound quite so acceptable to the public. They just might wake up and realize what had happened to them. Then force debt, upon debt upon debt onto the public until they haven’t got room to breath, or fart. Steal savings and plunder savings trusts and call it protection trusts, rather than fraud. The plunder, theft, fraud and embezzlement had become so complete, so rapacious that there was no real money left. People were losing their houses, their savings, their jobs, everything. They couldn’t even feed their families. The cap-stone of the pyramid has now decoupled Harry and the eye is not shedding a tear, or even winking at you, to thank you for your services. Because the elite who live up there know that you are just another Goyam, or useless eater. They select, groom and use vermin like you Harry, just like they do with the criminal politicians. That’s because they understand people like you Harry. They fully understand false ego, vanity and greed, that completely blocks out the light of critical thinking and empathy for others. They know very well all of the dark and