The Philosopher Pistol

Desperate Times Presents:

The Philosopher Pistol (Part !)

There doesn't see to be any artillery sir?
But there Must be artillery!
How can we fight a Goddamn Bloody War without Goddamn Bloody artillery?!

The general was fuming at this point and i was glad to get out of the room before the winds of politics swept in a foul thunderstorm. I left with my charge, ahead of the supply boy and with my pistol in hand. I thought this quite amusing. I'm not one to carry my pistol in my hand, but my experience in the General's office; being handed my first real assignment on my own, had my heart pumping. Perhaps I pulled my sidearm out of it's holster, who knows how or why these things happen. I promptly re-holstered my weapon and set off on my journey.

I slept for a night on the beach - i took in the smell of the sand, the sound of the water lapping against the earth, like matter smacking against time. I thought about time slowly falling away in to a deep well hole in New England; only to be retrieved by a man who once sold his daughter to a Street Performer for September 1968. Time couldn't be easily caught, or held on to for that matter. And after the Street Performer intercepted time, it quickly got away from him. Never to be caught again.

I walked a desert road for a time. I felt like a man on a mission, but what mission, I did not know. I held my gun up above me as I walked. The reflection of the Sun against my pistol warmed my soul the way the company of another human being never could. I guess it was my manner. My way. I'd never been one for company. Strangers sure. But I'd never kept company well and I wasn't about to start now. That's why i left. To get away from everyone; To find out - after all my awful misdeeds and sins, he trail of tears and broken lives I've left behind me; who I really am.

So I walk along the trodden trail - the only trail a man who's low can know.
I sing my song to no avail, for on my path, if I choose to sing it's for no one
I choose to sing to no one.

Send me a mountain to climb to the top and jump off and explode and then fly in to hell and do battle with satan - and crucify Christ - let them whip me and rape me and burn me and hate me.

Next Time on Desperate times Presents - PART 2