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Pagan Paul May 2019
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Light hits my retina
through the prism of a tear,
distorted faces pass
with images fragmented
inside out
and the smell of tallow
as a candle splutters,
falters and winks out
for the wick collapses cruel
like a hamstrung dancer.
The tear exits stage left
and rolls down the wings
of a thoughtless cheek,
teeters on the brink of catastrophe
and falls upon a blank page,
reviewing its brief life
as a lazy metaphor,
so I look at the remaining solitary candle
and grieve for the lost tear,
as an understudy takes its place.




© Pagan Paul (28/05/19)
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5th entry in Fool's Diary.
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  May 2019 Pagan Paul
Karijinbba
Ay
Ay ay ay my old forest land
five little brothers blown
Ay ay my baby boy gone
My loving dad's grave lost

Mom lost her mind
sold my half sis for food
as I ran to convent stunned

Ay USA my coco girl's birth
Henrys infertil mistress bailed
his******* dues selling my
baby girl to her!
impostor posing as Mom-me
!in Torrance CA maternity ward
stole my baby photos

Ay daughter keep away from Moureen
he even gave you daughter her ugly name! sold you like a dog is sold
Evil Henry is no father to you
tried vanishing me and
you in my womb using saline but Mom saved herself and you
called police
before and after your birth
we both were attacked
this truth you must know no matter how painful
your Mother loves you this mother is me I love you you are my beloved father David's precious grand child
your maternal grandparents were good people so we're your paternal grandmother Janet but not your paternal father he was evil biggoted racist don't ever be like him.
I love you so miss you daughter mine your father's seed isn't to blame his sister Elizabeth is sociopath sadistic weekly jealous she is like Henry a Charles Manson's advocate almost turned me pregnant into Sharon Tate 1969 butchered by evil crazed men and followers
same bad people in Greece pray on pregnant women and babies they are the **** of this planet.
I wouldn't do a roach what they all put me and my baby's through.
~~~
Ay my Greek born baby girls
medeas tinted your baby milk
with caustic soda yelling at me to hurt me saying it was to open your sink out of jealousy malice and greed
they said you were killers because hers with him wouldn't be born.
~~
Take heed keep away from Greece and them all they are not well in the head they a lack heart brains courage everything I had in excess to fly away and save us all.
~~~~
ay ay our envious foe
enemy so blind a fool
has died seeing us thrive
Ay PTSD ay free me please.

Ay dear poets potessess
thou in thy worst nightmare have it good and better then me and my kin.

Ay ay poisons potions we won!
we emerged immune even to you stronger mightier better
than thee

my enemies all look at us
living in the land of
the free and the brave
healthy loving caring
Ay sad sure! bitter never!

Ay ay USA ay ay Mexico
Hell Greece and Greeks sits more evil
of lower hells bellow thee  
most vicious cruel of all foe.
I changed Earth for the anti-Christ wasn't born instead my Angels
thrive good destroys evil within

Ay Greek **** mythology drown!
drown Join Atlantis Sodomah
Gomorrah into your pits of hell
itself go sink.!
This is a holy mother's plee
supersticious ignorant greece
We have flushed thee down
deep the bottomless pit
with this tini poetic
metaphor I plee to the Universe the spiritual unseen world above and below.
So wise many a poet
and powerful poetessess
family and friends,
please switch vacation trips to elsewhere in the globe
ending touristic revenues to
food poisoning *****
Hell enic poisoner twisted backwards ******'s ******* lenic Greece.
~~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
All right reserved revived 8-2020
true life story.
Enough shared thanks for reading
Pagan Paul May 2019
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     I stare down at the plate of toast and beans
     wondering why this was never part of my dreams.
     Looking for the future with an illusional pretence,
     hoping good apples will fall on my side of the fence.

And as the fork dances slow
around the legumes in spirals,
the tedium of a wasting life
bears the burden and scars
of missed opportunities in paralysis
and the colour of once bright lights
          glow black,
shining a shadow into the void
covering the bruises
that were once achievements of worth,
     now tender patches
          of failure.
I drop the fork ...

     … pushing away the plate and leaving food uneaten,
     my desire for its nutrition fought and beaten,
     Looking at the apple tree with sombre regret
     maybe its fruit will fall and save me yet.

And disappointment
is worse than anger,
it begins with the stench of loss
the nasal whiff of
what if …

And what if the little apple tree
drops all its fruit down to me?
Would I recognise fortune on my side
or fear the illusions and run to hide?


© Pagan Paul (17/02/18)
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