Guilt endures a weighty shroud
     first aggression taints our deed
          self-righteousness stains our trail.

I saw you today...
flickering image across a flat screen.
One hand clutching a precious doll,
worn ragged from trust’s tight embrace.
It wears the tears from your half lidded eyes.

Camera pans left revealing the crime...
a ****** stump where an innocent hand
once held a child’s inquisitive fingers.

I wonder what I would say
if ever forced to face you,
exposing my great shame.

Perhaps I would repeat the spin from our
doctors of the twisted and profaned word.
They preen with vain pride,

“So few are as you".

Just a casualty of a righteous war...
As if the crippling of even one
guiltless child was not one child too many.

                 one child too many
                 one child too many

          *Guilt endures a weighty shroud
      first aggression taints our deed
self-righteousness stains our trail.

©  S.Loeding
All Rights Reserved

one year on, one year on
and nothing differs,
yet nothing is the same

the sun come out today
as it will tomorrow
the grass grows,
the wind gusts and shakes the trees

all manner of things just carry on
all manner of things are blithley unaware


but not I,
I feel the difference, the sorrow
the spaces that can no longer
be filled...

I feel the void....a great gasping thing
that hides, waiting to catch you unawares...
and then takes the colours from the day
leaving behind a glassiene grey

one year on, one year on
and still, I turn to you to say...
but you are gone,
and now even your scent
has begun to fade away....

Don't act as though my opinion
Matters to you
At all.

Grant me the words
"I don't care."

So that I don't waste my precious thoughts
On your unworthy ears.

Sin so sickening yet beckoning you closer,
Its twisted tendrils of temptation seeking your destructive desires,
Your purity is worthless and hidious, it seeks your submission to the sinister
Ferociously endeavoring its newest prisoner
Devouring your sanity, it enters your skin
Surrounded by blackness, you start chasing sin

England 1892.

The Orphan boy.
The Orphan Boy

The little boy lay sleeping homeless in the park.
So cold and he did shiver so frightened in the dark.
No mother or father to tuck him into bed
No pillow full of feathers to rest his weary head

The faery Queen looked down upon him a tear fell from her eye.
The winter winds will end him he surely will just die
She commanded her best faeries go to the little boy
Go bring him to our island to be happy filled with joy

Bring him to the faerie place to run free and run wild
Where happiness will fill him go bring the human child
Guide him here in safety fly here hand in hand
From his world so filled with sadness
With more tears than he can stand

The cold was biting through him he was near his very last
As the faery throng came to him his troubles were near passed
A thousand faery hands took him like a feather to the sky
To warm him by the suns light as to the magic land they fly

No more to feel the hunger and pain of being alone
The magic kingdom he lived in was a wonderful new home
He had fairies for sisters and the faery queen became his Mom
He was her little boy her one and only human son

The faery throng all sang to him a lovely faery song
"We brought him to our island to live with our faery thong.
To live within the magic faery land to run free and run wild
Where happiness now fills him our only human child
Never to be alone again and always hold a faery hand
From his world so filled with sadness
With more tears than he can stand."

In burnt out scenes I lingered like some old lab rat or some apocalyptic cockroach glowing in the dark and still existing in this modern wasteland.
Vegas is an illusion 1 billion bright lights shining out in the distance with no true soul or depth.

She was the past and I was too old to look  back.
Or maybe just too jaded my ego too big to fathom her ways.
You are a mystery a unwritten story best left untold no true emotion and an endless supply ******* to keep you warm.

There is solace in isolation a madman's prison the paradise to troubled thoughts I had everything my drugs my ***** my addictions serve me well.

And as for you my dear.
I will see you tonight rapped in lace and bound by secrets.
I will see you for only the way you choose me to see you.

There are no true answers  to questions only more stories.
And she was a chapter unto herself passion, hatred, love, all things she had learned served her as my addictions suited me.

We would meet again for fools in the storm often take shelter anywhere they can.

I never wrote a mystery until I met her.