Said the devil to God as he knocked on God's door,
'I think that it's time to even the score'.
Said God to the devil 'Do you think this is wise'.
But the devil just smiled, with mischief in his eyes.

He said 'God Almighty are you scared of defeat'.
God said 'No, but you will only look foolish amongst my elite'.
'So go ahead devil do the worst you can do'.
'But none of my people will turn unto you'.

So great storms and winds and lightening to fright,
the devil cast down upon this blackened night.
'I'll destroy you'r creation', said the devil with mirth,
'and i will own every soul that you have on this earth'.

With Fire and Brimstone the devil did play
as all of God's people knelt down to pray.
Said God to the devil, 'You create wars and starvation,'
'I am the truth and this Worlds salvation.'

Then with no more words God stretched out his hands.
Suddenly peace and serenity filled all the lands.
Gods Angels all stood in an arch of great light
all the people whom prayed saw this Heavenly sight.

The devil just stood their, amazed and in awe
not even he could deny the beauty he saw.
The devil just laughed and bid God his farewell
and once again trod down the steps into hell.

Do we try to understand?
The differences we see
of those that share this fine old land.
This land we think is free.

You'd think that this
would be the norm
not to dismiss
and not to scorn.

Alas whatever it may be
that raises the antagonist.
Colour or Disability,
Why should this make us raise a fist?

Common sense we like to think
makes the human race superior
but hatred is the obvious link
that can make us inferior.

Perhaps to take in what I say
might enhance this life we live
and not to try to take away
let's try to help and try to give.

Lets treat those not the same as us
with an heartfelt interest
and not be quick to cause a fuss.
In this world let's invest.

Make this a better place to be
together we can stand.
Standing up for Liberty
together hand in hand.

I see her sitting over there
another's arms around her waist.
Sunlight shimmers through golden hair,
bodice ruffled and unlaced.

Surprise sits obvious on her face,
over the distance where I walk
it shouts to me of felt disgrace.
A story told no need for talk.

I look down staring at the ground
feeling awkward as I continue
not raising eyes to what I found
like curtains drawn across a window.

My footsteps quicken with the pace,
footpath blurs with constant view.
My head can't raise to see her face
because I don't know what to do.

I hear her calling, voice a quiver,
I hear her tread as she doe's chase
Almost a trot I do deliver
trying to clear from this place.

I manage to evade her follow,
thinking of the scene I saw.
Her cheating ways are cruel and hollow
as I viewed her frolic on the floor.

What do I say when next I see
her arm in arm with my best friend.
But if these words I say to he
will cause him harm that may not end.

So I have given them some room
to sort themselves in their own way.
It's she that must hand out the gloom
from her own words then she must pay.

As for this secret I say nought
I shall not give her game away
for she's not the only one I've caught
for my friend does play away.

I do not judge the things they do
and best that I do not involve
myself with what they both go through.
It's for themselves both to resolve.

If you can't say something good
perhaps it might be best
to keep your mouth closed tightly
and your thoughts close to your chest.

Try to keep malicious
words that you may want to say
and try not to be so vicious
when you do not get your way.

Most folk can shrug off badness
without a second thought.
but to some it can cause sadness
and could be the final straw.

So before you shout
and put somebody down
don't bandy words about cause
you could cause someone to drown.

So if you can't say something good
perhaps it might be best
to keep your mouth closed tightly
and your thoughts close to your chest.

He sits under that apple tree
on gnarly knoll beside the glade.
He thinking, haven't I done well
with the decisions he had made.

The first I heard that male voice
just droning on about his Rib.
The thing is though if I complain
his face exudes a lamented jib.

He calls me Woe-Man just for fun
and reckons now his troubles start.
Thinks I have got it all my own
when all he does is Moan and ****.

God told him I was called Woman
this name provides him with a joke
at my expense amusements aim.
Its aim to hurt and cause provoke.

His rib he gave with good intent,
perhaps he should of dwelt upon
the reasons for such hankerings.
I do believe a selfish one.

This man whom needed company,
so afraid of being alone
wanted something to rule upon.
Something to order and to own.

In his mind there was no doubt.
Sharing his home with such a one.
This Paradise that he calls home
will be so different when I’m done.

Expected handmaid I shall not
if he thinks this is what I be
a shock is coming so immense.
The man is blind but soon shall see.

Paradise they call this place.
I had no choice in coming here.
But now I am I make the most.
And certainly wont live in fear.

He’s quite attractive to the eye.
He makes his creator a good son.
There are many things I can improve
like make him put some trousers on.

I only ask him for one thing.
The smallest favour is all I ask.
In his deluded simple mind
he turns this into such a task.

That apple hanging true and bright
gleaming in the mid-day sun.
I yearn to taste a little bite
but he says No! and thinks he’s won.

He plies me with every other crop
but mind is set on other fruit
he tells me this is God’s demand
but in my mind I’m resolute.

I only have one friend in life.
Charming serpent of my acquaint.
Such an helpful companion
but evil is what my man must paint.

My serpent friend is always ready
to help me gain my aims in life.
Reminds me that my husband should
show some allegiance to his wife.

I wonder how, if I withdraw
with certain charms that I do hold.
This will change his manly mind
and leave him feeling that I'm cold.

I swoon around in tender pose,
temptation broiling in his mind.
Portraying naked silhouette
with glistening breast and smooth behind.

Positioned touch in private place
his temperature wont take much more,
he’ll soon pay with forbidden fruit.
The price he pays to bed his *****.

Resolve is lessening by the hour,
too make sweet love will surely sway.
He’ll promise anything for this
a price that he shall dearly pay.

Eventually my way is won,
the fruit positioned at my feet.
I got my way his will undone
but apple tastes so far from sweet.

I know not where my friend has gone.
To lose a friend is far from good
then God turns up so far from pleased
and chases us from gardens wood.

Cast from Eden is our fate
our goods and home suddenly gone.
Evicted we pathetic pair
just us to walk this world alone.

Why didn’t I listen to that man
instead of taking serpents phrase.
Perhaps I may of listened more
if only he had shed some praise.

Is there a moral I can say
to help others if I can.
If only I had remained a rib
there'd never be another man.

I sit under this apple tree
on gnarly knoll beside the glade.
Newton’s law far from my mind,
rather she, whom from my rib was made.

That first ever female voice
takes its toll on silent patch.
She rattles on in Paradise
and word for word I cannot match.

Her name aligned beside her man,
she who formed not long ago.
Since she arrived, troubles do start.
Since she arrived, I’m full of Woe.

God told me she is called “Wo-man”,
a joke I do believe he made
at my expense I am aware.
This gift, perhaps I should evade.

The rib I gave with good intent
perhaps something to dwell upon.
So fast to pray for what we want
but too late to change when deed is done.

With only my own company
I really did feel so alone,
another lesson I have learnt.
Take time to think before you moan.

At the time their was no doubt
I needed someone here to share.
That Paradise that I call home
was quieter before she got there.

A place to roam in happiness,
a place where I could meditate
where feelings so unleashed themselves.
But driven now to medicate.

From Paradise to living hell.
I sin for showing such remorse
with now a very saddened life
with no parole and no divorce.

She looks of heaven, so divine,
her shapely contours take their toll.
Until she opens up her mouth
then life takes on another role.

When what she see’s is what she wants.
Of all the fruits that lay to hand.
The one she wants is so forebode,
forbidden fruit is Gods demand.

That apple hanging true and bright,
gleaming in the mid-day sun.
She yearns to feast upon its taste
and No's a battle far from won.

I supplement with other fruits
that are delicious to the taste.
I explain the rules as God set out,
my words are truly just a waste.

I blame that serpent for my toil
for putting ideas in her mind.
That slimy slinky reptile ****,
looks far from good and far from kind.

They sit together scheming pair,
trying to draw at my resolve
to leave that ever calling fruit
in place where it did first evolve.

Temptation is ****** upon me
with loss of my marital rite.
Poor down trodden, hopeless male
is feeling pressured, every night.

She swoons around in tender pose
promising things that take my mind.
Portraying wanted silhouette
with glistening ******* and smooth behind.

Positioned touch in private place
and my temperature can't take much more.
To get hands on forbidden fruit
has changed this Angel into *****.

My resolve does lessen by the hour
too make sweet love is what may sway.
I’ll promise anything for this,
forget the price that is to pay.

Eventually I give it up,
placing the fruit before her feet
and all for what I ask myself
this apple tasting far from sweet.

The snake it shows a sneaky grin
and slithers off along its path
and God turns up,he's far from pleased
and this is where we feel his wrath.

Cast away from Paradise,
eternally to carry sin.
Adam and Eve are homeless now,
our children sinners before they begin.

Things were easier on my own
with no corruption, no temptation.
It wasn’t until this ***** turned up
and led man into degradation.

Is there a moral I can say?
Something to help my brothers know.
Yes life was blissful when alone.
Man was better without the Wo.

Its all her fault I wasn't bad.
So please don't take the time to gloat.
I was weak and temptation won
leaving this lump in my throat.

I sit here in silence
trying to write
a task that will see me
far into the night.

Struggling with lyric,
wrestling with word
finding all my idea’s
absolutely absurd.

My mind a fiasco,
scrambled and locked.
Sentences stumbled.
My talent is blocked.

Though I sit concentrating,
my mind being a fighter
but there still is no tapping
on this old typewriter.

If just one idea
should reveal to me
an happier person
I know you would see.

If some lyrical phrase
would just come to my mind,
no longer amnesiac
and no longer blind.

I would wear out my fingers
typing what I desire.
Digits covered in plasters
whilst machine is on fire.

I would pick up a pencil
so I may carry on,
scribbling madly
till the lead is all gone.

But alas there is nothing
not even a grain
or anything else
floating round in my brain.

My nerves they are screeching,
my sinews in shock.
I pray never again
do I get writers block.

We gather in Old London town,
the time is getting late.
The fog is slowly coming down,
the year is eighteen eighty eight.

The Leather Apron stalks this eve
ladies of the night beware.
Such things he does you wont believe
and for your welfare he’ll not care.

Hello Mister have a heart,
a girl has got to earn a crust.
A shilling for this fine old ****
for you look like a gent to trust.

In her hand the coin doth shine.
Does she lead this toff astray?
Here’s a quiet place that’s fine,
as she walks up the alley-way.

Face to face and eye to eye.
The victim happy to be plied
with vigour she lifts up her skirt
but now her hands are occupied.

Seizing strongly at her throat
he strangles her till unaware.
Unconscious although not yet broke
he lowers her by head and hair.

Now insentient on the ground
the Ripper sets about his work.
In the dark without a sound
there is no detail he will shirk.

He keeps the body to his left,
her throat is sliced from side to side.
The woman’s family now bereft,
whilst she lies here without her pride.

Left to the nights illumination
Jack executes his deadly art.
Performing such skilled mutilation.
and leaving plus one body part.

Daylight opens up commotion,
"Whitechapel Murderer", strikes once more.
The peelers haven’t got a notion
who it is that killed this *****.

Scotland Yard are in despair
as they try to Investigate
their credibility beyond repair
for they cant find this reprobate.

Eventually the death toll, five,
the murders now come to an end.
Folk are free to live their lives
but could you trust even a friend.

Over an hundred years or more
professional research is far to late.
Jack, can we ever know the score?
"No... All you can do is speculate."

If you could only be
the places I have been.
If only you could see
the horrors I have seen.

If you had felt their wrath,
that many of us feel
you would never laugh.
You'd then know it was real.

If you had been regressed.
Repressed by all their charms.
Woe of this tempest.
Tormented with alarms.

If you could realise,
if we were safe at home
we never would up-rise,
no reason then to roam.

If things were not as now
my homeland is were I would.
The fields we would plough,
our life could be so good.

Until this comes to pass,
alas, this cannot be,
we exit here en-masse
in order to be free.

These words you would express
if you were in my place.
If all you had was less
would you not join this race?

So you might comprehend,
note, I have nothing to lose.
So please don’t condescend
just walk a mile in my shoes.

My mind is in a spin!
Thoughts take shape inside.
Characters and Scenes
are pouring from my scribe.

Imagination strikes.
Words just start to flow.
I wait to see just where
this stories going to go.

Will it be suspense,
as horror's do protrude?
Will ****** come to pass
before the interlude?

Or could it be Amour?
Two hearts that beat as one,
with him and her in love
how smoothly will it run?

It might be fantasy
with creature filled with flight
where heroes of the day
defeat those of the night.

Comedy is fun,
with such a laughing spree
as wild jokes escalate
with witty repartee.

Or maybe espionage,
will we produce a spy?
Who rather than fail his mission
would be prepared to die.

Perhaps a child's fable
with a fierce leprechaun
who tries to steel a babe
that's only just been born.

An epic would be good,
one like War and Peace.
People could read for years
after its release.

I wonder what these thoughts
and self examination
shall bring from deep within
my own imagination

Alone in the darkness I sigh. Other things far away from the battle line occupy me, such things as love flow through my head. I imagine you naked and standing before me, such acts we perform, words we say to each other, words I could never utter into the realms of speech lest I be stricken down with rod of lightening. Nether less I adore these glimpses, indeed I harbour intent for fruitful desires with my intended love.

As horn doth bellow weapon is drawn at readiest, with lance and sword I am at last prepared for what is to come. I stand abreast with better man than I, awaiting the extremes of battle. It is not an army that faces me, surely a nest, a colony of such unending mass. I fear that the whole of humanity stands before us this day. And as they swarm forward I fear such an infestation so unimaginable to behold.

By the grace of God I do believe my life will end here. I fear that I shall never again see my homeland and the one I share such dreams with. I look to God for the strength of many, for my heart to be engulfed with that of a Lion, and my Sword to be as enhanced as that of our own good King Arthur’s Excalibur. For if victory is to be ours this day, it is the Right Hand of God that shall hold this battle to rights, for it is in no mans hand to wield this capability.

Hour upon hour the death toll exceeds. Such things I see this day are beyond reproach, a more foreign battlefield I have never seen. Not simply the war of man but that of wizardry and witchcraft. This attacker is of no breed I have ever witnessed but that of incarnation. This Evil manifestation parades upon human being. Slaughter is its middle name and this entity feeds on its own etymology.

Brave knights on sturdy steed make your attack riotous and as Foot Soldier fights and dies by peculiar hand you chase down the brewer of this unfortunate broth. Wiser Knight shall not be found than he that sits in circle with Arthur Pendragon. They brave the wave of inhuman soul battling around them with valour and vigour. In their centre the figure of Merlin concocts his own mischief upon said fatal clan.

Once more to victory we strive, foul spell is cast no more and inhuman hand flags, falling by our side as he breathes this mortal coil no longer. The deed is done and battle is no longer. We grieve as we haul body of friend and fellow to bear in deaths pile, though within such angst lies an under current of relief. Happiness will flourish when this deed is concluded.

I can now allow myself such aspiration that once flowed through my being. Upon my return to dear England those forbidden words from my dreams shall once more become a reality. I shall give her my all and expect nought less in return, our ******* will rival, if not overwhelm that of any other man that eve. With health and happiness before me I take my leave of this most pleasant of company.

God save the King

Expectation....
As you draw in the warmth from the blistering ember
you will travel a road that I know you'll remember.
Make sure you're comfy in your night-time attire
as you open the book beside this open fire.

You sit here alone reading by candle's glow
your design on this journey that these pages will show.
You flick through the prologue so ready to start
Unknown roads stand before me, so now I depart.

I relish, these words that are so well designed.
Passing such crafted visions into embracing mind
and so were away, as I follow the text,
full of anticipation at what to expect.

Onward....
What is it I cannot see, it hovers vaguely up ahead, shadow stalk, lingering round, vanishing with words un-said.
Uncertain, I do forge ahead, my passage-way remains un-blocked
a beating heart is all I hear and fear is certainly unlocked.

Expeditions must proceed as I try hard not to sway.
With words un-aired but swiftly told with handful gesture as I pray.
I want so much not to be afraid, such horrors keeps my mind engrossed
Reluctantly I turn the page, clinging to this paper host.

Continuing through this written course, what must I cater for ahead,
from words that I cannot divorce. Is Shelley's monster still un-dead.
Standing just outside the grasp of shadows moving through the night
with Frankenstein will I relapse? Shall Dracula cause early flight.

Has Jeckyll change into his Hyde? The only way to surely know,
Is carry on till journeys end, continue forth and watch the show.
Should I force this cover shut or should I just continue on.
My fear maybe sounds absurd as I escape from Chapter one?

How can I be afraid to read?
They're merely words from someone's mind.
Fictitious lines from crafters pen,
why then am I in this bind?

This fear I have is very real
as images do start to brew.
So curious I have no choice,
my course is clear- Chapter two

Painful Endurance....
It seems so long ago to me since first I opened this
Cover up and looked inside to see things I don't want to miss.
I've travelled through such horrors in the Chapters I have delved.
If foresight was ahead of me this novel would be shelved.
This truly was not on my mind when this work I did desire
but I worry that I shan't get back home to sit beside my fire.

Do we have any idea?
Have we even got a clue?
Can it be that we don't give a ****
what others are going through.

Are we so wrapped up in selfish mode?
So devoted to our own.
That we should sit back and watch
as others are gnawed down to the bone.

Should it be that our own offspring
if they were cast away so far?
Would we worry about that pipeline
bringing fuel to run our car?

Or would we stand aloft in horror
as they were thrown unto the ground?
Or for fuel thats cheap and plentiful,
is it ok to make no sound?

We hear about disasters.
Tsunami strikes upon Japan.
Earthquakes raging out in Haiti
Watch death befall our fellow man.

Throw donations in a bucket
at the supermarket doors,
then forget because of shopping.
but we have paid towards their cause.

Could you ever even fathom?
Your children crying as they play,
not for Barbies or Play-stations
but for the pain to go away.

Never asking for the latest
made by Hamleys or Mattel
rather just an handfull of food
to help beat the starvation battle.

Wash it down with poison water
from a river filled with ****
or collect in rusty tin cans
from a worn and stagnant pit.

If this was the plight of our children
things would surely be said.
We would try to move a mountain
rather than our young be dead.

Could you ever really imagine?
Could you ever really get,
that a million hits on You-Tube
turn endangered species into pets?

What if someone could ask on face-book
about your daughter or your son,
saying"It looks so cute and cuddly,
"go on e-bay and buy me one."

If only we could all be happy,
not feel a need to own the place.
If we could learn to be contented
by a childs smiling face.

Treat the world with awe and wonder.
Treat its creatures with respect.
Treat each other in this same way.
Treat nobody with neglect.

Then perhaps we may push together,
make our Governments do right.
Let's lead the World with people power,
no more starvation or blight.

Let's be less materialistic
let us have a life of worh
Not by owning all we see,
rather sharing this our earth.

Under the bed clothes
do I nest,
my mind
not being able to rest.

The total darkness
overpowering me,
picturing horrors
that I cannot see.

The slightest wisp
of night time breeze.
Making me gasp.
Making me freeze.

And in the silence
of my own room,
Imagination,
is starting to bloom.

I picture this.
I picture that.
A wicked witch
with her black cat.

A Vampire with teeth
with sharpened point.
A Zombie's body
so out of joint.

Above me it lingers
to do me such wrong.
Downward it approaches
with odious song.

Almost upon me
as I recoil from its head,
I am brought back to earth
when I fall out of bed.

I was a blind man!
But now i can see.
No stick or hound
not blind literally.

I just never stood back.
Never really took note.
Just watched as humanity
cuts its own throat.

Was I not looking?
Were my eyes closed?
Is my own contentment
so superimposed?

This life I enjoy
for all that its worth
so no notice was taken
to what happens on earth.

Gorilla hand ashtrays
adorning my home,
might it be an idea
just to leave them alone.

If we just didn't buy them
and I’m really not joking.
We’d keep Gorilla’s alive.
Perhaps just give up smoking.

People paying good money
and thinking what fun.
Watching our wildlife
through the sight of a gun.

But if things turned around,
it was you in that sight.
Could you ever imagine
sleeping at night?

Drilling for oil.
War's off afar.
Is it all worth it
for fuel for a car.

Children are dying
its got to be said.
While some fat oil baron
sleeps contented in bed.

Perhaps he might dream
of the poor of this earth?
Use his millions to help
and thus prove his worth.

How many more oil spills
can this world take?
How many more species
can we continue to break?

Now in this age.
Death for lack of clean water!
While Governments rule
with a firm grip of slaughter.

You reap what you sow
is something they say.
Then should we not consider
a different way.

Enough is enough.
Something must give
or this Planet called home
will be no place to live.

Words will be written.
Thoughts will be told,
Information put forward.
Dreams bought and sold.

Tales of Inspiration.
Gutter-trash news.
Chaotic Information.
Informants ruse.

Politicians false pledge
Juggling board
Politics on the edge.
Should they fall on their sword?

Do they never blunder?
This Pie-crust elite
Information to wonder
While they're dragging their feet.

Our earth, our nation
With over fished ocean.
De-forestation.
No sun without lotion.

Extinction of the wild
The draining of fuel
No food for a child
The greed of the cruel.

This world where we live,
Earthquake and Tsunami
Have we nothing to give,
terrorised from the sea.

Maybe acid filled rain
don't forget Global-Warming
Is this world that we drain
perhaps giving a Warning.

I write this little narrative
and shall endevour to be brief,
for events that I unburden
may never gain of true belief.
I put to you dear reader
that tomorrow I shall die
for the events that so destroyed me
but with this wording I will try.

As a child I was so happy
and being of good disposition.
I had a fondness for all creatures,
so to care for was my mission.
With my pets as my companions
that such a pleasure is the truth.
I cared, fed and caressed them,
this was the model of my youth.

Into manhood I was pleasant.
A woman sent from God above.
Such a bride that shared my passion
of such animals I love.
Love flourished inside our home life
Our demeanour was one of that,
so we puchased gold fish and a rabbit,
a small monkey and black cat.

'Pluto' purred a lovely song,
readilly did steel my heart.
He was large, soft and so loving
and from my side was hard to part.
This large black cat worried my wife
as superstitions do so cast.
Though it slackened seriousness
as ancient ideals do not last.

Seven years we were intent
until my character did start to change.
Temperament was quick to follow,
my personality grew strange.
The demon drink was now a worry
when my wife would feel my knuckle.
For one moment I was raged
and the other I would chuckle.

One night upon my return
witha drunken mans' complexion.
Pluto wanting nothing from me
felt irate of rough connection.
Reluctantly he beared down his claw
as from my grasp he tried to fly
and as my blood did slowly trickle
I removed my knife and then his eye.

As the daylight light gave its shine
from the excesses of last eve's gin.
I from remorse supped in excess
Trying to drown this evil sin.
I was weak and so un-trying
lashing out at one and all.
No longer in control of
it seemed my destiny to fall.

Pluto recovered this ordeal,
though eye-less socket was my gift.
I could not be so surprised,
as on my approach he would fly swift.
No longer was he my ally.
No longer was he my friend.
No longer did I drink the *****
but this avoidance would soon end.

He still attended this abode
Wandering with one eyed navigation
Although I felt the pangs of grief
Grief soon changed to irritation.
One morning I did slip a noose
Around poor Pluto's scraggy throat
I hung him from a tree outside
drinking a bottle whilst I gloat.

Against the laws of God I ******
In satisfaction I do wallow
Excuse is this intrusive substance
My own forgiveness do I swallow.
Evil, horror and unkind
Depravity is what I think
These thoughts float freely around my mind
All conjured up from Demon drink.

That night such cruel deed had been done
for something happened so unfair.
As I awoke, my home in flames.
My wealth all gone I felt despair.
On visiting the smouldering ashes
that once I could call my address.
I found almost complete destruction
as i surveyed this total mess.

I came upon just one exception.
The wall where once had stood my bed
A crowd had gathered for some reason,
suprise to me it must be said.
Curiosity drew me closer
To see what they gazed at
and as if graven in bas relief
the figure of a gigantic cat.

Such accuracy it must be said
Stood proudly within the wreck
Above where my head used to rest
A rope about the creature's neck.
When I beheld this apparition,
for scarcely could I regard it less.
feeling terror to the extreme,
drew upon me such untold stress.

I came to think about that night
When fires rage was at its most
That someone must of free'd the feline
Cut it down from hanging post.
Perhaps then thrown through open window
With view to raising me from sleep
Compressed my **** fresh in new plaster
a burnt portrait for me to keep.

Such great impression on my mind.
Phantasms thought could not forget.
feeling such insincere remorse
I chose to search for similar pet.
Whilst I frequented vile haunts
with painstaking examination,
decided cat should be of similar look.
I did not want emancipation.

In a den of vile infamy
Half stupified I sat
When something claimed of my attention
In the form of a black cat.
Hazily I reeled in shock
Was this Pluto in my sight
Until after greater examining
I noticed a splodge of white.

I thought for just one moment
My mind was setting me a test
For Pluto was as black as soot
But this **** wore a white breast.
He came to me immediately
Upon me he did laize
I purchased him right there and then
I smothered him with love and praise.

My wife did so adore this cat.
But for myself after some time
Much love did turn again to loathing
and its presence cringed my spine.
The reason came the next day on
as Inhebriated I was no more
I saw that he had just one eye.
So shocked was I, I think I swore.

My wife was in a happy state
Thinking that my life had changed
Back to my old and wanted ways
Before my life became deranged.
The white mark upon the felines breast
over time appeared to define
Into a picture so distintive.
A Gallows was this eerie sign.

My sanity was in unsolid state
This creature soon to be bereft
Supporting a badge of owners crime
over its Agony and Death.
This brute of similar attribute
To he I had once destroyed,
tormented and most worried me.
My vengeance would not be denied.

My temperence was as a beast
With furious tempers flare
I almost abandoned all this strife
without so much as single care.
One day on household errand
on my brow this cat shone tax.
Whilst in the cellar with the *****
I tried to **** it with an axe.

Guarded by my faithfull wife,
I still remember what she said
Leave this poor dumb creature be.
I left the axe inside her head.
Such ****** was not deliberate
I could not resolve that this be real
but after contemplative time
I knew this crime I must conceal.

I pondered long what course to take
I could not move her by day or night,
must be accomplished down below
to keep this body far from sight.
Encasing her behind the wall
as monks once did in bygone age.
Surrounded now with morter and brick
it was the most solid of cage.

Before the last brick was replaced
I searched the house for Pluto's clone.
No sign was found of one eyed tom,
my persecutor had gone to roam.
I looked with pride at job well done.
Such rendering was no disgrace,
nothing toward had happened here
with everything nicely in its place.

I searched again to find the beast
he that to me did not impress.
Although I'd killed I slept so tranquil.
My mood did qualm and I felt fresh.
Second and third days came and went
But feline never made a show
He must of truly read my mind
Decided safer he should go.

The fourth day after assassination,
Police came around this place to delve.
After a most intense exploration,
suspiscion they decide to shelve.
In my triumph I did take on pride,
I pointed out this house so stout
and taking up my wooden cane
I gave the wall a hearty clout.

May the lord deliver me
from the fangs of acrid friend.
For squeeling came from beyond that wall
leaving my secret at an end.
In my haste to hide my sin,
I hid the corpse and cleared the room
It seems the brute had never gone
Instead it hid inside the tomb.

Here I stand in readiness
these gallows wanting company
and with this rope around my neck
it seems my wife I will soon see.
If only ego had refrained
and with that cane I'd caused no fuss,
perhaps they may never of heard
the reply from that old black ****

You twist below earths casing with unease.
Ravens caw awakens you once more with
such rasp of unholy calling.
Skeletonised featureless humanity with broken
casket worn by years of gluttonous worms and
maggots frenzy.
Weighted down with soiled crust, you excavate
within your grave, driven by the glorious call of that
murderous brood, pecking demandingly above with
such Tomb Stone drumming.
Appealing for their master to return.
Upon the midnight hour such clawing bone appears
through earthen clays that fall beside thee.
Back once more to their righteous hiding place.
The clock slowly ticking for such a time when
freedom will be your reckoning.
Eventually to bare such sight as no man would
invite to call.
Resting wearily after such rite you ****** your
caller from its lair and feast on sullen flesh and
blood as around you  feathers floating around
you in surprised cascading chase.
Not the most captivating meal but such will sustain
you until sinew repairs itself and ****** meat once
more returns to bone.  
Plenty is the time when metamorphoses completes
for  more appetising morsel.
Awakening complete it is time to delve into this new time.                                                            ­  
A future where you are once more free to feed on
living flesh.                                                           ­                                 
Once more to be Master is your calling.
Off you go into the night, off you go to have your
way and feast till Devilled hearts content.
Into nights shadows do you stride.

Your face shows thee an illusion of the happiness long sought by tears
of retribution. A elusive traveller of contentment lost. That prominent
illustrator of false satisfaction and materialism. Proprietor of everything
yet possessor of nought.
Envied forever, pursued by the blindness of the ravenous follower. Yet
not for such trivialities as love or companionship. That one jewel that you
have always required, hunted for over a lifetime, yet never owned. Instead
they sprawl at your Midas touch.
You repulse now, exiled by your own commitment to fortune and
eminence. Words of greed and fortune once uttered became truth, your
own prayers answered and for this you now recoil. Ashamed at your own
self-indulgence and gluttony.
You have seen love, felt its breath. Wondered at its divine beauty, yet only
through imagination and dreams can you ever lay your hands upon it. Only
through delusion do you experience the exquisiteness of touch that lover
and love maker shall ever feel.
You have endeavored to grasp its finery, strived to gain such knowledge.
You have precious trophies, love laboured perfect sculptures of the
untouchable efforts you have made. Entire fortunes of love surround you,
mementos, untouchable memorials of your heart.
A lifetime as pursuer yet never as owner. You have everything yet nothing.
Your only certainty lurks around you, silently waiting for its payment, its
shadow almost upon you. It has followed you for millennia with hands only
now making grasp.
As you await your demise, wrapped in cloaks of golden flake and covered
in sheets of ingot, it appears to you. This long shadow calls to you, clad in
robes of blackened textile, awaiting its prize. So you breathe your last breath
as death exacts its toll.