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 ****

Have you ever had the urge to
**** someone. Perhaps that awkward ex-wife or the bullying supervisor
or maybe you just want to speed up a long awaited inheritance. If you
have any of the before mentioned reasons or one of many more, then this
book is for you. Some of the things you will read may sound a bit on the
obvious side but this publication is designed at the total beginner so
please work with us on this.

Chapter one.... Who to **** and how to Prepare.

Chapter two.... Choosing a method that is right for you.

Chapter three... Tools needed for the job and how to acquire them.

Chapter four.... How to build a great and believable aliby.

Chapter five.... Building a portfolio: for those who would like to make the step up to mass ******.

Through
these and many other brilliantly described chapters you will get in
depth and easy to understand instructions. All from a varied range of
killers from all over the globe. Here is a little taster as to what you
can expect.

After you have chosen your first victim the first
thing you will need to do is develop a pattern. You will need to watch
them for this but please do note that you will need to consider some
things.

1. You do not want to advertise the fact that you
are stalking your potential candidate, so keeping at a safe distance is
to be advised. Do not be obvious in your choice of dress and always mark
any area with CCTV, not forgetting that a lot of stores these days have
these.

2. The location is important, you need to be somewhere
where you will not be interrupted, you don't want Joe public stepping in
and ruining your first project.

3. When you have completed
your first ****** these tips will instruct you on the practical side of:
Dismemberring, Disposal and Concealing the body.

4. Making the perfect escape from the scene.

Don't delay get your copy now, only $5.99
Order within 10 days and get Absolutely Free. The Dummy's Guide to Tax Dodging.
Order Online at www.sillybugger.com

A picture paints a thousand words!
Is Monet a dictionaryist?

I picked up that old
leather bound book
and realise the journey
as I sit here and look,

I feed on the narrative
with newly wide eyes,
I look forward to words
that will thrill and surprise.

The story progresses
as continuous phrases
set characters free
with each turn of the pages.

Personality's form
the more that I read
and the more that I see
then the more that I need.

My mind is awash
with this tale in my mind
as I continuously
leave the real world behind.

Lost in a new place,
succumbed by an age,
entranced by the images
that leap from the page.

This old leather bound book
fights a war that is won
for I cannot put it down
till this journey is done.

Y e s   o f f i c e r   I   c a n   r e c a l l  
l a s t   n i g h t   I   s a w   M i s s   K e l l y .
S h e   w a v e d   t o   m e   f r o m ,  
i n t e r i o r   o f   f i n e   c a r r i a g e .
I n s i d e   s h e   s u p p e d   o n   w i n e  
a n d   f e d   o n   l u s c i o u s   g r a p e .
a n d   t h e   m o n e y   s h e   w a s   p a s s e d ,  
d i d   n o t   d i s p a r a g e .

B u t   s h e   p a s t   m e   v e r y   q u i c k l y  
a n d   f u l l y   d r u n k   w a s   I .
I   f i n d   i t   h a r d   t o  
r e m e m b e r   a n y   m o r e .  
B u t   t h e   o w n e r   w a s   a   m a n   o f   w o r t h ,  
f o r   h i s   c o a c h m a n   w a s   w e l l   c l a d -
a n d   t h e r e   w a s   a   g o l d   i n s i g n i a ,  
p r i n t e d   o n   t h e   c a r r i a g e   d o o r .

M y   f i n a l   r e c o l l e c t i o n ,  
w a s   t h e   s m i l i n g   f a c e   o f   s h e .
I   d o   b e l i e v e   s h e   t h o u g h t  
t h a t   s h e   h a d   m a d e   a   d e c e n t   s c o r e .
B u t   t h e   t h o u g h t   o f   h e r   t r a n s p o r t e d  
t o   h e r   d e a t h   b e f o r e   m y   e y e s .
I   a m   o f   m i n d   t o   c h a n g e   m y   w a y s  
a n d   n o   l o n g e r   s h a l l   I   w h o r e .

T h i s   w a y   o f   l i f e   i t   s e e m s  
h a s   o f t e n   p u t   u s   g i r l s   a t   r i s k ,
I t   h a s   a l w a y s   b e e n   t h i s   w a y
f o r   a   l a d y   o f   t h e   n i g h t .
B u t   o n   s e e i n g   M a r y   K e l l y  
c u t   u p   a n d   l e f t   f o r   a l l   t o   s e e
h a s   m a d e   m e   w a n t   t o   l e a v e  
m y   L o n d o n   a n d   t a k e   f l i g h t .

I   a m   s o r r y   t h a t   I   h e l p   y o u   n o t  
w i t h   w h a t   I   r e c o l l e c t -
f o r   I   p r a y   y o u   c a t c h   t h i s   f e l l o w  
a n d   h a n g   h i m   u p o n   h i g h .
B u t   I   t r e a d   t h i s   p l a c e   n o   l o n g e r ,  
i t ? s   n o t   w o r t h   i t   n o w   I   s e e .
S o   a l l   t h a t   I   h a v e   l e f t   t o   s a y ,  
d e a r   P o l i c e m a n   i s   g o o d b y e .

I f   y o u   n e e d   t o   s p e a k   a g a i n   t o   m e ,  
h e r e   i s   m y   n e w   a d d r e s s .
I   w i l l   n e v e r   m o r e   s e e   L o n d o n   t o w n ,  
n o t   e v e n   a s   a   t r i p p e r .
F o r   I   k n o w   t h a t   M a r y   K e l l y ,  
c o u l d   o f   e a s i l y   b e e n   m e -
w h o   h a d   f a l l e n   t o   t h e   b e a s t ,  
c a l l e d   ? J a c k   t h e   R i p p e r .

Don't walk on my side of the street,
we do not want to see your feet
pounding down on this sidewalk.
We feel no need to  mix or talk.

Here are the rules that we send,
if you're not like us you're no friend.
So take this threat and do not stray
or with your life you'll surely pay.

We want our race line to stay pure,
we're happier when you are fewer.
So die you ******* do us a favour
for we don't like your cultures flavour.

These thoughts have always been in mind,
our message passed from kind to kind.
Children taught how they should hate
and never enter in debate.

We're happy just the way we are,
with bullets from a drive bye car.
Machine guns we can lock and load
Dead bodies lying in the road.

Why would we ever want alteration
and mix with lesser denomination.
We keep the streets clean as we sieve
sooner than integrate we would grieve.

It makes good sense that's what we learn
and then pass on when it's our turn.
Our children we do educate
and their forbears they emulate.

And on and on and on and on
and through this course so many gone.
They die because they cross a road,
or move out from their postal code.

We **** because he looks at her,
they die 'cause they decide to care.
Rather to **** them than to alter
we choose instead to maim and slaughter.

This is it, it's what you do
to those who do not look like you.
We must step forward and be brave,
and if they mix they choose the grave.

We are there to teach and show
for without this no-one would know.
Cultures they would amalgamate
then we would have no cause to hate.

Yesterdays pain is following you
sits on your shoulder 'n don't set you free.
Took the wrong footin n stepped down on those,
lookin thru eyes that di'n't want to see.

We is diff'rent in colour
but skin an' blood just the same.
I am filled up wit' anger,
you is covered in shame.

Scared to look back
at hist'ry past
unable to turn from
what you wanted to last.

Tortured and toubled,
when it came to the clinch
you bought us along
an' introduced Mistuh Lynch.

To you Mistuh Whitey
we ar' lower than low,
Mistuh Blacky does the t'ings
that you don't want to know.

I belongs to the man,
just like-the dogs.
There for pickin' the crop
an' choppin' the logs.

Yesterdays pain's not goin' nowhere
It's stickin to you all o' the way.
Fo' the evil yo' done 'tis stayin' right there.
Never t' move, never t' sway.

Yeah yest'days pain is followin you
it sits on yo' shoulder 'n it won't set you free.
Cos you took the wrong footin' an' stepped down on those,
while starin' thru blind eyes that don't want t' see.

Something that you should know as you walk along that track.
Your destinations clear and you are not coming back.

Something to contemplate that might cause a dis-rail. Or perhaps just slow you down as you are destined to fail.

You never read the small print, you never studied well. That's why your on this journey to Hell!

You signed your name in blood to get the things you could.
You never once took thought of if you really should.

You had your fifteen famous, you thought you were on your way.
But you didn't really think how soon it was till you would pay.

And now your on the path to Hell and looking really pale. Because the Devil is 'as they say' in the detail.

To he whom feels the need to condemn,
rip apart and tear away.
To dissect another's written script
to cause with malice, words to fray.

I have these words too say too you,
wouldn't it be better in the end,
instead of shooting from the hip,
encouragement you could extend.

Make a point with others here.
The likes of me, 'who can't care less'
But no, you guys go for the ****
of those who's minds that you can mess.

I've read so many cold one liners,
composed to cause the worst heartbreak,
your words deliver contamination,
the likes of that most slimy snake.

If you have only half, the talent
that you really think of your esteem.
You wouldn't need to be so nasty,
so keep it right and keep it clean.

If you feel that you must comment,
an honourable thing that you could do,
then try to help instead of hinder.
Then we might think something of you.

Constructive critique is a good thing,
it helps another and yourself.
But if you seek to be the *******
then keep your thoughts up on the shelf.

If you want to help another
it doesn't do to laugh and scoff,
if this is the path you wish to travel,
my words to you my friend "*******".

They call me Jack! A Jack the Lad
a man who likes to go out late.
I must confess that I'm a cad
and often seen in Aldegate.

Whitechapel and Spittlefield
are other locations I frequent.
Tis where I often draw my yield
and nay for that I'll not lament.

Inspired by my ill repute,
repugnant chanting of my name,
I'll seek and find a *******,
commencing to secure my fame.

Reference books cannot advise
what two skilled hands can show.
Exacting cuts when I excise,
instructing where my blade doth flow.

My first, Miss Nichols, I recall,
whom blinded by the lure of coin,
into my clutches she did fall
and she, I did indeed refine.

Chapman then I did impress
with incision so demanding.
Nothing taken to excess
an ***** now made outstanding.

Stride and Eddowes in one night
but fortune demanded I should race.
Though well presented to the light,
embarrassment is my disgrace.

My final lady played the game,
Miss Kelly whom at my insistence.
She alone recoiled my fame,
my very own Piece de Resistance.

When I feel down and I'm feeling so low that part of me feels I have no place to go. Nothing or no one can cure this blue, but I have  found my solution and here's what I do.

I imagine a parent somewhere far away without what we have and I watch as they pray. Yes I watch as they pray for a child to live and I watch as they cope when there's nothing to give.

I watch as they try to feed someone with nought, I watch as they beg so that food can be bought.
I watch as they cry as they bury a nation, who struggle with drought and then die from starvation.

I watch as children get shot just for wanting that learning and still education is what they are yearning.
I watch as the civilised ruin their land and watch how they leave them when things don't go as planned.

I see all the badness that happens and cry as I remember I wanted to crawl up and die. I wanted to die because I couldn't face, the sorrows that are often thrown up in this place.

I cry for these people that I'll never know. I cry for the bravery that daily they show. I cry when I realise how lucky I be, no hunger, no thirst and no real poverty.

These thoughts are the things that turn my mood 'round, these thoughts are what put my feet back on the ground.
I feel embarrassed of such pettiness and my own little problems I can easily address.

Things can be so bad that sometimes we give up, we struggle and cry into our little cup.
But we need to be weary we need just to face and see the perspective within its true place!

Do you ever feel anxiety?
Do you ever feel ashamed?
Do you ever feel the thoughts you have are sometimes quite deranged?

Are you all okay with everything that flows around your mind?
The words that come alive through you do they seem quite unkind?

Or do you err with caution and try not to upset
The ones who read the words you write and so your work you'll vet!

Sometimes they might need steering towards the point you make.
Sometimes you want to frighten them, or make their poor hearts break!

Your genre points the way for you and you try to make them see.
The message that you write about within your poetry.

Some point out the choices that we aim for in this life,
Whilst others try to show the world in all its weary strife.

The rights and wrongs of lovers, governments and greed.
Whilst others write about the things we all need to succeed.

But whether you script horrors tales or tell of someones plight.
The most important thing you do my dear friend is write!

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.

The woes of life
we pass them on,
'cause if we can't see them
then the problem is gone.

We shudder when
we hear transgression
but we all watch on
and then take our confession.

Now that we're forgiven
we can carry on
cause if we can't see it
then the problem is gone.

The world we know
could be much better run,
removing the barrier,
deserting the gun.

Renounce all the greed
and announce it out loud.
That up until now
we cannot be proud.

Or we can stand still,
and not move on.
Cause if we pretend
then the problem is gone.

Could we stand together
and perhaps all refuse
to join in with hate
and reject racist views.

This is maybe the only
way that we can move on.
Cause if we all join together
then the problem is gone.

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

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.

How could we explain our plight
to someone who's a stranger
when they can see so clearly
how we put ourselves in danger.

Of course we feel anxiety
and struggle with the doubt,
for we could die on this journey
but at least we're getting out.

And out, is our priority,
out, is what we strive.
Getting out is probably
what keeps us all alive.

Because if this was not an option
and we could not at least try
we might as well just dig a grave
and lie down and wait to die.

So we pay malignant couriers
to float us out to sea,
we take this dangerous consequence
and what will be, will be.

Our journey is horrific
and many of us die,
but the alternative to staying here
is the reason that we try.

In my head the noises that wear so many guises torments me.
I hope that they might sway, indeed just go away and leave me be.
The messages they scream each night as I do dream cause me such grief.
They tell me of such dread about those who walk un-dead, defies belief.

They act in such deprave as they walk free of their grave, Inside my head.
I see it in a way that they walk past me where I lay, in my own bed.
Almost like a feature, a silver screen cast creature lurks around.
Though silent in its play in so many shades of grey it makes a sound.

I cannot scream into the night, through fear and through fright, I lie awake.
No volume do I speak as floorboards start to creak, I start to shake.
The darkness in the room is heavy, full of gloom and I am warm.
And through my open door will entities and more decide to swarm.

The sweat will run its course, my sanity divorce before nights end.
As the footsteps come my way, with tears as I pray my mind does bend.
My mouth opens to howl as I witness of the growl and I stay still.
Does it know I'm there and does it know just where and will it ****.

With blood racing around from heart to where it's bound, I cannot breathe.
My throat is dry and rough I cannot cry enough and I believe.
My end is coming nigh and I feel that I will die, no more of life.
And as it comes so close I realise it is no ghost, it's just the wife.

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.