"banishing" poems
HEAR YE HEAR YE:
It's a wedding bell for bedding well cause' we're crushin' the illusion of Russian collusion! CNN wets on Russian bedding but Trump bets on Russian wedding, and you're invited to the bridal shower. Punking the monkery, dig the debunkery; from Rasputin to Putin it's time for some straight shootin'. Hillary looks old and glowers at Donald's rumored golden showers. Our media owes US an explanation for streams of steaming urination, but we are willing to forgive and use their wet diapers as debt wipers. My poem's appeal may take a toll, but let its little peal now roll:
****** ****** rings the bell
A Fake News warning; time to spell
out what was wet with Moscow girls.
Putin's putas ? Wisdom's pearls
were pried from Truth's reluctant shell,
banishing Hillary straight to hell.
None. It's what we want left over
from this hag. We now discover
beds were dry; it all amounted
(all those golden tricks recounted)
to less than a tepid bowl of kasha. . .
Russia laughed from her summer dacha.
InfoWars was on it first
while Dems spun lies from false to worst,
awarding cash for faked dossiers
embellished with the CIA's
well-trained performing circus-seal.
The FBI endorsed the deal
as RINOS horned in on the action:
Washingtonian distraction;
a democrat-concocted fuss—
. . . but we ALL paid Hillary to **** on us.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 4:47 PM UTC
The cherry blossoms, pink and luscious, in full bloom.
Below the koi fish swim round, round in circles.
The sun reflects off silk kimonos with a shine radiant, dazzling,
With red lips against painted white skin, blindingly beautiful.
A walk like unraveling ribbon,
And hair like ink, bound tightly a few strands bound for escape.
Untouched skin tainted by stares, clipped wings useless for an escape,
Freedom comes in the hope of riding a cherry blossom, swelling in bloom.
The leaves swirl to the ground, spiraling in nature’s ribbon.
The glares of tigers ********** her, kimono falling to her feet in circles,
Eyes of blue, green, never turning away, trapping those beautiful,
The nature of a hidden world, shaming and stunning, confining yet so dazzling.
The snap of the gold-trimmed fan weaving in and out, dazzling
The crowd with effortless twists and turns; clenched tightly, no room for escape.
A dance of untamed water in a disturbingly beautiful
Unity of desire and fright. A young bud not on the verge of bloom
Thrown into a crowd of tigers to be spun in uncontrollable circles
And entrapped by the unflinching gazes in silk ribbon.
The game is simple: mesmerize a pack with grace of ribbon,
Attend engagements that ask for a dance, tea pouring, but never dazzling
That pure smile too brightly. Fool the ***** tigers to follow in circles,
But never trust a tiger that promises a chance of escape.
Never fall for love’s first bloom,
Never become the next to lose the light. Stay pure and stay beautiful.
A kimono is only as pure and as beautiful
As the woman underneath. By cutting the ribbon
Of virginity by a friendly lamb, instead of tiger’s bidding for the bloom,
Only leads to the fall of a shooting star, gracing the sky with its dazzling
Beauty, and the hope and wish of an everlasting escape
Is crushed by the weight of a soapy rag, washing away the hope in circles.
Though the pain of the cage binds the mind in endless circles,
Though tigers ignored the aching backs and blistered feet, staring at only the beautiful,
It is better, safer to stay in the hidden world, banishing all thoughts of an escape.
Keep the tigers in a tight ribbon,
Stay young, fresh, never letting the mind wander away from dazzling,
And never fall like a cherry blossom after its first bloom.
A walk like unraveling ribbon,
The sun reflects off the silk kimono with a shine that never ceases from dazzling,
And forever watching the cherry blossoms, pink and luscious, fall in full bloom.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
I love your whiteness but I wanna make it red
Before you my heart has only bled
In a dark world where tears were shed
I wanted for once to live in peace instead
Lived in pieces that I gathered in every tread
With your ice-melting hug, you raised me from the dead
Collecting my shattered pieces and banishing my dread
There is no more reason for sorrow that is what you said
I’m here to ravish your lips you just rest your head
Gathered by a hug we are, though your legs I’ll spread
Your body on mine as molten lava on heavenstead
That doesn’t make sense but neither does life without you in my bed.
Stuck in my mind night and day planning our future ahead
I got you means I got all, you’re the one I wanna wed.
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 1:17 PM UTC
Zeus, your predilection for banishing Titans to Hades...
anathema of them--revolt was theirs of you...Titanomachy.
Enter Prometheus, second generational Titan, brother
to Atlas--Prometheus of whom Titan revolt at first ran
no fire through his veins.
Thus, Zeus was well pleased and employed Prometheus
to put earth to water, water to earth...as to yield man.
As so man was, and was unto Prometheus...a fondness
entered him of them.
And in of passion Prometheus' veins were run through
with fire...fire fought fire--thus Prometheus reached out
taking hold Zeus' lightning.
Hid in a hollowed fennel stalk, to be bequeathed unto man.
Torrents of fire now ran Prometheus' veins, and in a fit of
infamous mockery presented Zeus with two packets of
slaughtered animal parts.
A hubris was born in Prometheus that being so halved
God-man gave itself fully to that polarity...he gawked at
Zeus and bade him choose between the two packets.
One of ox meat and innards coated in stomach lining, the
other of ox-bones coated in its own abundant fat.
Thus Zeus chose, the wretched lesser of the two...
inconsumable ox-bones coated by fat.
A charged and terrible air cut and heavied all direction,
pointing assuredly that Zeus was one given over to the
surface of things, a psychological casualty of his own
vanity.
Zeus overcome with Prometheus' disaffection for the God
of him struck at Prometheus' family.
At length, this assault could not, would not put asunder
Prometheus from the ground he stood.
A certain Haphaestus was summoned by Zeus...whose
directive was writ in torment.
Chain Prometheus to Mount Caucasus...where from on
high a sackcloth cloud shall shake loose an eagle, whose
homing hunger shall have only a taste for Prometheus' liver.
Day in, and day out, that accursed ***** shall be the
bounty of itself!
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 6:06 PM UTC
Warm as soil beneath spring sun
banishing memories of januarys frost
time has not dulled your light
my skin heals
my scars soften
your flowers bloom again each spring
as nesting birds begin to sing
Roses grow within you
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 3:46 AM UTC
Asleep alone
I got the light scare
Of a nightmare
With my plight there
Which wouldn't fight fair
Awake awaits
Chirping is all I hear
Dragging life into focus
Getting the lens clear
To see things are hopeless
My aches and pains
Are my body's refrain
To remind me of existence
Despite my mental resistance
I am lucid
I take my shoelace
And loop it
To run a new race
Timidly trembling
The violence in my dreams
Matches the silence and screams
That defile us and our team
Making the nightmares real
And the pain I can feel
So it's love I steal
A devil's deal
Hell unsealed
I can hear the vultures chirping
Or maybe they're just burping
Out the demons I ignored
My forgiveness they implored
To meet a silent scorn
Like a muted tribal horn
Banishing them to another realm
With my ostracism at the helm
Until the lonely are overwhelmed
And I see the error of my ways
Once I'm part of this chaotic haze
Practically paralyzed
I am lost
In this game
I've met the boss
He and I the same
He is a voice
Chirping in my ear
Saying I have no choice
I should give in to fear
And just drink beer
Until the end is here
Carelessly comatose
The birds that once sang beautifully
Now retreat dutifully
When they see my thoughtless anger
Turn me into a ruthless stranger
Creating danger
For those living righteously
They start fighting me
Trying to enlighten me
Which is only exciting me
Because I lack the sight to see
What the world could be
If we could harmonize
Like the birds
Not using argent lies
But soothing words
Yet there is no tax exemption
For my reluctant redemption
So my mind invented
No incentive
Soul slaughtered
The tear jerking
Birds chirping
Constantly remind me
Inside my sleep they find me
Thrusting me into a life unwinding
Through my window the sun is blinding
When I start to fear my brother
After seeing mirrors in others
Reflecting my attitude
Of ingratitude
I had a nasty nightmare
Of Camp Crystal Lake
Filled with misfit flakes
Paying for their mistakes
With pain and suffering
As deep as a submarine
Being torn apart
For every decision
Hiding their heart
To avoid incisions
And once all these losers are slain
The birds chirping start a new day
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 4:14 AM UTC
The child alone a poet is:
Spring and Fairyland are his.
Truth and Reason show but dim,
And all’s poetry with him.
Rhyme and music flow in plenty
For the lad of one-and-twenty,
But Spring for him is no more now
Than daisies to a munching cow;
Just a cheery pleasant season,
Daisy buds to live at ease on.
He’s forgotten how he smiled
And shrieked at snowdrops when a child,
Or wept one evening secretly
For April’s glorious misery.
Wisdom made him old and wary
Banishing the Lords of Faery.
Wisdom made a breach and battered
Babylon to bits: she scattered
To the hedges and ditches
All our nursery gnomes and witches.
Lob and Puck, poor frantic elves,
Drag their treasures from the shelves.
Jack the Giant-killer’s gone,
Mother Goose and Oberon,
Bluebeard and King Solomon.
Robin, and Red Riding Hood
Take together to the wood,
And Sir Galahad lies hid
In a cave with Captain Kidd.
None of all the magic hosts,
None remain but a few ghosts
Of timorous heart, to linger on
Weeping for lost Babylon.
4.8k
she rides her mountain bike
in the sun
dreadlocks fluttering behind like streamers
shes all smiles
as we come to our spot by the river
this beautiful place called fiveashes
and unpack the picnic basket
the world itself is beautiful when i'm with her
time itself loves her essence
even the graffiti looks like love letters the world
has written for her alone
theres something darkly romantic
about the nights down by fiveashes
something about thouse long miles
flying by on nightbreeze
with her hand in mine
with her lips on mine
its like a valley safe from the worlds seein
a place where naked and free we can be just we
down by fiveashes
the backseat of our buick is on fire
with her passions
and the lust in my soul
and theres something darkly romantic
about the humid warm air and how her shirt clings to her **** skin
about the songbirds opening up the mysterious day
like a gift for the dreadlock girls that shine
she lay with me tangled in her afterwards
as we watch the stars and catch our breath
i taste her on my lips
i can taste her on my soul
like shes a sunrise
rapidly banishing my life's shadows
and breathing life itself into my heart
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
A brilliant blaze high in the sky
banishing the shy clouds away
revealing the purest of hues, a bright blue.
A single magpie flies nearby
I wish it didn't stay
as one for sorrow is very true
I suspected the sky to suddenly cry
for nature to obey, ruining my day
receiving the misery due
Instead the sun refused to comply
the single magpie it did disobey
And a second magpie came, as if on cue
With two magpie it did imply
what a joy will be today
Two are rarely a rue
To quick was I to jump to the negative
presuming the worst, my fatal imperative
Because when they go to fly
My happiness won't die
I don't need to anchor my well being on what I see
Cause all I need to enjoy life is me
I watch the two magpies now with amusement
soaking in this wondrous moment
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
Aching legs and laughter
Your hands pulled me on your back and we raced up the hills
I looked down upon his face, his eyes
Suddenly he was on your back too
We were soaring
There lay a little house atop a mountain
Inside it we rejoiced, banishing the mountain trudged
Our music was loud, our laughter louder
Dancing and shouting we galloped falling to a heap on your bed
A thousand candles were lit
Like a blanket of glowing stars
sending us into sweet scented dreams
Only to wake up alone
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
There was a deafening silence
Ringing in her ears
She tried to scream out
No one was close enough to hear
She wanted to break down
Drown herself in her tears
Losing sight of all that's right
Forcefully banishing her fears
But it was too late
It had been too many years
Taking a slow deep breath
Letting all the fog clear
She sensed death in the distance
Her time was almost near
Leaving nothing behind
She shudders then simply disappears
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
The sons of Hades
Roam the earth with glee
Infecting the minds of men tirelessly
The effect is such
That the earth is ravaged
By the blood, sweat, and tears
Of the millions She nurtured and nourished
The sons of Hades
Sprout up in the annals of the brain
Banishing all the innate consciences of men
Homes become hostile
Streets become sanguine
Buildings become battlefields
Such is the ability of the sons of Hades
The end is nigh
With humanity embroiled in its last battle
But is it one with the conscience
Or the pawns of the sons of Hades
Soon few remain
Hidden in the shadows of dystopia
But the sons of Hades
Will taint the purity of all
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
Colours
Like you've never seen before
Blind these lost souls
As
To the music they sway
Their carefully sculpted hips
Banishing
Any thoughts
That endeavour to stray
Into their fickle minds
Between sips
Lips
That curve
Into phony smiles
Citing pitiful attempts
At humour
What are they hoping
To achieve here?
What are they hoping
To find?
I think
I'm going to stop deluding myself now
I'm going to go look for my own kind.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
oh dear one
lost across the sea
so unknown to me,
how fair thy little mind
thinketh and playeth thy harp!
no man shall raise a hand to thee!
least ye scorn him,
banishing him
and his brazen knuckles
to the brazen edge of
the whole brazen universe.
shy be he not!
lameth shall he be forever.
but two shovels should be found
and used for to dig unto the ground,
a new grave: doubly wide and doubly deep
for two of the fairest of them all:
the maidens lost to the wilderness,
left to her own devices and thus
self-deprecating her selves
into planetary alignment
with that new planet they just found
that's like 1,000 times bigger than Saturn
and with millions of icy rings.
forever cold shall she be!
forever unknown to me!
bear witness to thy handiwork:
my shoulders, lips, and toenails are all mine;
for a moment they were thine
and in breaking my peace
i thus aireth my whine.
and i'm fine. really, i'm fine.
taketh no liberties with me!
giveth no light,
shareth no warmth!
beseech me no inquiries!
for i have not an answer that makes sense,
nor a limb that works perfectly,
and not a day goes by
that i don't ponder you.
yet
the
moon
pondereth
the
sun
forever
and
ever
and
ever
but
never
the
two
shall
meet.
wandereth, fair maiden,
and i shall wander, too.
but should you face about
my eyes will surely see you.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
The edges burn to black,
The light is fading,
I bleed the colours,
From my eyes,
And swallow my dreams,
Banishing them,
To the darkest hollows,
Of my mind,
As I prepare,
For tomorrow's disappointment
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 2:33 AM UTC
A thunderous silence deafens the night
until wild wolves’ melancholy melody
heralds the ebony darkness
born at the coming of the moon.
Trees are plunged into the void of nightfall,
the whispers of twilight awaken
as the presence of pale moonlight
pierces the wisps of solemn clouds.
The lunar light defies the darkness,
and melts into the dense mist
leaving silvery light hovering over the landscape,
banishing the decay of midnight’s umbra.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
The train would leave in ten minutes
He came up to the window where I sat
And looked at me
With his hungry,
Longing eyes
And I at him
With a sudden rush of charity
And helplessness.
He must have been my age
Maybe younger!
With his eyes still seeing mine
He slowly bent down
And picked up his kettle
Which lay on the box full of glowing coal,
And he poured me a cup of tea
In an earthen cup.
He never asked if I wanted it;
Only stretched out his weak arm
Covered by an untidy rag
As if pleading me to take it
As if knowing that I would.
And all i could do was take it.
Then,
He stood there
Biting his lip
And staring at me
And my clothes
And the novel that lay on my seat
And the packet of biscuits beside it.
Catching his eye,
I offered him the biscuits.
First, his hands rose
But suddenly backed off.
He shook his head
And looked down.
Pride wounded.
I looked at the cup in my hand
And then at him
Thinking,"Did he make it himself?"
And then he smiled at me
As if saying "Yes!"
I felt a pain urging in me
And my throat was choked
I wanted to curse this heartless mob.
Wanted to do something,
Anything!
To help him.
I sat there wondering a thousand things
What did he eat everyday,
If he did manage to eat at all
Where did he live?
Did he have a family to look after and take care of?
Or worse..
Was he all by himself?
The engine's alarm brought me back
And I saw him
Still staring at me
Unmoved
Steady
With haunting eyes
That howled with pain
With pleads
And dreams..
And were yet, so hollow
Someone gave him a coin and whisked him away
Asking him to vanish
But he stood there
Staring blankly at me
We hadn't spoken a word
Yet he had become a friend
In just ten minutes
It seemed as if we had been pals forever
I smuggled out my wallet
Stealthily
As if I was committing a horror
And I stretched it out to him
Silently asking him to take it
He looked at it
And then back at me
I nodded
And he hesitantly accepted my gift
Who knows how much it was worth
Pocket money
Of a few months, perhaps
Then the train began to leave
He stood still there
Gaping at me with eerie eyes
A tear running down his thatced skin
His figure getting further as we moved
Moving away as the train carried me away with it
Standing on the platform
Where people came
Paused
Drank his tea
Threw some coins at him
Smashed his cup
And moved on
Banishing him into oblivion
'Drink it.. Or it will go cold'
My neighbour nudged me back to present reality
I looked out
There was no more of that station
Or him
Then I turned back to the man ans sighed
'I don't drink tea'
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
A Siren visits me in the realm of Somnus
It is she who owns my body as well as my heart
We don't **** - we make love
From a single glance of a soft and tender look, she has me hypnotized in her spell
The voodoo charm she weaves, although I know she's make believe - in my own reality, she's real
Our stamina fueled by a fire
Our limbs lock, intertwine like vines
Our chests pressed together, hands and fingers bound together
I can feel you embrace my skin
Ebbing and flowing like tides on the ocean wave
Your hair feels like the clouds I’ve dreamed to touch
Your eyes are closed, savoring the memory to mind
We’re breathing in the here and now
I never thought I’d want someone so much like breathing air
Your tenderness makes me feel safe
I can feel nothing but fingers and skin exploring and groping
You leave me breathless and gasping
Your kisses are sweeter than wine
Our bodies naturally know what to do
We go far back to the very first time we first made love
This wasn’t merely a ****
Come and let me have your lips, let me taste your fears
I will give you what you need
I feel your skin on mine
Roam my flesh with your soul and worship my body
The thirst will soon be gone
Safe is not just a place, it can be the space inside the body
Open up and I will take you to a different high
I'll show you that heaven is not just a state of mind
Explore me with your kiss, trace the path to hell and sin and I will give you the heaven
Between my hips
I still struggle to find heat in my heart
As the darkness slowly shows itself
My mind and heart go further apart
I laugh at love
No longer knowing the meaning of the word
My soul releases every emotion
Each and every scream can't be heard
There are tales of angels becoming demons
A bearer of light becomes one of darkness
Banishing all worldly feelings
Gaining pleasure from the misfortune and pain
Feeding off the sorrow of sinners
Impariamo a godere di questo paradiso nel nostro inferno
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 10:29 PM UTC
curiosity
the pull to see
builds up , conjures
as my mind is reminded of thee
but strength shall prevail
in this sad, lonely tale
where i force my hand
away from another heartache fail
for the need to know
about your to and fro
dents the progress
that has returned my daily glow
so i'll claim this small vicotry
while preserving my dignity
banishing your feeds
and ignoring your activity
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 6:27 AM UTC
when my guilt found the spare key
my condolences became roommates
who never pay their rent.
living with the ghost of shame
changes one's routine;
toothpaste
tastes like apologies-
and isolation
smells like your cologne.
ive become an innkeeper,
a host,
for the parts of others
they insist on banishing.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
the survivors of Auschwitz
put god on trial in absentia
and sentenced him to death.
a fitting end
for a supposedly
omnipotent deity
that couldn’t be bothered
to lift a finger.
if the cross was god’s
critique of power
then why is fascism
on the rise once more?
if Jesus died
for the lost sheep,
then why are politicians
evoking his name
while banishing refugees?
where was the love of god
when our cluster-bombs fell
on kids playing soccer
in Palestine
and U.S. drone strikes
stole the lives
of a wedding party
in Yemen?
if god is not surely dead
then he was never real
in the first place.
Stendhal had it right all along:
god's only excuse
is that he does not exist.
but i met a girl
who so loved the world
that she’d give her life
for a stranger in an instant.
her name means “helper.”
she is fragile as bone
and sturdy as ancient oak.
she is the only tangible reality
in a world henceforth
without gods or masters.
and i’m watching her wither away.
so i petition
the nebulae
watching over
this pale blue dot
not to avert their eyes.
this heroine of mine,
made in the heart
of a dying star,
would sacrifice her life
for the least of these.
but i am selfish.
i want her to stay,
to stand up and fight,
poison-free.
and if the universe conspires
to take her life, then i will find
the tomb of god and bring
him back from the dead
just to strangle him again.
stay with me, always,
through the long night.
help me heal this silent planet.
if god will not love this earth,
then we will.
heal us of our war, our hate,
our addiction.
i cannot abide a world without you.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
Mos Def addict practicing my mathematics
multiplying gross deaths stacking high in my attic
banishing, your batting eyelashes in my hatchet
brandishing a reflection of death nothing can match it,
a packet of matches, three cans of gas am I mad *****
I’m a man mastering cracks of dark arts from a sad witch,
tears of evil, blasting apart marked hearts, sew they can’t stitch,
so I can cross your eyes and harvest every last inch
of your body I’ve got hauled high with my crass winch.
Dangling like abattoirs meat hanging upside down by your feet,
never is the time that I will retreat,
secreting discreetly in your petite physique,
desecrated secretly I never cease with the heat.
I’m a clever beast with the sweet smile of a pre-school teacher
I’m a leach, I’m an evil preacher,
I’m worse than a priest with someone not quite senior in reach.
I beseech you to keep my smile in mind when I breach
the regular limits of sin, an when the victim begins
spinning within the rhythm of my limb precision
positions a physician would think weren't natural
constructions. Causing concussions with my bone crack percussion
discussing the disgusting repercussions of being obstructive
with a kind as destructive as mine its reductive to imply
that I’m stuck with a mind superior to thine, let the subtleties shine,
you’re an inferior design, obsolete, so the premise is supremacist
there’s no preventing this, the evidence is left in every crevice of the premises.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 6:14 AM UTC
You only remember the good times when you're all alone late at night.
When you sit there and write by the light of a single lamp
Throwing shadows which creep out of the corners of the room,
Turning the familiar into monsters of this lonely gloom.
You only remember the good times when you're all alone late at night,
Forgetting all of the fights, the hesitations, and all of the insecurity, lack of surety.
These are the witching hours when those ghosts come out,
Always out of sight but never out of mind,
Reminding you of all the good times that you had,
Reminding you how much better it felt having someone there at your side
During those long, lonely moments that the dark of night has in store ahead.
It's in times like these that you must take strength and heart from the good times you had,
Knowing that the relationship built on such poor grounds was driving both of you crazy,
And that despite being alone, being by yourself lying in bed,
Missing the presence and companionship the two of you had,
This break from the insanity is the best thing for the both of you in the end,
And at the very least, in time, you will still be able to call her your friend.
So stay strong my friend,
Don't give into these ghosts,
Don't show weakness and fall back into dead ends.
The pains cuts deep and sweet this late at night,
But with the morning comes new light,
And with the day comes new hope,
Banishing the presence of these nightly ghosts.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 2:44 AM UTC
The woman holds a letter
crumpled and crumbling at the tip like insanity taking its first few licks at calm
and liking it
brushing black-inked words beneath her fingers
like she's contemplating some black haired deed
like anger
or hate
or ******
and maybe she is.
The woman lifts her hands unto the skies
crying for help from a darkness that won't help her at all
but she wants it
banishing her innocence and taking up home
in the old, abandoned shack of spite and malice
wanting blood
wanting love
wanting power
but not just for her.
The woman meets her husband
taunting and teasing and twisting his words into a sadistic mockery of what they were
and he believes her
with a slap across morality he agrees with her
takes her outstretched hand to show that
jealousy is married
determination binds
it was his idea first
and weakness is sin.
The woman turns and faints
blanching so white it's like the evil wasn't ever there
it's hiding
waiting, longing to consume her whole
she'd thought she'd washed away the deed
with just
a little
spot of
water.
The woman enters the banquet hall
hanging off her husband's arm like the weight of the crime that holds her down
she's shaking
trying to hurl off all the lonely isolation
as her husband lo and talks to ghosts
and kills
not just
men but
her as well.
The woman walks and talks asleep
scratches skin and tries to scrub away the sticking-plaster guilt
but still it stays
forces of darkness she invited
staying long past their welcome and
not just
eating all
the food
but her as well.
The woman recognises blood
splattering the deceased's names across her arms in swirling crimson lines like marker pen
that won't wash off
maybe she'd be better off dead than praying
wishing she could drown her err
in just
a little
spot of
water.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 6:21 AM UTC