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Emelia Ruth Mar 2013
An October night
of 1823 in
a town of England

In the darkness of ev’ning
a man was hit with a pipe.

He was dragged away,
to a shack far from the town
to meet his vermis.

The man laid on a table
with ankles and wrists strangled.

Slowly, he awoke
frightened that the room was not
the one he dozed in.

“Where am I?” he asked confused
by ev’rything around him.

“Somewhere,” came a smooth
voice from the shadows behind
a large contraption.

A trail of gears showed the path
towards the straps on his limbs.

The voice spoke again,
“Do you know Miss Dianna?
Do not lie, Gustav.”

Gustav recognized the voice,
he replied nervously, “No.”

The machine started
pulling slowly on his limbs.
“Ah! Okay, yes, yes!”

The clicking of the gears slowed
but the straps still tugged his limbs.

“What did I tell you?”
the voice mockingly asked him.
“Who is she, to you?”

“I-umm,” The straps pulled again.
“I won’t be patient Gustav.”

“Ok! She was a
beautiful woman, that I
had an affair with.”

The ropes did not stop, the voice
said, “The truth can be painful.”

Gustav’s body ached,
his arms and legs began to
pull from their sockets.

“I believe this is yours,” and
across the floor, slid a watch.

It was pure gold. “ I
found it in my bed, with my
*****, ******, dead wife!"

Before he was torn apart
Gustav uttered, “She liked it.”
This was a collaboration between my friend Max and I for a class assignment. It used the Renga format (I rarely use format, as you probably have noticed) which is haiku (5,7,5) and couplet (7,7).
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
it was supposed to be a quiet Sunday,
but the populists were marching
to a funeral, a sombre mood shifted the
populace about like a deflated balloon,
they started talking seriously about
matters of no real meaningful concern -
but since they inhaled all that helium
from the balloon i didn't know whether to
laugh, or cry - but no everyday do you
hear stories about how an ethnic group
gets degraded from the categorisation
of **** sapiens to **** vermis -
page three of the sunday times -
flyers in Cambridgeshire near a school -
fascist propaganda - the real butch
English poultry stamp-of-the-foot in your
face - London? currently? phobic, in general,
ablutophobia (fear of bathing), acrophobia ( " " heights)
anthophobia ( " " flowers), astraphobia ( " " lightning
and thunder), colorphobia ( " " certain colours),
you name it - i'm starting to wonder whether
London didn't just cave-in, became fortress-like
or simply disappear off the map - about 3 London
boroughs joined forces with the Yorkshire
farmers? but i get it, we technically started to re-exist
about 100 years ago, get blamed for not noticing
the Holocaust happening under our noses (Max Kolbe) -
it's this Latin mentality, the areas once conquered
by the Romans retain this ******-up attitude -
the areas not conquered by the Romans, like Scythia
and Scandinavia, Balto-Slavia, Maga Germania have
a weird mentality to how geography is taught
in the western lands... it's usually referred to (this
continent) as Britain, France, Spain, Italy... maybe
Germany... and then the east... i know that Jew is
a negative word by mere phonetics, but Pole isn't
exactly pretty either - polish - i have to elongate
this word oddly enough - say it like: paul-lysh -
don't worry Shlomo, we're on par with this ******* -
not to mention Slav and the missing E - in Poland
these kinds of people are old grannies, the ones
from the tiniest of villages where medicine is still
taboo when they come to urban areas to check out
a tumour the size of a watermelon bulging from
their groin - still the miracle cure of the 'ave maria'
or something - pigeon brain puck puck -
i get it - well, it did end up being a quiet Sunday
afternoon - got so worked up about this malaria of
**** that i went to bed early.
Damocles Jun 5
We misbehave,
On the world stage
No accidents made
As we embrace
Stubble caught in your lace
Let the light fall dim,
As the colors bleed and fade.

When the crowds aren’t watching
Won’t you strip for me?
I want to see that pretty white maw
Grin like a starving wolf before taking a bite of my raw
Take a piece of me with you if it'll help you stall,
But I want every inch of your skin exposed
Won’t you show me what you never show them all?

I want to know you behind the dermis,
I want to feel the grooves of your scars
I want to walk a mile in your vermis
I want to know your thoughts
Trust in me, as nothing could ever harm us

Tracing fingertips along your lips
But am I touching a soul that sings for this?
Can I reach into your anima,
Hug the you that hurts the most
Could I be a healer?
Am I just snake oil wrapped in silver?
I want to see you naked,
Show me what’s under that porcelain pachydermous.

I want to be your provider,
A secret whim, secret insider
A sung hymn, wrapped in you like a spider
I can cocoon in this web we can stay in bed
Tangled in linen but I want to go deeper,

I want to see you weep from the things left unsaid
In the times you can’t get back
In the words you never read
Tickling the sorest soars on your back
Let me take these daggers,
Discard them with condemnation,
I want to see you naked…

We twist and twine,
Like lovers divine
But I know this time
You won’t get to hide.

So let's misbehave -
On the world stage
Everyone watching from their seats
We give into the pageantry of expectation,
Who cares anyway?
They’ll never see you the way I do.
to know someone, to truly know someone is a gift that you should cherish.

— The End —