The Root of All Evil

A crying woman, water-soft,
was clinging to a lamp
to hold her from the grasping hands
that tugged to pull her pride away.
She wept for naught, the morning clear
cared not for both her cries or fears.
‘Twas only me, upon the street,
that witnessed hateful lust of man.

She glimpsed a worried glance and turned,
to rake it with her pleas;
it turned its face to walk its way away,
and never looked again.
Now ‘oft I wonder what took place,
behind that sallow frown and face;
I beheld this terrible thing to see
and gained my lack of empathy.

Second Year of Suffering - Juliet, you Heartless Bitch

Within a tangled web I lie,
ensnared, and in the spider’s eye
I see a glint of pride; and I do wonder
why I led me here.
A gentle tug against the web
proves unmatched by the strength of thread;
I lie, ensnared, and wonder whyI ever led me here.

A gleam of light both penetrates
and intrigues like a burning flame
that burns a moth to shame while dying,
brightly lit in candlelight.
A gleam in spider’s eye I see,
a gaze transfixed onto me
bringing sharp, painful reality
into clairvoyance wrought by ash -

I taste it in my burning mouth,
I smell it in my burning lungs,
I feel your sting through all the veins
that run dead cold from blood now gone.
Provoke me, implore me,
ignore me, seduce me,
but shame affixed on what you sow
will reap it’s death on you for woe.

Your misdeeds will not find me here.
Your web I will escape.
Your foul-mouthed chattering -
a craft of which I won’t partake.

Fie, fie! foul creature of spite!
I hold you unto home, the like
of which I care to spit upon
and might, perchance, transform alight
into dark candles.
Light the night afire with holy aftermath!

You shan’t escape, your tangled web
will prove a trap in bitter end.

My groggy fire burns it out.
I wake myself with scream and shout.
I struggle with the lamp, and beneath
a tangled mass of sheets espy
a morbid form, so finely wrought,
a prize I shan’t hold forth again;
the pillow squeezes breath from me,
alike to you at tragic end.
Your fire, quiet now, I snuffed.
Your bosom now I quiet clutch.

I’m sorry, babe, so sorry.

A thief caught in the act could not
provide a better motive just;
turmoil ends with single thrust,
and softly do I die akin
to morbid form entangled thus.

Mother Courage Musings

Feel your pulse and rise up out of bed
wake up now and live outside your head
the city street, it calls you out,
strut the beat and walk about, saying
shove the rest and come with me instead.

Crawling down the Avenue one day
looked around and smiled at what people say
kept your laughter to yourself,
siftws the crowd to see what's left,
and said shove the rest and come with me instead.

Give your mind to you and no one else
show them it's okay to be yourself
screw the street and walk the road
less traveled, come and let me show you
how to shove the rest and be yourself instead.