Assassin, assassin
I am an assassin
Stone cold heart
And subdued passion
Assassin, assassin
See my steel knife flashing
I can send your life crashing
There is ice in my veins
I’ve a hawk eye sight
If you see me one fateful night
Fear for it may see me taking your life
Assassin, assassin
I move in the shadows
I am a ghost in the darkness
And your worst nightmare
I am an assassin.
Image courtesy of Pinterest
That boy don’t know any different
Lives like a rude boy and thinks he’s significant
Don’t disrespect him
He’s a member of a dangerous crew
Show him any disrespect he will shank you
Rude boy he ain’t scared to
Do anything his crew tell him to do
Because they say they’re his fam
They give him a gun
Bang bang
Another member of another crew dying
Bleeding on street lying
Going cold as his life ebbs away
To rude boy it’s just a game
Until one day
When he got some of the same
Motorbike pulls up
Bang bang
Another life has turned to dust
Just another life wasted
Because of society
Another life wasted
Because of money drugs and things
Driven by poverty
It’s the only escape they can see
Because they are rude boy gangstas
They don’t see the wrong in it
Because these rude boy gangstas
Have only ever known this
Young men dying
Stabbed or shot to death on the street
These rude boy gangstas
Will rob you for what’s on your feet
It’s a game to them
But don’t go disrespecting them
Or next time you’ll see them
Bang bang
You will wind up dead
Killed by the mandem
It what you get if you come across them
Bad man, waste man
It’s a mandem thing.
Darkly, in the as it that turned sharply
Into cold and frosty air
She felt movement everywhere
And as her heart raced and the blood coursed through her veins
You could see her chest rise and fall in a panic like display
And she was nervous of what was soon to be
Would it be a blood letting horror story
In this place illuminated darkly by shades of crimson red
That signified an atmosphere of fear and dread
And as she made her way through corridors of bloodstained walls
She knew exactly as she walked into the big hall what was in store
A nightmare of pain and torture of endless screams and cries
The tension it was palpable as the scent of death started to rise
And sillhouttes could b we made out vaugly in this hall of death
Where many people who had gone before took their final breath
And as she waited in anticipation she felt knife drive in
And as it pierced the skin the pain started to begin
And she could feel the pain and ruin
As the knife stabbed again and again
And as life started to ebb away as she saw the blood flowing
Down the concrete floor towards the drain disappearing
And she wondered what a waste of life and a horrific way to go
As life seeped away in the dark not fast but gradual and slow
To make the whole thing so much worse
She wondered and pondered that no one would know
And the perpertraters would dissolve into the night as all demons do
After enacting this horror show
And as she took one last look around
There was one thing she thought the night should know
If any other man treated her as bad they too would be the next to go
And as she liked the blood from off the blade
She walked away from her ex boyfriend real slow
So that he would realise you don’t treat a demon so
And as he bled to death strapped in a chair from the multiple wounds
She laughed a laugh hysterical then vanished completely into thin air
Without a second thought of conscious care
This beautiful demonic beauty of who men best understand to beware
Because she will take your life in a blink of an eye if you dare
Mess or try to hurt her.
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Are You Coming Over?
The table was set just as it had been for more than sixty years. The place settings grew from two to thirteen in the early years, but for more than forty years, it had been set for two. Marjorie sat at the table and lightly spread orange marmalade on her toast and looked out into the backyard that was once filled with laughter. Now, snow was starting to fall on long silent echoes of the past. She looked across the table at the empty place setting. A silent tear trickled down her cheek.
When she was finished with her morning toast and glass of water, she washed her dishes, put everything away, and listened to the silence. The birds had left weeks earlier and her neighbor poisoned all the squirrels, so it was very quiet now. There used to be ten families of squirrels that would eat, chatter, run, and play all year-long in her garden. Their happiness attracted the winter birds to the garden. She and Bill would sit for hours holding hands and watching the animals play as their child once had.
All was silent now. Their children all grown and long since moved away. Henry and Francis were lost in the war, cancer took Sally, and Benjamin was too busy with his children. She understood. That was the way life worked. Still, it would be nice to hear from him once in a while. She was so tired of the quiet. So very tired.
A light knock on the door caught her by surprise.
“Just a moment,” she called out.
When she opened the door, a little girl in a white summer dress stood on her door step and shivered.
“Goodness,” Marjorie said, “Who are you, and why are you out here in the cold without a coat?”
The girl rubbed her arms and said, …
To Be Continued
…
nothing. Marjorie could not understand why this young girl was all alone and most certainly without proper clothes, Since the little girl was not speaking, Marjorie tugged at her arm and pulled her inside the warm house.
It was obvious that this little girl did not come from a home where there was enough money and things. Her feet were very dirty and her hair looked as if she had not ever seen sight of a hairbrush. Underneath her fingernails appeared to be dirt or mud. She was very dirty in appearance and Marjorie was feeling more pity as she studied the little girl who was before her.
The little girl said nothing, but gave special attention to the pictures Marjorie had upon her walls. She also rubbed the frames each one by one with her fingers as if to study the woodwork. She remained quite but acted as if she knew this house and all that was inside it, like an old friend. It puzzled Marjorie but her thoughts gave way to finding some warm clothes and running the little girl a very hot bath, with which to bathe herself. Her mind also thought that perhaps she should call the police and report this little girl to them, but she felt a sense of nurturing and wanted to make the little girl as comfortable and warm ass possible.
Although the little girl did not respond she acted as if she knew where the bathroom was and led her own self up the staircase and into the vicinity of the bathroom, waiting for Marjorie to follow in behind her. Marjorie dismissed this odd and strange coincidence as that little girl must have heard the running tub water, Although in the back of her mind she was starting to get uneasy at how comfortable this mute little girl was, in her house.
Marjorie found some clothes and handed them to the little girl and told the little girl to go ahead and wash her self, put on her clothes and then come downstairs and that she would find her something to eat. The little girl just stared at Marjorie for a couple of very silent seconds and then turned towards the bathroom, went inside, gave another look at Marjorie and then shut the door behind her. Marjorie said to herself, “Well I think she knows what a bath is at least.” It appeared that way at least.
In just a little under an hour Marjorie was so sad and feeling so very lonely, yet now she had a complete stranger in her own bathroom, with no explanation or resolution as to how or why. “Stranger things have happened”, she thought to herself. Or have they? She quickly went about looking for something with which to feed the little girl when she came downstairs. She remembered that once there was a story kind of similar that appeared in the local newspaper.
It was a grim story though and the ending was way to tragic to think upon. The story went on to speak of a little girl who apparently showed up at the door of a person living near where Marjorie lives now. The little girl was also mute and found to be very strange and yet very comfortable around these people, just like this one Marjorie had in her house. The story went on to write about the investigation of this little girl and showed that this little girl had been abused by her mother and father and then buried alive out back of her family’s yard, while still alive. The little girl in that story actually unburied herself, and never was the same. Although the house she stumbled upon took her in and tried desperately to help her, the little girl had remained mute and eventually was found hung ni the storage building out back.
No one wanted to rehash that story up since there was such mystery surrounding it and such tragedy. Marjorie recognized the similarities in that story and the happening with this little girl, could it be the same child? “Preposterous” , she thought. Maybe it was her own grief clouding her mind and judgement
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Just why the little girl had chosen to come now seemed to perplexing. The Story of what occurred to her was heart rendering but she wasn’t convinced it was not all just an urban myth. Marjorie went to see if the little girl was OK, as she walked into the bathroom she noticed the rope mark around her neck leaving a red sore mark that refused to heal. The little girl had tied her hair back after brushing it and had washed revealing under the dirt very white skin almost alabaster like. Marjorie smiled and asked if she was getting on alright, the little girl turned and Marjorie saw in the girls eyes ebony blackness, no white of the eyes just deep black voids and as she stared into them almost hypnotised by them, she could hear screaming and crying, as if within them someone was trying to escape. Marjorie was transfixed and overwhelmed and tears filled her own eyes as she realised the little girls spirit was trapped within this body unable to get out and find peace at rest after being buried alive by her parents. Marjorie reached out to the little girl.
Marjorie woke up on the bathroom floor. She had no idea what had happened, she remembered reaching out to touch the little girl then everything went black. With some effort she picked herself up and searched for the girl. It was dark now, and as she walked downstairs in the dim light a he saw candles leafing from the stairs to the living room. Marjorie followed fearfully, hesitantly, what was happening she thought? As she enter red the front room the girl was sitting cross legged on the dining table surrounded by candles in a meditative position and was chanting mysterious words and incantations.
Marjorie looked on horrified and asked in a stuttering meek voice what was happening and why did the little girl come here?
What followed took Marjorie aback
(to be continued)
I am tagging
Viktoria Emelkin
I’ve barely had a rise on my wage in seven years
Meanwhile all the bills rise fuelling my fears
That I am falling further behind the cost of living
What’s going on is there something I am missing
We a living to work, not working to live
And the government and corporations are flaying the skins from bones
And they’ve divided us so we all feel alone
While they sip champagne in their luxury homes
Bosses get the cream while workers are fed gruel
While they’re expected to keep pushing productivity up
And as they rake in the cash they say it is not enough
But its funny how they do so well while we find it do tough
It’s a messed up society as nd an unequal state
We are constantly told we are easy to replace
But if we came together in a show of strength and worker force
Maybe then we may give them the best lesson they could be taught
That your workers are the most important facet of your business
So you should treat us better and give us more equality
Through the greater sharing of the wealth equity.
The goosebumped flesh
The chill of the bones
Lost and far from home
In eerie darkness
She feels the fear and dread
In this place
The smell of death
In this place
The smell of rotting flesh
Halloween screams
Become real they seem
In this run down tenement
In this slum dog scene
Behind the bright lights
And pumpkin lit night
Behind the scary mock fright
A real horror is taking place
As she seeks the paranormal
In a place once known
For death, violence and hate
She met her gruesome
Unexpected fate
When she came
Face to face
With the ghostly entity
That terrorised this place
As this once serial killer
Stalked here until forever and a day
Laying waste to life
In vicious ways
As her life was taken that day
After being pushed through a window
On to fence stakes
That were below
Surrounding this place
She died in a hideous
And very grisly way.
Dark was the house shrouded in obsidian
Until the moment the spark of light from the flaming torch
Lit up all around like a fiery burning sun
She acclimatised her eyes so she Coul look around
And felt outside the rumble through the ground
Heard to roar and clanging of metal
She looked frantically for sword that she sought
And there in the corner an old antique chest
She opened the lid and what she saw took away her breath
A bright shiny sword glinting in the torch light
She took it out from the chest and ran out the back door
And there her army waited pensive and ready
She moved them all to the open space
And then were steadied waiting for the enemy
And then over the crest of the hill they then rose
And the warrior queen in her legendary pose
Pointed forward with her sword
And let out a scream
Forward to glory in the name of your queen
And her army moved forward slow at first but getting faster
Full steam ahead to victory or disaster
The horses snorted fury baring their teeth
The passion in her army now being fully released
Raced hard with no intention of shirking
Her army full on driving and beserking
Like a massive combined beast
Hungry to eat, the enemy in front of them that they were about to besiege
Then a thunderous clash and like a loud clap of thunder
The enemy crumbled and felt themselves being swept under
A wave like light that let loose from the queen’s magical sword
And she slayed a large number of this menacing horde
With one single slash and wave of its power
She knew that it could bring about her finest hour
And the battle was long as was it bloody
Yet she fought like a dervish in a real hurry
And at the end of the night and in the dawning of a new day
She stood victorious over the enemy she and her army had slayed
And as sh sat triumphant upon her horse
Sword in the air the magic took its course
And bound her heart and her alligience to death and to glory
From now on she would write new stories
As determined by the magic and not by her will
And in the afterlife I heard she’d is warring and fighting still.
You were my killing joke
My destructor, and my threats,
You were the system
And my conflict
You were so crass and a poison girl,
A subhuman, foetus on a wheel,
You were an A head, a rubella ballet,
A flux of pink indians on display,
A transplant, rancid, mob
A rudimentary peni,
A rage against the machine.
I could sense something was wrong
So I went to see moving carefully among the trees
I saw a building of harsh stone
Unforgiving standing alone
I crept up with stealth to see through a small window
Hoping it would reveal what was inside
Curious me, with my curious nature.
Looking in like I spy
I saw things that were vile
This building was a slaughter house
A place of death, a place of pain.
Peering in I saw animals queuing up to be put to death
Cows on the right and pigs hung from hooks on the left
No hope or salvation
Just simply death
And I saw the terror in their eyes
To me this was no shock or surprise.
I crept around too the door
And was not prepared for what I saw
Blood running like a river as they slit pigs throats
As they fired into the head of the cow a bolt
I could smell the blood and smell the death
And in that moment I felt bereft
I could hear the deafening terrified screams
From the pigs as they were dying
Then sent into searing hot water and steam
So as to strip the skin with comparative ease
The cows were hauled up on hooks
To suffer the same fate if I am not mistook.
In this place I could almost taste
The sickening meat on display
I moved inside where a cow was hanging
I stroked the hair upon its face
Said a prayer for its soul
And felt the disgrace carried out by the human race
I could feel the last of the warmth evacuate.
I touched, smelt, saw, heard and tasted the death of animal innocence
And vowed never to eat meat again
A man came over and tried justifying this
Saying that they were bred for it.
I was not convinced
I just felt sick
I said nothing but left
Double quick
This obscenity would now live with me
Long on in my thought, dreams and memories.
Contests! good for building ego’s up
great for knocking creativity down
as I pore over words and sounds
to make my poetry jump off the page
to come alive in others minds
in the most imaginative way.
Contests! we don’t need them
they drive us crazy every day
putting our best foot forward
and doing something that is brave
putting your art out there for judging
nurtured and created with much loving
only to be brutally dimissed
or even worse maybe even savaged
Contests! Huh, well this I find an interesting challenge
maybe I will just have a go at this
rise to the challenge and try to win it
not because I don’t think it still stinks
but because in my own way we become
ever so slightly addicted to it
looking for some kind of justification
for writing poetry and putting it out to the nations
or just because we have a competitive edge
contests! I’ve won a couple so see what’s next
see if I can be the best, I mean i wish everyone all the best
I just enter for a bit of fun, not to be just number one!
but being unplaced leaves me undone
but hey, let’s show a little grace keep a smile upon our faces
swallow this bitterest pill and compete until they lose the will
to misjudge my work again, I am the top contestant man!
enter contests or be dammed, stinking contests drive me mad
Argh!!!! is that even a word?
17/7/18 (In response to a contest challenge :))
No one ever seems to be afraid of losing me.
Tips to make your daily life easier!
A Diary
ransom: a little poetry every day, or the muse dies.
Designing a faith-based holistic life.
Why not? What do you think is holding you back?
Expand your Perspective
surrealist poetry and other musings
Writing for the Soul
Só para te fazer sorrir...♡
Things are created,Bliss is concocted!
PERSONALTRAINING
Always question, Always wonder
The Soul of the Universe
Peace and war Joy and sorrow Cold mysteries and warm nights Love and hate Passion Imperfections that make for perfection Shards of the perfect stone Hard and unbreakable Precious As the red-est of diamonds And hidden within, the dark corners of my heart In a single word poetry
Health and Beauty
In Celebration of Oneness
CRYPTO with CONSCIOUSNESS
