Life B Knot

Life B knot to tether and aphixiate

Pain

Dismay

In touch

In sight

In listen

In poison’d tongues

 

Life B knot but wing’d death flightless;

Lamed;

Wounded;

To see but not kiss the openness of the skies above.

Life B knot but the maggots in fast fore the feast;

To gorge their innards ‘til it doth strain ‘gainst elastic skin

As in chagrin to humanity’s brittle.

 

Life B knot but the delight of an unseen torturer’s delight;

Letting the flesh warm for the slightest of second

Before the waves of crushing cold break the sturdiest of will

 

Life B knot but in e’er breathed lament

Loosened only in the wither

Of decay

Smile Little Angelisa Smile

Smile Little Angelisa Smile

Tis this that tempers the coldness that dwells my within

If for only the littlest of while

Laugh Little Angelisa Laugh

Umbrella the deluge that threatens to drown

When none shall on my behalf

Live Little Angelisa Live

So that others can vicariously be so

Whence no longer there is a will to take or give

Be at peace Little Angelisa be at Peace

Be what you will and wish to be

let those dreams that drive ne’er cease

Smile Little Angelisa Smile

Forgotten

Cinnamon flakes of mudded snow settle atop

A corpse frozen that all but the ground ‘neath have all but forgot

 

Naked, bloodied, gouged, broken; tossed away without a thought

Her absence not missed, about her even her mother forgot

 

Years off her ancestral right she had left to seek out her own sought

But along the way the path skewed and goals aloft crashed and perhaps were forgot

 

High to high, pain to dull; all energy went to the next numbing shot

All to blur the remember that wouldn’t fade to the recesses of the land of forgot

 

When the weather will strip the blanket of cold for the screen of hot

As the grasses and flowers sprig aft slumber quickly forgot

 

Just as seasons change, the snow will melt trickle then trot

Taking with it her fullness of feature to husk of humanity forgot

 

Flesh will be stripped to bone by animal and maggot hunger to blanch and mottled in spot

Stealing to unseeing sockets for lush deep brown eyes that all will have forgot

 

Harsh are lessons to be experienced rather than those that can be taught

To e’er be redone as the failures to learn fade from memory to forgot

 

Whether forced or willing to be sold and bought

Is a question that should be asked but will be forgot

 

As society frowns and tsks at what some life choices bring to wrought

Still did she not have a soul, a breath, a dream that was lost and forgot?

 

Day upon day; night upon night life does circle with no stop

Save for the woman that lies where even her killer has forgot

Tila and Agnus

Con=sump + shun: A monologue

How canst I wither by but in thy contempt

Does not a listen be a bye without its ado

In mock state meant for kempt?

Coloured neither in envy’s tinge nor cowardly hue

To bathed in cresson

Doth I be christian’d so to be a game for a lessen?

Mallow’d to marked murk

Swirled to flavor of kind

Passively to pricked as cushioned pin in mettled dirk

Though a flit upon sallied mind

As jester court’d neath matronic sly

Sated by filth cast in unlanguished kvetch

Ribald in stilt’d yet groomed etch

Availing to know save one

Twined taunt to numbed squalor

All for a completed undone

Left unremitted to this whore’s parlor

How canst I wither by but in thy contempt

In mock state meant for kempt?

Free Write Friday A Blouse is Like a House

Credit: Richard Baxte

As Frank Oughtabutt had a hankering to do he took a stroll down through the new cul de sac that was being built to see if there were new styles or at least a slight difference to what he had been seeing going up for the past few years of detached rowhouses looking like they had be stretched high to make them look bigger than a breadbox fitting on the lot size of a postage stamp. Houses, it occurred to Frank ,were a lot like blouses. When a blouse is newly purchased, akin to a newly built abode, they tended to be bright, sleek and a person just walkin’ along would sorta sneak a quick peek, especially a man folk –or if by perchance one who is accompanied by a person of a womanly persuasion, a far more less obvious and quite pronounced quicker looksy-to admire the lines that the newly purchased product produces as it accustomizes itself to the surroundings it has been placed in. Age has a funny and surly way of acting out against its natural course, much like the way the first plate at an all you can eat buffet is – it’s a teaser, whetting the appetite for the real meal that you plan to set to once the rules of societal politeness have been sated to the point where a glob or two of hot sauce on the ol’ mustache aint gonna cost ya a two hour lecture on the function and usage of those cheap napkins they give you that look like they can take it but really a quarter of a wipe and you realize that no, in fact, it can’t take it and the little glop that could have gone unnoticed now has grown four times the size because the damn napkin has decided that instead of wandering through like it properly should , it’s going to stay a while to whistle and whittle while little old ladies with their young grandkids walk by and glare and blantantly grab those poor tykes hands just a might tighter and cluck under their breaths at you. The second plate is as enjoyable as the first, but that third round to the trough of hot plates the entire process now has taken on a far darker , far fiscal, far prideful  vein to the falsely advertised motif of relaxed dining…it’s 12.95 I’m paying so I’m going to get 12.95 out of this damn place regardless of those darn waitresses who keep coming up and filling up my oversized water glass trying to trick me into filling my stomach with ice water so as not to eat 12.95 worth of food thereby increasing their boss’s profit margin which in turn allows them to buy even larger oversized water glasses which means that the next time I come here I won’t be able to eat as much which means that in a few hours time when I’m sitting on the toilet with intense gastral cramps will be all for naught…that’s a lot of damn pressure for a supposedly casual dining experience isn’t it.  Then let’s not mention the dessert coolers, sure there’s a lot of choice but each one is like a bite instead of a nosh which means you have to fill a plate up in order to have a  decent dessert which leads to those damn grey haired elitists walking by once again with their grandkids in tow to cluck and whisper “how boorish” at the size of the dessert plate which really isn’t that big but looks big because six pieces of anything would be about half the size of a home made piece of rubarb strawberry pie that really would like instead but that would require not only a guy to stop watching the afternoon game but to hazard the mean aisles of the grocery store where you may run into a woman who sounds like she’s gargling avocados cough into her hand, pick up the very same package of strawberries you were looking at only to frown then put it back down –then wipe her hand on her backside. That’s the way houses get after a while, the thrill and sheen quieten to a mouse whispering sweet nothings to a granule of grain and everything starts to settle, which is quite similar to a blouse as the material begins to follow the natural curvature and unforgiving nature of gravity and its perchance to attempt to have everything droop flatly to the ground unless the woman folk is like one of those kind of women folk who buy  something  similar for themselves that’s like the anatomical version of a pair of artificial gravity boots. There was much to be said on how much houses were like blouses thought Frank – until the wind picked up and right there and then as the house Frank was ogling at creaked and groaned as the twirling wind wrenched it from its papal roots  to toss it straight up in the air without tussling a whisp of Franks graying hair that houses were definitely not like blouses – while being as uncomfortable-the warmth from the front of his pants that he was experiencing now was quite the opposite than when warmth he felt when the wind blew up a blouse to reveal what it hid inside….

 

I thought I’d give this a try, the link to this is

http://kellieelmore.com/2013/02/15/fwf-free-write-friday-image-prompt-5/

When Serial Killers Bring their Home to work with them