past

I do not normally write outside of the office. The work environment and narrow time frame seems to suit me better. However with my birthday approaching I thought I would dig the demon, which this year is different from all the previous years.

There is an irony to life, sometimes to appreciate it you nearly need to destroy it, loose it, burn it down and rebuild it.

If my mother gave me nothing else positive it was infinte will, strength and defiance. Life is hard. I'm a dam sight harder.

Twenty Ninth Funeral

Abortion in a bag
taken home
neglected in the look of
selfish windows
skin peeled turned to
flayed tomatoes
in an overdue nappy.
A womb of abandonment
makes no mother
leaves the scars of
Pathos' blade down the arms,
perched on the shoulder blades
sliced down to the bone.
Lazarus defiant
claws against
Mother's shovel
turns a funeral
to a birthday.

Everyman is their own judge, jury and executioner. Sin is the moral wrong, a short step away from regret.


Sins

Malevolent dark oak
lines a room shunned from the eye.

Laid out from the pocket of a cloak
midnight is stunned beneath glass

Made to sit and listen to the list of its sins.

I have decided to return to writing my biography, which I left previously at 50,000 words (more about that later). The past is a funny thing as sometimes it makes it's way back into the present and this is where the inspiriation for the following comes from.

The Past

Librarians walk through the skeleton
pause
lift a bone,
run their teeth down the spine
try to find their own name
etched and remembered.
A dust ridden volume
they find me,
resurrected by their own hand,
to ring the doorbell
and wonder why no one is home.

Some arts we learn, empower us but not always for the best. I know this only too well.

The Substitute Teacher

Cupid got pregnant, took a break from class
decided never to come back.

War filled the desk, a mass of brute force
with a horse black as hell itself.

Forging lessons of eye and steel,
how to rake wounds in flesh

War’s lessons were fresh with blood
and Cupid’s, an Achilles Heel.

I can remember as a kid looking down the bedroom to where the closet door was. The door was level with the wall and the closet was setback with in it. As often is the case in the dark it appeared menacing. Although, it never kept me awake, I would roll over on to my side and figured if there was any monster in there - good luck to it.