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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required POTD 13 March 2019 Welcome! - We are excited to release our very first Visual Video Poem. (I trust you will enjoy the complete production effects and the superb narration by Dorsey Jackson (Deeja) on the video above) I recall the hopelessness that swept when it brought it’s dark decline Icy fingers of apprehension run the length of my spine not from cold but the memories of old from which I fled ~ its rule I defied Its hunger denied This town … this street … of the living dead Shrouded in its diabolical mystery my presence it senses I am the threat, the one who escaped Why then to this town do I return? The old loathsome brew that assail my nostrils of decay and something worse fills me with trepidation anew Thick cumulonimbus clouds race each other in rage Undoubtedly a storm to intimidate conjured from this portal to hell nursing a grudge to keep it warm Yet in a hubris state it shuns the Sun Cares not for its only natural habitants Twisted trees ~ spent and bent With deformed branches they seek Warmth, denied or dead searching for their leaves or for song birds long since fled What vindictive mockery It has already robbed me of all I hold dear Through my veins smoldering, fresh blood pumps Having crossed the invisible threshold of cowardice and reason this pure despicable entity has deviated from all considered good known to many as ‘demon from hell’ I'm now ready to meet..… Or retreat in defeat But never - never to fall under its spell I brace myself to stand my ground surveying the dark amber fog No demonic mutant is going to stop me now It creeps towards me shedding saffron sulfuric mist around I sense before I see its hesitation yellow livered it trembles as a Xanthus chill descends its spine It peers cautiously around In that split second like a thunderbolt comes a dawning and a realization This is nothing but a metaphysical manifestation A creation of our own endearing Our own fearful expectation I step in front of the hunchbacked muck That calls itself a living dead A putrid smell emanates from its fear It looks at me trembling in the knowing that I am the Victor ~ The combatant who sees through its guise set to bring about its demise I move forward My eyes a pair of slit scarlet daggers penetrates its whole entity covering its dull tawny skin with my piercing fiery darts stabbing delicate parts Burning to cinders peripheries I laugh as it cringes with anguish and tumbles down into a sewage filled ditch Begging for its own destruction In the dark starless night A heavy rain pours down on us A sickle appears in my hand The end is quick The storm passes And all is peace and quiet as I disappear into a spiritual sphere from whence I came End note: A dramatization of facing our ‘Inner demon’, a product and anchor point in our minds resultant of negative conditioning. As humans, we tend to cling to memories especially negative ones – Memories do not define us, it’s what we do and achieve that does. Once we ignore our inner negative voice, make the commitment and cross the ‘Invisible Threshold of Fear’, we vanquish ‘the demon’, a figment of our own creation, which then de-materializes, leaving us to pursue a more productive life. Acknowledgements: My most sincere thanks to my friend Victor Buhagiar, a great poet and Co-writer of this poem. Copyright March 2019 © Maria Williams | Victor Buhagiar Voice over – Dorsey Jackson (Deeja) Video arrangement, direction and compilation - Ron Williams Video editing, sound mixing, graphics - Jayne Hartano (Our very own Lariese.com Art Director) POTD 13 March 2019
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