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My Ring Trilogy - The Poems
You Know Who You Are! I know that you probably know who you are... Abusers who prey on women (or men) . Your aberrance mostly extends to the weak, Your generosity just serves other's pain And, of course, their misery's your only gain. Do not think that you'll find me turning my cheek For doing so would just encourage your sin. I'd rather see you in a specimen jar, Or displayed on corkboard impaled with a pin, Some place where your psyche has no powr' to mar. Some say that it's likely that you were abused, The sins of the parents passed on as it were, God forgive me, if you're not really liable, But your friendship's not the company I seek God grant you don't find fellowship with the meek And your progeny all be un-viable. It's not that I curse you, but I would deter Your excess on innocents already bruised, My prayer's not for you but for those you injure, God forgives but your deeds cannot be excused. To see people like you removed from the earth Would most certainly fill up my cup of mirth! Brian Johnston January 12,2014 ___________________ The Wages of Sin The bush in which you hide Reveals your cowardice, The wall, behind which you speak, Testifies against you, The seed which you so blithely sow, Grows bitter fruit that does not nourish Or weeds that suck soil dry So that good seed barely feeds the birds, Does not take root, Imagination insufficient, To wet the soil. Bad intentions blow What good soil there is Across the sea to waiting deserts More deserving in Africa, The rocks left behind, Only bruise your feet. Brian Johnston Sept.23,2014 ____________________ The Troll ‘An interesting guy I think, ' People might say on meeting you for the first time, Oh yes, I've come to know you too well. Thank God for the Internet, Although there are bodies in your wake, And stench follows you like a garbage scow There is protection for many in distance from, In the miles of wire, the waves of wireless Communication, and so like a deer Caught in the headlight of your amazing ego, [Fashioned by the fires of Hell (like Gollum's ring) And as empty as the devil's soul], They stand frozen for a moment, Throwing it off finally, the vision of their own death Shaking their heads in wonder, ‘What just happened? ' It's like the first lesson your mother tries to teach, ‘Be careful who you choose as a friend, ' A cautionary tale for adults too. ‘Fire does burn' even when you reach adulthood, All that sparkles is not gold, my friend, And a ‘nom de plume' like Talvia Sprinkles, Just one more bush the troll hides in. Sometimes that strange feeling that you have Is actually another human? being? peeing on your soul The golden shower they offer, however, Does not assuage your guilt (which is real, so what?) You've just been sold a bill of goods, Dr. Killdeers Magic Elixir, a not so benign fixer. If you have been in this dark place of the soul And saved by Satan not in fact being God, Then rejoice my friend in God's provision In youth or childhood, you did something good? Do more, bear witness of your weakness to others, Not to mortify your own flesh (God knows you're sorry) But so that those with ears to hear (also God's gift) Perchance will themselves not feel so alone. Remember that half-truths strung together like pearls Are still sh**, if you'll pardon the expression. ‘If it sounds to good to be true it isn't, ' Remember only God knows your soul, Satan is just a very experienced guesser And revels in our penchant to deny our own sin. His wisdom does not serve the greater good. Do not look for truth among the cold stones Of the temple that once stood at Delphi either, Or trust any oracle that does not bend his knee To the living God, the creator of us all. It is your life, it is your responsibility, Don't parrot Cesar's surprised last words As a ‘friend' slipped his knife into Cesar's heart, ‘Et tu, Brute? ' You have been warned! Brian Johnston September 26,2014 Poet's Notes are listed separately because of space limitations on Poetry Soup. Sorry for the inconvenience. I hope that you will take the time to read them.
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