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Hermit Kingdom

They sit on their own in their Hermit Kingdom other side of the wall singing their song entitled nothing to envy peeling the skin away in generations it's worse than a famine where colour is wrung from the inside out emotive feelings are not allowed let the sentiments fester like poetry inside tears that go nowhere when organs fall out and the keys like musical notes are torn, what existed before, without fail inappropriately disappears visually it is worse like Romans struck down love is forbidden love is a drought haiku like bitter onions raw for the eating all hidden, within and without verses memorised like code, passed on in the whispers from parent to child with warnings to watch out not to become lost in translation, or shared with the outside others even the birds and the mice are not to be trusted no one knows who is watching you the word for friendship is banished, comradship is much safer, less individualistic the collective coached to travel in class weekly to repent sins through the unbridled criticism and alleged petty wrong doings of others, the denouncement of mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, each now taught to habitually turn against the other you cannot start a revolution where there exists no loyalty no trust in love one for the other the informative instruction commences at 5, the beatings at 2, each has their allotted task spreading seeds for the unit, growth planted by and in the smallest doses, commences early for the large, now all drugged in descension true hearted music for what it is worth is not permitted, the abolition of joy dead and buried swallowed like rocks all impoverished eating things one should never dare eat, the passing of such, an unholy union unwanted fools sitting uneducated then harnassed standing on stools for the kicking dead and buried the walking dead look on the dreams of ghouls life taking and giving the child remembers a woman with no eyes a dead feast for smaller things that live and hide in the dark recesses of a reader’s mind children watch on the youngest reserved front row for viewing the neverending unswaying executions, no ordinary guns, blown apart the meat left then fed to the dogs such dysfunction now in each unit within unit in familial grooming traumatised it’s dog eat dog the dog is eventually eaten Escape arrives like moths viewing lights across the borderline walls like margins paralysed deers caught in the headlights fed with fear, bloated floating down the proverbial river A mother would do anything for her child she takes the fall and the other is double-tricked, yet the child makes it over the wall the mother follows she learns how to crawl A child would do anything for her mother selling the other for a better life food in the belly they meet again much later, unknown each to the other, still some trust, hand in hand they walk the Gobi together in the dead of Winter missionaries and their ramblings one side nearly as bad as the other passing a book the verses like a test it's all covert, never judge a book by its cover what was covetted now smothers freedom is choice but it is never free, still, where there is hope some form of life still exists the dreams of good eggs in their better nests remains in minds still alive transfixed They sit on their own in their Hermit Kingdom other side of the wall singing their song entitled nothing to envy The tour group goes to a level they were told to resist; 22, now he’s lost in the poisonous culpable party line mess; “what no illustrations? No music?” he says, “I’ll leave that to your imagination. To reflect on.” she says (LadyLabyrinth / 2023)