A Kingdom Built on Ash and Sin
For eighteen years, I was reared for the blade,
A lamb in a house where the monsters played.
They hid their sins in the floorboard cracks,
And led me home on my own bloody tracks.
A welcome-back trap, a dark, hollow room,
Where chants in the shadows sealed my doom.
They tore open hell and flung me right in,
Trading my flesh for a ledger of sin.
I woke to the cold, completely alone,
Stripped of my youth, my blood, and my bone.
Now they sit high on a mountain of gold
Built on the back of the child they sold.
Then came the husband, a beast of a man,
Who traded my flesh for a new wicked plan.
Deeply in debt to the legions below,
He threw me to hell for a cash-out show.
But the pit gave him nothing; his gamble fell through,
So he fled like a coward when the cold wind blew.
Now a collector from hell has crawled to the light,
Searching for souls in the dead of the night.
The ledgers are empty, the debtors have run,
But the hunt for their blood has only begun.
The demon is tracking the scent of their fear
To seal every fate as the reckoning draws near.
A leviathan tower
engulfs the skyline
grey and brooding.
One watery morn
green robed ghosts
convened with mortals
to obfuscate and inveigle
a white soul
in sanitised halls
where consent is captured;
no ransom demanded.
Blood Money
Ransom for a trade
Hostile blood money
Vendita for the victims
Bad guy on the run
A bloody weapon in hand
Manipulation runneth
A destructive mind-set
Mental disorder unbalanced
Morally wrong with a motive
With madness, no care for others
Another body bag
Murder mystery unsolved
With no boundaries
Another murder just for the money
Money for ransom
With blood on your hands
Dead presidents in green
Bloody bank note bleeding
Greed follows a dead end
No one wins
Another lost soul
Just for engraved images paper note
Blood money never ends
Another victim up ahead
Another story to write
Another violent villain
Hunting in the night
Only to worship money
Tuhada Khon Khon,
Mera Khon Pani.....
Evil Emerges
When the vaygina is torn
When a hypocrite is born
Evil Emerges.
Red cents fill the coffers of the rich.
It is the blood and sweat of others,
yet, no longer enough, no longer enough,
worthless as the silver-less lie of a dime.
It is the blood and sweat of others
melted with base metals, base morality,
worthless as the silver-less lie of a dime
not filling the hollow holes of their souls.
Melted with base metals, base morality
a growing virus among the bone weary,
not filling the hollow holes of their souls,
both, rich and poor, suckle an empty teat.
A growing virus among the bone weary,
yet, no longer enough, no longer enough,
both, rich and poor, suckle an empty teat,
red cents fill the coffers of the rich.
**re-vised ;) hope it's clearer!
*an unrhymed Pantoum
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
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