Long Assassin Poems
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I leave the auction sick, my mettle frayed
A ghost, I fear, in oil clutched near my side
No doubt, a ghost for which I've dearly paid!
How best to next proceed, I must decide
The painting I have bought portrays a man
laid out upon a bed as if he sleeps
A woman stands beside the low divan
Offhand, I'd guess a mistress that he keeps
I recognize the bloke who's laying prone
A classless dog and local alley cat
His past and family folk remain unknown
but those with whom he spoke called him "Merat"
I peer more closely at the racy scene;
Beside Merat, a pool of crimson red
The woman's face is cool, if not serene,
quite out of place, considering the bed!
I take my time in staring at the girl,
and make an observation I can't bear
my hands begin to shake, the air to swirl,
for that's my naked wife who's painted there!
As I trudge home, it's hell that fills my head
and passing by a doorsill with a bin,
I tell myself it's I who will be dead
if I don't shove the dreadful painting in
My mind is blank as I bypass the stairs
and free from fear of my assassin wife,
I steer my thoughts past murder and affairs,
then pull her near and thank her for my life
Looking inside out, I might not be so bad/
Because the world is going mad and I can't be sad/
I should really be motivated, to touch down better/
But this storm I'm trying to weather, I can't let up/
Looking inside out, I just wonder how I look/
Some people think I'm cool and don't see me as a crook/
But some do, they want to push their weight around/
So I stand my ground, they not dealing with a punk/
They dealing with a hound, I'm ride or die bound/
Turn a smile to a frown, so they try to laugh now/
If you do, you're guaranteed to cry later/
I'm a verbal assassin, as well as a regulator/
I can turn your real life into a scary movie/
I'm the light bearer, I'm the knowledge of truth/
And I can against the best like nothing to it/
When I got falsely accused, I would always ride for them/
Now, when I need a lift, nobody is riding for me/
They screaming ride or die but nobody dying for me/
Blind as can be, but I'm still trying to see/
They said no pun intended, but they punking on me/
Since I received the rock, they steady running to me/
I ran away, they chase me, trying to gun me down/
I ran a hundred miles, but still no touch downs/
I walk a lonely road, bag on my shoulders, just clothes/
On this yellow brick road, no friends, no girlfriends/
An antisocial optimist so give me the time/
There's no need to hate on me or make my life Hell/
Sometimes I feel insane, I be out of my mind/
But looking inside out, I will be just fine/
comparison is a pickpocket plucking joy from my handbag
I have been compared to countless things and things
that cannot be counted, or counted on
mostly fair assessments of character
only a handful of assassinations
I have been an assassin.
accused of killing
minutes carelessly turning earth, looking
for words to say the unnumbered and the unnamed
it is ineffable and I effing hate it like a hangnail
I cannot quit picking at the quick
then dousing it in ethyl alcohol, or the other kind
sometimes when I'm bleeding out from the ripped skin
I watch it dribble down my guilty fingers into the sink
with dried bits of fluoride still clinging
hard drips that won't rinse
there is never enough blood to fill the basin
never enough origin in your story to cover the drips
so I settle my savagery and rinse my hands of it
letting myself enliven at the sight of my innocent, open palms
instead of crying over a little gore, creating more horror
When the long arm of the law,
belongs to an assassin.
And peaceful protests alone,
can bring no satisfaction.
Then the only choice left that,
will please all of the factions.
Is to have a more violent reaction.
Blood is running too hot and,
it is beginning to boil.
Those who think they are in charge,
have words worse than coal oil.
To fuel hatred’s flames while they’re,
getting rich off the turmoil.
And they cause a more violent reaction.
"Well, we sure can't let them live",
from their barricades, they cry.
"We should just shoot 'em all dead,
they’re just criminals ", they lie.
They have nothing left to give,
because they’re not rich or white.
We must suppress their violent reaction.
Now our inept congress has,
become so indecisive.
They can't pass a single law,
not without the advice of.
The rich Wall Street businessman,
waiting for better prices.
On the guns sold for violent reactions.
The respect for our brothers,
has long ago gone away.
It is so easy for us,
just to look the other way.
When bigotry of race slips,
quietly into the fray.
Trying to cause a violent reaction.
Hell, when it comes to the fray,
it sure did not have to slip.
It busted through the locked door,
with an unsuspected pip.
Grabbed a tight hold on our throats,
with a steely vise-like grip.
Hoping there’d be a violent reaction.
Before our streets and alleys,
are aflame and exploding.
Fires of freedom start raging,
guns of injustice loading.
That spark of foolishness sends,
innocent bodies floating.
Before we start a violent reaction.
I plead that we all step back,
if just for a little bit.
So we might let cooler heads,
try to make some sense of it.
Before the planet turns to,
an enormous pile of sh1t.
And we can’t stop this violent reaction.
Assassin in my entity...
Discreet is my identity.
Marksmanship of sharp precision...
Targets - victims by decision.
An unknown caller on my phone
Following ceasing dial tone.
Fast and brief, our conversation...
Extraction of information.
Our secret meeting then takes place...
Through darkness - eyes without a face.
Their speech and talk of no surprise...
Tone of their voice, I recognise.
The offering of my contract...
To off who is outlined exact.
My response - no hesitation
Towards this assassination.
Sourcing my weapons required...
Minimal in range desired.
Needed, crucial - ammunition...
Some provisions in addition.
My destination reached - each stair...
Climbing towards the top and there,
The target is spotted in the crowd...
Seemingly confident and proud.
Locked and loaded, I take my aim...
Accuracy - name of the game.
Scoping sniper, my trigger squeeze
Disposes - exposes with ease.
Screaming and tension all around
As I return back to the ground.
Surrounding mayhem on the rise...
The discarding of my disguise.
Later, on the news - expander...
Recorded footage, bystander.
My actions absent - not a trace.
I contact eyes without a face.
Back at the place of our meeting...
Reward for this - my defeating.
My payout figure paid in full...
Day in the life of trigger pull.
FANTASTIC FOUR
Earth's Super Hero team !
Cream of intellect, power, might and competence.
Hence the members to bring
Mr. Fantastic, Invisible Woman, Human Torch and the Thing !
Mr. Fantastic Ree Richards holding extra tact
to stretch, expand, condense and compact
ultra-thin, ultra- dense, what seems exact,
marvels in cosmic powers.
Susan Storm, the invisible woman
to defeat any mortal character in Universe.
One of the greatest assassin holding potential strength
manipulating invisible force fields.
Human Torch Johnny Storm is an Android, weakest of FF.
capable to surround himself by fire and flames.
Embowered in fiery plasma but his flames not that hot
countered with thunder cap, freeze breath.
Benjamin Jacob known as The Thing turned super strong rock like monster
withstanding extreme temperatures and explosive bombardment
and surviving, being mutated by cosmic radiation,
yet owning a Golden Heart and supreme intelligence.
The FF team work on the theme, defending world
against perilous threats, always banding together.
Avengers FF formed fantastic family with friendly ties
Ree Richards and Sue Storm are husband -wife.
Sue and Johnny are brother and sister
Reed and Benjamin are long time friends till end.
I've bought a brand new mabel fern,
expansive, I can tell you,
when I've learned just how it words
I'll have a go and bell you.
It's got five ponds of crudity
which should last me a moth
but just for now I'm sending taxis
and this is the firk one off.
I've learned to use the camilla,
and music files called empty trees
which quite impressed my goon ladle
who wished she had one of these.
The only treble that I'm having
is the massages I type out
keep changing anatomically, don't know what that's about.
I may just take it back and give the ship assassin what for,
and get my monkey refunded and find another store.
Hope you and the wolf are in good hearth.
Form:
Yearly - for a spell - I come calling,
not unexpected.
But there are times my travel may be slow.
On such rare occasions when I’m late,
you’ll look and see the mountains’ crowns
remain uncovered,
and in the valley, meadow grasses
dance with gentle breezes,
reveling in verdancy prolonged.
Other times, I roll across the prairie bellowing.
Assassin of startled vegetation,
I wield a force God-given,
and even dry terrain, where soil is sand,
might feel the touch of my icy hand.
And though I be unwelcome,
I’m certain there’s a moment
you look out on a pristine field
where I have softly laid my eider down
or to a street now silenced
that strangely gleams in peaceful white.
Or maybe you gaze up at stately mountains’
lovely snow-capped crowns,
and in that tranquil moment,
you are awed.
For John Freeman's "the Pictures of winter Poetry Contest"
The power we now witness is only the start
An angry earth she is, her tectonic plates in depart
Seconds later they again meet with abrasive force
The reaction to the action is just a matter of course
Crustal deformation from the abyss of her deep
For she'll care not for, the thousands who will weep
Translucent displacement in furious rise
The energies are now released that will swamp victims cries
Substantial volumes gather at a tremendous rate
No care for our future or the disaster it will create
Whilst out at sea we can can't determine the size
For we will feel the anger as she forcefully applies
Sirens now sounded, on the horizon it's been sighted
Evacuation to the listening, the unheard will be blighted
As it now approaches the shore, wave shoaling compresses the wave
It's speed now slowed down, we now await what it craves
Like a silent assassin it's now ready to pounce
No prisoners it will take as it lands in thunderous trounce
Smashing and crashing as it collects in it's wake
No care for the living or it's material take
The gathering of debris amidst gas mains that erupt
Power lines and buildings feel her anger so abrupt
Losses of many are now caught up in this sadness
From she angry earth, or has she entered madness
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/natural-disasters.php
I wandered looking for an Abel and a Cain
Finally the journey ended in me.
As honey in a bee’s comb and venom in its sting,
From man’s heart, spring nectar and poison
While being an incarnation of gentleness,
A sleeping dragon lies within.
Sometimes a thousand stars litter my sky
More often life darkens into a starless night
Even when a ray of goodness lights
There is an inner darkness that bites
The hands that are extended to embrace in love
Turn into tentacles that bind to choke
A savior and an assassin cohabit in me
The sweetness shown is in stark contradiction,
To the daggers that are hidden within
Even when I ardently preach deliverance
I turn my face from the convulsions of grief
And laugh at another’s punching pain
Sometimes I become an oasis
In the panting sterility of the desert
Sometimes a snare to trap the guileless
And pull them headlong into the abyss of death
From a fairy God mother, the transition
To an evil Witch is rather unpremeditated
How fast love thistles into hatred
And admiration stoops into jealousy
In this strange world and in each one’s life,
Such irreconcilable paradoxes abound
We have an erratic mindscape
That changes shape every now and then
When we speak of good and bad
Aren’t we showing traits of both?
Thus we are walking contradictions
Of a Yin and Yang of no judicious proportion!
Feb. 16.2022
~ Placed FIRST~
This or That. Vol.10. Poetry Contest
Sponsor –Edward Ibeh