Long Leered Poems
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He walked into the dusty saloon,
maybe an hour after high noon,
his face still smooth with the touch of youth,
eyes dead-set on seeking out the truth.
He saw him there, two men at his side,
looking just like his mother described,
the scar, gold tooth...the cold countenance,
Silas knew that he had found his man.
He strode up and said, “You’re Dalton Wise,
you killed my father, so now you’ll die.”
Dalton and the two men looked amused,
said Dalton, “Who’s gonna’ do it, boy? You?”
They laughed again, and young Silas seethed,
said, “For his death, you will answer to me.
You took Joe Hamlin from my mother,
and brought no small deal of pain to her.”
The name caught Daltons attention quick,
“You claim your pa was that weak-willed twit?
Oh kid, your mother has told you tales,
that fool Hamlin did nothing but fail.
“Joe was a coward, a sniveling fool
tuck and ran when we treated him cruel,
a pasty lunger, barely could breath,
much less attract a woman to breed.
“There was a woman, Lauri, I think,
who screamed that we did terrible things,
she pitied the fool, got in the way,
girls shouldn’t trifle with men at play.
“I told her as much, but she kept on,
blathering how we treated him wrong,
one day while smacking that fool’s face in
she dared to stand between me and him.
“With hands on hips, she flustered and fumed,
‘Stop bullying him!’ he small voice boomed,
thinking we wouldn’t lay a finger
on a woman, that’s why she lingered.
“I slapped that yapping to the ground,
took aim and shot that fool Hamlin down,
dragged her to a barn when it was done,
I took my time…had a lot of fun.”
He leered and the other men both laughed,
said Dalton, “What you think about that?”
Silas felt his rage slowly turn cold
as more of this cruel story was told.
“Hamlin couldn’t be your pa,”he said,
“’cause when I took young Lauri, she bled.
Just looking at you, it becomes clear,
Joe weren’t your pa, he’s sitting right here!”
He thumped his chest, just to emphasize,
supreme confidence blazed in his eyes.
“So wipe that bravado off your mug,
we both know that you won’t kill your blood.”
He smirked at the two friends at his side,
not a one showed real fear in their eyes,
said Silas, “If there’s truth in your words,
then I’ll have to get revenge for her.”
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Rumors spread like a flood seeping through the streets
That an adult black panther, kept as a pet, had escaped,
And was now prowling around the back alleys in town, according to the tweets.
Big cat far too black to see in the dark, lights and shadow play the beast undraped
To show slinking sly shadows of a panther silently prowling for kills and meats.
Kids and wags made things worse by feigning panther roars.
Soon all sorts of sounds prompted fear and flight,
Cats sounds, dog howls, owls, yells and screams all caused uproars.
The rumor mill was rampant, the streets declared unsafe at night
People were forced to stay at home after dark, and hide away indoors.
People started reporting that their cats and dogs had disappeared.
Bones and dropping scattered about, surely signs of panther.
Police patrols were joined by hunters who volunteered
To rid the town of this menace, as jokes and laughs grew to anger
The torrent of false sightings triggered near-miss shots as sheer panic in the streets leered.
The town Mayor became desperate as the situation got worse.
Sightings grew, shots rang out, every shadow had a panther in its tail,
But clearly there was no panther, no sightings, no true signs to ever confirm the curse.
Secretly the Mayor began a search for a panther skin to fake a shooting and so curtail
This urban legend myth with a fake dead panther, fake news, and a fat reward in purse.
A panther skin was found, a trophy hung with lion and tiger in local hunter's room.
The skin was stuffed, dabbed with blood, and snuck into dark alley in secret.
Two blank shots were fired and photos taken as crowd gathered in the gloom.
Reporters primed to fake the news: "Panther found, killed and taken away in casket"
It was all done and dusted, urban legend lingered on, but fear was gone, a lie lying in tomb.
Somewhere soft and padded....
Today her hands are free to explore.
Her throat burns with acid from a heave of fresh gore.
She grunts and reaches for a blood-dripping meat.
With the bones of our children she picks her teeth.
No longer do the pupils come,
Roused and fattened with Stahlberg's rum.
No longer may her con be made,
Bewitching the flesh to beg for the blade.
A thought interrupts this blasphemous script,
Lamenting John Anderson, and his one missing bit:
"Mrs. Stahlberg is truly evil.
She belongs down in the depths of hell,
To burn forever with the Devil,
In the everlasting flames she should dwell.
She deserves great and eternal pain,
Cruel and unusual punishment.
But she would soon overpower Cain,
And put an end to all her torment.
Then she'd start to torture other souls,
And make their pain very, very great.
Then she would come and terrorize the schools,
And to the students release her hate.
Mrs. Stahlberg should be killed slowly,
'cause her soul sure-as-hell ain't holy."
Twenty years later....
It was ten minutes to closing when I noticed
A scummy liquid spilling from a table to the floor
Where a large-mouthed woman sat gorging, oblivious, on ...
What was it she was stuffing into that grotesque, huge maw?
I was shaken and frightened -- what a pitiful sight.
Just an old crazy eating
A fast meal
On a snowy, cold night.
I regained my footing -- my resolve grew tight.
I was alone with the eater, her drippings
A dizzying stench of urine and vice.
Damn this degenerate who delayed my home flight.
I said, "Miss, we're closing. Go home. Take a rest."
How stupid, I thought, as I slipped on her mess.
She neither spoke nor stopped eating that horrible chow
But leered at me, dripping, special sauce and dead cow.
She slipped into the single’s club,
where an assortment
of horny guys and lonely hearts had assembled.
Some were there hoping to find that "special" someone
and some had come to chase away the blues,
tinkling ice in cocktail glasses soon to be refilled.
Others, who might be labeled commitment phobic,
had simply come to case the place for an easy lay.
Swinging svelte, mini-skirted hips lasciviously,
she strutted over to the counter
on legs that looked their longest and most shapely
from being hoisted on high red heels.
Every pair of eyes was trained on her.
Some in the club gawked
with eyes that hid beneath mascara-painted lashes, flitting envy.
Others leered with pupils dilating lust
from ogling the two soft protrusions in her tight white turtleneck.
Then with pink champagne in hand,
the goddess turned and surveyed her audience,
most of whom by now had looked away.
One remained, mesmerized, with eyes riveted on her.
He quivered when she caught his gaze
and strolled over to where he sat.
As she approached, he marveled at her face -
the chiseled cheekbones strong and high,
the dark eyes, luminescent and immense,
and curiously, an upturned nose so delicate
it seemed almost too perfect,
like one acquired from a sculptor’s hands.
He gulped when she asked him for a dance,
and as he asked this intriguing lady’s name,
he wondered at the timbre of her voice,
so provocative and low as she tossed dark brown locks
and said seductively,
“My name is Lola. L-O-L-A , Lola.”
Inspired by an old song from the 70's and
used now for Skat's the Premiere Contest number 10 Poetry Contest
"Sign-here with blood," The Devil said.
"But I have none."
His teeth displayed.
"Oh that's alright," the fiend replied,
"The deal was done as soon as your
Two feet walked through my office door."
I turned around and surely saw
A hole I hadn't seen before.
"I have you now, my little one.
I'll have myself a lot of fun."
I paled and wondered what I'd done.
I tried to move but couldn't run.
Oh I was doomed, destroyed at best.
I knew this madman did not jest.
"But i was smart, I hid my heart!"
"Your heart," said he, "has played no part.
My plan had much a simpler start.
I put my hand out palm-side up
Then lied, my dear. A dirty bluff.
I told you you could wiggle out,
Once you decide you've had enough.
But your enough and my enough..."
He laughed, "Why dear, they're quite unlike.
I sold you fame and massive fortune,
Riches that you wasted so-soon.
All I asked of you was that,
You lie, you cuss, be vain with lust.
And you, oh you, you quickly trust.
Don't try to scream, you're in too deep.
No rope, no boat, your faith's asleep.
It gives me no such greater pleasure
To show you pain that has no measure."
"Please!" I cried. My knees went weak.
"You plead?" he sneers, "What's this you speak?
The time for that has passed, alas.
You're Alice, I'm the looking glass.
"Liar!'
"Yes"
"Cheater!"
"Sure.
I'm a cancer without cure.
Submit your soul, I've reached my goal."
Then to-my fear my two eyes tear`d.
My soul departed,
Him, he leered.
"You're mine, all mine, my greedy dear.
Prepare to meet the heart of fear."
the end
Form:
I lock myself in my mind
And the troubles begin to unwind.
The numbness swoops over me and in the darkness I go
To find the answers to that of which I already know
The irony of falling is the knowing and unknowing of thy soul
Parts of you missing those others stole
I just want to close my eyes as I feel
Trying to figure out if this **** is really real
This pressure inside my chest that throbs so deep
The tears that swell my eyes and start to weep
Feeling both the inner and outer of my being at the same time
Hydroplaning life with no sign
The spiral down is the scariest because it seems without end
You start to feel your foundation crack and bend
Swaying in exhaustion from just trying to understand
Reaching out to myself with my own hand
An ocean with the darkest depths
Is where my mind is pulled in by tide and swept
Breathing is a struggle because the pain is sharp
I get turned inside out through my heart
All I want to do is rest the hurt away
Forget about that bad day
Feel normal again
Forget it happened.
But the inside cries keep me awake
And like shattered glass I begin to break
I fill with rage and anger for what I have endured
And loath the deception in which I was leered
Shaken by the rush of thinking too much
Searching for answers and finding no such
Desperate for freedom from this flesh of hell
It has burned me alive each time I fell.
Peace I seek, glory in light
So I keep on through this dark and lonely night
With my body emotions grow
And when I am ready, I breathe and
Let them go.
Then I feel fine
And safe once again in my own mind.
The Double Image
I wondered through this turbulent world.
Through the wind, the mist and the rain.
Over many a rocky cavern;
And many a sandy plain.
I climbed a grassy little hill.
In that rare day of fun;
I sang in blessed confusion,
As I walked there in the sun.
I paused and saw a little pool
Clear and cool as ice;
A gentle breeze blew through my hair,
The weather was quite nice.
I stooped to look into the pool
My image for to see.
And saw two figures fighting;
Who looked a lot like me.
I turned away in fear and awe,
And wondered how and why?
There were two reflections in the pool,
When but one soul am I?
I looked again, and oh, twas true.
I was twice pictured in the pool.
Yet one was like an angel fair,
The other was a ghoul.
The angel clad in purest white;
As lovely as could be.
Smiled back from out the shallow depths,
And signed a Cross to me.
The monster leered beside the Saint;
And made me understand.
Both good and evil struggle there;
In the heart of every man.
They fought together in the pool.
As life's long hours passed.
I watched them till the light grew dim,
And the sun was sinking fast.
I know some day one will prevail.
Be it Love or Hate.
That decision is up to me;
And will decide my fate.
I wandered once to a little pool;
My reflection for to see.
And saw two reflections in a pond;
And both of them were me.
As a child I went surfing at Freshwater Beach in Sydney
Renowned for its great waves,
Swell waves for body surfing.
Beyond the breakers, furthest out, were the 'Heroes'
Old, leathery tanned surfers who waited hours and hours for 'the wave of the day'
They only caught a handful of the biggest waves every hour or two.
They spent hours lolling about beyond the break, waiting for the big one to leer up on the horizon
Too proud to catch the small stuff, the run of the mill waves not fit for 'heroes'
It was scary at first for a kid to venture that far out into the 'heroes' realm
They leered back throwing daggers and sighs with disapproving glances
But you could survive by giving them plenty of space, to avoid interfering with their rare big wave catch
The challenge was to 'show them up' by surfing down the waves they just missed,
Or staying on the wave for longer than they did.
To earn mere morsels or crumbs of reluctant respect.
They had a nasty way of ridding the blow-in boogie-boarders from their patch
They would duck down as flippered boogie-boarder passed overhead
But leave an arm and hand up
To grab the boogie boarder as it passed, dipping the nose in
Flipping the board and rider over in a somersault
This shooed the boogie-boarders away from
The 'Heroes' patch of sea just beyond the breakers.
I had a bath in the dark the other night.
Left the radio off.
Mum came home early that day,
I could hear her boots clattering on the tiled floor.
I sank further under the water, and exhaled shame.
It clouded the tiles, and found
The heart which I had drawn only last week, Now dripping and deformed,
Framing my girlfriends name.
I shuddered at the memory,
And sank still lower into the bath.
The heart leered at me. I scrubbed it out, And scratched in the one word I had left
inside, It had swallowed all the other words, and now sat there bloated.
Transferred to the glass it looked obscene.
My mum never let me say it, it was naughty to say The G word.
Time to leave,
A BandB tonight and then,
Who knows?
As I passed my mother, a vicious hiss,
“There goes the martyr.”
I turned, but said nothing, how could I?
I was drained after
Purging apology after apology.
She took a deep breath,
And in the tiny moment before she spoke, A strange alien voice spilled from my
mouth.
“I love her mum”
For the first time,
She stopped, and looked at me.
I couldn’t help feeling smug, vindictive, She finally understood what silence was
like, It was her turn.
And, as I repeated the words, in my harsh new voice, She shattered, and wept.
Because we both knew,
Love,
Is more than her and Dad ever had.
Form:
I stood hidden in the shadows, watching
as Salome, clad in flowing veils, gyrated
to the music, exuding sensual richness.
Herod leered drunkenly at her vibrant body.
Overcome by uncontrolled lusty desire
he promised her anything that she wished for
and, prompted by her evil mother, she asked
for the head of John the Baptist on a plate.
Reluctantly, all eyes on him, including guests,
he was compelled to grant her strange request.
I stood hidden in the shadows, watching.
The condemned man was dragged outside
and roughly bundled to the floor, unresisting,
held by the executioner’s steely grasp
whose dagger swiftly slit his life away.
An old woman clasped her head between her hands,
shocked and fearful at the sight of oozing blood,
in horror listening to the janitor’s final bidding.
The keen young maiden held a gold container
ready to receive the freshly severed head
of an innocent man. The old woman cried, in vain.
I stand hidden in the shadows, watching the years
roll by, a silent witness within a gilded frame.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Within a Gilded Frame: A masterpiece by Caravaggio
“The Beheading of St John the Baptist” prominently
displayed in St. John’s Co-Cathedral, Valletta, Malta.
© paul callus ~ 13th May 2016