they sit him down, strap the arms,
not the old chair, not the rope—
this is cleaner, scientific,
no blood, no sparks,
just the mask.
the lungs beg first,
pulling at nothing,
a vacuum of sky
swallowing itself.
the heart beats like a busted drum,
then quieter,
the eyes go wet, then far—
a man drowning on land
without water, without storm.
the state calls it mercy.
but death is still death,
as the body visibly shows us.
I felt as small as a winter’s flower
yet as tall as an old oak tree
the seconds dragged on for what seemed like hours
when my world turned in on me
the cloak I wore was of little comfort
just to bridge between present and past
I held onto this and other secrets
no more a peasant but a king at last
by the time I had finished speaking
the crowd erupted with applause
then towards me they were reaching
as the judgment came into force
the mask was meant to protect me
from what no one should have seen
a noose was placed just oh so gently
I thought it was a bit extreme
I sank into the grain that supported
absorbed deep in the fibres below
my legs gave way it was reported
I wriggled until they let me go.
Little boy drops over,
The boys playing in the streets.
It is done in the name of
Stopping war, but punishing
The fellows who don’t know
What war is, how to fight,
How to use weapons.
They only ever fight with words
And hands.
She barks, "Turn your cheek!"
She leaves her handprint on it.
"And now the other!"
My dogs have been running lose
Now that they weigh a hundred pounds each, I am trying to control them
Our digger has dug his way out of one of our fenced areas
We are sitting in the other one – both dogs and I
If he had not dug under the neighbor’s fence
This would not be happening
The clouds are breaking
a prospect from the hilltop
Visions have been starved
Magnificent and awful
Mother earth canceled the deal
On the sport’s field we started to set up
To play cricket but the ground was hard
And the stumps would not go in. So my mate
Used the cricket bat to hammer them home.
The game’s master was soon upon the scene,
Shouting. “That’s no way to treat the willow,
You cretin.” Sir then snatched the cricket bat
And with hefty sideways swipe cracked my mate
Across the head. The lad collapsed and was
Shaking violently, lying on the ground.
Then his shaking stopped and he was still.
The whole team went silent and stood and stared.
Then one lad shouted: “He’s dead. You’ve killed him.
You’ll be hanged for murder”. Sir was silent.
He looked worried. But the victim came round.
He then stood up, a bit wobbly and we
Carried on with our game of cricket.
An orison to hope
Shattered into smithereens
Its keened tongues and teeth gnash and lament
A despairful cry of a cutthroat womb.
Cacophonies cry out
Cellos and violins bow, inexorable and unforgiving
Until then, of their finale the southern bells will ring;
A testimony that God has returned.
Savior of humanity,
Entwine us with arms that bleed
For those arms' warmth and nurture
Extricates us from a demise with a lamenting dissonance.
She offered him a single rose to stay the night inside,
But he a prince, and she a hag, the Prince her rose denied.
He thus began to close the door, retreating to his space,
But the old hag’s repulsiveness then melted from her face.
The Prince tried to apologize, for with his eyes he saw
A beauty unsurpassed that left him standing there in awe.
A true enchantress was the hag; she’d issued him a test,
But he had failed, for he would not admit her as a guest.
A curse she placed upon him then, that changed would be his form,
And as a beast he’d live until his heart he could reform.
If his own selfishness he beat and he to love could learn,
His freedom from his beastly state the Prince could one day earn.
His curse brought him despair, and harsh it was to say the least;
He lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?
I feel like Sisyphus most ev’ryday.
A constant struggle carrying my load.
A punishment that never goes away
To push my rock down here in Death’s abode
How well I know just how Tantalus feels:
To grasp at dreams forever out of reach.
And knowing that admitting this reveals
I’ll never learn the lessons life will teach.
And Ixion, the least known of the three,
Spinning on his burning wheel forever,
At times I do believe that he is me.
And when might it all end? I say never…
Often I imagine brotherhood with
These men of ancient fantasy and myth…
A father
Once a son.
A son
Will become a father,
Time makes the difference.
A mother
Once a daughter.
A daughter
Will become a mother
Time makes the difference.
Father's ignite
The pathway.
Courage and belief
Their messages.
Fearlessly facing
Adversity until they die,
Leaving a legacy for us to follow.
Mother's teaching
Love and patience.
Always showing
Compassion,
Amidst disorder.
Paving paths
For us to thrive and grow.
Children
Upgrading
The family timeline
According to instructions
Maintaining
The family lineage
For regeneration of purpose.
Parents
Our guides.
Leading us
Through,
Thick and Thin
Dark and light
Rainy and Sunny
Until we arrive at our destination.
Ephesians 6:1-4
Children
Obey your parents,
The right thing to do.
Blessings are attained,
Prosperity and longevity.
Parents
Provoke not
Your children,
Anger spoil things.
Show them
The way to go
Enlightenment over punishment.
Wooden spoons and switches are all that's needed!
A coat was laid upon the shoulders
potential threats firmly at bay
arms that held the precious mould are
protecting those who chose to pray
a bridge to cross a sea of secrets
as towers leaned towards their fate
cross the heart and aim to keep it
and swallow what will fill the space
a canopy arched over wisdom
confidence came in its wake
another bound to seek a kingdom
let tragedy come and dictate
supported by the staunch and loyal
rallied a champion whose colours bled
a sacrifice made for the soil
the consequence cost him his head.
the aquatorium’s legends speak
of a Captain Punishment
who takes with him
every recruit
his ship breaks waters uncharted
but familiar to all
the stars turn innavigable
yet constellations make image
we never see again yet never forget
and his harbours and ports?
oh dear
to his ports I've been
to his ports I've been
and you, young punk
may fret and yell all you want
but you'll too disembark
you'll too disembark.
The jury sits stoic and pensive with unwavering eyes
Set upon me like a lock on prey
Persecution for the crime of being small
Groundless accusation I have yet to discern
Though it seems the world has already done so
I am by fault a timid being
Created, it seems, by a mind set on juxtaposition
I am neither here nor there
Neither bright nor shadow
I stand with shaking knees
Sit with shaking hands
Interrogated for moments or hours
I’ve been forced to shrink
Forced to fold into myself,
But I am the one standing before a judge
The verdict readies itself to change a life
I receive my sentence with salted, glass eyes
Doomed to life without a chance
-s.grace
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