Saturday, July 28, 2007

Slave to the Word

Have you ever shined a light, down deep in your belly;
Past the esophagus and stomach; to the innards of jelly?
Or do you justifiably fear all you might find?
Let alone suffocated thoughts, trapped in your mind.

Packages beautifully wrapped, restraining a gift so dark,
Temporary relief comes when prying open your heart.
Briefly amazed at words that flow from the blood on the pen,
Lamenting the finality of your act; open hearts never mend.

Self surgery a mistake, you urgently try to stitch up the wound.
Cleaning and wiping the stains that now soil your room.
Some days are better than others, often the gash only weeps
Sorted few know the hours that a wretched writer keeps.

Now that you’ve sacrificed; baring your soul to mother earth.
You can never deny your children; the one’s you gave birth.
Can you withstand criticism, or better yet, the silence they speak?
Surrender to the demon, a slave to the words and havoc they wreak.

The Gathering

The full moon illuminates a small corner of night.
The tops of trees glisten under radiant beams of light.
They gather in darkness upon the mountainous peak;
Heads lifted skyward as they hauntingly speak.

Predators, dreadfully viscous, possessing beauty so vast.
Wary prey take cover, glimpsing the eerie shadows they cast.
Tonight the group will hunt, satisfying their most basic need;
Eliminating the weak and the aged as they primordially feed.

Through dimly lit woods they methodically search for the scent;
Precisely determining the time and the direction she went.
Slowly they close the gap between themselves and the doe,
With each hurried step the unbridled frenzy continues to grow.

The graceful opponent relentlessly chased through the hills,
She will eventually succumb to supreme predatory skills.
The inevitable meeting is a fatal and predictable tale;
I’ll only describe it as nature, leaving out the grizzly detail.

Some would declare such a chase horrible and inhuman.
There are no rules, when it comes to natures balancing game.
It is by design not by ethics; life is taken and also sustained;
A lifecycle whereby many benefit from the one that is slain.

So when your ears witness the ghostly howling of the pack,
Shivers involuntarily running down the length of your back.
Be certain a gathering is about to take place and hunt to ensue,
Be thankful for the doe, lest the wolves be coming for you.