Posts Tagged ‘Evil’

Monsters are real,
Oh yes indeed,
They walk every street,
Every boulevard,
They hide in plain sight,
They are you and me,
I hear hissing and slavering,
In my ears and on radio waves,
Bound to criminal urges,
Committing crimes to live,
Monsters in all but name,

Stabbing you in the back,
Just for a crumb of feed,
Throttling you pale,
For the pure thrill of it,
Clubbing your skull,
For the loose change in your pocket,
Burning you to sorry ashes,
For they covet the heart you love,
Monsters are very real,
And it’s true what they say,
The worst monsters are human.

There was a young woman,
Red hair and a love of photos,
A young woman not quite right inside,
Led astray through foul circumstance,
Wallace was a bad guy,
Rifles for birthday gifts,
A hint from a sire in some lights,
She didn’t like Mondays,

Some new friends outside,
Not that they know it yet,
So load the cartridges,
Some Ruger fireworks to perk up the day,
Light up some innocent bodies,
Some school uniform party poppers,
Juice on the pavement,
Let’s all scream for Monday.

That green dragon we all know,
Corruption and temptation and envy,
Its wings blanket the land,
The most towering of vices,
The most pervasive,
And most toxic to be sure,
It poisons us all,
From drunkards to philanthropists,
Leading saints to Stalins,

Could it even plague the holiest?
The purest tempted to depravity,
Leading them down greedy paths,
Would even a saint a succumb?
Approaching that guillotine of temptation,
Still warm with past victims,
For the pot of gold he sees,
Left by a corrupt midas,
Nestled under the waiting blade.

He needed a party,
They said no,
Patriarch and matriarch,
A dagger to his heart,

They would rebuff him,
Deny him the chemicals,
Deny him the guys and gals,
Deny him the night of his life,

Peer pressure addicted,
Like so many needles in the brain,
He knew how to ensure his party hat,
There was only one way,

Again they screamed no,
But the hammer fell,
And confetti erupted,
The party was on.

There was a knight,
A man of foul tastes and fouler intentions,
Scorned by lords and radiant ladies,
A brutish giant of a man,
Fallen out of court favour,
Settling to escape from the disapproval,

This knight turned that scorn outward,
Turning to punishing the serfs,
A wandering tyrant,
Chivalry turned to banditry,
A wolf in iron clothing,
A kingslayer,

This was no Robin Hood,
But a plate mail monster,
No silver tongues,
Just silver daggers and silver morningstars,
Claiming to be a knight errant like any other,
But searching for vice over virtue,

Along with his merry band of cutthroats,
He revelled in flesh and loot and fury,
A plague on the realm,
A steel cyclone,
Tearing a scar of hate across the nation,
Until a feeble monarch deigned to act.

Having grown lost and confused,
My compass a hopeless compatriot,
I tire of traversal,
I cease for repose in a shrouded glade,
Flanked by vines and caressed by grass almost glowing,
But my rest is quickly cut short by weight of eyes,
A million foreboding fireflies,

Miniscule beings of glamour I notice,
Little simulacra of humans,
Hiding behind toadstools and tulip buds,
Scores upon scores,
I hear them flitter,
Giggling and chanting in shrill tongues,
Sounds from every direction,

Skeptical of their intentions,
Whether foul or fair,
I bade them come clean,
But instead they plied their folkloric magics,
Binding me in cruel ivy,
Laying claim to me as a plaything,
Still their hollering chorus cried on,

For decades I have remained here,
Still bound in enchanted green,
A literal piece of garden furniture,
Subject to jests and jabs of fancy,
Endless riddles and unfair games,
My torment at their hands may go on for eternity,
A nightmare wrought in trickery and thaumaturgy,

I implore you,
Beware the fae glades,
Beware the pixies.

All children are born killers,
Little Bonnies and Clydes,
Astray infants running with scissors,
Accomplices to a most brutal slaying,
But not little rippers do I describe,
But humans like you and I,

They are not guilty of the instinctual murder they commit,
They were born into this jagged cycle of consumption,
They are not monsters,
But fellow killers of the world,
Maggots in a fetid wound of the earth,
Participating in its slow demise,

It’s not their fault,
They’re innocent,
It’s just the homo sapiens blueprint,
The way of progress,
To consume,
To kill.

His monitor accomplice lights up,
Another has fallen for it,
He smirks,
This is a profitable day,
The numbers rise,
Binary and currency,

He is a shady parasite of cybercrime,
His ploy was successful once more,
These marks are putty in his digital hands,
Another gig,
Another scam,
Phishing banditry and hacker hold-ups,

They are cattle,
They do not matter,
They’re just emails and profile faces,
He cares naught for their numbers of years,
Only for the ones and noughts they possess,
The lifeblood in their wallets,

Feelings are left on the keyboard,
Your savings depart into bytes,
As his virtual persona has already fled cackling,
Out of jurisdiction and danger,
He’s a ghost preying on the web,
With his runaway car always at hand.

There’s something under my bad,
A shadowy ghoul,
I hear it,
As I bang my head against the wall of sleep,
My duvet a cushy restraint,
Complicit in this uneasy atmosphere,
The thing slinks from one end of the bed to the other,
With the mad grace of a fish out of water,

I’ve never seen it,
But it smells of dust and sulphur,
I hear it every night,
It clicks unknowable limbs in revolting movements,
Scuffling about and giggling to itself,
Speaking in ornery tongues,
Alien fangs gnawing on fingernails,
Rustling against the bedframe with oily hair or scales,

I do wonder if it ever peeks out,
I dare not look,
But when I close my eyes finally,
I feel palpable vision upon me.

There was a man I heard tales of,
In social circle upon social circle,
I heard tell of a cold-blooded man,
Below a watery facade he waits,
An aquatic veneer to see through,
Sugared words and a smile a touch too perfect,
As deceptively fluid as the swamps of hot musk,
A migrating carnivore of every social savanna,

Holding reptilian eyes upon you,
Yellow-green hunger,
Scaly avarice,
Coolly waiting,
Leaning against a pillar martini in hand,
But trust not those crocodile tears,
Do not trust that crooked grin,
Do not get close to the waters surface,

He is a predator,
A user,
Prowling for a useful antelope,
And when he goes for what he wants,
You will find it doesn’t favour you,
It will be all gore and bubbles,
Thrashing and tearing,
Heart and nerves rent out.