You know that old tale,
Tale as old as time,
Boy meets girl,
Boy compliments girl,
Girl thanks him politely,
Girl continues with her life,
Boy thinks about it for days,
Boy gets obsessed,
Boys mind gets grimmer,
Boy stalks girl for months,
If boy can’t have girl nobody can,
Boy sees girl again,
Girl does not know,
Girl has had a long day,
Boy follows girl home,
Girl has a shower,
Boy peers in through the shades,
Boy readies a claw hammer,
And the rest,
As they say,
Is history,
Criminal history.
Ofttimes we confer our lives to men of medicine,
Hippocratic Samaritans,
Truly worthy of our trust,
Yet once this trust was broken,
Reduced to residue in a syringe,
By a foul miscreation of fate,
On the island kingdom he resided,
A creature with eyeglasses and a kindly gaze,
This monster in a white coat,
Human anthrax,
Where he practiced,
The neediest of us fell,
Where he called,
Toxins invaded innocent bloodstreams,
Grandads and grandmas,
Taken by foul chemical artifice,
They needed him,
And yet he slaughtered them,
Casually he spoke in the sound of needles,
Smiled kindly with venom behind teeth,
Aged though these victims were,
They could still have had decades,
But with him they had minutes.
That grin,
Oh that grimace,
Wielded by that walking corpse,
Clad in leather and chain,
It hungers to tear asunder meat,
Meat that still struggles,
Those lips still drip with cruelty,
Salivating,
Salivating,
Desiccated flesh splitting in a curve,
Joy formed with painful contortion,
Each bronzed tooth telling a tale of murder,
Poems of crime upon each breath,
A scarred tongue dancing on graves behind,
This is a maw of evil,
This grin,
It’s an avatar of death,
And it’s directed at you.
As this days sun grows coral,
The sacrifice is brought up,
To the apex of this temple,
Our golden pyramid,
This one shall suffice,
The sacred hymns are recited,
Drawing the scrutiny of the gods,
My obsidian blade is held in thirsty readiness,
The time is upon us,
Two small eyes grimace up,
‘Tetatzin…?’
The blade falls,
The vessel is pierced,
The pantheons wine is spilled,
Painting the glimmer of this place,
My people ring out in hysteria,
We become phrenetic in holy awe,
Aloft a warm youthful heart is held,
Hesitating to still beat,
Huitzilopochtli drink deep,
And be praised by this act.
An evil man,
He took them,
Innocent souls,
From the harsh streets they knew,
To a harshness they couldn’t imagine,
Down to the basement,
Down with the misery,
Down to the dark,
Down with the rats and dogfood,
Down to the torture and desecration,
Over the airwaves,
I heard no devils laughing,
But god found it all very amusing,
I heard him chuckle from his throne,
Yet there was no funny side.
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.
The stage is set,
I did not expect this today,
I had not seen the assailant advance,
A cast member obscured by fog,
A flash of silver in hand,
Suddenly a white-hot bolt of force,
And then cold betwixt darkness,
My hands race to my gut,
In the dramatic parlance,
A grizzled song from my lips,
Along with red confetti,
A musical number unrehearsed,
To an applause of liquid hitting cobbles,
The grim theatre be done,
And I lay amongst my roses crimson,
Bestowed by an audience unseen,
They seep into drains as I bow out.
An age-old remedy,
For an enemy,
Poisoners best friend,
A deadly tincture,
A snake in a bottle,
Fangs in the liquid,
A tasteless toxin,
A tasteless death,
Insidious in its design,
Even more so in its usage,
Bringing ruin to a body,
Cells die in droves,
The human frame soon follows,
Slowly and painfully succumbing,
What is it?
Daji was an evil woman,
Once a simple concubine,
With a beauty that erred on the line,
Between angelic and infernal,
Obsidian hair,
And femme fatale eyes,
Lips of jincan,
With a hidden craving for spawning torment,
Lover of a king,
Corruptor of a king,
A nation cracked,
As the state fell beneath one woman,
A barefoot farmer screamed,
His feet removed in morbid curiosity,
Peasants lamented,
When the paolao was ignited,
She and her king were overthrown,
By a people exhausted by torture,
Even their armies turned against the cruelty,
Execution was the minimum sentence,
Put to death by a new era,
By beheading or by pyre,
I am not entirely clear,
But evil cannot truly perish,
Now something altogether more ethereal,
A vulpine spirit,
Both in appearance,
And in temperament,
A nine-tailed fox,
The shrines were burned,
Erected by demented fox spirit cults,
But still her malice permeates,
Even to this day.
I think I spy an assassin bug,
Stalking amongst the twigs,
A reduviid killer,
Aspect of mantis,
Proclivity of spider,
A tiny predator of a huge world,
Or is it a tiny one?
Does the world belong to the bugs?
Cloaked in the corpses of ants,
Previous ravaged conquests,
Both armour and disguise,
Its proboscis twitches,
Secreting a lethal nectar,
Expecting to digest defeated internals,
Fodder for an emotionless killer,
I see it close in on an innocent,
Unsuspecting soul on a branch,
It strikes,
All wings and blades,
Corrosive saliva injected,
Reducing chitin to husk,
Its grim meal complete,
It gazes over at me,
Eyeing me hungrily,
Fight or flight?
WorldofHarley 