Posts Tagged ‘true crime’

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.

I heard the shots,
The cracks in the wind,
Approaching thuds and slugs,
Sounds of manmade thunder,

I felt the shrapnel pierce my lungs,
Iron colliding with rib and flesh,
White-hot and dire,
Exit-wound pending,

I felt the pavement on my face,
With my body bag colleagues,
Overseen by a man of ill intent,
Frigid eyes behind a pump action,

But I did not feel any fear,
Because it was on a silver screen,
A report of another tragedy,
On the world’s own streets,
On Plymouth’s own streets.

Walking through these cold streets,
All I see is grey,
Save for the colours of demons,
Hovering behind human shoulders,
Feral spirits whispering into human ears,
Cupped hands beside unknowing brains,
Sweet nothings that feign sweetness,

One suggests taking that crones handbag,
Another sings the praises of broken windows,
Yet another gives you invitations to every speak-easy,
These invisible spectres suggest the worst of vices,
Pushing a dark narrative,
They are over all of our shoulders,
Wearing the shrouds of angels,

Whispering,
Whispering,
Suggesting.

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.

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.

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.

A smash,
A glass siren into the night,
The reposed hovel is breached,
Something has slivered in through the chasm,
Something in a balaclava,
A knitted visage of ill intent,

The dark shape haunts the sleeping home,
Possessed of a crowbar conviction,
Studious in its search for pearls and trinkets,
Trespasser tentacles in every nook,
This monster is out of its habitat,
Timidly whispering in tongues,

You deign to catch it red-handed,
A monster hunter in your pyjamas,
A strike is readied,
This is no creature,
Within that woollen mask is a man,
Cold eyes full of panic,

Blue eyes of a desperate man.

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.

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.