Skip to main content

B is for Demons [part of the lord series]


Truth is, it WAS in brightest day
That the lie came down my way.
Crept down the walls
Moved over my bed frame
And came to rest on my chest.
Pulling away the layers to get to the saline core
A pool left behind and thought emptied
But the lie knew better.

Anansi had no tongue like this lie.
This guy could rationalise death
Speak the world of murder
Knew where the bodies were buried
And had a plan to keep me fed
That is… as long as I kept him fed.

One day I got the nerve to say “ENOUGH! Die Already!”
Stretched my hand deep inside my chest
And started to pull
And pull
And pull
And OW!
H… how?
The lie had made itself comfy; spreading itself all over me.

To pull one meant pulling tendon and vein.
All was a labour in vain.
My body grew profane and I grew sick.
Sick of the lie. Sick of its presence; a curse with a bow on its head.
But… how did it know?
How did it know there was saline in my heart?
A part… most hidden.
Decorated with crosses and perfumed.
Sealed over with white shirts.
How did it know?
Could this lie been silently at home and at rest in my chest… all these years?
Larvae
Pupa
Full grown monster.
Did I cultivate this disaster?
Maybe. Maybe our own lies are we.
Or maybe we’re meant to think that way
Because of what “they” say.
Either way, a book will bring it out.
No lie must ever reside in a lord’s mouth.

© tracy j h
18:06:13

#lordoftheyounggods
a lord knows many truths about himself. how he chooses to approach those truths may be a completely different story

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

B in Future Traditions

THE COPY: I was sitting down listening to Norah Jones’ “Come Away with Me” and I began to think about future traditions. I thought… I want to sway with someone. Sway with my lover. To this music. More than that, I want that when we had an argument (and we’d have those because she’d be stubborn and I’d be pig headed (iChuckle)) we would never go to bed angry. We’d pop open a lover’s CD like this one and just sway. We may be as mad as hell but we would sway because we would never want to go to bed angry. And our children would know this. And they would never allow their partners to go to bed angry either because… well, because they would know better. They would sway. They would know it was better to sway. That’s the kind of man I want to be. Moreover, that’s the kind of tradition I’d like to pass on. Future Traditions. What's Yours?

B is for The League of Extraordinary Cutlasses

So Facebook is mourning. Why? A child was snuffed out. How does modern man respond? By blacking out their profile picture. So Facebook is mourning. Why? Crime has reached intolerable levels for the people of a twin island republic. How does civilized, contemporary society respond? By copying and pasting stern status updates. WE WILL NOT TAKE THIS! SEND A STRONG MESSAGE! COPY AND PASTE THIS ON YOUR STATUS IF YOU WANT A CHANGE! Not denying that social media has its power. After all, just yesterday I read of a man who – in honor of Facebook’s role in the Egyptian Revolution – named his first child, Facebook. We do not deny that Youtube and the Twitter was a beacon for Tehran, but do note, these social media enterprises merely acted as a catapult for an already serious war on injustice. My people however… are not that serious. Thus I have decided on a far more satisfying approach. Ladies and Wilderbeasts, I give you, The League of Extraordinary Cutlasses. An organization geared towards ...

B is for The Etch-A-Sketch

I’ve always thought of the Universe as a big, big mouth. And when you make a statement, it opens wide to receive it. It (the universe) rolls it in its mouth and then spews it back out in a more interesting form. Say for example, me. I said once, I want to try/experience everything at least once. And through a series of [un] fortunate events, I have experienced some real heights. I said… I want to do everything. this brought on a wonderful debate with a friend of mine who explained to me in all honesty that iCan’t do everything. Enter John Locke’s voice screaming to the world – “don’t tell me what I can and cannot do!” But he was right though. My dear friend, not John Locke. Maybe. I can’t do everything. Except I probably could. Of course when given the opportunity to try my hands and attempting the everything, I feel my tongue lean back into my oesaphagus, and slowly gallop tactlessly down my arse. Yes… I am aware of how that sounds. I’ve performed poetry at various locations. I’ve pub...