Wednesday, 29 December 2010

...and then two come at once! Not quite a poem, not quite a story.

The Word and He Who Spoke It.


There was once a man, cunning as he was evil

Blessed by the darkness and singed by the light

He united the men and enslaved the women

The virtues of the land were accredited to his love

The pain and toil, his disfavour,

The blame all yours.

He sat atop the tower of clouds

With a foundation of bones

Upon the mountain of madness.

They followed his will,

Lived by his morals, for fear of damnation

Crushed under foot

His standard looming over every town

His image in every room

Servitude measured in fear

To love another was to hate him

He gave your face its smile

Your cheeks were blessed with his tears

The fathers would beat their daughters

To the rhythm of his heartbeat

And the mothers scald their sons with his tongue

His footsteps echoed doom,

While his name rhymed with thirst

The fingers of his empire raped the land

And flexed their grasp

Day by day, year by year.

Driven by his armies of ‘Maybes’ and ‘One days’.

All marching to The Word.

The Word uttered with a sneer and wink

From the crack lips of our tyrant king

And The Word,

was ‘love’.

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