Lurking and hiding behind innocuous lines
They dark and dodge and assume disguise
Reaching multiple arms to disorder intent
Hidden till exposed by unexpected rents
The hunter’s not garbed in camo or hides
Sees with unseeming weapons to sniff out and find
Not a footstep to follow, not a track to be seen
Picking up traces, trained eyes that are keen
That last note was sharp
The next one will be flat
I will have to look out
Or I’ll startle the cat
At least I stopped squeaking
And hit that high note
Though it sounds a bit feral
Like a pain stricken goat
I see you refuse to see it
It’s there, right in your face
You can try to not believe it
If you run, it keeps in pace
Try dealing with your problems
And don’t ignore them too
You’ll find they’ll go away
And not fester like they do
Fifty years together
Our golden wedding is today
Our family here with us
To celebrate the day
It’s a long time with one person
We really like each other
He’s good a catching spiders
And I am nothing like his mother.
The afterlife is no fun.
*
TeeBeeTe felt a very odd jolt and opened her eyes.
“I’m dead,” she said aloud.
“I died alone. And in pain.”
She considered this for a bit and found she was upset – but having had died horribly didn’t seem to matter any more. What she needed to do was deal with the now, and what was going on now that she’d actually died. Continue reading “Purgatory – a story”
He slumbers without breath in the deep cold dark
Cavernous and empty, lying on his glittering bed
Dreaming of flesh, of slaking unquenchable appetite
Then, disturbed by the priest bearing the spark
Of life – caresses him awake inside the jawless head
Breathing life into silver organs, levering mouths awide
Goodbye, farewell, amen.
*
Thank you for coming today to the funeral to celebrate the short life, and to mourn the early death, of our good friend TeeBeTee.
I know some of you seem upset, but she’s gone to a better place, a place where she will be at rest and no longer troubled by such problems as having to restrict herself to eating a normal person amount of food, or having to work and support herself for a living, and lets hope she’s gone to a happier place where whatever god she believed in will offer her the afterlife she deserves. Continue reading “Eulogy – a short story”
Moylen Green - writings 