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| Nursing a Grudge: Death Awaits | |
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Half Drunk Muse has submitted some wonderful poetry to our publication, but has been delayed in getting us the authors name and the city, state, country of the author. Contact us with the title of the totem, first line of your poem, and this important information. We will be happy to give proper credit to the writers. (Half Drunk Muse) The Keeper – Nursing a Grudge: Death Awaits Emergence, with the glaze of water painted on her skin, she rose from a sea as the skies tore open like the lips of a wound once frozen in time, now opened like an envelope from a wilted infecting air, a tug of war between children on either side revealing white flesh beneath scabs, white billowing clouds hiding beneath red skies, what seems to be a stern face of the moon. A feathered bruise is mended by a release, the departure- flight of all senses. A damned evolution is unveiled- an occupation of the sexes, a genitalia determining the existence to which one derives desires from. And she waited for years releasing a liquid that beat the youthful hearts. Stuck between a drowning parameter and the moment of self release, the parting dance of transcendence, purgatory was constructed. An essence drained from the inflection of her voice, peaks and troughs subsided catering to a flat line, an endless plateau, a grassland thick like the dense hair off a young boy in the grips of his youth, she gets lost in his hair, lost in his hair, lost in forever, for she is one that dares... [one may eat themselves alive in chaos, in apathy, and one may swallow oceans whole, carrying all tides in their stomach.] There is no moment of return, except for the only moment she was alone, a deathly stare from a child once known, once beloved, once her own. (Half Drunk Muse) How long have we waited? Who says progress is slow, who says evolution moves at a crawl? I watch from a bedroom window, a hand mirror, a lighthouse. How long have we waited? Ten teeth to gnaw at you. Ten teeth to eat your heart out. A bone and a mother's breast and feathers to fly you away. How long have we waited? To conquer death. To hang the hangman. To turn back time, and finally live. (Half Drunk Muse) It sits in the seat of the heart It waits as compiles it's power waiting for the moment to play its part A wrong done by someone on the outside it knows, it feeds good nature and forgiveness slowly lose their hold hate grows and malicious wishes breed At first the thoughts seem cruel Then it becomes part of you no longer alien In your life it comes to rule The momentum building no stopping it now Sincere apologies and heartfelt pleads on deaf ears they land as the infectious grudge has other needs the bright eyes that were once yours now boil from the stoked furnace of unquenched unjustified vengeance it's not about right or wrong a hurt done needs seven fold dagger teeth exploited vulnerabilities and irrational internal invisible reactions they stew they broil the grudge takes over and congestion in your chest is the hate that now leads no longer caring what others think or what they say only you understand the need for things to be this way they did not know of they hurt this one has done daydreams of tortured validiction is how you have your twisted fun spite, spittle and terse verbage poison your breath the crumbling image of kindness that once was gives way to the heated and agitated demonic hive gnarled twisted hissing and all abuzz each one another evil idea or deadly little daydream waiting to thrive (Half Drunk Muse) The scientist set his quill down on the dresser, parallel to the grain in the wood. He'd seen a mentor maintain a measure of fame over his own. The patent on a machine to animate the dead had been rightfully his. In the scientist's study, at just past two in the morning, a bottle of laudanum that tasted more sour than anything on the scientist's tongue lay overturned on his desk. The scientist leaned over the mass of blankets that obscured the features of Baby Oh Fate. 'Oh fate' were the only words that had left the scientist when, only thirty minutes past, he'd discovered the child on his doorstep. The infant's fangs led the scientist to believe that the bone it clutched in its right hand was the remnant of a small animal that the infant itself had devoured. The scientist had penned a short letter condemning those who would laugh at his subsequent fate. Then he gathered the baby in those swaddling blankets and walked outside leaving the door open. He reached the harbor after two blocks and after three steps to the edge of the pier he and the infant were submerged. He clutched the child, who had not stopped wailing since taking leave of the house, in his right arm and with his left pushed up on the pier's bottom to keep them both beneath the surface. The child's fangs interlocked as they stopped moving. The scientist's last vision as he glanced up toward the water's surface was of a boy of what looked to be twelve years of age crouched over the pier's edge, eyes fixed on the scientist's, mouth open as if to catch the rain. (Half Drunk Muse) In this lifetime I was born a foul and cruel demon And, having met my quota of predestined evil wrought, I knotted for myself a noose wherewith to end my suffering. But in a vision Mother Devi came to me, and brought This child endowed with tigers' fangs, embodying my grievance That ever I must live to be the loathsome thing I am. Now, if I nurse this grudge and so relieve my aching bosom, The deadly baby will release me to Devi and Ram. So by embracing anguish such as I have dealt to others I serve the cause of justice, hoping thus to earn a soul That may be reborn in a life form lovely as the body To which I've been condemned, that harsh illusion might be whole. Before small Krishna's fangs, my bursting breasts atremble, I pray, and Devi sends a spirit down, my will to steel, To guide me to serve righteousness even by self-destruction, To raise me from the endless round of sufferings unreal. (Half Drunk Muse) Sure, she’s smiling to your face so you won’t notice the daggers set in place, behind selfish eyes Turn your back once too often give an inch or an ounce she’ll measure you and upon you trounce she’ll use you abuse you disregard you discard you break your spirit no regrets, that’s exactly what to expect For she is the Queen of all she surveys and in her game if you want to play, with your heart or your soul you’ll pay Spiked tongue hands and teeth ready to swing into action Rest assured upon your back she will claw for traction Ripping flesh Digging deep into raw and bloody meat Pillaged, plundered mental scars, damage now complete She believes nothing can or will ever bring her down No way she’ll lose her imagined crown nor her reign over this small town she’ll abuse you use you discard you disregard you break your spirit no regrets, that’s exactly what you can expect Ask her, she’ll show you tell you give you proof Only miscalculation in her grand scheme, the arrival and presence of death’s waiting truth (Half Drunk Muse) Sin apple a red mouth opens, hairy lips hungry to remit a crowning of sins from its belly a red mouth that opens pink cheeks, hungry. a red mouth opens, fork tongue hungry for the hungry and waiting. (Half Drunk Muse) Give me a second Only a second to shake hands but to be mortal Nameless but on my countenance you grab my pain I don't hold fear in my presence rather I crave your touch See you soothe the aches of when I'm unable to be free, so I still wait Still I must struggle to cry because I realized I was joyous when I was prepared to die And yet I didn't feel alone even tho I needed your eyes to see Mind, body and soul Your destiny shall be granted Lay down in this sweet serenity as I long for your Night (Half Drunk Muse)
You were conceived in anger and you grew Leisha Wharfield, Eugene, Oregon (Half Drunk Muse) You impregnated me with your seeds Of anger, deceit, and ignobility. For thirty-five months I carried that labor of my love. My belly grew bigger. My pride diminished in its shadow. Til one day, the flood gates opened. My softened muscles tensed against the inevitable event; You were expelled. I now hold the ball of torment in my hands. How do I dispose of something that was a part of me? Courage and faith must preside. (Half Drunk Muse) Slippery and slick, baby was born He wasn't born hungry, he was starved For attention, for a caress, a single solitary coo From a dove drowning in the torrent. Left to fend for himself was baby, Chubby hands and spare tires hardened Into flippers and claws, His first tooth came in as a fang, There was not bottle for baby, just a jugular vein to tap. He rattled bones and wailed, this banshee in Pampers, A colic ridden dictator in the making. He was swaddled in the flag of a dying empire, was our baby, Crossed the Alps with his first step, sunk tankers on the Atlantic While he played in his bath, his scaly skin lavished with the oil Of greedy countries that baby gulped down whole, One for each reptilian finger and toe. His first word was Mine, His second was Take, His third was Now, All garbled together into a demanding fragment, But baby was never to be refused, baby was the chosen one, Baby was going to go far, baby was starved. (Half Drunk Muse) Sara C. Brockman, Madison, Wisconsin Decay of a Life Born to failure, earth deep. Binds the heart and seeks the contempt of others. There can be no diremption, the seed is sown. Circumscription bars the light, while cells split and duplicate the DNA of self-pity and visceral dissatisfaction. Suckled and nurtured through the umbilical of ignorance and apathy. The force takes on a life. Devised, formed, pressed, molded in the cerebral gray matter that tells us we are unworthy. Undeserved of air, water and light- while others bask and cavort. Maudlin emotions pass for life, when even a gullible smile is a miasma of petrified sentiment that grows and feeds the piceous soul. The end calls while misty shadows of life subsist. Death slithers and circles, biding its time, patient and steadfast in its devoir. But it will brook no refusals. Time has been given. The gift eaten in a slow feast but never savored. Save the scraps and spread them on toast for the last supper. All that is left is the leaden heart of one that never lived. Now, death will wait no longer. The last black breath of animus... merciless and absolute. (Half Drunk Muse) Donna Piazza, St. Clair Shores, Michigan Things would be easier, now, had there been some kind of event. Had it happened on a Sunday afternoon in a four-poster bed with the TV on in the background; or even if it had been a mistake. A mistake is a thing you can point to. There would have been evidence: a stain on the upholstery, a broken prophylactic. We would say somebody came inside somebody else and drama ensued. Stories like that make sense. They happen all the time. But things were more complicated (of course they were complicated) and whatever happened happened in the dark. Who can say, now, who spoke first? Who dove in? Who watched from the sidelines with night-vision goggles, timid and wrapped in a sweater? And now, a period of gestation. What are we waiting for? Fruit or a monster? A monster, for sure. Some ancient-looking thing. Some freakish amalgam of parts, born with a full set of teeth and two or three types of privates. (Half Drunk Muse) Mother, O Mother do not despair The fate of a child your prior choices will not share Though its existence may have be conceived through sin The choice is yours, the choice to win The serpent of death and worldly distress Will not touch such innocence unless from motherhood you retire The stench may always lurk drawing it to dreadful work It's appearance at times may remind your past hurt Mother, O Mother do not despair This evil you will capture before it can show its sinister glare ------------------------------------- It lingers close by watching its progeny grow, waiting for the right moment to pounce drawing such innocence to a life of distaste. Silence may echo but the stench screams. A child resembling such a horrid scene. A mother's distress of what she feels was a life's mess brought to haunt her yet console her. A love, a fear, an unforgiving torture. A life spent guarding her precious from the serpents of the world. -------------------------------------- Sly little devil wrapped around its prey. Sly little devil wishing for its treat today. Dragging new life beneath its nasty grin to a world down under - a world away from the precious wind. A mother distraught by the knowledge of what is around her, but a child is engulfed in its own hungry. Upset not by what may strike him but rather the need to fill its nature desire. Ignorance can be bliss but with knowledge one can protect its kin. The sly little devil grips all he can capture holding tight and fighting to be the one to nurture. (Half Drunk Muse) The serpent hangs on his moment, tail a noose of bad news. The time to ring his dissonant unity slides through the waves below. The baby, fangs for the memories, has a bone to pick with being reborn into times as fishtailed and side-scaled as these. Any breast that feeds him will bear long wounds. And whose fishtailed buttocks are these escaped from some Anatole France nightmare and sitting on the mute brunette Madonna who must bear all interventions and inventions for some long-gened trespass against things' natural order holding two feathers to outbalance any heart in the weighing of justice? -John Oughton, (Half Drunk Muse) “Sit on my head so you’ll hold your self high” said the nurse to her crown, a child of infinite love and affection, a child of peace and of hope…if only her own blood could be so perfect. Atop her mighty figure it sat as a crown of anonymity to those who would sail by, warning those so enticed by her maternal beauty that she held a great and terrible poison in her inviting arms. The poison, her first born, was a child grown in her womb of darkness and despair where hope is but a folk tale or bed time story which burns at the unborn flesh of idealism before it has come to term. She holds her child, her holy grudge against her ripe breast from which she feeds day and night, never satisfied by her bitter milk. “Drink up my child, so you will grow strong” she whispers beneath the child’s shrill cry. As a muse she was the fancy of every sailor that passed near her. They would ravage her full body…ravage her with the hunger of a thousand demons until she could be ravaged no more leaving her beautiful body to crash against the jaded walls of man’s misguided fancy. Hovering between earth and hell a voice called out to her from the great darkness, “drink this cup my goddess of a child, drink so that they will know your fury.” When she awoke, her womb was consumed with a child procreated by the lusts of men. Through the eternal moment of its conception and birth and life and death her first born would forever be her greatest affection. During violent storm or scorching sun it mattered not as she wrapped her full womanly body around the child, as it fed, as it slept, as it gnawed upon her breast, and screamed out in bitter fury. Blinded by a mothers great love she nursed and nurtured her poisonous grudge, her beautiful and terrible child. (Half Drunk Muse) The child is crying. Screaming. Tears steadily flow. What pain it must be discovering. Such hardships it explores. Realizing. Realizing. Realizing fear is here. That Hell is not an option. It is a shared destination. All journey through it. Striking Killing Devouring to survive. The goodness is dying. The child knows. Innocence Falls. This is why the children cry. Their given goodness dies. They weep to sleep. Oh, how they wish to sleep. More and more. The cold comes. The child cries less and less. Comfort fades. The child tries, it tries to scream, but the child is dying. The children will not stop crying. They will always be dying. Slowly. So slowly. Generation to generation. The tears will always flow. Goodness will die. From child to child... I don't cry anymore. My child sleeps. It has cried itself there. (Half Drunk Muse) ....reproductions of raped mothers give birth to graves in season. (Half Drunk Muse) She was banished to the shallows upon the arrival of her twin boys with their twin fins. Their deformity gave proof to rumors of her affair with a surface man. Her father cast her out, her mother wept, and the community feigned ignorance of the scandal. Now she was buffeted by the unceasing tides while the oppressive sun dehydrated her and wore her down. The serpents waited patiently for her to succumb, for the chance to devour her infant children unopposed. Her children were now her only family and her only hope to return to the sea to reclaim her life and punish those that betrayed her. She vowed to raise her sons as monolithic warriors, dedicated to extracting her revenge. She will hone their strongest merman and human traits, feed them hatred, and bathe them in vengefulness. When they reach maturity they will lead a great army, compiled of outcasts, across the land and sea. At the end of their conquering rampage, they will hold her high as a queen and those that wronged her will rot under her fins. (Half Drunk Muse) Hush now little one, for your time has come From a trifle I had created you, long ago, forgotten through the ages And you have grown so much since then, and grow larger still But the time has come for you to be what you must be I wish I could hold onto you longer I shall give you place in this boundless world I shall give you standing amongst time and amongst others I shall leave you to finish this dream I began in your conception Little one, so beautiful So elegant and pure, Please, for me, when I am gone, Do what I wished you for Let the swirling of cruelty surround you and be found wanting Though I may not be there to see you finish, know that you will strike them down That you will seep through them, from my efforts From my love Oh my little one, my beautiful little one, Please, for me, do not fail In time or now, present yourself And bring them to the abhorrence which they once surrounded me (Half Drunk Muse) Dreams of innocence Nightmarish spark Recompense dark moods Brooding over damaged goods Sharp screams Clenched in scenes of means To an end (Half Drunk Muse) (craving to be unaware) I’ve got; Music blaring from my stereo Creating a barrier From the outside pain. handful of pills exonerating my migraine Body getting chills . Feeling so good. Even tho it’s all falsehood As I will be falling From fake euphoric into nothing Wishing it would last evermore. I’m feeling the music Inhaling more chronic Taking in lucid sensations Undertaking different vibrations Experiencing facade visions Undergoing pious hallucinations, Random mirages Dreamin’ wishes feeling the sixth sense smelling sweet scented strawberry incense the excasty feeling crashes down ive leveled off my highest stage sober state is coming around bad feelings start to engage Nauseous, anxious headache straight up tenacious Mind-set of despair. Craving to be unaware Of how much I hate I. All I visualize is the ending, pretending I don’t dream those thoughts shots Right through the head Ending up in a pool of blood, dead. I see no hope, Just a tightrope Impossible to balance No chance to get to the distance Needed to succeed. Back to the Grooving pulsation jam session, Fading into oblivion. Closing my eyes to my troubles, Opening them to the angels. Vowing to provide a try Making myself into the guy I adore and idolize Not someone I have to disguise And become altered Just to appear well mannered. (Half Drunk Muse) Anger carried in a sling A heavy load to shoulder A papoose Like a noose Crushing my windpipe Speechless peaceless, only restlessness remains refrain after refrain You impregnated me With this pain Growing disdain Not relegated rather Belated and now Inflated further Created from what? What was destroyed. I no longer remember Just constantly feed this I’d like to dismember But carry this baggage In death no regret Its true through and through As I’ll never forget ‘til I can forget you. (Half Drunk Muse) His face, balled up and squinted, was wet around the edges. He was lying on his back, which he never did. There was a noise coming from his throat, raw and gasping. He was crying. He was crying. But why? What had he dreamed? Was it that bad, that horrifying, that he was crying? There was no explanation, yet he had not stopped crying. He knew why he cried now, it was because he did not know, could not remember why he started. He was like a child alone in an airport. He was crying because he was lost between sleep and awake. He touched his face. He felt the edges of his face over flow onto the pillow. (Half Drunk Muse) Holding this demon babe, growing uncomfortable in the grips of this faceless guardian, keeping watch over the screams of anger, seeping out from his fangs. In the mind's sky there will always lay possibility, in the arms of control. Don't hold this evil so close to your heart, it is infectious and almost incurable. Release this bad seed, let it tumble helpless in the winds of change, till the rough edges have been sanded, slides pure through the world. (Half Drunk Muse) Colossus on my back Your memory sears my flesh. This scar never heals. I suckle this monster you birthed This gift of death Snakes entwine about me Barbed wire. Trying to snare me as you did. Spiteful bitch, say Catullus. Don’t ever look upon me again Treacherous propinquity. My noose waits to hang your sorry neck That you bend like a coward. You know what you did. (Half Drunk Muse) Inner Chaos An innocuous idea as light as a feather Soon escalates into a serious and heavy tone Making me No longer master of my fate But a servant That suckles A newborn resentment I protect and cradle my bitterness in my arms Afraid to let go as if letting go Is to lose my identity The temptation not to forgive Is my revenge But the wrong doer Is not punished – the wrong doer is not punished Only my mind is impregnated With a swelling commotion Which causes the perdition Of my dying and sinking soul. (Half Drunk Muse) hold me down this entanglement of love rage and fear bound by the whispers kept like secrets merciless passion companion to my cruel tenacity enemy of my obdurate heart (Half Drunk Muse) Sealed by the snake a bottom-dweller even the rope is uneasy when holding him who hold's Jack's finger his jaws that bite away the morning his ears that will not cringe for her The mantis keeps his mantras to himself in this zero-grade bloom without a headdress red-heads bearing burdens without conscience krissed-out of water polemics speaking worms out over the water (Half Drunk Muse) How keen and Sodom! The Triplex Trimer Shrouds, leaning brindled ofay, holds the Vista abut. (Half Drunk Muse) "I saw you," said Adam. "I saw you with him again." Eve was silent. "These aren't my children. I was made in God's image. God would not kill his brother. These are the children of my rib, yes, and the children of the serpent!" Eve was silent. "For did not the angel tell me that death was the child of Lucifer and Sin? Is not your son dead? Did not the other sin in the killing?" Eve was still silent. "I will not further corrupt my heavenly flesh to live and lie with an adulterer and mother of beasts. I bid you walk. Take this, your creature, and walk." Eve was silent as she walked yet farther from the gardens of Paradise. Soon enough, but not so soon as one perhaps would wish, she came upon the ocean, and here the serpent spoke to her from on high. "The sons of man must needs destroy their world; Their lives are bound to death and sorrow true. And so to you the future of us calls: Go now into the ocean, take you fins, And tail, and learn to breathe but seldom, lass, And yours will be the great race of the earth, Eve, and will show the love of God in song." (Half Drunk Muse) I may regret in time the choice I made. In time, yes—but you see how my mouth quirks so? Not now, say I, when in downy swaddles I nurse my choice, my humble assertion of others’ sin. For I see that casual stance, that unfeeling glance, of the fate that awaits at my back, forked tongue tasting at the stained air. It is the child you want, not I; but I will not part with it, for it is mine, and I have borne it from the sea. Mine with its terrible and quiet ability to drain my strength and yet slake my bitter thirst. The taste of the sea is sour now, not salty. I shield my eyes from you; cast them downwards to the cherished abomination in my arms. His cries through monstrous jaws recollect what was once done to me, and which I will now use to feed and rot my resolve. But I have wronged him, too; he cries because I have raised him from the primordial sea. Under the sooty gaze of the noose, I raise him on spite. Riding on the tail of his father, Death Awaits. Kate Katigbak, Amherst, Massachusetts, (Half Drunk Muse) I could scream and scream for death but it will never come when harkened by the soul to perform a neccessay execution of emotion well spent death does not come upon human notice it creates its own event Unwelcomed how it waits to fill the very moments when one finally decodes then finallyappreciates the fundamental elements of the previously prepared rules of life how not to nuture a grudge is the best way to survive then death will not wait but simply materialize (Half Drunk Muse) The thriving malevolence Sustained by feeding Destroys its own source (Half Drunk Muse) Face to face and all alone the intuition of man leads us here awake with our eyes closed dead with beating hearts we're so close, yet we do not speak blood on my hands and a heart of stone I reach out to touch you, you disapear. An image I've created with a yearning imagination. We are all just fleeting images as time goes by (Half Drunk Muse) Burden of my womb, I gave her life and with this strife, I can only assume That if I live, then you must not. If I walk, you must not. My future is blind, and my lover is gone. W here can I find my life, my first young dawn? (Half Drunk Muse) I will nurture you You will take my all All growing faster Faster than love can fly Fly away, now wings Wings left only feathers Feathers even you won’t eat. (Half Drunk Muse) Ripped against my breast Poured into sin and blood The serpent breached upon my noose which holds my sanity Born from serpents twisted beneath my womb As the teeth gnash into my hold With my calcified reminance within your grasp and the weight upon my brain As if it was light as a feather and stiff as a wall As I engourge in your waters and float between death and awaiting you…. (Half Drunk Muse) Here he/she is I got the little beast I got it From my sharp pelvic bone The gnashing teeth and gnawed limbs He/she got from his/her father This was no immaculate conception This was a night No, morning Three in the A.M. I was high and coming down He was low and coming up When we met in the middle But, still, He/She I tell you now as I always will It was, in the end Still love, in brief (Half Drunk Muse) Gently folded eyelids hold hidden long lost treasures, pearls, which once upon a time held the secret to life, and now lay lifeless... Tenderly arched eyelashes have caressed love for millennia and now lay silent floating on the waves of the seas of my imagination... I have seen love hung at the gallows, waiting, stargazing, yet penetrating my very eyes, and then, morbid as it was, quietly dissipating in its own abyss. To kiss lifeless eyes is to knock on the doors of death, while knowing that within nothing more is felt than the echo of futile touching. I have whispered love sonnets while in your arms ever since; You have been looking away. (Half Drunk Muse) In my arms a grudge nursed Held tight and tender I rocked it And taught it In my arms a grudge grew Held tight and tender I soothed it And comforted it In my arms it found strength Held tight and tender It grasped my heart And encouraged my pain In my arms a grudge nursed Held tight and tender By the devil himself At my breast a grudge nursed And sucked out love And destroyed peace And sucked my strength And destroyed me (Half Drunk Muse) From Darkness To Light Claws, tearing at my flesh, as pieces fly into the wind. Jaws, ripping at my flesh, blood dripping from his maw. Blazing eyes, filled with loathing, face red, with seething hate. Blocking my child from me, standing there at heaven's gate. Snakes slither through empty skulls, that once held eyes with tears. All love and joy stolen, alone through all the years. Of tangled memories, harbored with pain. Death, tries to undo with much vain. As blood pours from my veins, I see a single ray of light. I ask it," why?" why it took her from my sight. With a hideous cackle, unknown to human ears. "It's the payment of Karma, ecrewed through the years. You were such a fool to think, that we would work for free. Even in the spirit world, you must pay a fee." A flash of flame, heated fire. " Do not dispair, you will have all you desire." To mourn the loss of any child. Will drive the sane, nearly half-wild. Heart ripped asunder, my faith completely gone. Wondering in vain, where I'd gone wrong. The pain of death, the hurt of a punch, I never knew, I could love so much. Torn from my grasp, deep waters churn. It seems that this, is the lesson I've learned. Take this life, for all it's worth. All of the saddness, all of the mirth. For it will shape you, into the person you are. Learn from this lesson, and you will go far. Just take a deep breath, then just let it go. To love, to create, to teach and to know. Rosemary, Mugwort, Hyssop and Thyme. Something to take, away the pain tonight. I smell her spirit , on the wind. No other spirit, would have that smell. Crawled back from insanity, out of the crevice's jaws. A triumphant polar bear, salmon in my paws. Shaken and alone, lost and undone. I prayed to the Goddess, and the bright shining one. Never give up, don't let your soul die. Wake up and realize, that there's more to life. Make the right choices, the best ones for you. The Goddess will guide, in all that you do. (Half Drunk Muse) Nursing a grudge The Devil bore a grudge against Moses Ludge, who was fleeing across the sea with his wife Raphael for a better life. On the way to a warmer clime the Devil primed his bow; turned himself into a hangman's noose and showed Moses a list of places to go. But Moses wrote in his journal, his plan, and the Devil continued his schemes to upset the Glasgow Baptist man. When Raphael Ludge gave birth to a boy the Devil cast a dastard spell, not only that the 'Rat From Hell' had changed the innocent babe to a Whimsy child of horror. Gone was the chubby face, the cherubic smile so cute, instead fangs of the tiger flashed on display drawing blood from poor Raphael as with the babe she tried to play. Still Moses persisted in writing home to his God for comfort to ease the pain. Then the Devil struck Moses once more, and again. Poor Moses found his feet and twinkling toes had turned into something cold and wet and fish like too, such tails only mermaids knew. The grudge of the Devil knew no bounds when he turned his attention to Raphael Ludge and changed her legs into those of a dragon beast. Then the Devil meddled with their minds making them forget, and making them act unkind. Revenge was sweet with acts of cruelty still, and his blood-lust was wanting more, more still. But Moses wrote an epistle-like plea to one good friend, and that friend was me. I then asked God for a compassionate reply and He with wisdom said: “Yes.” That was His reply. And the parents now cried when they looked into eyes pure and blue, their babe a babe now of God, through and through. Amen. -Cleveland W. Gibson, (Author of Billabongo) Faringdon, Oxon, United Kingdom |
