Scary,
harrowing, you might say,
seeing all that blood run out of me
thin and watery,
transparent even.
Not blood that I might recognise
as being mine,
yet knowing it
as blood drawn from my very marrow
by those foul grubs,
those slaves of Satan.
I saw all this,
but could not guess
the depths to which my tattered soul
was being dragged,
how spirit can be borrowed
for a wickedness so rare
that one must either
march beneath its flag
or take the oath that leads --
as it has now led me --
to ultimate destruction.
Written for The Sunday Whirl #106
19 comments:
Gruesome isn't the word!
How you can make something sensible and chillingly feasible out of that lot, is beyond me.
It reminds me of the joke books of the seventies:
"What's yellow and dangerous?"
"Shark-infested custard."
Sorry David, my mind is on selfdestruct, after 30 days non-stop. :-)
Chilling! How terrible to realise, too late, the punishment for taking the wrong path.
Verycreepy Dave but a good idea I think - so well done.
very nice dave....there is def a feeling of forboding that comes though...nice tension...seeing the blood letting and being under that flag...
This is a chilling poem, Dave. Makes me want to be certain to stay on the right path!
oh heck dave..that gave me chills..there's so much depth in this...the knowing but never really fully imagining how it would be...excellent
This is an enthralling narrative, Dave. And cold-bloodedly real as well. I am seeing those who try to use the best in us for the worst motives--and resistance is often fatal, as here.
So this word puzzle was a poem challenge I am guessing. it is fun to see how the mind works differently to weave a path with those words. That was a tough one, but you seem to have unwoven the pattern.
So, synchronicity where sometimes we all share a trend of beliefs... that is I heard a strange show Coast to Coast last night on the jinn (jennies) between the angles and men. These tricksters, spirits of the air, in the main evil, feeding off our negativity, the voices in disordered and possessed minds we dare not say are real or other worldly, yet the testimony of many cultures across time and over the world...satan rises to power from the 40 star gods of Babylon. And in this place between awake and sleep I write of what the scientist say perhaps we should heed my poetry as physics. How uncanny, and how sensitive and wise your are great and strong poet.
Yikes - the idea of seeing one's blood run out - amazing to think that it is one - part of one - all these different bits - chilling. k.
If asked I would have said your blood was blue rather than transparent.
An uncomfortable read - which is its strength. Thank you.
I am chilled to the bone after reading this. You certainly are an amazing story teller, Dave.
Atmospheric isn't the word...this is positively electrifying!
Absolutely brilliant:)
I have read this poem many times..enjoyed its powerful raw texture.
Its inner, but shiny, stabbing, darkness.
Wow! You did a chilling write with those words, Dave. It is raw and dark.
Pamela
H.P. Lovecraft-ian
Friendly ALOHA
from Waikiki
Comfort Spiral
~ > < } } ( ° > <3
Scary and harrowing I would say for sure!!
So well written. So very well written. Normally I would have struggled to read past the "blood drawn from my very marrow" but you made me read on. And I thoroughly enjoyed it. Thanks.
Greetings from London.
Dave. You see and feel so deeply into what must be your own reality. I can only marvel at the depth of your understanding. Bill @ Marjons
Apologies all round for my non-showing in the blogosphere of recent days. As you may have seen from today's post, I've had something of a health hiccup to deal with my previous post proving rather too prophetic.
As to that, though, grateful thanks for the many satisfying comments. And good to have such a good haul from new-comers (or maybe just new-commenters) to the blog.
I am not yet fully back in the saddle, but hope to keep up more or lass as before from now on.
Once again, then, my thanks to you all.
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