Gardner’s Delight

Mistress Mary,
Quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells.
And Cockle Shells.
With Pretty Maids in a row.
That my kind sir
is how my garden does grow.
Reaver
Avenger
no one really knows
the role I play
the role I take;
my garden
well tended
blooms with wildflowers,
nightshade,
all that is good
and bad
in between.
We have been playing
game of cat and mouse
I lead,
you follow
soon dear
I shall reap.
Eyes shot through
hands tremor
saliva burned into the corner of your lip
bulbous nose
veined
whisky ridden
oily grey hair
sit
waiting
watching
no longer sure
how I will enter.
Slithering behind
last you heard
the
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
as my blade cleared its sheath
stabbing you straight through the eye
as you turned
and tried to fire.
Mistress Mary
Quite Contrary
How does your garden grow?
Will silver bells.
And cockle shells.
And all those dead men
set in a row.
©Nov. 8/22
Picture via Pinterest

Baseborn Blasphemy

Hidden parentage.
Sadistic desires.
Swaddled child
left
brought before the nuns
squalling bastard
evil incarnate
none would believe
such a delicate thing
capable of death like she.
Vicious capers
flagrant disregard
sins of the father
raped upon the mother
quiet cackles
rock in the corner
sucking thumb
eyes glitter with malevolence.
Such glee
such malice
such joy…..
fear
tasted upon the air
tongue flicking
licking
tasting
salt laced terror
lip curls in disdain.
Sniff
snuffle
copper tang
lust rises
born on the air
howling
not in fear
in orgasmic delight…..
child of the night
daughter of the wicked
assassin of good
destroyer…..  
lick the blade
hooded eyes
a new target
sought
found
set upon…..
alive.
©Feb. 10/20
Picture via Pinterest
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