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The Wicked and the Kid

Updated: Fri, 19 Jun 2020 11:08 am

thewickedandthekid@gmail.com

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Biography

Hope is only truly seen when you have gone to the darkest of places. These are my stories.

Unanswered

My road was long, harsh and spiked, the nights were cold, your heart frozen in time. Will you hold my hand and walk this earth as we discover all the nastiness that lurks? The throat is a good spot, Gripping you could say. The sun sets before your eyes as your soul escapes, Crushing all hope around you, contained in your place. At the feet of those who wish only to strike you down, but do it with the most self-righteousness. The foul scent walks with the sickening taste of death. What can we do against those who do not see what they have done? Memory is short when you choose it to be, The bottled love offers nothing, do not point your finger at me, My mind is sound and my judgment slow, show me who you can be when forced to shovel snow. STOP! How dare you question my rule you peasant, none can question me, perfection is my name, my word is hollow but by might, you will believe. In good faith I come, offer a hand to those swept off their feet, lock a chain around their necks, force them to their knee. What can I do for you to see me? See yourself? Hear the voice of reason, I pray you come to the light. Do you hear me oh mighty one? Collateral damage, merely a term of weakness, cast in front of an inferno, there are but 9 rings to ascension, none yet to bear witness to your step. ANSWER ME! Foul creature from the depths, SPEAK YOUR NAME, I DEMAND TO KNOW, FROM WHENCE YOU STEP! Silence. For every king that stands an enemy must lay, I am not your enemy old friend, but it is my time to walk away. I hope you can forgive yourself, for it is not me who is in need, treat your steps with caution, for there are demons in every crevasse, winding through your sleep. A false hope. My journey is clear and shrouded in excitement, the only sad part is that you do not seek to be enlightened. I will not run as you will see it as, standing tall above the grass, I choose to walk, for the valley of a thousand bushes will lighten up my path, Limbo is where I leave you, for the treachery is your benchmark. Heaven exists if you choose it too. Goodbye father, goodbye my friend, my demon is slain, so I am free yet again.

Vengeance

Suffering for sufferings sake is the truest form of weakness. Pointed suffering maketh the man. The Wicked and the Kid 2020 Not the man who cowers in the shadows could bear the burden faced upon thee. Behold a light, dim may it be, able to shake the core of the sun in all its might. Powerful and mighty, lowly in practice, tyrannical in nature. Who has the enemy beset upon? Us? Within one's ranks the torturer lays with the foreshadow of dormancy yet corrupts all it seeks to pardon, for it is known deep within, the true face, upon a crown it speaks, burnt and rotten, so shall be its seed. It shows it colours for only a moment, capture it if you can, you may have better luck than me. Defense ha! I scoff at the idea one could even conceive; such a defense is futile when death is what it needs. The demon knocks on every door, let it in and you shall be purged. Keep it under lock and key, for a devil will rise up to greet. The ruler, the judge, the prosecutor, all serve the same ends, but defendant is its root, protection is its means, for it only seeks to protect that which is most precious to us all. Small may it be, its touch, fatal to the tee. Low must we walk through thick mud and mangroves to find its nature. How can we face what only a child has seen? Liar! Is he? I know he is not; pain is what drives his rage, or is the rage the belief. Too painful for one alone to burden themselves with. But who else can confront what others cannot see? The twinkle of stars can be heard on the coldest nights. Must vengeance be had, to spark up the light? Vengeance is no friend to me, ice runs downstream, singeing the very walls which carry it. Every star will sing, beaming the most beautiful twilight. Could it truly be? The angels speak? the sparkle? How? Worry not for angels scream, devils blow ballads enchanting all to sway in unity, but who to trust? Who is so bold as he? A crown drapes along the road. Prickled and downtrodden, held by all those who know. Speak not first, let the others speak, who’s wings are white and scorched with blood, fickle with deceit. Guide that which is lost, leave those unworthy, atop a mountain top is the only place worth hoping.

Weakness

Lay your anchors upon the pebbles where the waves barely speak. Gaze onwards like wolves on a hunt, spare no scrap for the vultures, for it is in your nature to cull your own. Only prey on that which has been hollowed out and thus cut from a ragged cloth. The streets melt as torches of rage scorch the stone, blackening all it touches, where death follows. KILL THEM ALL! Yells one, Who? Yells another, THE BEAST THE BEAST! Nothing. Where is our new home beset? Atop a golden field? Greed and envy rule that path, the rest has nothing to yield. You think yourselves wolves, but wolves you are not, A coyote is more fitting, plenty of tricks up your sleeve, the first rock thrown in virtue, the last thrown in deceit. Once truly seen all shall bear witness to your deepest desires bent on destruction to all those looked up upon. Morality your weapon, The hero your target. Who will stand to fight? Who has already forfeited the night? I stand with might for the darkness will bend, Walls shake as the world starts to end. Crack! The flood gates have opened, washing aside the clutter, men and women alike stand together, for that, for that is all that truly matters. Reign in your anchor, lowly though it may lay, cast it towards the ocean and find a new home amongst the waves.

Pointless

Pointless, Do we really need a needle? My hands can barely move without the entirety of my being brought forth to counter the sinking hole of mindlessness. Worthless I know where it resides, within my mind where it is only you, not i Smashing myself to a pulp, what’s the fucking point, I ask you again, who wants to continue when all they see is dead weight, Bearing no load is worthless, but bearing weight is all that’s left. Where can I escape, my minds island is no place of rest, the only hope that I have left is set, one that’s best when left unchecked, within my ravens’ crest is home. A refugee without life, only the stench of death in droves. Defeated Pull me once from where I lay, put my mind at ease again and worry not for you will see, all that life can bear to seed, grab my hand my feathered friend, I will race you to where the world must end, for life to me cannot be short, the troubled mind knows not what for, the aim is set and it is clear, a minute for you, bests me a year, within this tortured cage I shake, begging for a lovers taste. Gone. I left you, so where does that leave me? Cold? Alone? Helpless? Helpless I think not. All that stands between you and me is what knot you’ve chosen to wove the sea, Pull up your anchor, place it to the side, for right now, it is no longer you, but I, Change the scene so you can see, a fresh pair of glasses which to engulf the dream, Sculpt your eye above us all, stop attempting to break down the wall, use it as a stepping stone, David’s nothing without Goliath, don’t you know?

Scared of the dark

Papa, papa tell me what you see? Yellow eyes my boy, ugly grinning teeth. Quickly, quickly we must run and hide! Tell me why papa? For that is what, goes bump in the night. When I am big and strong, will you show me where the monster, it sleeps? Never my boy, it is too scary for me, Stay hidden, stay quiet, keep your eyes under the sheets! HELP, HELP a young man shrieks! The eyes the eyes, they curse me please, I need someone to grab him now, hold him down and remove his cowl Familiar faces look through my heart, remove this monster from the dark. The fog has lifted and my hands are wrapped, around the throat of the mirror, smiling back.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

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Comments

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Mon 24th Feb 2020 12:59

I shall try to catch up on your work. It looks 'challenging' but interesting.

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poemagraphic

Wed 19th Feb 2020 23:44

Weakness is another superb piece.

Tempestuous emotional sea of such hidden depth’s
Po

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poemagraphic

Wed 19th Feb 2020 23:33

Hi A huge welcome to the world of WOL.

May you find an open ear and mind for your musings

Po

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