Val's Space

personal poetry

Page Content

1. No More Words

2. The Ancient One

3. Suspicion

4. Racial Hatred

5. A waste Of Space

No More Words

Usually, inside her head

there is a wealth of language.

Words that tumble

unchecked and uninhibited

onto the page with the eagerness

and naivety of a wayward child.

Most in praise,

some with regret and sadness

but always there is sincerity.

 

Today she has no words

she wishes to share.

None that make her tremble

with enthusiasm or pride.

 

Today her thoughts are dark,

tormented things.

 

Her words remain locked

like a genie in a bottle

by a silence that screws down the lid

on that effulgence that once illuminated

her mind, her life-

It scares her.

©

Copyright

VMM 2005

The Ancient One

Out of the mists of time, it came

through a crack in the earth’s crust.

onto the dark city railroad track

a slick damp body the colour of rust.

~~~

Silently it slithered and quickened

it’s pace, it needed to hide from view,

no need to alarm the human race

until it knew that it’s time was due.

~~~

An old stone barn would serve

as a nest, it was dry, and free of draughts.

There it would gather it’s strength and rest

feeding on creatures that crossed it’s path.

~~~

The thing it was, was as old as time

and worse, it had slithered from a meteor

that crashed into a prehistoric earth

then burrowed deep, until it reached the core.

~~~

In suspended animation

the thing slept, for fifty million years

throughout human evolution kept

Out of sight and sound of eyes and ears.

~~~

Now, it sensed that the time was right

To finish, what it had been sent to do.

It had to wait, for it’s strength had diminished

it must feed, it had energy to accrue.

~~~

Things started to shuffle around

in the night, a fox, a cat, a rat.

The thing knew they couldn’t put up a fight

just as well, for it would need more than that.

~~~

Several nights passed, with the same

gory events, the rust coloured thing gravid,

the hour of it’s deed was approaching it sensed,

It’s evil issue spewed forth almost rabid.

~~~

The thing it had been, multiplied

a thousand fold, dispersing in separate ways.

determined to wipe out all of life, in cold

hideous inhuman displays.

~~~

The things they were, were terrible

indeed, they were born to destroy mankind.

They travelled with incredible speed

in their wake, death was all they left behind

~~~

When it was over the earth was

laid waste, the oceans turned to slime

The earth had turned to a rust coloured paste

Man had reached the end of his time.

~~~

©

Copyright

VMM

2004

Suspicion

In your eyes I see

a thing that is evil.

A cold worm of fear

curls in my belly.

 

Repulsion…

 

You know I have sensed

your perversion.

It amuses you, empowers you.

 

Disgust…

 

You tease, with words

that paint vile pictures,

Yet, what are words

spoken un-witnessed

but puffs of air dispersing

the moment they leave

the foulness, that is your mouth.

 

Frustration…

 

I have no proof.

I am impotent…

©

Copyright

VMM

2004

Racial Hatred.

An arc of orange light

lit the city night.

 

Wrapped in angry violence,

noise exploded

through the street.

 

Like vultures

squabbling over

stinking rotten meat

men were eager

for the fight.

 

Rioters seeking

interlopers,

aliens, cuckoos ,

who steal the air

they breathed.

 

Kick heads,

terrorise,

make them want to leave.

 

Hatred thrived,

rippling,

roiling

through the throng.

Jeering,

punching

those who

did not belong.

 

Breaking glass

tinkled,

making evil music.

All over the city

windows smashed

houses, cars,

people,

property

just trashed.

 

Air acrid

with black smoke so thick

leaving the innocent

petrified,

making decent people sick.

 

The angry night

ended in

sullen silence.

 

Waiting…

Waiting…

 

Anticipating

Tomorrow’s violence…..

©

Copyright

VMM

2004

A Waste Of Space

An overheard conversation during a visit to hospital to see an elderly relative; not verbatim, just its essence.

~~

 

Where should I go

to die?

 

You laugh at geriatric homes

you say they stink of piss,

Yet, there is no place for me

with you.

 

It’s an embarrassment to be old;

to have outlived my purpose

I am just taking up space;

I am a waste of space…

 

After all

I don’t have a function

in life

 

I am defunct, a corpse that

will not lie down.

Tell me where to lie down.

 

Somewhere

where I will not be seen,

or in the way,

then let me be;

leave me in peace to die

at my own pace

with dignity.

©

Copyright

VMM

2004