Deny.

via Daily Prompt: Deny

Don’t you dare deny that you are sly, underhand and mean
Cruel and brutal, at times even obscene
You paint that face for others to see
Of happiness, joy comfort and peace
But for those of us who know you well
It’s a different side of you that we see

That side that likes to compete, defeat, undermine and destroy
To rob us of our joy
You categorize and label, and say we won’t be able
Never will we achieve, that which it is that we seek
To put us into boxes, and label us strange and bizarre

You never let up
How come you’re such a social failure, How come you don’t ever go out
Does no one like you, is that the issue
Please stop Father, you are only confirming my very own self doubt
Why can’t you be more successful, why can’t you be more impressive
Your not a child I wish to acknowledge, look at you, cant even make it to college
Your depressed you say, why don’t you confess
My evidence and judgement complete
Then I can rest easy, as I watch and silently laugh
As you squirm and look so uncomfortable in your seat
My never ending mission to seek and destroy
One step closer, towards being complete
As I categorize and diminish from my position up above
The labels and judgements I hand out to others
Are brilliant. They enhance my sense of self love, and self esteem
To the zenith of my happiness, You know what I mean

I push others down, stamp them into the ground
Because it raises me up to some higher ground
So brilliant am I, never can I do wrong
I leave a trail of damaged people and wrecked self esteem in my wake
Well these people will just have to find a way
To get themselves better for goodness sake

You commiserate with others, how tough it is for you
Having to deal with our unstable, unpleasant  personalities
Oh dear, what is it a man like you is supposed to do
Is it fair that you dare project your narcissistic characteristics
On those that are close to you

I can see what’s wrong with them, you scream
They are evenious, jealous, socially inadequate and unclean
It is like some nightmarish daydream, I must suffer for my sins
If only they were better, how easy my life would be
But all this time you never look within
To where the root of your unhappiness begins
Try looking inside yourself, maybe ask God to forgive you for your sins
If he has any sense, he won’t let you off that easily

For acting like a bastard, to some of the children who call you Father
Those you look to you, for sustenance, support and happiness
What do we find, but a man with a mind intent on pulling us down from grace
Who likes to compete, knock us off our feet, repeatedly
Until we can take no more, and really want to shut that door
We gain pleasure in finding ways
To seek revenge and settle old scores
If God won’t or can’t control this man, we’re gonna have to do
What it is what we can do, maybe try and wipe the slate clean

We will step back, step away, from people such as you
To those who like to tear us down, destroy our sense of self
They love to get inside our heads, and batter us near enough to death
Never happy are they, until they have spread their vile malicious ways
Onto others, and see them suffer too
Then they have reached their ultimate goal, this is what they do

So I say to any out their, in situations such as this
Realise that not all parents are well rounded individuals of sound mind, and good intent
Raising a family in an ocean of bliss
Many are vile, unpleasant individuals, incapable of looking after their young
They will destroy and tear you down, then act all innocent and clean
Deny the words they used, ever had any intent to be cruel and mean
But don’t you stand for that, don’t believe a word
It will just ease up for a week or two, and the cycle of abuse will begin again

Walk away, cut them out, if you can
Seek revenge if you must, you will be a stronger man
But don’t ever let them deny, that they are sly, underhand and mean
Psychotic, dysfunctional individuals, with a streak of nastiness
That has to be seen to be believed
Will I forgive…. sure eventually, for my own benefit
Will I forget, never. I will forever be on my guard
For such people who treat others with such disregard, for their mental and spiritual health
May God have mercy on them, for their sins.

 

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Was it real ?

via Daily Prompt: Interest

He passed her on the street. In the mid afternoon, the warm breeze uncharacteristic for this time of year. Global warming, he put it down to . She smiled , then looked away. He wanted her immediately, what man wouldn’t. The clear skin, the tousled light brown hair, that slim body. The tight, well fitting clothing. That way she had of moving, so attractive. A man magnet.
Would he be good enough. Would he be attractive enough. A woman as good-looking as that, surly she was already taken, Most probably she already had a rich well to do husband, or lover. He lusted after her, big time. Viewing her for only a few seconds. Already he was congiruing up images of making love to her, and proposing to her. Getting married, and the children thay would bear together. The future life they would share together.

‘What are you straing at me for ? losser ?’

Her brutal, cold and less than welcoming response, shock him from his reverly. Perhaps she was not the porcelin princess he had being imaging. Or was it a test. The test that some women throw out to men, to see if they can handle them and would they be strong enough to be a suitable future partner. Strong enough , not to pander to her nonsense.

‘Hey love, no need to get ahead of yourself. You just happen to be in the view of what I’m looking at. If that’s your attitiude, I would never be intersted in at you at all’.

She pouted, she glared and swore in response. Just revealing  more of her unattractive character. What man, aside from a masochist would be interested in getting involved with such a woman.

He passed her by, congratulaing himself on swearving a possible future rather unpleasent relationship, with an ultra high manintense woman, that would only end in heartbreak and hardship. Who needs that, he asked himself aloud.

He carried on down the street towards the open parkland in the middle of the city, welcoming the peace and sustence it afforded.

Daily Prompt: Irrelevant

via Daily Prompt: Irrelevant

‘Your irrelevant, you don’t matter now, you never did  and you never will’.
The scream was deafening. He looked at the mother who had born him, not so many years long ago, and asked, how could she hate him. What is it, he had done. All he had done, was to actually be born. Certainly, not a crime of his making.

‘I hate you, I wish to Christ you’d never being born’. So it continued. Although young, he could still tell when to leave others alone and walk away. Which is what he did. He left her with the ever present half empty bottle of red wine on the kitchen counter, and she near slumped over it. Her hair, a mess. Uncombed, and dirty. Black mascara following the trails of her self pitying  tears that flowed down her face. She was more than willing to attack and blame whoever came into her orbit. But it was usually just him. He went back to his bedroom, and began to play with his toys. Hoping and praying that she would fall asleep, and not come into his room. To physically slap and beat him, as she had done many times before.

‘Don’t worry Mark, it will be okay. There is no need to be afraid. We will be together soon’.

He had not heard that voice, in quite some time, but recognised it instantly.
He had spoken to her almost nightly since she went to heaven, although she never answered him. He wept many times, as he missed their play time together, and cried even more when he saw her in the hospital getting more sick, and weak as every day passed. So wishing he could help, but not knowing how.
He looked round the room for the source of the voice. Laying his toy action man figures on the floor. Outside the window, in the dark evening, he saw his sister shimmering outside the window , and smiling. She looked so happy, healthy and content.

‘We’ll be together soon, don’t worry, it will be okay’.

With that her image from outside the window disappeared. Mark, felt safe, secure and happy. More so then he had done in a long time, and clambered into bed, after carefully locking the door, not someting he usually did.

After she had finished the remained of the bottle of wine in the kitchen, his Mother was her usual angry self. Inhaling deeply of the cigarette, as she stumbled upstairs. Swearing loudly, her voice raising. As he was the only other occupant in the house, she went towards his room to vent, to off load her venom. Finding the door locked, she screamed and kicked loudly at it. But the door held firm. Her screaming and kicking of the door, had awoken Mark, and he snuggled down under the covers, his body shaking slightly, and his breathing rapid. The butterflies breaking free in his stomach. He waited expectedly for the door to break open, and his Mothers assault to begin.
Again she attacked the locked door, screamed and swore. Quietness, followed by a heavy series of thuds, akin to trees being felled. As her head hit the final step, at the bottom of the steps, she fell backwards, unconsciousness and the cigarette rolled out of her hand, and under the nearby curtain. It did not take long for the curtain to fully catch ablaze. Starting slowly, then gathering momentum and speed. The yellow and blue flames easily setting the wall alight and reaching up to the ceiling. The cracking sound, and burning stench, quickly engulfing the lower ground floor. The carpet around the fallen drunken Mother, soon alit too, burning all in its path.

‘Come Mark, it’s time to go. She gently touched Mark to wake him’, and roused him from his bed.

She took his hand as they exited the room together, through the calm night, out into the fresh cooling air, and skyward. Past the dark night sky. Past the glistening stars, and on into a beautiful, tranquil and peaceful garden. Where to his delight he ran into the open welcomong arms of his beloved Grandfather, and Grandmother, who embraced him warmly, and that favourite labrador dog, he believed was gone forever.

There, there…

via Daily Prompt: Pamper

‘Let me do it’.
‘No, you might only hurt yourself’.

The story of his life. It’s what he mostly remembered from his childhood. The over caring, some would say fawning Mother. Never allowing him the freedom to develop as a human being. To try and to fail. To make those mistakes that young people must do, and then to readjust their settings. Never was he given that opportunity. She was seen by some as a caring , loving Mother, but to others, she was the person who was crippling his ability to deal with the world.

To come to terms with the disappointments , failures and frustrations that life has a habit throwing everyone’s way, at some time or another. But thanks to her habit of making his life easy, and painfree for him, he was left without the tools to deal with life when it did not go to plan, and she was not by his side, to smooth the way.
He began to hate her, from an early age. Her claustrophobic smothering of his freedom, in case he got hurt. Her unspoken use of him as a substitute husband. To compensate for an inadequate, selfish, alcoholic husband. Sharing aspects of her unhappy life and failing marriage, that had no place being shared with a child. She shared with uncontrolled vengeance and bitterness.

Whenever the other boys at school were less than kind. Or girls, not welcoming of his attentions. His Mother was always there to coddle and sooth him, and to make life seem not so bad. To spoil him with gifts, and fine food. To tell him, how wonderful he was, and wrong , foolish and just plain nasty those other people were.
He was turning into a very unpleasant person. Feared and disliked by his classmates. Quick to anger, and violence. Borne out of his upbringing. His lack of tolerance and impatience for frustration. Unable to comprehend that life doesn’t always run one’s way. He thought nothing of walking into the local retail shops, and helping himself to whatever took his fancy, without payment many times. Angrily threatening violence on any who dared try to stop him.

Teachers pleading , and warnings from the local police of a possible future filled with long prison terms for her son, went mostly unheeded by her. She did not need anyone to tell her how to deal with her child. She knew him better than anybody. Was it not he, and she versus the world.
It did not take so very long, for his Mother’s misguided sense of love for a child, combined with her loneliness, anger and bitterness to manifest  itself over time, into inappropriate but unsaid, welcome touches. Welcome to her, and to him. He did not understand what was happening, but he enjoyed the sensations. They both knew it was inappropriate that she still bathed him, at his age. A young fast growing teenager, quickly growing into manhood. Both knew, but said nothing. She enjoyed the touch, and sight of a man’s body, even if it was her son, as she bathed and dried him. Massaging his body, to calm his mind, she told herself. To keep him out of prison. It was not long , before in the darkness of the night she lead him, that first time, and many times since into the marriage bed. They held and pleasured each other as man and wife, as lovers. She guiding his inexperienced hands around her body. She exploring his young body, and he responding to her touch. Their first kiss, she greedily searching out and finding his soft lips, while he recoiled in disgust from such a touch. But in time and with her forceful insistence grew to long for and enjoy, such a touch.
The longer it went on, the more confused, and troubled he became. Whereas she seemed to gain a new lease of life. Never had he seen her so happy. He did not like to see others, especially those close to him , happy, and it angered him. Not when he was so miserable and unhappy inside. It was with that in mind, he visited the school guidance teacher, one day after class had ended, and relayed what had been happening at his home. He overplayed his weeping and upset, to ensure a satisfactory result. The guidance teacher swiftly moved it up the line of command, and events moved quickly.

As he lay on his bed in the care home, contemplating his future. He knew that whatever the outcome, he would never see her again. Whatever was to happen, at least he would be free of her.

Lust…..

via Daily Prompt: Lust

He had always lusted after her. Ever since that first day he saw her her. There was just something about her. She was too young then, it would have being unacceptable, even to him. But throughout the years, he watched her slowly blossom into the young beautiful girl, he knew that she was, and the beautiful woman she would one day turn out to be. Perhaps, one day become his wife, he allowed himself to fantasise at times . He struggled with his anger, and jealousy as he watched from afar, how the other young boys of her own age had also noticed and appreciated her striking looks, and that certain aura. But now she blossoming into a young woman, well a young girl at least.
Alone with her in the classroom. His offer of extra tuition was welcomed. She was struggling with the more complex mathematical formulas and equations. He sat close to her, studying her face, her clear skin, her brown clean hair, as she studied the text. Her innocent, questioning brown eyes. Her easy engaging laughter. The sounds of the other school children on the summer lit playing field, echoing into the empty classroom. He pushed his leg against her bare leg. She did not pull away. His breathing rate increased. Years of longing, of yearning. Desires held for so long, and dearly, possibly about to come to fruition. He began to perspire slightly, and loosened his tie, and removed his jacket. She continued to study the text, and question him, when she was puzzled. He was in love with the softness of her voice, with her physicality, her innocence, her spirit, her soul, even though he did not know her. He was in love with her.

He moved even closer as she studied the text, and placed his hand on the back of her chair, then placed his hands between her shoulder blades, to see her response, and enjoyed the softness of her young , tender body. He moved his face closer to hers. So much so, they were nearly touching. She did not pull away. She turned to face him. He could feel and taste her sweet breath upon his face, and moved his face closer still towards her inviting young lips, eager to touch, to taste, to meet. Those innocent wide brown eyes, looked into his, offering herself to him. He took her face in her hands and moved his lips closer to hers. She waited…

‘Mr Williams, in God’s name, what do you think you are doing ? ‘

He had never heard her enter the room, so engrossed was he, with the possible realization of his long held desires. He immediately released his hold of his young charge, and moved away from her. He began to stutter, and sooth his hair, and clothing. His face flushed with embarrassment and desire.
‘Well, she demanded’, waiting for an answer, some explanation. Her face contorted in an expression of exasperation and bewilderment. But there was no explaining this.

He was quiet for a few moments, while he gathered his thoughts. Why lie he concluded. Be honest, be true, was his choice. ‘What does it look like,  I am at last giving free reign to my love, our love. Free of the shackles of conformity, free of other people’s views of what is right or wrong ‘, His voice becoming stronger as he spoke, determined not to be denied, what he believed to be his right. ‘Free from the views of the narrow minded people, who don’t know, or will ever know what true love is’.

‘Mr Williams, this can never be, not now, not ever ‘. Her voice stern, but slow, as if she was explaining to a child. ‘Millie is only thirteen years old, and you’re a middle aged man. This can never be’.
‘You know nothing’, he shot back. ‘What are you but an aging spinster, who knows nothing of intimacy, of true love’. He moved towards her, as she retreated from his angry movements. Millie watched wide eyed and quietly from the corner of the room. Her breathing rapid, and strained. He continued to  move towards the Headmistress. She could sense his volcanic like anger, being unleashed. She shuddered at the volume and mence of his voice, which filled the classroom. His face red, the veins either side of his forehead throbbing. His movements wild and uncontrolled. As soon as he was close enough to her, he pushed her with as much force as he could muster, her small frame no match for his strength and anger. She hit the classroom floor with much force, banging her head on the concrete. Her legs folded backwards in a grotesque manner. Her movements ceased.
In the silence that followed, his anger began to subside slightly, and he turned his attention once again towards Millie. In the corner of the room her face was taking on a shade of grey, and her lips very slightly tinged with a purple hue. Her breathing was labored and strained, and her eyes wide wide with fear and panic, as she struggled to breath.

‘Millie, do you have an inhaler ? , he demanded. Where is it, where is it ?’ He frantically searched her school desk, and in her school bag. But with no luck. He found her cute mobile phone, covered with stickers of cats, and some glitter. Very much the toy of a child, for that is what she was. He used her cute phone to call for an ambulance. He moved back toward Millie in the corner of the room, and sat beside her and held her. Rubbing her back gently, and pushing her now damp hair, back from her face, in the vain hope it would offer her some physical relief and comfort. He held her like this as he waited for the ambulance.
The sounds of  children’s laughter, from the sunlit playing fields, echoed in the silence of the classroom.

Practical cannibalism for the modern man.

via Daily Prompt: Savor

She was as sweet as pie, but she had to die, that was just the way it was going to be
I cut her into slices, really sharpening the damn knife first
Then decided to cut her into pieces and have her with a cup of tea
I decapicated her head, just to make sure she was dead

Tomorrow I will investigate her brain, I wonder am I insane
But she should not have said I was no good in bed
Pretty sure she meant it too
I will serve her with bacon,  parsley, basil, and celery shoots

See if I cant find and eat her mind, you know, as you do
I never would have guessed human flesh was among the best
If tenderized sufficiently
Along with condiments, and salads
It’s a delightful meal, fit for more than two

Next onto human organs, this is such a culinary adventure
I can hardly wait to taste and see
I never guessed I could be such a cannibal
It sure is such a surprise to me
But she only has herself to blame,saying I as a man was quiet insane
That I was unable to light her flame,at least now we’ll be together forever more
As she takes up residence within my core

Maybe do not challenge another, should you wish to discover
Whether they are what they claim to be
Cause you may not enjoy what you find out,see
Perhaps not the best to accuse others of being insane
Cause you just might be on the recieving end of some serious pain, for real

So when in the darkness of the night, when I want to be in touch with her brightness and light
Just one more time
I’ll just call out loud to her, and say ‘Alright darling, how you doing, I’ll bet your doing fine, and your mine, all mine’, as you reside forever more, deep within my core
Now where can I find the next victim, that I can eat
Here’s hoping she tastes twice as sweet
I wonder how well human flesh goes with green tea.

Jangle

Jangle

It was the jangle of the keys that brought me to my knees
I said I could take no more, the torture, the unbearable pain
It’s enough to drive you insane, why don’t you listen to what it is, I am saying
My Mother laughed at my pitiful cries, as did my Father too

They slammed the cellar door shut, and locked it tight
In the darkness alone, I sat, and I moaned, in quiet some fright
Felt as sorry for myself as I could be, but determined that one day I would be free
I would have my revenge on these people who tortured me
I would send them to hell where they belonged to be

One more night of drunken fighting, to some that may seem exciting
One more night of sticking the knife in, metaphorically, of course
With the cellar door unlocked, what’s more
The box of matches, the firestarter, that’s what did it for me
The couch aflame as they sat and felt the pain, as I laughed at their pitiful cries and moans
No more the jangle of the keys would bring me to my knees
I was free as I was ever going to be
The flames grew higher as I added other materials to the pyre
I watched without much fuss, as the two of them combust
Laughter and joy, emanating from me

Now as a grown man I am what I am
Doing what I can to torture these children in front of me
The fear in their eyes makes me come alive
As I jangle the keys, as was done in front of me
They not knowing which one of them will be thrown, behind that dark cellar door
Where their screams will remain unheard, until, and if they learn
That the life you lead, depends a lot on how you please
The others who may be in control of you

The jangle of the keys still brings me to my knees, but now with laughter and joy
Because of the power I wield over these vulnerable children in need
These children of mine, will I make their lives shine
I don’t think so, Inflict cruelty and pain, enough to drive them insane
Add a fair measure of fear too
Will I let them live, will I destroy their souls
These are the thoughts I contemplate, as I jangle the keys around my wrist.

Written in response to : Daily Prompt,  Jangle.
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