Kneel, wretches!
Do you have the audacity to speak?
There! — and don’t forget that pain
on your face,
disgraced ones.
Do you know what this is?
It is a scepter.
Do you know what it is for?
Did you speak again?
Ah! — won’t you ever learn?
Will your cheeks be roses forever?
Where was I?
Oh, yes. It is for this only:
to tell us who is our leader.
I
hold it now.
What does that mean to you?
Fuck! — did you see what you just made me do?
Apologize for those bloody teeth
which have stained my carpets.
Ungrateful lions.
What it means,
sirs,
is that I win,
and that you lose, and let me tell you
what that looks like.
Your heads will be cut off;
even a tattoo of your face,
if I ever see it,
will be mine,
a trophy,
skinned and plastered to my car
as I drive the streets of a new country,
laughing endlessly at your defeat.
And the people?
They will be laughing, too.
Do you know why they laugh?
Because your fluttering genitalia
decorate their towers,
and they got to watch,
on screens,
and with full mouths.
Because your fingers lining our
battalions are the last
fucking
thing
that is left of you.
Because they dance,
you ingrates!
Because they live and you
DIE!
Was that a whimper?
Did I just hear a wolf sigh?
Oh, I want to hear it again,
such music would delight any
goddess.
Sing your fear to me again,
sweet Incubuses.
Finally.
I grip this scepter only to
break it on your backs
and set your captives
free.
you are a brilliant writer with a beautiful sense of the art, I mean the literate as well the aesthetic sense.
you are so talented, you play the piano make your own compositions
you are amazing to me I simply adore and envy you my beautiful friend
and also you are very beautiful,
In your poetry, I find always there is melancholy, and something pertaining to a broken heart, I wish I knew something more about you
my blessings with you always
That is one heck of a dictation!
Haha, yes. : )
Wow. Holy fuck… All the fury is rained down up on us. Especially on one particularly toothless fucker, apparently. Least we all know now where most to tread lightly.
I love your liberal use of the f word and this comment!
Ma’dam, my life is a liberal use of the F-word (*fuck*). I believe that in using it in my comment, which I believe shows admiration, respect, and now, mild fear, is a very appropriate place to go ahead and let the ‘fucks’ fly. 🙂
And I’m glad you loved the comment because I loved the poem.
admiration, respect, fear, fuck. what else is there, really?
After that? There is nothing but just straight-up greed.
Fuck that.
indeedy – fucking – do. I might’ve lost my admiration and upped my fear of you if’n you felt otherwise.
impossibilities
never say…. impossiblities…?
oh, my bad.
it’s cool. I repeated it right back to you. Apparently, I’d follow you to the gates of Hell, oh glorious leader!
As it should be! Cheers!
(raises his hand slowly with eyes downcast … won’t speak or comment without permission … ) 🙂
Points scepter — “yes, you in the purple?”
even with permission. the purple one KNOWS better than to speak … but scratches out a note anyway and says this is an awesome dramatization and he is glad the Goddess shared it with us. 🙂
Very well, you may live 😉
Dictation’s a genderless King or Queen – as such Dan Simmon’s was pretty damn close in his allegory in the Priest’s Tale; or as I blithely joked to a friend in Shakespearean fashion about the difference between right and justice: Fie fie! alack, yet await what – hi thee! You, peasant, do you wish this crown? Nay? Nor should I, ’twas madness that made this mad – and yet reason too, though unreasonable. He called it justice and they called her a tyrant!
Still, just holy crap. Maybe there’s a reason I scurry over to your blog only infrequently. The mirror is a difficult thing to look into, especially when one also writes. More frequently we see reflections of ourselves in others work than we are want to!
“Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.”
I recall myself from feeding off your piece, thanks for the the vitality, if troubling. Keep writing!
wonderful! i loved those quotes and your comments. thank you.
Holy shit! Let me know when the coast is clear will ya, so I can let all the pissant little chicken-hearts out of their hidey hole. I can’t stand here protecting them all night. I may be invincible, but I’m old and I get tired.
Just let them out already, I never sleep!! ; )
brilliant as usual 🙂
How kind, thank you!
This is a blood-spangled nuclear holocaust of vituperation…it’s not even a poem, it’s a brilliantly venomous Casus Belli. I hope you have a hefty arsenal.
You know I do.
All I know is your adversary is doomed.
Keep believing, and I will succeed, like the fairies.
This must have been a bad assed guy, situation and painful revenge. The plural makes it sound like a slaughtered chess game after the game changer has been established. With the endgame in sight. Beautiful.
Btw thanks for liking my poem Innocent Boy at BoySlut. I am honored,
Best, TH
Thank you so much, I am glad you like it. Your work is lovely.
So much freaking angst and anger. I always get my fill from your poems.
Well, I suppose it has to come from somewhere : )
I was reading through some of your older poems. I really loved war but I couldn’t find the comments on that so I’m telling you here.
You should really hear this song, I was really reminded of it through your poem. War-by The Cardigans
sorry wrong video, Try the one I was talking about though
really good song, I definitely see the correlation, “I said it’s fine before” thank you so much.
Oh, actually, I looked up “War”, different from this link. You are so right, perfect.
Fantastic. You just made the capital letter “I” into a phalus…wielded by a woman of such power….
Fantastic.
Delightful comment, thank you most entirely.
I just wanted to say that this poem is one of the most amazing things I read this year! You almost illustrate your thoughts through words, and that’s brilliant!
What an amazing thing to say, thank you so much.
That words resound like the thunder in the storm, and what remains are the raindrops that fall
(I mean, I love that poem, such energy, such force …)
Thank you so very much, i love your description
Exciting writing — the strong kind we need.
I do. I need it.
You know I read this and know exactly this feeling… I have a poem “The Masquerade’s Lie” and talk of others as pawns in my game… However, I want a scepter!
Write yourself one! I’m glad you can relate.
Oh my… 😉
Yep.
Truth is I wish I had the balls to be this mean but I’m usually the guy with heel prints in his back. Call me a pussy if you want but that’s the truth.
Well, it is dangerous and must always fit the moment. Only be you, and I won’t call you names.
Is is possible to be a little bit petrified?… or is that like being a little bit pregnant? Either way, I’m both impressed and a little bit petrified.
That’s what I was going for…: )
One step further and you’re going to have start charging for these poems 😉
If I could figure out how, then perhaps I would not be a sad pauper-girl…
Paupers don’t have to be sad. Sad is such a waste of time. Have you stared really, really, really closely at a blade of grass today?
They are under the snow…
Oh, damn 😦
It’s all right, John. I’d rather feel sad than apathetic. I’d rather boil in my sorrow than look at the world and see nothing there.
That’s the spirit! If we don’t feel we’re not alive 🙂
exactly.
I really want to say how amazing this poem is . . . but I’m kind of scared you’ll hit me with the scepter for talking.
best.response. : )