Ruined For Good? …..Let’s Hope Not

Blacker than the Ace Of Spades,
More ornery than the Overseer Of Hades,
It’s convinced its keeper,
This is how said one’s life should stay.

The One who within it beats,
Hears nasty beasts,
Screaming things insane,
That get received,
By its brain.

To said one,
The unseen results are dangerous,
It’s worth a wager,
That said one is full of anger,
Though it’s hidden so well,
An average acquaintance cannot even tell.

No,
Said one wouldn’t want to hurt a soul,
But to attain a goal,
Those who care must go,
And so the hardened heart beats out its message,
And said one ‘teaches them a lesson’.

The dear owner is taxed,
To the max,
He means well,
But the way things come out,
Us who pay close attentions,
Can see the incensed inner hell.

What a fucked up way to live,
From time to time I wonder……..
If my soul was also that color,
Might my mind too bellow like thunder?

What In The HELL?

One day,

Out of the blue,

Two tiny marks were noticed,

Upon a thumb,

“Where the fuck,

Did these come from”!?

Was the thought,

Until the mind,

Was practically numb.

 

Little brownish red dots,

That looked a lot like tiny birthmarks,

Why were they,

Never noticed before?

They couldn’t be recent

But they weren’t remembered,

As being there,

Just a year or two before.

 

Into the head came a notion,

Was this proof of past lives?

Once someone had said,

The fear of certain fanged brutes,

Was likely due to being bitten,

While alive,

In another lifetime,

And this is why,

The feeling of panic,

While in their presence,

Never subsided,

No matter how much,

Time had elapsed.

 

In theory,

Fang marks,

Are only made,

By things infected by dark,

But are they really polluted?

Because after all,

They had ancestors once,

On Noah’s Ark.

 

There was strong suspicion that they might,

Be from a snake bite,

There was,

After all,

The infliction of a phobia,

But was that all paranoia?

Or was that fear founded by an incident,

And therefore legitimate?

 

Though there are tons of creatures,

Sporting fangs,

Not all result,

In the night terrors,

For instance,

It’s known a house cat,

Would not do that,

But who’s to say,

They weren’t wandering in the jungle,

And met head on,

By a lion?

 

But oh yes,

That jungle beast’s mouth,

Would be too big to leave these marks,

That little kitty though,

Righto! – that one’s a maybe……………

 

At one point in the past,

Could there have been a Mer,

Who played in ponds,

And swam in seas?

So many creepy critters,

Occupy these places,

And many are with,

Tiny fanged faces,

Yes this one is actually,

A real possibility……………

 

Very well,

I’ll admit there is no way here,

To be totally and absolutely sure,

Just the same,

These marks are pointing favorably,

Toward this being right,

It’s so strange they seemed to surface,

Pretty much overnight,

Even so I think it’s clear,

These marks were put,

On a former version of a self,

By the object of their deepest fear.