Mortician’s made the arrangements
presenting what was left,
of the flesh that was the man
who lived his life bereft.

Deception played the leading role
in his every action.

The times that she’s her best
are times of fun and jest.
She’s not an ultimator
she’s my only hot tomata.

We spend the days together

A bell tolls,
for the hour of discontent
has arrived.

The town crier
sorrowfully wails
the lament of agitation.

Irritability reigns
over all,
frustration is its companion.

A voice that eases my restless mind,

the touch of your hand excites my senses,

eyes which see deep into my heart,

To climb the stairway to heaven
it’s one step at a time.
My faith I do hold onto,
a handrail thru subtle and sublime.

My entry was in question,
cause I was most inept.

Scampering on down the hall
like a dog whose found her bone.
But deep inside nothing has changed
for this cold hearted scheming crone.

“Acapulco or Madrid,
maybe south of France.

Her face contorted to a glare,
an air of hate presided.
There she stood in front of him
where final hours collided.

“Did you think that I’d end up
on a china plate?

At the end of the week
after 40 by 5
and a paycheck
I’m soon to acquire.

The time soon begins
in the hours past noon,
without worries
of fashion attire.

The bed is all made

“Bind his feet and hands real tight
make sure that he’s secure.
I’m sure he’ll want to re-enact
another Marston Moor.”

“He’s your husband or once was

While gazing cross the lake outside,
the moon was full and bright,
a boat came drifting to the shore
no passengers in sight.

Queer, to have an empty boat
a float, no helmsman found.

Slowly I let Midnight go
and backed away from him.
We could have been mistaken
each as a Brothers Grimm.

Damascus steel was still in hand,
rage glaring from my face.