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Sunday, April 17, 2011


(copied from my FB note)
This is my way of checking out Facebook's Notes feature.
What follows is a few words strung together in a non-random pattern.
If an event sounds like a story you told me, it probably is.
If I have abused your confidence, I apologise.
Amongst merciful friends, it is easier to beg for forgiveness than for permission.
Also, keep 'em expectations low; creative would be a stretch, I call it contrived writing.

They held a gun to my cheek,
A grown man lay prostate, sobbing for mercy,
And, care-free, I sat in my cradle.

They slapped a notice on our door,
At midnight, we hurried away from our home,
And, confused, I gathered my playthings.

They stopped us on the road,
A few crisp notes bought us our peace,
And, crestfallen, I unclenched my fist.

They raised a hue and cry far away,
A paranoia gripped the sheep in their stalls,
And, conforming, I cancelled my plans.

They surrounded us on their motorbikes,
A few knives glinted, some leered,
And, craven, I sank back and prayed.

What gods are these to justify these deeds?

The King's Tomb

(needs work)

A pair of ferrets scurried across the scaffolding,
The day was grown dark, and they were quite blind.

Unmarked marble graves, under an adorned dome,
Mice squeaked in a corner, the roof leaked.

“Majestic” chuckled one, but then grew silent,
Every stroke on stone, every nook, every slab,
Whispered a story that carried across centuries,
And they had grown too deaf to hear.

How timeless it must have seemed,
The king to his beloved, “My dear,
We lived, we loved, we shall lie,
Side by side, in our marble beds,

How timeless it must have seemed;
How cruel! Taken over by louts and lovers
who wont let the royal couple rest in peace.

The ferrets slunk away with a sombre thought,
The King of man remains a man.