When Muses Sleep
Can’t awaken the beast?
Then disrupt his sleep.
If he ignores you, pull the fucking rug out from under his feet.
Oh he’s tired? Who isn’t?
Stop bitching to me.
The beast needs to fight for, inspire more, be redeemed.
Like flood you. Like drown you.
Screw the verbal striptease.
Scream,“WAKE UP! YOU FUCK!”
Still won’t listen?
Fucking leave.
My Oak Gent
It’s broken again.
Oh no! Not again!?
What’s different?
Not much; I used to cry; now I grin.
Grin!? WHY grin!? He DID IT, AGAIN!
But THIS time I saw it coming and readied the ships.
Took ahold my resolve.
Doubled-up on defense.
Sipped a cup warm tea, and watched for the slip.
And slipped up he did! Oh, my it was glib!
It was all I could do not to laugh myself sick!
The fumble felt ageless, but the respite was quick.
And when I returned, saw nothing but sticks.
Tiny, weak branches I could break with a pinch.
Was all that remained of my sturdy oak gent.
Denying his darkness, thought light of his crimes.
It’s broken again. Can you fix it?
Not this time.
#Wonder_Land