HARSH RHYTHMS

The sunset reflects the day
Casting blood in the west :


They walk in file, load on padded crowns
Eyeing the feet ahead, worlds their pace drown
Steps stepping on steps, stop in silence
Heads tilt, a jerk practiced unburdens


But the loud thud is without relief
On their return vicious for more of it


For, forest people these are free at heart still.


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A kid asleep is pulled up sudden
By the hair, jolted, smacked hard then ...


Horror of horrors, the eight corners fill
With lad's terror, his howling screams
As if he'd woke up without his limbs
Or before a face ghastly, its slow twist


Trembling, traumatised by a dracula king.


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Nothing soothes ...


Questions terminate on own failings
The spirit volutes on harsh rhythms
Strummed by men addicted to sodomy
And curious, gullible or bored victims


Id prostrate before the ego lording
Women saddled to fires unquenching
Curled in defeat and impressions bloody
Too weak to strike out but anger surging


With unsought beauty, joy disused
And potential latent, sleeping muse ...




The options clear in this soft breeze
In shimmer rustling off sesame leaves.