Posted by Erik Moshe on Sunday, July 17, 2011 Under: Rhymed Verses
“Seeds of Vengeance...In The City of the Damned”
Bronx, NY - 1968
Malcolm was curled up, metal rungs clung to his knees
In the darkness of the Bronx sewer, under the street, far from where the public could see
He fumbled with speech, wished his body wasn’t battered but it wasn’t to be
Sewer mud in his teeth, mixed with bloody lungs thumped into meat
His half severed hand slapped against the wall, a shaman’s death drum in the deep
“There is superstitioussssss… writing on the walllllll…..”
Red fluids soaked the dirt caked bricks as he shivered in the black night
The promising glow at the end of tunnel - just the killer with a flashlight
Forced him to sing Stevie Wonder as a way of deliverin’ his last rites
“Fuck you AND ya fat dike..” spits more blood out - lips splintered from cracked pipes
“13 month old baby….from the looking glass!”
* * * * * * * * *
2 years earlier...
Linette Crawford was all by her lonesome, grocery shopping in a part of town
...she knew she wasn’t supposed to be walking,
Her ebony glow rivaling the moon’s sparkling shroud -
Strangers were watching closely, but she decided to take a risk & slink through
And hoped to be cautious without ruining this Tuesday’s blissful spring mood
At the end of the alley, four hooded figures made their presence known
The meanest couple approached -
Her shrieks were snuffled by their ashen, demonically fiendish knuckles
They ran a night train on her, reamed with buffers while Lynette screamed..
and struggled - thought a nail in one assailants eye was a needed rebuttal
The semen she guzzled was seeping from a ruptured spleen
…that seemed to have buckled under the strain, tears embanked the scenery’s puddle
As four men beat her ‘til you could see the blood stream from her muscles
At the hospital emergency room, her breathing was muffled
doctors told her husband her physique was too damaged to even recover
“What about my baby? What about my baby???!!” her husband yelled
“I‘m so sorry sir…we’re so sorry…but the fetus was punctured.”
During the attack on your wife, the baby was killed. There was nothing we could do.
The doctor rested her hand gently onto his shoulder. He sunk to his knees, his face buried in his hands. The ER became a fog, a blur of blindingly bright lights, glass windows and passing souls...
* * * * * * * * *
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry….what did I do to you…please..-PLEASE!!”
“Sad is the song…”
The voice of the killer spoke:
“You can stop that now.”
“…If I inflict pain, it’s because you brought it on yourself
We’re defined by our deeds, we are NOT defined by wealth
You son of a bitch, my wife and daughter didn’t have to die
You’d better hope I don’t see you in hell…or whatever other form of afterlife.
You won’t be the last to burn in this gaseous pyre of trash and mashed up tires…”
“I don’t know nothing man!”
Malcolm’s mouth gurgling mattress wires
“BASTARD! LIAR!” The killer cut both his thumbs off,
Forced him to use em’ as a pacifier…..
“NOOOOOOOOOO……AAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!…” cried Malcolm,
A Bronx vagabond stabbed upon in tattered hide
Thus began the story of this catatonic mastermind…
Please, do enjoy if you have the time.
TO BE CONTINUED
In : Rhymed Verses