The wooded glade
holds a secret
buried under
the old stone bridge
Evil deeds
and murdered bones,
deep beneath
the old stone bridge
Names whisper
in the darkness
from underneath
the old stone bridge
© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart
Overcome:
In my body, dark insects cling.
My soul grows weary of their sting.
They run my body, while I cry.
Today, the other two will die.
Paranoid:
They’re out to get me, this I know.
They’ll wring my neck and kill me slow.
But in the grave, I’ll never lie.
Today, the other two will die.
Psychotic:
They’ll never see this sharpened knife,
Until it’s sliced away their life.
I’ll hook their skin and beat it dry.
Today, the other two will die.
© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien
POISON
Her body writhed and then it froze
The mug lie broken near her hand
He placed on her a single rose
He brushed away a curly strand
Her eye stared blankly up at him
The mug lie broken near her hand
He hummed his favorite Christian hymn
With garden shears, took back her ring
Her eye stared blankly up at him
Remembering romantic spring
Before the neighbor stole her heart
With garden shears, took back her ring
They’d ridden in a horse-drawn cart
She’d ride on rippling shores no more
Because the neighbor stole her heart
A darkness crept along the floor
Her body writhed and then it froze
She’d ride on rippling shores no more
He placed on her a single rose
© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien
HATE IS NOT AN EMOTION…
Learned at an early age no one knew his power, he was a wolf turned loose on unsuspecting prey
She and her uncle had a on-going play date, unfortunately abusing his family’s trust wasn’t his greatest sin
While the parents were away, the dear uncle would terrorize the young girl in the worst way
Innocence stolen and childhood lost, lessons learned never to be undone
Hate is not an emotion, it is a mate
Off to college, time for exploration, growth and fun
Learning, adventure, friends, athletics, laughter, all undone by the daggers of life
Tragic death of mom and dad, the dear uncle blocked all attempts to protect her little sister
In the eyes of the court, the dear uncle was the perfect caregiver
Hate is not an emotion, it is a lifestyle
College complete, career decisions to be made
Offered to coach volleyball, a different path existed
Law school was the choice, before a life in the Secret Service
If she couldn’t protect the one she loved most, she would protect the one who was the most powerful
Hate is not an emotion, it is a powers source
Three Presidents all knew her name, her reputation grew but not faster than her fame
Dedicated, Honest, Vigilant, Powerful, Demanding, Prevailing were the games of her name
On 9-11 her will conquered incompetence, the President shuttled into town on the most secret of ways
The world thinks they know the truth it was all a ruse, but that is a story for another time
Hate is not an emotion, it is a way to serve
Loss called at two am, her sister perished after a drug fueled night
A visit with her dear uncle, following the saddest of wakes
Appearing at the door his time was nigh, he was no longer alone as death was his visitor
Knowledge in the way of law maliciously planned, the perfect murder was ruthlessly executed
Hate is not an emotion, it keeps me warm at night
Years later a new day was offered, the call came from three men she thought she knew
A way to serve free from distraction, it was okay to leave the pedophiles in traction
No killing was the only rule, she found Heaven on Earth with violence as her calling card
Protecting those who could not protect themselves became her new mission
Hate is not an emotion, it is who I am
Seasons change, mountains turn to sand,
Rivers run dry, sea withers to land,
But my brutality shall last forever,
Never shall I loosen this hand,
Ever will it bear the brand…
First to shed blood,
To cry remorseful tears,
Left my brother in the mud,
Forgot his name after many years.
All for a sacrifice born of vanity,
Rejection drove me to insanity,
My only recourse was to sever,
Turned sacred ritual into profanity,
Sold for a song my humanity…
Tears become a flood,
As conscience sears,
At that sickening thud,
Confirming darkest fears.
THE HUNTER
Shadowed night, where willows tower,
A stranger baring blunt knife kneels.
Carnivorous, hooded eyes scour.
He listens to my clicking heels.
Moon-beams cast through branches quiver.
My trembling heart and blood congeals.
Echoes through the canyon shiver.
He listens to my clicking heels.
The stranger crawls beneath the sage.
There’s no-one ‘round to hear the squeals.
He aims his knife at my rib-cage.
He listens to my clicking heels.