The Stone Bridge

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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

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INTERNAL EXECUTION IN THIRDS

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

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…

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

Brutal

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

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.

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien