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Words choked the life
from him.
A chicken crossed the
road to save him.
His hands balmy, his
tongue soured like lemons, gasps barely escaping his throat
Watching him slump to
the ground and the smell of a lifetime of rigor mortis arise.
The light beam of
words pierced him first when he crowned from his mother
And stunned his body
through to his soles, inked onto a contract illegible to him.
A mister Malcolm mistaken
for nobility of northern Scotland.
Yet my brother, King of
Uptown, creating life with his words.
Long live the King!
Finances of finessed
wages, meager, waging war
A raging war sprouting
lilies in the valley.
Cloth talk and words
upon words.
The vibrant flowers of
bravery.
Blossoms scarcely
showing across the land
With concealed hues
unrecognizable to the amateur eye.
Words, incantations,
evocations;
Arise, long live the
King!
He is ascended from
his sleep, alive and well.
Charlie is here to greet you, to bring
you word.
Do take care to those words that loom
the wire.
What you hear is true.
The suspicions, fears and insecurities
of mortals wrapped in fabrications.
These conversations will attack, they
mastermind your demise.
Backroom chats with mind boggling, gut
wrenching, unfathomable words.
Words that haunt, that kill, that lurks
for you.
Behold the black lilies of the valley,
Tarnished by the drought of the seasons
and winter refreshing.
“Guantanamera!”
Words, incantations,
evocations;
Arise, oh lily.
Take up your roots;
Pack your fears and
heartbreak in your knapsack
And leave this place.
Letters, uttered, body
ravaged, air seized, subdued
Lies, characters,
murmured, faulty inscriptions, choking.
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