The Dawn

When night surrenders its cover of darkness
And heavy grey clouds stretch and spread
Leaving thinly veined traces in their stead

...My voice will call you out one last time.

The damp and chilly air will fog before me;

A syllable for each puff like a token of departure-

Natures embodiment of my resignation

Signed by a final goodbye whispered into the glowing horizon.

The Sun will slowly inch up

To greet the dark hues of blue

Setting the sky aflame

And muting the twinkling dots into day.

And just like the night surrendering its final hour,

So too will I set aside my fear and remorse;

Having laid down my weapons, allowing wisdom to take its course.

An Editor's Excuse

Because I knew words in different ways,
Could mold,
Roll and
Fold them between ideas like clay,
He asked for my help in writing down-
Into poignant, poetic, free-verse lines-
The oppressive and suffocating stigma attached
To being a male in a women's studies class.

So I sat in front of my laptop and,
With my fingertips at the ready,
Pushed at the buttons
That formed the lines
That echoed the words
That marched from his mouth.

I listened intently,
Hiding away my mental quill
Hushing the inner editor
And stifling the synonyms parading through my mind.

All the ideas came rushing as I struggled to focus on the right key:
The precise moment to strike space
And keep myself from the instinctive pinky finger reach to
Comma and period.

I lapsed here and there,
Tap-tap-tapping at the arrow that swallowed the wrong letters into emptiness,
Flustered
And making a mental note to keep this line in mind,
To remember the cluster of words that jumped into my thoughts
As my tongue recited the last thing he said
Throwing the short-term memory verse onto the screen.

And as he continued to dictate,
Occasionally stopping and furrowing his brow,
It was obvious that his thoughts passed into memory-
Reaching back into the constricting aura
Of what their constructive criticism would do to him;
Recalling the verbal attacks,
The jargon and feminist political SCUM-inspired mini-manifestos,
Vagina Monologue orations,
Blended and confused tirades preserved and labelled in little Bell Jars
Shooting at him
Though aiming at the Shadow of the Man who hurt them long ago.

To them,
It was bad enough to have a guy in this sort of class
Who obviously knew nothing
About the stifling restrictions
Of being seen as nothing more than
A weaker sex.

...So when he asked me,
At the end of the poem,
To edit and change and re-arrange according to my preferences,
(Though the temptation was there)
I held back.

Because I knew words in different ways,
I knew that if I were to strike away
At countless lines,
Change the word order every now and again,
Replace this with that
Break the sentence off here
Instead of there,
I would be chipping away at
The voice of the man
Who dared to speak his own thoughts and beliefs
Amongst open-minded students
Who saw only through their own eyes
The black and white extremes
Of what it feels like for a girl.

The Tale of The Pied Piper

In the wealthy town of Hamelin,

(In the year 1284)

Came a horrible disaster 

Which had not occurred before.

All those who were once healthy

Were struck with a disease.

A plague that came from big fat rats

With plague infested fleas.

"Help us!" Cried the Baker.

"Help us!" Cried his child.

More townspeople cried desperately

As the Mayor forced a smile.

"Don't worry, my good people," said he,

"Help is on the way!"

In truth, no help was coming.

All he could do was pray.

Then suddenly,

Some days later,

A man came into town

With clothes of yellow and red,

Eyes of gray

And hair of brown.

He stood in the Town Square

And bellowed with all his might:

"I've come to the Town of Hamelin to end thy dreadful plight!

I know that you you've tried hard to rid yourselves of vermin."

"And what be thy name, Sir?"

Asked one plague-ridden German.

"I am the Pied Piper."

...But the people wouldn't believe that this stranger could even help them-

They just wanted him to leave.

"Are you here to help us, or are you a swindler from the city?"

The Piper hated to be doubted,

But summoned up his pity.

"Swindler?

No, not I, 

Just a wandering Good Samaritan."

Then the Mayor pushed through the crowd

And asked the strangers' name again.

"Mr. Piper," the Mayor began after learning the strange man's name,

"What reward wouldst thou have if you make good on thy claim?"

The people gasped in horror.

Surely the Mayor must believe

That his oddly dressed stranger

Had some trick up his sleeve.

"1000 gold coins,

Meing Herr,

Is the only reward I'll take."

"1000 gold coins it is!"

Though the Mayor thought him fake.

The Piper played a melody

From a pipe and gold and jewels.

The rats swarmed out of houses

And the people felt like fools.

"He's charming them away!"

"They follow him to the river!"

Does this mean I'll have to pay?

Thought the Mayor with a quiver.

The Piper was in fact leading the rats into the water.

The rats ran past

And fell right in,

And drowned one after another.

Their squeals for help had faded out.

The people were very pleased.

Rats no longer infested the town

To cause the fatal disease.

"I give you 'til the mid-day morrow to give me my reward.

If coins are not in my hand..."

And the Piper began to warn that whosoever lies

To an honest and good man's face

Will suffer more than plague,

More than death-

More than disgrace.

With that, the Piper left and the Mayor began to worry.

He wanted to keep the golden coins,

But feared the Piper's fury.

"Don't worry," said his wife,

"He'll be happy with what we give.

The townspeople have their health

And the children continue to live."

But as the dawn approached,

The Mayor felt scared and ill.

He buried away those feelings

With greed and strong-will.

At noon,

The Piper arrived

And the two men faced each other.

"I come for my gold coins," said he.

"Oh, what lovely weather!

The day is warm and mild

And the Sun, today, 'tis kind."

"I come for my gold coins!"

"1000 we could not find.

Instead I give you 20

And an honourary day.

There will be feasting, mirth and dancing-

Have some complementary hay!"

The Mayor dumped the straw

And the gold in the Piper's hands.

The Piper did not like this public dismissal of his demands.

"I asked for 1000, dear Mayor.

Don't take me for a fool."

The Mayor scratched his head

And said,

"Perhaps you'd like a mule?"

The Piper stomped his foot

And took out his magic pipe.

"This is something you'l regret for the rest of your miserable life!"

He began to play a tune

Somewhat somber than before.

And the children burst outside shouting,

"Piper, play some more!"

They laughed 

And they giggled

As the Piper walked away.

They danced as they followed,

Not knowing that they would pay.

The adults could not move-

Twas the spell of the song.

And they felt

Withing their hearts

That this was very wrong.

The Piper went to the river

And the children followed after

As sounds of cries and bubbles

Drowned out their lovely laughter.

The Piper and his music disappeared

And the adults ran to the shore...

Only to find their children-

Their babies-

Had drowned and were no more.

THE END.

Roses & Violets

Roses are red,

Violets are blue.

Violets are violet

You colourblind fool.

Haiku Hater

I don't like haikus.

They are overrated and

Plain formulaic.

Advice

Instead of holding on,

Sometimes...

It's best to let go.

The risk isn't always in saying,

"Yes."

...It's daring to say,

"No."

The Tale of Edward M.

There once was a man named Edward M.
Who had a face on the back of his head.
It spoke in silence
And followed with eyes so focused and alert-
Which was a surprise.

Now,
Edward M. was a well brought up lad:
Polite and kind and did nothing bad.
But the face that he had on the back of his head
Was jealous and just wanted Edward M. dead.

And you might be thinking I'm telling a lie,
That Edward M. was never alive.
But yes,
It's true the man did exist
But see,
There's more...there's a bit of a twist.


Though Edward M. was a very smart man,
Some started to think that he had gone mad.
He said at night when no one was near
The face would whisper and always he'd hear,

"I'll cut you
And gut you
And slice up your heart.
I'll break all your bones
Yes, I'll tear you apart.
You cannot escape me 
For I am your twin.
I'm always behind you
And one day I'll win."


No one believed him
It seemed too far-fetched.
Having two faces was enough of a stretch.
The face, after all, had not made a sound.
Or at least it chose not to
When others were around.


Poor Edward M. didn't know what to do,
So he went to a Doctor (well, more than a few).
He wanted the face to be gone for good,
But all of the Doctors didn't know if they could.

It seemed rather tricky since they shared a brain
And many believed he was going insane.
He dreaded the night
And hated his bed.
Each time he'd lay down,
The face smiled and said...


"I'll cut you
And gut you
And slice up your heart
I'll break all your bones,
Yes, I'll tear you apart.
You cannot escape me
For I am your twin.
I'm always behind you
And one day I'll win."


Finally, Edward M. got out of bed
He needed the whispers to come to an end.


"To hell with the Doctors!
I'm finished! I'm through!
To Hell with me...and to Hell with you!"


He marched through the house
In search of the gun
And found it before the rise of the Sun.
He pointed the weapon behind his own head
And the face had to listen
To poor Edward M.

"I'll cut you
And gut you-
That power is mine.
You can't do a thing but whisper all night.
You cannot escape me, my dear Devil-Twin.
The gun's in my hand...
I doubt you will win."


The face did not care.
It laughed and it hissed:
"Between the eyes, Ed, or you're going to miss!
It's not like you'll do it."


But Edward knew better.
He shot and left nothing but a corpse and a letter.


His final request in the letter he wrote
Asked that the face be removed
And I quote:


"It's dreadful whisperings in my grave
Will drive my immortal soul insane.
Remove him at once
This Devil, this twin."


The face was removed
...but never it's grin.


In fact, some nights close to Edward's grave
Some people swear they can hear a voice say,


"I'll cut you
And gut you
And slice up your heart.
I'll break all your bones,
Yes, I'll tear you apart.
You cannot escape me
For I am your twin.
You may have shot,
But in the end
I DID win."


THE END.