Wednesday, October 5, 2011


Pain comes in various forms. It can be crushing, like being scraped across the solid earth by a two hundred foot Tsumani. It can be searing, such as the ten thousand red-hot teeth of a blast furnace. At times it can be subtle, a slowly buildinng pressure brought on by too much salt, or a tube shoved down the throat. That was a favorite during the Inquisition. Strip the martyr bare. Chain him to a platform. Feed him 'the snake.' Make him swallow. One more time...One more time... Get the tube down in his gut. Roll over the cask. Hook them up. Release the flow. Swallow...Swallow...Drink it down...Cool water, that's all. And refreshing after three days spent in dark, cold,  crawling filth. Ah, watch the belly rise. Pat the little drum. See the eyes grow wide. Had enough?...Had enough?....No, no. We go not by what you say, for there's so much  yet  to come. See? The cask holds plenty.....And it's all yours........The victim tries to scream. He strains against the chains. Blood flows from his wrists, from his legs. The metal cuts deep. And his wild eyes stare from this world to the next, as the delicate membranes of his stomach begin to tear. Water pours from his urethra. Bile gushes from his mouth, blood stained mucus from his nose. And the absolved of evil demons dance and giggle as they hear it...Shhh...Listen...Quiet.....Listen.....Here it comes! Here it comes! .....Get your head from off his belly!! Do you want to lose an ear!? .....Jump back! Jump back! No, don't turn away! You'll miss it! ...Look at him shake! Look at him quake! Look at him vibrate,like brandy soaked cake!.... Ah, I love my job.....Though you know with me it's not a job.....With me it is a calling. ........ And then we hear the rumble, like an earthquake deep at sea, as the 'party favor' shatters and the blast hits you and me...... Shards of man-meat gild the lanterns. Don't they throw an eerie light? Look how pink his flesh is. Just like piggy. It's that white. Awwwww, to bad the party's over. Did he have to die so soon? Climb back down into the dungeons. And hoist up another goon! .......And so it went......I was there.....A pinada for the 'children,' A play thing for the 'pure.' Just Heretic Number Seven, there to get the 'water cure.'

So I make a song of it. So what? You should hear the arias the burnt ones sing. And the evil jinns in the villa had their own dear brand of pain, more a quiet, endless sojourn meant to render one insane. They could do this with their powers. They could whisper in his ear, till the young man from the New World was immersed in endless fear.

Now other realms are out there, some quite nice and some quite not. And the one in which they sealed him was the meanest of the lot. The ground went on forever, just a smooth, gun-metal plain, with a pearl gray sky above it quite incapable of rain.  His footspets tread on iron, not too hot, but just enough. And the air that filled the ether never moved . There was no sound, save his moist and wheezing breathing , as he laid his body down on a hard  as Hades matress for a night that never came. While his twirling, merry captors were quite grateful for the game.

You see, the spirit and the body move in very different worlds. His soul screamed, deep in torment, while his flesh lay on a cot, bricked in deep behind the coal bin in this little nook they got. Would it die? Well, yes, I think so. For the oxygen grows thin, in the black as doom stone hidey-hole they put this 'boychick' in. But the soul goes on forever in a world that never dies. As the young man from the New World wanders neath unchanging skies.

But then she found it. Her feet just lead her to the spot. She could smell the hopeless hiker. She could feel the endless rot. Sarah recognised the cage. She too was once so tortured, during Papa's wild rage.

She meant to sublimate inside the place to aid the poor sweet soul. but the evil jinns both felt her and they rushed to thwart her goal.

Do you know what happens to vampires unable to sublimate through solid matter quickly enough? What must it be like to solidify in stone? Ask the vampires of Tibet sealed within the Earth's own bone. For the mountains there hold plenty, buried downwards from the moon. Would our own dear, Lady Sarah share that same fate all too soon?...........

My name? That's not important. But my poetry hides pain. Just come back when next the stars shine and I'll spin the tale again...... Clap, clap, clap...Step, step, I love to dance.....


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