dictation

Kneel, wretches!

Do you have the audacity to speak?

There! — and don’t forget that pain

on your face,

disgraced ones.

Do you know what this is?

It is a scepter.

Do you know what it is for?

Did you speak again?

Ah! — won’t you ever learn?

Will your cheeks be roses forever?

Where was I?

Oh, yes. ย It is for this only:

to tell us who is our leader.

I

hold it now.

What does that mean to you?

Fuck! — did you see what you just made me do?

Apologize for those bloody teeth

which have stained my carpets.

Ungrateful lions.

What it means,

sirs,

is that I win,

and that you lose, and let me tell you

what that looks like.

Your heads will be cut off;

even a tattoo of your face,

if I ever see it,

will be mine,

a trophy,

skinned and plastered to my car

as I drive the streets of a new country,

laughing endlessly at your defeat.

And the people?

They will be laughing, too.

Do you know why they laugh?

Because your fluttering genitalia

decorate their towers,

and they got to watch,

on screens,

and with full mouths.

Because your fingers lining our

battalions are the last

fucking

thing

that is left of you.

Because they dance,

you ingrates!

Because they live and you

DIE!

Was that a whimper?

Did I just hear a wolf sigh?

Oh, I want to hear it again,

such music would delight any

goddess.

Sing your fear to me again,

sweet Incubuses.

Finally.

I grip this scepter only to

break it on your backs

and set your captives

free.

64 Comments

  1. you are a brilliant writer with a beautiful sense of the art, I mean the literate as well the aesthetic sense.

    you are so talented, you play the piano make your own compositions
    you are amazing to me I simply adore and envy you my beautiful friend

    and also you are very beautiful,

    In your poetry, I find always there is melancholy, and something pertaining to a broken heart, I wish I knew something more about you

    my blessings with you always

      1. Ma’dam, my life is a liberal use of the F-word (*fuck*). I believe that in using it in my comment, which I believe shows admiration, respect, and now, mild fear, is a very appropriate place to go ahead and let the ‘fucks’ fly. ๐Ÿ™‚

        And I’m glad you loved the comment because I loved the poem.

      1. even with permission. the purple one KNOWS better than to speak … but scratches out a note anyway and says this is an awesome dramatization and he is glad the Goddess shared it with us. ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. Dictation’s a genderless King or Queen – as such Dan Simmon’s was pretty damn close in his allegory in the Priest’s Tale; or as I blithely joked to a friend in Shakespearean fashion about the difference between right and justice: Fie fie! alack, yet await what – hi thee! You, peasant, do you wish this crown? Nay? Nor should I, ’twas madness that made this mad – and yet reason too, though unreasonable. He called it justice and they called her a tyrant!

    Still, just holy crap. Maybe there’s a reason I scurry over to your blog only infrequently. The mirror is a difficult thing to look into, especially when one also writes. More frequently we see reflections of ourselves in others work than we are want to!

    “Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
    Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
    And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.”

    I recall myself from feeding off your piece, thanks for the the vitality, if troubling. Keep writing!

  3. Holy shit! Let me know when the coast is clear will ya, so I can let all the pissant little chicken-hearts out of their hidey hole. I can’t stand here protecting them all night. I may be invincible, but I’m old and I get tired.

  4. This is a blood-spangled nuclear holocaust of vituperation…it’s not even a poem, it’s a brilliantly venomous Casus Belli. I hope you have a hefty arsenal.

  5. This must have been a bad assed guy, situation and painful revenge. The plural makes it sound like a slaughtered chess game after the game changer has been established. With the endgame in sight. Beautiful.
    Btw thanks for liking my poem Innocent Boy at BoySlut. I am honored,
    Best, TH

      1. I was reading through some of your older poems. I really loved war but I couldn’t find the comments on that so I’m telling you here.

        You should really hear this song, I was really reminded of it through your poem. War-by The Cardigans

  6. Truth is I wish I had the balls to be this mean but I’m usually the guy with heel prints in his back. Call me a pussy if you want but that’s the truth.

Love you, too

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