Wicked Rhyme
Stories & Rhyme to Rebuke or Dissect
11.01am
Two little old ladies suitably situated within the electricity control cabin on the first floor, continually flicked the on/off switch repetitively as they physically contracted. Bent double, they giggled so hard their abdomens convulsed, their legs automatically buckled and tears streamed down their runny snouts. That unholy apartment above eventually emptied as the duped and gullible vacated in the periodic darkness, down the murky internal stairs, with no more than torch light to aid their evacuation. Some lingered awhile scratching their heads in bemusement, some sobbed privately, some attempted to concealed their appearance from an assembly of waiting papparazi and hysterically creased up christians. Some loitered awhile in the stairwell to reflect their credulousness. Some remained awhile to drop some licks on that cruel jester from every conceivable angle with use of his own whip and the back of their hands. A taste of his own medicine well deserved and not before time as he begged for mercy. Then all collectively heading for their local pub 'The Old Crown', to fill their parched bellies with cigarettes and alcohol, reminisce and watch some old stripper strut her stuff for a pittance and a pint, just to entertain the sad and the sordid.
The Jacket Fits
The time's right....the town's right....the crime's right
The jacket fits
behind the old steel factory
within the bleak stark cemetary
beside the grave named legendary
The chest pains.....the blood stains.....such deep veins
the jacket fits
within the grim raw memory
beneath the moons trite entity
erratic in harsh melody
With design......with incline......in decline
the jacket fits
bereft a worthwhile alibi
such allegations deputize
a happy home now jeopardized
Upon wave....beyond graze.....beneath shade
the jacket fits
A base metallic brawl
cement your curtain call
encased behind stone wall
you fled the scene at haste
a farmer saw your face
lieutenant's horde gave chase
pursued across marshland
delayed within quicksand
with metal in your hand
a motive.....a victim........a witness
The jacket fits
The inquest......the offence.....the defence
the jacket fits
compliance..........persistance......resistance
The jacket fits
The flashlight.....the footprints.....the lipstick
the jacket fits
the outhouse....the barnyard......the cowshed
the jacket fits
In hindsight....it's midnight......you're uptight
the jacket fits
the crying.....the hissing.....the booing
the jacket fits
the childs cry.....the cat calls.......the dogs bark
the jacket fits
Without arms.....without legs.....without head
the jacket fits
A left punch.....a right punch....you're punch drunk
the jacket fits
the jacket fits
the jacket fits
the jacket fits
10.09pm
The good Lord beckoned me for minor consultation and major reconstruction via a flash subliminal message on my mobile to his underground chamber, set deep in the mountains side. His route was complex to say the least 'just stride diligently into the wind's authority' I perused. Many vivacious visions and corruptions flawed my passage, coupled with bad advice from parental pedestrians hitching my vacated position, straight into the hands of depravation, degeneration and complacency. My thoughts wandered, my eyes faultered, but my instincts stimulated as I suddenly realised the presence of the Sisters of Mercy leading me to a bunker door. They then simply evaporated as I waltzed into the lugubrious, dimly lit cavern with no more than a animated light bulb and a dusty mirror that cast no reflection to welcome me. I also shed no shadow, but I sensed a presence immediately.........
Reprimand
I'm in charge here
I am your chieftain.....your Lord and Master
I am the managing director for Gods sake
the head of proceedings...the king of the castle...the cat with the cream
I'm in pole position to agitate any situation indefinitely
I....the orchestrator, the pivotal point, the emphasis, the edict, the axis, the access, the exit,
the designer, the generator, the detonator, the grand wizard, the power and the glory, le chef du paquet
I....the ventriliquist....you the dummy
my hand your body....my thoughts your actions....my voice your labour
I manifest all decisions and my decision is conclusive unless I decide otherwise
Your boardroom participation would be pungent, insipid and inadequate
no worthwhile contribution from the likes of you could benefit any debate minuted
This is my domain, my shrine, my kingdom, my vision, my creation, my baby
reared solely by me....me...me....I.......me
excavated from the very depths of obscurity.
This empire is the result of my structured efforts.....not yours
my potent planning, my vigorous devotion, innovation, dedication, generation, agitation,
your input and opinions are moribund......and that's for damn sure
you're easily replaced my love
they queue a mile long awaiting your ragged eviction
To rule is my birthright....to serve is yours
my word is law within these walls, between the designated hours
stipulated in your contract
Bestow me the respect befitting one so frugal
grant me the bump and grind
pass me that harness
pass me that shackle
pass me my spanner
Pass me my pointed stick little m'aaaan
if I say jump.....you say how high
you'll speak when you're spoken to and
not before
your health and prosperity mean nothing to me
money is my only incentive
born of the noble blood if you like
you owe me big time, my friend
Scrutinize your daily contribution before considering financial furtherance
delegation issues are my division
without my fruition, your pulpit would wince then deteriorate chaotically
and your sanity would evaporate like a wet fart on some
desolate mountain ridge
your debts would employ you and infest your frail stability
and for this I demand nothing more than your obedience, stagnation and repetition.
Lay down your tenuous weapons of confrontation
for resistance is futile m'aaaan
Cower...like a bullied infant when in my presence
if not me, then another would devour then empower you
better the devil you know to oppress and stifle your elaboration
get down on your bended knees and acclaim my perception
for I am the chosen one as far as you're concerned
I could have you bombastically purged from my premises
harried into the streets with my hounds snapping at your brittle ankles
watch my honey's caullously terrorise your vicinity with impish exuberance
Laugh?......I'd surely die
creased up double as you ultimately capitulate exhausted in a heady stupor in the gutter
diluted to that rag doll status you've become accustomed to
saturated with reluctant tears upon that childlike, crumpled little face of yours
a fine example to all and sundry of my hostile leadership.
Simmer for me....me...me....I.......me, beneath that cocky exterior you display socially
though friends nor family host no freight in this haven
I could have you certified my love
as you twitch and shiver in frustration at my complacent feet
you're nothing but a faeces.....a parasite......an odour
I literally own you, pal...... say it ain't so.
An exquisite education could have aided your wretched evident predicament
not for being inadvertantly plagued with ignorance in abundance
oh those school days wasted playing truant and cackling as teacher narrates
classroom pranks won't raise your profile here my love
leave your obstreperous manner at your temperate residence with your dignity adjacent.
So with what did you wish to convey a plausible challenge to my authority?
a rusty nail and a hammer are no match for a pistol and a good lawyer
stand down and step back from my altar immediately
this Luger's fully loaded I think you'll find
and I've got an itchy finger and poor eyesight
So do you feel lucky punk?
do yourself a favour my love
Accept your dire situation grudgingly and return to your station
your workhouse associates await your disconcerted return to duty.
The Gods may presently commission my comeuppance as I dictate
pigs may fly and cats may direct busy traffic congestion in Time Square
Ahora si usted me excusa...... yo están ocupado.