INDEA - POEMS

[∆§Indea§∆]

The Wedding-

Teeth were ground and anger flared, faces deep in frowns.
The wedding first made in love, had caused a murderous town.

On the muddy foothills, feet thudded on the ground.
Two figures low and under stone, fearing to be found.

Hard against the heavy stone, two heads were harshly struck.
Sworn to die together, two corpses in the muck.

Something in the deep was watching, a promise was made.
Two souls find tranquillity, while others twist in shade.

Wrapped in their own anger, cornered by their hate.
People tore themselves to shreds, while laughing at their fate.

[∆§Indea§∆]

(( I was bored and nobody had written about anthropomorphic brussels sprouts yet, I thought I'd start the sprout rolling myself. ))

The Brussell Sprout


My Brussels sprout spoke to me today, at least it seemed to whisper.
'Life winds round like a slow old clock,
but metal is a rotten thing.'
It stared at me without eyes, looking straight through,
parts already in my stomach, are they staring too?

A cruel part of me wanted to finish the dirty deed,
sprinkle it with pepper: send it on it's way.
Another desperate part of me,
needed to hear what else it would say...

For days and days it said nothing,
growing crueler,
little hairs and wrinkles, deepened with decay.
The silence overwhelming, it became my little hell.

Perhaps if I ate it,
I would consume its words as well...

I lit a single candle and prepared my vegetable treat.
Set on fine china, began the funeral feast.
I muttered words of apology to the little wrinkled shell.
Then stuffed it down my throat, and bid it farewell.

A pain deep inside my stomach grew,
I heard a strangled cry.
My lower intestine seemed to twist, I felt I ought to die.
And so revenge slow and sweet,
I lay on the kitchen floor.
The Brussels grew within my corpse,
while I myself, no more.