Friday, September 4, 2015

Death's Door

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)



As dry brittle bundles of constricted hay
magnified, thus torched beneath
an arsonist's sun,

the macabre game grew.
Her tortured reality...Begun.

Flew--fiery missiles of mischievous glee.

Consumed
by scathing boiling motives? These:

The bored; the wicked;
All who deemed Doomed

One of their own.

Throughout the village
The Plan secretly

yet collectively known

Hatched, then scratched;
Finally ... magnificently honed.

To every evil participant
eagerly shown.

Who would ultimately disgrace,
thus ensure to replace

This Cinderella, Snow White,
or Sleeping Beauty

For which a happy prince,
A dragon daily slayed
as his husbandly duty?

(The compares to Disney
true reality negates

as cancerous cells
her body creates.)

"Is Death immediate, her demise soon?

Then show ... we must know:
How this princess charmed this groom!

Insert eyes as spies above, even below
till uncovered the reason
her soul lights aglow.

Then, slyly leak
to her womanly senses

reason for doubt;
unhinge her defenses

by dripping her
insidious snippets
of her conversations,

Her daily actions
to prove we
undoubtedly know.

Make homelife a horror
to spiderly grow

More parnoid, more frightened.
On her discontentment
and bitterness bestow.

Each descending darkened day
bend her wobbly knees anxiously to pray.

Clothe her in fear
as snakeskin

on her lay.

As we, prospective brides
Gain--increased info for play."

So crazy bats, snarly rats,
alley cats and conniving
spoiled brats

Descended upon this unsuspecting Mrs.
with camouflage venom

under flowery kisses.

(Again their goal?
The role of future mistress

More able than she.)

Sound bites installed
to stress induce the pace

Hang up--the calls
to titillate the race.

"She will question her food
and all that she drinks.

Her demons her spine will curve
as amorous love for her mate sinks.

All her efforts to demonstrate
love and appreciation
for her "hunk" her mate

We'll twist and turn
into causes for hate.

We'll change her precious words
into believable lies

then create opportunities
for his need of an alibi.

She'll doubt her value, her talents,
her worth

As we weave this web
inserting wedges

she'd be unable to unearth.

For who can she
mentally desire to be

Amongst us intellectually
Brilliant
in our conspiracies?

Enter her house throughout the day.
Move things about to force her say:

"Get me free from this treacherous place

filled with snakes
and venomous spiders

All within
My confined space!"

Then her exhausted dependable man
Will emphatically proclaim:

"I'm doing the best I can!"

As his heart darkens
towards this increasingly
needy

Diminishing dame.

Test him beyond strength
with anxiety let him brew

Till dens he embarkens.
Till her love frequent taverns.

Until Her trust she withdrew.

Yes!!!

Nurses...Do pay
to impede any progress

to stay
Alive. Emotionally afloat.

Remove any and all positive delays.

Aggravating lotions apply
to irritate reactions.

Her sanity all will deny.

Her Fears Don't allay.

She's our victim,
our delightful prey.

Prick open her lids

Set her breaking heart
afire.

But before her last breathe
from she expires

Stake her wasted body
to a barren tree

Out back, concealed

Yet, let her still see...

inside her darling home

One of us as chosen
as a better healthier
younger/older

Queen to "He.""

So shrinking and shriveled
She arrives at Death's Door.

Though inside her spirit rises.

Will she obtain a cure
to even the score?