Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bullying, death, neighbourhood, poem, Poetry, poets, Uncategorized, underground, words

Serial Killer

In the shadows of the night, hidden from the moon light by the dark, stands a man cloaked in black. His blade sends a glint of light as the beams from the moon bounce back. This man of darkness is not here to fight.

Dark destroyer, killer in the street, not the kind of guy you want to meet. Yet dark is the alley where he strikes the blow and crimson life does flow. This man you never know. Never seeing his eyes, he attacks from behind. Leaving you oozing in blood and mud and street crud. Life ebbing out of your body and clouding your mind.

Into the night the stranger goes, where he is, no one knows, he could be your friend or just your foe. laying there dying in the street, a passer-by crying at your feet. Wondering how many other victims he will cheat and carve them up like pieces of meat.

Months pass and there are no leads to the man who makes innocents bleed, then, from the shadows he strikes again another victim savagely slain, blood spreading across the ground washed to the drain with the rain, soaking the ground.

Serial killer again and again no motive nothing to gain. He kills again and again, communities terrified they will end up the same. Streets deserted no children playing games. He lurks in alleys out of sight waiting and watching people pass in the night stalking his next victim then fading into the night.

© All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2018

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, lost, Mental Health, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Your Choice

All alone, nowhere to call home, sofa surfing, nomadic loafer. Anger rises no surprises, hounded by your past, how long will it last? Used by all, scarred as you fall, free for all society maul. Making bad calls.

History shaped you; pounded you and raped you, brought you to your knees, just wanted to please, now life of sleaze that disagrees. Once again on your knees, not praying to a god. but, struggling so on you plod. No job, not the type to rob. Life taken and shaken, future forsaken. Life of drugs replaces the hugs. Anger smashes love crushing olive branches from a dove.

Advice not taken, path mistaken, lonely walk to who knows where, flitting from place to place as people care until you scare, then you are not welcome there. No money to hold your flat, selling this and that, surviving the only way, you know how, living in the here and now, no routes just any old how.

Take your chances on the streets, soon if not now. You can beat this turn it around pick your life up off the ground. Only you can live this life and only you can change your mind. Recognise when people are being kind and don’t upset with your constant whine. It’s up to you to put that life behind.

 ©All Rights Reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, underground

Entry to your Heart

Where is the entrance to your heart one way in one way out and I don’t know where to start, let alone till death us do part? Chat to you, walk in the park, wine and dine you, the dating lark, but deep within you hold it all in, tucked away in its warm safe cabin. Not daring to venture out, it can’t take another clout. Any explorer you ignore keeping secrets and strangers apart.

Tired of questions of robbers of heart, borrow your feelings and depart leaving them scattered all over your heart. Silence is your wall you build high so it won’t fall, crashing down like tears of a clown vulnerable and broken, used, yet another token.

Smash and grab, or knock on the entrance for ever and a day, thick barricade keeps me at bay, nothing to say, it’s safer that way; leaving the hurt locked away, hoping someday it may decay taking the anger and dismay. The exit is open for explorers to run away, exit from your heart before we even start. Tell me darling what is the key to unlock the door for you and me, so your true colours in a rain bow we see, sharing the pot of gold just between you and me.

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

Revenge

Revenge is sweet and means you are not beat, turning up the heat your aggressor to meet. Yet is your enemy really there, are you really aware? Do you know who the aggressor is or are you just acting while in a tiz.

Forgiving them is the hardest thing, blaming is an easier game. Lashing out at any one who is about because your angry and can’t shout, is not the way to go about. Your fear is misplaced you act like your aggressor, lashing out at anyone who gets in your way, come what may.

When you sit in your cell locked away, this is the small price you must pay, think of the victims who live with this every single day. When humanity is stretched at the edge and it begins to fray, just walk away and come back another day.

 

©All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bullying, Mental Health, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Anger Cage

Soft and gentle as a lamb kind to women and any man, do no harm conscience alarm. I won’t do you any harm, I will lead you with grace and charm. I will do good and help you be understood, help kids grow up into adult hood.

But burning inside of me, just waiting to be unlocked like a spring, is an anger that I can no longer anchor. An anger buried deep within it won’t let anyone in, but it’s bubbling and wants to burst out of the tin it’s safely in. Defensive tactics to bodyguard this feeling, let no body open the tin.

Pent up Inside, wanting to go and hide, I want to release this anger into a whirlwind. Let it out of its cage feel the full rage, hurt and destroy not with my emotions toy, I want to treat them like they treat me I want to set my anger free.

Eating a hole inside of me struggling to be and wanting to get free, I hold it down like some sort of crown yet the result is always the same, it’s the way I play the game. Yet if i set my anger free and brought those haters to their knees what shame and blame would be brought on me, if only they could see.

My wild side I continue to hide and carry on swimming against the tide, made to feel my anger should hide and take everything in my stride. So, if you one day find an empty cage that’s battered and broken and frayed, look for my anger as it will have escaped. Look over your shoulder and inside your soul, cos my anger, through you, might be taking a stroll. And if you find it roaming around, replace it in the cage without a sound or my anger will be back around.