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The Wicca Man May 2013
You've hurt me beyond belief
and it is beyond all comprehension
why you have done this.
What perverse pleasure do you get
from making me feel this way?
I want to exact my revenge on you
tenfold ...

Simplify

You've hurt me so badly
and I don't understand why.
Do you enjoy making me feel like this?
I want to take my revenge
tenfold ...

Simplify

You've hurt me a lot
but why?
Do you enjoy it?
I want to get back at you
tenfold ...

Simplify

You hurt me.
Why?
Enjoy it?
I will get back at you
tenfold ...

Simplify

I'm hurt.
You did it.
Liked it?
My turn
tenfold ...

Simplify

I hurt.
Now you
tenfold ...

Simplify ...
The Wicca Man May 2013
(1)

In a moment
the adrenalin rush
courses through my veins;
a torrent of frustration.

Rational expression gives way to loss of all reason
as vitriol spurts forth from my lips;
a stream of abuse:

I want to goad you
I want to hurt you
I want to abuse you

The foul profanities are carefully aimed
sent hurtling from my mouth
in a barrage of spittle, all semblance of sanity gone,
and the air reeks with rankness from my verbal barrage.

A vein pulses at my temple
and the crescendo of my heartbeat
is a rhythmic chant that drives me on
to ever greater extremes.

And as this onslaught congeals and festers in an instant
inside my head, it forms into a clenched fist
that assumes control of its own existence
to strike out and feel the satisfaction as it makes contact
with your soft flesh and delicate bone.

My froth and spittle is flecked with your blood
but I am removed from the person flailing you,
punishing you,
and I have no control over him.

My eyes, if I could see them reflected in your fearful eyes,
are wide and wild,
my lips are curled back over my teeth,
my mouth opens widely as my screams of rage
are vomited at you,
my gasping breath rasps between rants,
my chest pistoning,
as you lie at my feet bloodied and subdued.

Now as I stand over you panting: an animal subjugating my ****,
your eyes look furtively and fearfully into mine,
wide and frightened.

(2)

In a moment my wild triumph flees and such regret washes over me as I kneel, cradling your head in my hands, brushing away the sweat-bonded strands from your face.

I plant a soft kiss on your lips and our tears mingle saltily:

I lick my lips and taste that salt
But it only serves to heighten my guilt.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, and pull you close, letting your tremulous heartbeat calm me.
The Wicca Man May 2013
I stare mesmerized at the dancing flames
cavorting like cheap ******
now red, now blue,
twisting and turning lasciviously,
each striving for my attention.

Occasional sparks flash and fizz
as each flame tries to o'er leap the next
until, exhausted, they are ****** back
into the charcoal darkness,
turning deep crimson,
hissing and spitting
like a cornered cat and
sinking still further into the blackened remains

Until all that is left
are the dying embers.
The Wicca Man May 2013
Sometimes it happens that
a war breaks out:
the atrocities know no bounds
and we in the ‘civilised’ world
question who? how? and why?

Sometimes it happens that
a child dies:
no-one knows the real cause
but there are people on hand
to counsel and console.

Sometimes it happens that
an epidemic takes hold
and the toll mounts with
the innocent and old
the most news-worthy victims.

Sometimes it happens that
faces of famine haunt the TV screen
and we wring our hands in disbelief
waiting for those with a conscience
to cajole us into action.

Sometimes it happens that
we question our faith,
our belief in who or what
controls our fortune and fate.

There is no answer:
Sometimes it happens.
The Wicca Man May 2013
mini

[=small car]

mal

[=preface
as in 'malformed']

minim

[=musical note]

al

[=aluminium]

minimalism

is

art
in
its
simplest
form­
its
fundamental
features

in
words

[start again from the top]
[read beckett]

in
art

[look at stella]
[look at judd]


in
music

[listen]
[hear]
[each]
[note]
Ok, this was an experiment in 'minimalistic' writing. I think it works quite well but I'd like to know what readers think. And a trip to Wikipedia may be needed, or not!
The Wicca Man May 2013
iteration

breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

sleep
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

sleep
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

sleep
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

wake
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

wash
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

coffee
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

cigarette
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

dress
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

work
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

work
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

relax
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

eat
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

relax
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

sleep
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

sleep
breathe in
breathe out
beat
beat beat

Continue iterations until cycle complete .....

sleep
sleep
sleep ...
Iteration: the act of repeating a process with the aim of approaching a desired goal, target or result. Each repetition of the process is also called an "iteration," and the results of one iteration are used as the starting point for the next iteration.
The Wicca Man May 2013
Oleander fair;
your head resting on a verdant bank
with starkest lilies for your pillow
reflecting the harsh sunlight to light your grey eyes.

Oleander fair;
your lips painted with the bluest flush
parted in innocence
and perfect teeth lily-white.

Oleander fair;
your skin a porcelain etched with fine lines of ruby blue
so faint no more than wisps
painted by an artist's touch.

Oleander fair;
soft ******* so still
no rise or fall
to disturb the tranquil air and calm.

Oleander fair;
face framed by the darkest of red
that flows in rivulets around the veil of hair
matted with such scarlet streaks now frozen in time.

Oleander fair;
cruelty that belies
such beauty
it cannot remain free.
Oleander fair;
at my behest was it done
my hands so stained
with the mark of your demise.

Oleander fair;
the starkest lilies
reflecting the harsh sunlight
to dance upon my silver blade.
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