Tuesday, 7 April 2015

Sentenced to Life


Most if not all of us tell lies times sometimes; big ones, little ones, white ones, scary ones. More often than not we can justify them to ourselves if not to anyone else.

Ah, but can we?

How many of us can say, hand on heart, that we are not haunted by even just one lie that resulted in consequences we neither intended nor ever imagined?

Whether or not we can justify our actions to mind and spirit, I suspect it is always conscience that will have the last word....whatever our response.

This poem is a kenning.


I crush giants for my pleasure,
oh, but slowly, relish the torment
of closet regret, trap of his
or her making, deserving better
(perhaps) than to find me here,
hell bent on seeing any late bid
for freedom at best ill-judged
or (worse) a botched job ending
in floods of tears

If I show mercy sometimes,
it is but part of a darker strategy
intended only to deceive,
paint a prettier picture, convey
a false sense of security,
draw them in who think to know
the inner self better than I,
preferring to gloss over any truths
that fail to flatter

I love to feed on your pain,
remind you time and time again
of what it is you have done,
live sacrifice to Gods of Desire
that (once all pleasure taken)
will toss your remains where I wait
to chew on flesh and bones
till another giant ego touches base
with its nemesis

I, Conscience, am judge and jury
over all-comers

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2015

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