Archive for October, 2013


El Malvado Muñecas


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El Malvaldo Muñecas
Gently, the wind caresses
They swing
Synthetic hair fluttering
Catching the rays of sunlight.
Eyes stitched shut.
Lips stitched to a slashed smile
Across kntted faces
The locals cross the road
Quick signs of the cross
Away from the dolls
Garroted
Under barbed wires.
Puppet-like
The wing, the puppet-master.
No one knows how
Or why
Or when
But even the bravest of men
Would never stray where  they hang
Swinging merrily
Invitingly…
Touch me…

She died,
Nina, the curious.
A week after she had waited,
Away from Papa’s gaze
To quickly touch a doll
Light; just light on its feet.
Drowned.
A week after,
Her doll, redhead and patchy
Hung beside the others.
Garroted.
A dancing puppet.
Touch me…

Papa wailed as he saw
His gift of love,
Crudely added
To the macabre theatre
El malvaldo Muñecas
They took her.

Poseído!
Muñecas poseído!
Possessed,
Every single one of them
Their stitched-on smile
Never wavering
At the accusing glances of the locals.

It is whispered;
Sí, it is true
That on a certain night
They do not just hang.
On a night when the gateway
Between worlds open;
Día de Muertos.
Their stitched eyes open.

It is whispered,
Sí, it is true
They remember;
The warmth of their owners,
The echoed feel of a body
Pressed softly
Against a child
And then, they move
In search.
Of old owners, long gone.
Of new owners,
soon to be gone.

El malvado muñecas
The evil dolls.

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Ekwikwi


EKWIKWI

 

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“And that is why you must never look into the eyes of Ekwikwi…”

Red, rheumy red.
Look over you as you try
To sleep.
Eyes tight, clasped shut
Warning ringing in ears,
Yet, eyes beg to see;
Red, rheumy red.
Would you really…?
Can the tales be true?
Cries of a new born child;
Ekwikwi calls to you.
You turn,
Block out the sound.
And yet…
An eye peeks open
Watch shadows play
By window.
You know it is there,
Listening to the wild beats
Your heart plays for you.
Excitement.
Should you…?
Cries of a new born child
Ekwikwi calls to you
Would you really…?
Fingers tightened in between
Legs crooked in semblance
Of peaceful sleep.
You raise your head
Careful, eyes closed
Newborn cries give way
to a name, softly whispered
Gasp of surprise.

Ears twitch.
Eyes open…
Perched precariously.
Ekwikwi.
Eyes clash…

“And that is why you must never look into the eyes of Ekwikwi…”

Now you listen
Now you watch
Now you cry
Precariously hanging on a branch
Eyes;
Red, rheumy red.
Watching.
Calling.
Waiting for another to look.

“And that is why you must never look into the eyes of Ekwikwi…”

——————————————————————————————–

So, this is the first of three posts I have planned for Halloween.
Should have put it up earlier but I won’t bore you with whys and wherefores.
Next story, Next Thursday.
Do have a lovely weekend!

Njem


The hills sit and wait for us
Like old men,  their backs bent
Under the weight of age, 
Time immemorial.
Their beards,  dense foliage
Of hubris-like greenery
Cover their near nakedness

They sit and watch as we climb
Alone
Couple
Family
Young
Old.
Our weary feet, wet
With our tears.
Black, with our sins.
They bleed.
Red, a testament
To our frailty.
And yet, we climb.
Naked as we came. 
Pendulous breasts hanging
Shrunked penises like forgotten stubs.
The unformed.
We’re Adam and Eve.
We do not notice.
Our only aim is to climb.
Some of us have forgotten
Why we climb.
Lost in the madness of scrambles
And brambles.
It can be said we have no purpose
Yet our instincts push us
And we go on our mad dashes.

When we’re near,
The hills would sing to us
And welcome us.
Cold, aged arms embrace,
Guide us.
And we shall lay on the altars,
A living sacrifice.
Our eyelids fluttering to a close with relief
Our dry, mud blood-caked lips expelling
Last breath.
Lying there,
As we surrender
Under piles of bones
That are our brothers.

The Journey through Life
It is called by many.

——————-
I’ve been missing. I know.
Long story.
I write something every week but I’m never sure if I like it.
So I have a piling draft section.

It’s Halloween month and from next week Thursday, leading up to 31st, I’d be doing a lil somn somn.
Not a rewrite like last year.
But I’d be providing stories.

I do hope you’d stick around.

Have a lovely weekend!

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