Too Much To Take
A Garden Park ( Poem Two )
His face,
suspicious,
with a touch of coldness,
no grace,
he committed the murder
in a public place,
a garden park,
agony without a trace,
fear moved slowly in the dark,
killing for countless years,
so many worries,
so many fears,
the sky, starless,
smoky and gray,
as the angels in heaven
bowed their heads to pray.
Riddled With Fear ( Poem One )
Of course he fought,
but he was caught,
the disturbed young man
was a rat, a mouse,
the crime scene
was a three story shit house,
the victim, a mother of two,
raped then strangled,
after that, she was carved,
and the knife ran right through,
it was the stuff nightmares came from,
and the terror ran deep
it stayed on the detective’s mind,
and it would ruin sleep,
images of the dead,
playing in his head,
like a musical tune,
until you want no more,
but he couldn’t help it,
and in that, he was sure,
he would live it over and over,
the body, the blood stains on the floor,
the dried spatters on the door,
death lingered in the air,
while the children
were locked in the closet,
riddled with fear
Artistry and Grace ( Poem Three )
He wove several stories with artistry and grace,
His words, often eloquent
Was filled with disgrace,
When his lies were deep,
His voice would pitch higher,
The truth he’d keep,
But the lies were hot as fire,
He was a trickster with no morality,
Convincing, conniving, a life of intrusion,
He was a backstabber,
With a smile that was merely an illusion,
They’d believe him, even on a witness stand,
His lies were realistic and so grand,
You’d listen, gamble on the truth,
But you’d loose,
So many may interpret the stories
As they choose,
Devil, demon, Satan, Ghost,
Choose a name,
He’s what souls fear most.
© 2011 Frank Atanacio