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Poetic Justice-(graphic content not for the faint of heart)

Updated on March 13, 2017

Exacting revenge.

Poetic Justice.

They thought that they 
had shot him in the head 
and that he was dead, 
but the bullet had 
only grazed him, 
creating such
a bloody mess 
and a furrow in the skull, 
that convinced them
he was hamburger.

Didn't matter much anyhow, 
as they hauled his
unconscious body 
to a large pit and 
then unceremoniously
tossed him in. 
The bulldozer was
being repaired
and the stench
below was horrendous 
so they turned and
scurried away. 

He awoke in a
massive pile of corpses, 
his flesh awash in
dung beetles and worms, 
crawling in his mouth,
his ears and nose,
while the sickening
sweet smell of viscera 
rotting in the hot sun,
caused him to gag and vomit.

He stood up on
the mushy bodies 
breaking through
about two feet deep, 
to find he was wading
in an ocean of maggots. 
He kicked through
the wingless flys
and sludged his way
to the wall of the pit.

He was a U.S. Marine,
a trained survivor, 
and he was pissed
beyond all measure.
With much distaste,
he began stacking the bodies
of all of those recently
deceased soldiers
who had been tossed
into the pit before him.
It took several hours
to free and stack them.

Then with a bit of
luck beyond belief 
in his daunting hell
of melting flesh,
he found a 45.caliber pistol
and two magazines,
tucked into a boot holster
of a loose leg.

When the bodies
reached a sufficient height
he sat next to his
makeshift ladder,
and waited for
nightfall to come.
After dark he silently
scaled the mound 
and gripped the
edge of the pit,
belly-crawling out
onto the cool, clean sand.

His drunken tormentors
and would be assassins 
were sleeping about
thirty feet away in a small shack.
No guards were posted
in this remote camp,
because the only real
threats were dead,

He re-conned the building,
crawled in and 
methodically knocked
out one man 
with a quick pistol
butt to his head 
and then ordered
the other three to freeze,

With no time to scramble
for weapons they lay still
in their beds as he
cleared the room of guns.
Then he had them
get up single file
and march to the pit.
He ordered them
to strip naked
and then he tied 
their hands tightly
behind their backs.

Their eyes grew
wide with fear 
at what might
be coming next.
He then shot them
in the legs,
one bullet each
in six legs
and drop kicked
them hard into the pit.

They splashed
face first in great pain
into the corpses below
in sheer anguish.
They moaned and
writhed there until 
he half carried and
dragged the last 
unconscious guard to the pit, 
tied and crippled him,
and threw him on top 
of the others as well.

Then he walked away, 
quite sure of his
knotting ability,
and the stopping
power of a 45. 
and the infection rate
of rotting corpses
in the jungle sun.

He walked away and
left them to the fate
they had chosen for him,
whistling an old tune:

"The Worms crawl in...
The Worms... crawl out,
in your eyeballas
and out your snout....

The worms crawl in..
The ...worms.....................

©-Matthew F. Blowers III


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    • Micky Dee profile image

      Micky Dee 7 years ago

      Gee- for some reason - I'm hungry!

      As a Marine I had to inject some humor before my ejection. Thanks MFB!