Three Blind Mice

Three Blind Mice

Words get overused
And panic me
Because even
Silence needs description,
And I must coin my own
Vocabulary
When I'm shortchanged
Out of pocket...
Eligibility for benefits
Denied.

Love and its lack lustre
Life Hacker and slave master
Dictates it.

I take a hatchet
To my epiphany
And add cold blue terror
Icy sharp machete
Blood on it would be slashed butterfly kiss
Swastika spilled over sacrifice.

My new word gleams unholy
Terri-phany...
Have you felt
Such dis-ecstacy?

Yes die in disenchantment
In the Tomb
Of relentless breath
The silent flow of life
Amuses me
Watches in VB astonishment
My absurd notion
Of swimming...
Tears in my eyes in a dry pool
Of hesitant dessication.

Flapping wings
Without touching water...
Rising star
Only for a moment
The mythology airborne
On a freedom flight
In a hot air balloon
Spiralling in cross currents.

They are devils.
Knocking on my door.
Pounding my ears.
Liars unusual.
Lovers.

The angels are much too
Boorish impoverished pure
They like floating around
On sun lit surfboards of
Dust motes of detachment
Feeling no pain
Basking
In the halo of
Ascension.
As if levitation and light
Were supreme achievement.

I feel ferociously helpless...
Perhaps I am a poem
Written to order
An invitation
An invocation
To be a hellish vixenish
Minion?
Or miniature hellion?
Or simply Minnie ministering mouse
A prosaic caricature running round and
Round my mouse hole
Of a house?

I need anything
A switch blade
Or scissors
Anything

For we be
Like the three
Blind mice.
But
I'm supposed to have
Eyes.

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© Amrita Valan 2015