The Family Business

The doors crack open on the sixth
Ripe with desperation and sweat
The heat thunders into the empty hallway
A rainstorm, ashy and wet

The elevator ascends in relief
As we part to our solemn march
His voice sharp and clear as his teeth,
Pointy, dripping and parched.

My legs intoxicated, my mind poisoned
Purity purged through red eyes
Angels exiled in a watery grave
The serpent's forked tongue smiles

The floor boards burdened by heavy souls
Tormented and wrapped in ruins
Moan and break and shake and rumble
In a soulless chorus of tunes

A crystal of hope shines a light
And blankets of anger seep
But quick and vengeful, he sinks his teeth
And into me does anger creep

He drags me forth like a young pup
By force, by power, by neck
His violent invasion into my soul
He finally injects

I turn, I wring, I shout, I scream
My body bends in twists
My bones they break, my nails turn red
My fingers crushed to fists

I raise my hand and knock the door
She stops, he stops, they whisper
I slither in and thrust my knife
Enter Death, the Devil's sister.


By Shas Ramlogan
Copyright 2011




Poetry by Shas Ramlogan
Read 643 times
Written on 2011-04-16 at 21:04

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Shas Ramlogan
Thank you for checking out my poem Jim. It's the first time I've been writing in years, so although it may not be my best, glad to know it can still be relatable. Cheers.
2011-04-17



I relate to this, but that's beside the point. You've captured that soul killing, wrenching experience of feeling your fate decided for you, that your life as you dreamed of it, is slipping away. You carry this sense of dread throughout every verse, until the last in which you become the avenger. Or, the savior of your soul.

Great poem.
2011-04-17