Whitechapel

Blood on the streets, stench in the air
1888, Butcher's Row, despair
Slaughterhouses spill the shuffle
The pubs hustle to some lamplight scuffle
Bobby whistles scream but the Ripper is no where

East end fog licks a dirty gem
Velvet bonnet and tattered hem
I'll do such things, such crafty things
Inside out and a few pence spread
I'll cut the sin right out of them 
It may be 'neath a harlot's moon 
But I'm going to paint it red
They will beg my blade and wish they were dead

A night's lodging, bread square and sleep
- Be the highest hope, if four pence will keep
Wipe a tear, smile and show some skirt
There's your lady, say how no one gets hurt
Raise the flounce, collect, sow and so soon shall you reap

'Jack' is the name on frightened lips
Eluding, he's a caper, always slips
God save the Queen and us as well
London mist has become his home from Hell
- Phantom with a lust to kill sure as more flesh rips

East end fog licks a dirty gem
Velvet bonnet and tattered hem
I'll do such things, such crafty things
Inside out and a few pence spread
I'll cut the sin right out of them 
It may be 'neath a harlot's moon 
But I'm going to paint it red
They will beg my blade and wish they were dead

© Kay Irvin

~ about: Jack the Ripper, Whitechapel murders

Magic

You snapped your fingers once
But decided that wasn't enough
You snapped your fingers twice
Voilà, I was no more in your life
(Magic) 
(like a demon winged in flight)

You waved your tiny wand
Illusionary promises (gone)
I thought you were so strong
The damn smoke and mirrors proved that wrong
(Magic)
(clearly, you want doe eyed fawn)

(Magic)
(it was time to disappear)
(Magic) 
(and 'goodbye' tasted great year)

He's all man, not like you
No tiny wand or slight of hand queue
He mesmerizes (true)
His hands know exactly what to do

And he loves me, like you never would
Mind, body, soul, like you never could

(yes) -- He has what you took for granted
Now, snap my fingers,-- Ciao! -- you're the fool
(Magic) 
(hot-sugar, I'm his, mad-cool)
(Magic) 
(hot-sugar, he's mine, mad-cool)
(Oh, how I love him, magic-mad-cool)

© Kay Irvin

Child of God

Your shiny crucifix hangs,
as a meaningful symbol of good
But how you look down on me,
judge and cast me off, misunderstood

You purge, bid my heart to bleed
Forget that I feel and need
Command, tongue-lash like a lightning rod
Left by your insufferable deed
But aren't we all a child of God?
You'd have me broken, kneeling with plead
But aren't we all a child of God?

You quote a book, bound in black
So soon, you condemn my dark repose
Remove love, add pain, mix well
Mind-muck, blend 'til only anger grows

You purge, bid my heart to bleed
Forget that I feel and need
Command, tongue-lash like a lightning rod
Left by your insufferable deed
But aren't we all a child of God?
You'd have me broken, kneeling with plead
But aren't we all a child of God?

Not such pious disciple
You like it too much, worshipping purge
Those dirty, little secrets
- know you're wanton Dom, whip-cracking urge

But aren't we all a child of God?
You'd have me broken, kneeling with plead
But aren't we all a child of God?

Oh, aren't we all a child of God?
Oh, aren't we all a child of God?

(and the Sub will rise up, blood red dawn)

~ side note:
I like 'The Purge' movies, so this was written
in part, from the idea of that ...
But - also from some people, once close to me,
who wear crosses, refer to the bible, prayer or a deity,
and/or attend places of fellowship.

[And I respect all religions and beliefs.
I have love for anyone who has love for me,
irregardless of religious, political, personal,
or any views]

But, as I've said, some people, once close to me, 
choose to live their lives far from their convictions 
and part-time, practicing ways.
I don't respect their lies, gossip and the lustful hurt they like to impose.
In the past, I took the brunt of some of their slams. (not anymore)
We aren't close anymore.
I wouldn't be broken.

© Kay Irvin

Excerpt From A Journal That Was Never Written

Date: None
Time: Zero
Feeling: Dead Inside

I paused and cautiously smiled
Hoping for some caring reassurance
But he was cold and indifferent
... and weakly muttered,
'Where do we go from here?'
I knew in that instance ...
He wasn't capable of living satisfied, (content)
- with just us, with just ... being
I felt my heart sink ...
and the slight, tattered bit of peace,
that I was desperately trying to hold on to,
- drained from my body
I would never be good enough
He would always search for
- something more, something better
I was only a mere stop and stepping stone
... on his way

© Kay Irvin

Haiku Rebel

I wrote a haiku,
Past seventeen syllables
Page became poem

© Kay Irvin