The serpent devours it's self

A ring of futility 

The patience game is not for the faint heart 

Watching them tear your confidence apart, 

Pulling the flesh from your backbone 

Creaks give way to breaking 

Shattering of nerves 

Plucking away the feathers of hope 

Bare naked and goosepimpled 

The carvery lays waiting 

An unceremonious carving

Beligerant twisted barbs of lies

They think they have power 

They think the can destroy me

I almost thought they could too, 

But as they say reputation is king 

And mine speaks flesh to my bones

I pick the scales off one by one 

Their pious deception no match

for my holy inception

A twisted fork tongue lays deep in its own rotted flesh

How the snakehole swallows it's own creator 

Writhing in contorted panic as it's own truth flashes in its eyes 

I may well be torn down every shred of pride 

Only to rise a new and free from their serpentry

While they taste the bitter poison in their own sad tales 

They never had real faith 

And mine was never afraid of being tested 

They forgot the sage old saying 

Death trampling on death 

Arise Tabitha and sin is no more 

And nor is the serpent whom devours its self.

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Rant cid  stress of bs at paycheck central when you don't need the pay check but you love the work! I'd do it for free if they'd let me. But the rules don't work that way.

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bishu's picture

Nice one

I'm going from Has-it Highway to Had-it-Alley


©bishu 

 

allets's picture

"Arise Tabitha"

I was howling there, for a moment. Then I remembered. Retired is so much more less. I made it to senior citizen - we must take each triumph separately and celebrate singly and biggly. So very very good to have a poem from you in June 2019. :D slc Cool

 


 

 

eleven_eleven's picture

very cool write. palpable!!!

very cool write. palpable!!! <3