He mouths his solo of undoing
the venue a derelict warehouse
due south of Old Father Thames
to an accompanying throb of
aimless raindrops succumbing
to relentless gravity via
fractured aperture’s leaky roof

His gallery a wonky line-up of
couldn’t care less spiders
scurrying half interested rats
vagrant rummaging sex charged pigeons

Yet there was once a time when his
patriotic baritone could fill an opera house
chauffeur driven bib and tucker swank
boasting ‘a la mode’ razzle dazzle trophies
thunderous applause, ‘Bravo, encore, more…more…more’

Back then he piloted his own serendipity
back then was before he fell for the sleeper courtesan
who would orchestrate his fall from grace

Burned out he capsizes into canned flashbacks lockup
introspection ever the darkest of muses
her petticoats, her stays, alabaster smooth skin
raven plumage, siren eyes, and unornamented Byzantine intimacy

He wonders how did it all unfold thus?

“Your poison Sir”

“Sorry I was miles away…what did you say?”

“Your poison…what are you drinking?”

Another ‘another’ glass of bubbly for
the bleary eyed fuddled idol in his cups
she duly obliges, keeps his forgotten change
tie askew, dress shirt undone, face down on the bar
she recognizes her prey, her long awaited jackpot
she takes him home

That he fell in love in a flash there was no doubt
that she was just camouflage he could not be expected to have known
time broke into a sprint as false romance
blossomed throughout a spry spring

One evening in her atelier, lost to the demon drink
his part time artisan pinned him to the bed posts
painted in oils his image as alive and as dead for posterity
drew forth her Armenian Serpent and severed his vocal folds
stole his voice
cast him adrift

No such thing as predilection for the enslaved one, the
one who had once, in the term previous to fame and fortune
sang songs of hate that incited the masses, fuelled the Medz Yeghern
left Delilah and the unmoored souls urging her on…she had no choice

Should you fancy any of my books, then if you ‘click’ the appropriate book’s front cover to the right of this page, then it’ll take you direct into Amazon where both print and Kindle options are available.   

Copyright © 2014-2021. All rights reserved. Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, and lending, prohibited although in a crisis I’ve no issue with any reader using the pages of said book as emergency’s loo roll.

15 thoughts on “MEDZ YEGHERN aka ‘GENOCIDE’

    1. My thanks, Leslie. ‘Tis upon our roof that the pigeons mate. They’re at noon and night. The funny thing, one never sees a baby pigeon. Regards, The Old Fool

  1. Excellent stuff, and as evocative as ever. Great to see the word ‘Stays’ used too. I still call them that!
    (And I still use ‘Frock’ for dress.)
    Best wishes, Pete.

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