Linda's Literary Home

Tag: Evil

  • Easy Liar

    Image created by ChatGPT inspired by the poem
    Image created by ChatGPT inspired by the poem

    Easy Liar

    —for S. B., swooning as Auden sings:
    “O stand, stand at the window
    As the tears scald and start;
    You shall love your crooked neighbour
    With your crooked heart.”

    —from Plato: “False words are not only evil in themselves, 
    but they infect the soul with evil.”

    —from Mark Twain: “A lie can travel halfway around the world 
    while the truth is putting on its shoes.”

    The nose grows longer as each lie grows
    Easier to tell: 
    She swears through straight, but yellowing teeth,
    “I can’t recall that.”
    Of course, if she can’t re-call it,
    She never called it at all. She can’t remember
    A thing about all those cheap shots she took
    At you when you were kids. She can’t remember
    Calling you a bimbo and then insinuating you
    Might have aids. Or telling a dying aunt that you 
    Were dying of bulimia. No, she will never remember 
    Her bald-face brazen lies! 
    Bait and switch:
    “I was not referring to myself
    But to society in general. Personally,
    I find nothing wrong with her marrying
    Another woman. Maybe a little creepy, 
    But nothing wrong, nothing at all!”
    All the while claiming to possess an open mind
    And soft heart for all humankind, regardless
    Of how different “they” are from “us.”
    Flame-throw and run away:
    He’s taking an overload this semester,
    He’s working 36 hours at the Student Union,
    He’s taking his sister to ballet, 
    And his mom to cardiac therapy—
    But only after he’s deep in deficit
    Of making the case to support
    His latest whopper—leaving you 
    Wondering why/how the conversation
    Went on as long as it did.

    Break it off, break off Pinocchio’s nose,
    And close the gates of your attention.

  • Dreams and Days

    191a Image-Created by Grok inspired by the poem.jpg
    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem

    Dreams and Days

    “His tongue cuts / Slices of meat / From the hearts / And livers / Of those / Who would love him . . . ”       –from “Between Slices of Bread” in Linda Sue Grimes’ At the End of the Road 

    I quote myself, well then,
    I quote myself —
    I include multitudes —
    Uncle Walt taught me that much.

    The man in the poem
    Cannot bring himself to say
    Or to pray about his own lividness
    He shuts out spaces and commas
    Lives in his own irrelevance.

    He murders his own children
    With his viper attitude
    And nibbles the ankles
    Of prostitutes
    Who erase his will to power on.

    You have seen him
    Perhaps did not recognize him —
    He has sat in your parlor
    Sipping your coffee
    Dusting off his duplicitous moves —

    He fears death but not yours
    He imagines you at the bottom
    Of a cold, black ocean
    Your tongue bait for the fishes
    His Bolshevik brain conjures.

    Your freedom is a fantasy
    If you remain too close to his heat
    Get your life back – get your love back
    Where God made you in His image
    And you are close to seeing it.