murder at the allotments (from 28th Jun 06)

July 27, 2009 at 11:35 pm | In Migrated 20six stuff | Leave a Comment
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There was a murder at the allotments,
Behind thin white plastic screens
And rows of runner beans
Just out of view
Over the other side of the concrete shed
With the corrugated iron roof.
I saw two men;
One old, one middle aged
Disappear, down the other side
And I knew that only one would be leaving.
Empty promises, blank stares and hollow laughter
I assure you – it gets much darker hereafter.
I followed the middle aged man down the road
Through the North London estate.
He was joined by a younger woman
She looked business-like; pin stripe suit
Blonde hair pinned up, high heels
A look of sickness shows she feels -
Some sort of remorse?
They say to me that they were asked to
Perform this dark request
By people who
You just don’t say no to.
I nod and say that it only happens
Once in a lifetime,
They won’t get asked again,
The worst is over.
Empty promises, blank stares and hollow laughter
I assure you – it gets much darker hereafter.

in which thisisalloneword doesn’t commit murder

October 7, 2008 at 12:51 pm | In i could be dreaming | Leave a Comment
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I thought that you made sure he was dead
Before we hid the body under the bed
A murder not condoned but justified
By years of animal cruelty
And maybe there was a class divide issue
That was unspoken
I fed the rabbits, the guinea pigs, the birds
When the sun stopped rising
I turned on the lights to tell them it was day

We took revenge, you with action
And I with silence and covering
I considered how to dispose of the body
If only we had had more time
Then we would have checked for breathing

I made small talk with his parents
Who wondered to where he was
He had a flight to catch
Off skiing you see
He wouldn’t miss it

We went back to check on things
He had risen
So will carried out that terrible act
Again
This time hiding the body between
Bed frame and mattress
But again he rose
Not knowing what had happened

The family reunited, planes missed
We claimed that he must have been drinking
Out on the town on the gin
Hence the memory loss
But this would not wash forever
And while we were saying our goodbyes
And thank yous we noticed the change
In his eyes
And while we hug him and his sister goodbye
I looked down at my white shirt
To find it soaking blood
And I still tried to laugh it off to the family
‘It must be ketchup or some such
It will need a good washing’
I knew I was done for

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