november child

the curse of a sentimental heart & a skeptical mind




One drop of blood
infused in the oily liquid
in his Seer’s bowl
breaks the stillness
of his mind,
uncovering the truth
about  the man.

This drop reveals more
than a shock of silvery curls,
a rich velvet cloak
or the golden amulet,
sign of  an affiliation
with the ruling class,
ever will.

The blood speaks of
burning jealousies,
petty rivalries,
and busy scheming.
A smile lights up the Seer’s face
as an idea echoes in his mind
and his plan takes shape.


© november child
photo credit:
in response to: The Sunday Whirl Wordle #272


I am the master of delusion.
I invade your thoughts
spreading fears and insecurities.
I rob you of your sanity
one bit of peace at a time
until chaos is the only certainty.

I am the master of adulteration.
I drench every gesture, every look
with a meaning it does not possess.
I soak every word, every smile
with innuendo and allusion
until even the innocent look like sinners.

I fill your veins with poison
and your stomach with acid.
I am Zelus,
I am the god of jealousy
and I am not finished
until I own you.

©november child
photo credit: artist unknown

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