Conspiracy

The fluid muscular flex against a powerless manipulation.
They are choking in a senseless oblivion,
The dark pall a granite fist closing in upon a core that is rapidly losing breath.

Position held in action,
Decision kept from democracy,
A people cry victim
“They didn’t tell us! They lied! They lied!”
And in a generous oratorical vomit the people gift all power to the enemy.

Identity cannot heal.
Bloodless and benign is denial.
Self pity a rancid infection and those bearing decision kneel in adoration to the powerful stench of the self proclaimed injured.
Do.
Do.
Crying, shrieking, weeping, moaning, hollering, praying, sobbing, pleading, begging, hoping…
Powerless.
Do something. Do anything.
Stand up. Flex.
Power’s delusion anxiously dissolves beneath the soft acid onslaught of true strength.
Bring change.

Melissa Hocking 2010

Little Moppet's Battle

(A little girl’s battle with leukaemia)


The temple is sweating toxicity,
Blood, Discourage.
The foundation leeches the ache of mistrust.
From another’s word a tiny body disintegrates,
Power is pillaged,
Decisions absconded.

Strength falls in segments,
Petals of innocent trust scattered beneath the weighty footfall of ignorance.
Contorted in spasm, agony in control
Hysterical,
the system shrieks coarse tones
Of despair, twisting amid the
Choices structured in humiliation,

Foundation in regret...
She reaches for relief.
A haunted gaze,
The silver sheen of transparent flesh,
The cherry stain of blood departing...

Wisdom discarded in the misconception of uneducated youth.
Shattered breath,
Wasted hearts withering.
The temple whimpers.
One deep breath before ascension
Her eyes open and grasp at the gaze of he who loves most...

Wisdom is lost eternally as one final tear crashes upon the earth.

I love you, Moppet. I thank you.

Melissa Hocking 2009