Winner's Showcase - Page 9

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Thread: Winner's Showcase

  1. #81
    February 2020 - “Bond(s)” Challenge Winner

    I’ve Stolen Your Used Shoes by Chester’s Daughter

    I become you.

    Every day.

    I slip on
    unsightly sandals
    and shuffle along
    filthy floors
    while I watch my socks go gray.

    I piss in aluminum
    as one eye migrates
    to the back of my head.
    Communal cleansing
    has schooled
    orbs gone old and cold
    to do fancy new tricks.
    Hyper vigilance
    is better than dead.

    I steer clear of uniforms

    whether they're weighted
    down by batons
    and detector wands
    or are contraband
    fashion statements
    of red or blue
    wrapped around wrists
    itching for a coup.

    I scoop up slop
    off plastic trays
    with plastic sporks.
    servings are so scant
    my gag reflex
    hasn't the time to kick in
    even though I'm sure
    most of it's been
    fished from the bin.

    I trade ramen for salt
    to lessen taste bud assault
    and simply refuse to sample
    the gray sausage
    dubbed “sick donkey dicks”

    even when pressed
    by the block bully
    looking for kicks,
    who, I'm sure in time,
    will deliver me licks.

    On "A" visiting days
    I pray no one will show.

    An hour enduring cacophony
    and bookended
    by strip searches
    makes kin and friends
    seem almost like foes.

    The caged clock mocks me
    and slows its flow
    when it knows I'm zipped
    to my lips
    in ill-fitting coveralls
    the color
    of hurricane clouds
    and peppered with rips
    with legs that abort
    three inches
    too short.

    I nap
    but never sleep
    and terror
    has taught me well
    you die if you weep.

    Four months
    undeservedly spent in hell
    thanks to a lie
    some bastard saw fit to tell.

    You’ve been free
    for near five years

    yet still I become you.

    Each and every day.

    Just how you survived
    I really can't say.

    I beg you to forget
    haunted shoes,
    such loss is no lack,
    to my feet they’re now affixed
    gratis of a super glue’s kiss

    and God as my witness,
    I won’t ever
    give them back.

  2. #82
    March 2020 - “Justice Served” Challenge Winner

    Velvet Revenge (Extremely Mature Content) by Chester’s Daughter

    Two red satin bows adorned her hair
    but they belonged to another
    who was no longer there.

    Her girl had been found
    gagged and bound
    with her flesh savaged
    by starving carnivores
    and her nether regions ravaged
    by something far more sinister
    which boasted but two legs.

    A ferocious February held the child
    in its frigid embrace;
    draped in moldy lace
    and denied both life and decay,
    with her captive spirit
    by injustice still held sway,
    she waited in frozen earth
    suffering each second
    in an undeserved wooden dungeon.

    Mother played hide and seek
    with mourning’s razor-sharp beak
    as she sought the depraved biped
    who had fed his true flock.
    She watched the wolves
    who for their dinner
    used growls to knock
    at a well-known door
    by weather and claws
    both worn and pocked.

    She had never favored the village vicar
    who cared more for ladies and liquor
    than he did the Word.
    There was no surprise in her eyes
    when she realized
    that he wore the look
    of forest critters during wildfire
    any and each time she neared.
    Conviction via fear.

    She used loss as a ploy
    to capture her prey.
    “Oh dear vicar, I feel so low today
    will you stop by so we can pray?”
    knowing full well he could ne’er say nay.

    She prepared a toddy
    of her strongest port,
    heavily laced
    with St. John’s Wort,
    of which he greedily gulped.
    She smiled when he slumped
    in his chair
    and pulled one bow from her hair
    to pin it to his pupil;
    alas, he was too intoxicated to care.

    Once roused,
    he found himself bound
    to a four-poster
    with his eye a screaming demon
    as his eager hostess with the mostest
    prepared his next course.

    She took a red velvet sash
    from a child’s Yuletide dress,
    which had never been blessed
    by her daughter’s flesh,
    and with it tied a tight bow
    down below
    to staunch
    most of his blood flow.
    For hours,
    he whimpered and pled
    as she caressed the second red
    satin bow.

    Left tied for days,
    gangrene had its way,
    sepsis forever stilling filth
    via its venous highway.
    As the magistrate banged his gavel
    while proclaiming she’d hang,
    a lullaby she sang
    and then twice bent
    her body in a bow
    as happiness eased
    her long-furrowed brow.

    Soon after the seventh sunrise
    spotlit the gallows,
    Mother was hung.
    Red threads peeked from between
    the digits of her death grip,
    and as her lifeless shell swung,
    her little girl came to collect her.

    Justice for all
    had duly been done.

  3. #83
    April 2020 - “Pining for the Past” Challenge Winner

    Kindly click to view:

    The Fish-Men Remember
    by ArrowInTheBowOfTheLord

  4. #84
    May 2020 - “Holy Darkness” Challenge Winner

    For Your Own Protection by andrewclunn

    Scratch marks tracking dates
    They cover walls, which keep me safe
    Monitors illuminate other inmates,
    but cracks let the darkness in

    Squeezed until we soften
    Feel almost free if I don't resist
    Cultivated gardens of invisible irons
    that tighten around my skin

    Heretics fight the herd
    Pray to our jailers and repent
    They will let all of us leave I'm told
    once the prison is within

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