A Tiny Screeching Demon


she blew in on rotten air

her eyes dark and bitter green

her lips the shade of plum…cresting a wave of lies

a virtual shroud dressing the whore of  insecurity

and yes when I peered close I could see a smaller version of myself mirrored there

a poor child

yet in her case the ageing did not produce any smooth rose

but instead  vinegar

and like broken branches

losing their way  in a flourishing tree

she struggled grey and sharp

growling and gnawing at my children

her magic was ugly and took the long route….

her dirty paws tucked in their wet beds,

and poked at an abscess of miscommunication that grew in one little boys jaw

she led the way for dead mothers and zombies,

filing proudly past dreamcatchers….

tiny confused fingers waved, clawing at my throat, pulling at my feet,

a weak goodbye, off to the  house of horrors,

yes it had nice curtains.


We watched with eyes as deep as lakes as she drove an axe through the tender trunk of Joey’s tree,

her jealousy shrill that there be a memory there of me.

Joey lives in my heart I said  and the little ones trusted.

It is true.

We relied on love, you see, nurtured concepts of forgiveness.

We spoke of people having sadness like a fishing sinker, hanging from their heart

creating weight that deranges the mind

and causes strange and painful words to swing,

words that have the power to nestle in and fester

and we persevered with love , the only thing we really knew….

in the face of her shaking anxiety and awkward tyre slitting rage

until HE  began to notice a pounding, swelling hepatitis,

and realised he was using her to kill himself

to distort his own aged and dogeared pain.

To give him credit then,

he didn’t linger much longer….

shearing through woody tangle

to extricate himself from the fever of her wailing sex.

Evil stepmothers belong only in fairy tales

they are not real

they do not exist…..not anymore

like tiny screeching demons that lift you by the hair

we faced her

and killed her

with LOVE





Published by The Silver Poet

I AM a little spark in the sea of conscious awareness. I am passionate about bringing the concept of freedom of expression into the forefront of our one mind and a keen awareness of personal power to the hearts of little children everywhere. I exist to express!

10 thoughts on “A Tiny Screeching Demon

  1. i found this piece to be the most intriguing one i have read this morning – in a long time really. for reasons I really cannot place into words, but please know that I found it very thought provoking. You are a lovely writer.


    1. Thankyou for the complimentary comment… its a very sincere piece of writing maybe that is part of why it resonated
      i really appreciate your thoughts thanks again


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Silver Poetry

All That Glitters Is Not Gold

Unfettered BS

it is all just bullshit anyway.....


Your Brain is a Radio that Does What its Told

Post Scriptum Poets

Haikus Senryus and Tankas about anything and everything

InkBlots and IceBergs

musings on life | bits of psychology | attempts at poetry

This and That

In other countries individuals go to jail and/or die for weblogging. While the bulk of this country makes the internet an extention of T.V.


Scripting the desires that are soul deep

cosmos reflection

poetry that speaks to you

Africa Zwelibanzi

The Poetry Monarch.

Jeffrey Pillow

Life, death, and everything in between



Purple Haze

Darkness, delusion, smeared with a stick of butter and laughter. Words collide, they bring forth death!

The Lonely Author

Pain goes in, love comes out.

The Realm

well, come on in. bite. chew. spit.

SouL SpeakS

He started Writing, The paper started speaking...

%d bloggers like this: