What part of a heart
\nin another could one trust
\nwhen betrayal comes
\nlike a silver bullet, words and deeds
\nsharp piercing to burrow
\nbleed out Life\u2019s dreams
\nrust crumbles to dust\n
Virulent apathy spreads
\nBetrayal\u2019s destruction
\nhand in hand with death
\nof all that you gave
\nto your bantam shadow
\narrives all too fast, all too fast,
\nnevermore no waking dawn
\nnevermore no sleep hugged dew kissed dusk\n
To wake your bantam shadow
\nbreakfast then protecting
\nhold hands, walk out the gate
\nescort onto school bus\n
Thy empty arms clasp
\nnothing of the Bluebell\u2019s spell
\nempty heart now bitter
\nbaby teeth have been replaced,
\nthen cruelly stolen, strung up
\nby The Papillon Boilermaker
\n’round a silver bullet crucifix cross
\na bitter gutted soul kept empty
\nin a closed glass jar watches Time\u2019s sands fall
\nan Autumn body turns to rusk\n
For a cruel stalker
\npassive in approach to
\nsharpen its cur\u2019s teeth on
\nwhat you grew in your garden
\nyou should have known better
\nwould never last
\nthe marrow sucked out
\nswallowed and in the cur\u2019s dirt, passed\n
A Life is killed
\nfour quartered and drawn
\ncut out of your life
\nclean as surgery torn
\nlike a dam crying out for its whelp you are
\nto a snide neighbourhood with closed ears;
\nyour bantam shadow
\nis torn out of your life
\nby a childless green-eyed spinner
\nobsessively coveting your all
\nthe apple of your eye\n
Your pretty paper dolls all in a row
\nall pulled apart
\nthe bantam shadow drugged now
\nwith shiny embellishments
\nfrom the singular usurper
\nseen walking towards you
\nfrom the other side\u2019s murky past\n
arm in arm now she goes
\nwith your bantam shadow
\non the false golden path\n
What part of a heart
\nin another could one trust?\n
A slow spreading poison
\nover the seed that was sown
\nin the garden you nourished and grew
\non your own all alone
\nthe interloper spreads its monstrous weeds
\no\u2019er what you cherished
\nnow strangled, blighted and smothered
\nby a false mother, overgrown\n
Lies of the faithless
\ndandelions blown hither thither
\nlegs uprooted wither
\nBlue Roses with their thorns
\npierce the true mother
\nBlack Lantana like barbed wire
\nstrangles a good voice
\nthe sharp thistles
\nturn their backs twist and roam\n
Poisonous slugs from
\na manipulative tongue
\nslide over what remains like Corpse fauna
\ncaste and covered in sticky web
\ntrue purpose in life now cannibalised
\ndisintegrates your garden, all goodness uprooted,
\nplucked to steal the flower grown intrauterine
\nnow walks hand in hand with evil, in your stead\n
out the garden gate
\nlost in Medusa\u2019s counterfeit countenance
\nin the bogus golden black time
\nmaggots feast on the alienation
\nsent from the thief\u2019s covetous mind\n
Trampled and stolen, what grew
\nin the Golden Chord Garden
\nthat precious bloom
\na decade and five
\nbantam shadow in time
\nthe garden, becomes barren and dry,
\nripped without thought
\na tear in the fabric of what was beautiful,
\nwhat once was freely mine
\nnow not mine, is without true freedom, bought\n
The one you once called Home
\nwithout a backward glance,
\ndoes not hear your silent cry
\ndisloyalty sown
\na stringent salt stinging
\nalienation owned\n
Through bruised veins unity is stopped still
\nembedded with falsehood\u2019s fungus like an infection\n
Medusa, the gold holding great manipulator
\nturns and she stares back at you
\n\u201cMy child forever, the child is now mine,
\n\u2018twas never yours to begin with,
\n\u2018twas just a matter of playing nice
\nsitting at your table,
\nlike trusted confidante
\nfawning, smiling, biding my time\u201d\n
The Serpent smiles, it slithers away
\nwith your child in it\u2019s fangs
\nIt slithers away, it closes all doors
\nSomewhere inside the Lion is silent
\nit no longer flies on heavens wings,
\nAslan no longer roars
\nEndless Dark Night swallows Dark Day,
\nall this Medusa has kept secret,
\nbehind sealed doors
\nshe laughs all the way\n
What part of a heart,
\none implores,
\nin another could one trust?
\nYou see the child in your eyes
\nturn to stone, your dreams all
\ncrumble to dust\n
What part of a mind
\nin another, could one trust?\n
Your April in her Prime\u2019s reflection
\ncould that one you trust?\n
When love like a loose loose thread
\nThe Golden Chord,
\nonce true golden and strong
\nis not held closely,
\n\u2018tis now close to dead
\nslipping through your
\nbantam shadow\u2019s fingers,
\nin swift time its sweet lifeline is lost
\nhatred and the great falsehood is fed\n
Lessons and warnings all forgotten
\nThe past and rosy future all dead\n
Truth given freely,
\nthe past now ignored,
\ndisrespected and scoffed
\nyour world torn from your arms
\nYour Golden Chord cut and burnt for a kill,
\nthen trust, like a burning iron sceptre
\ndropped covered in blood
\nMedusa, victorious,
\nholds aloft your mind
\nshe decapitated just for her thrills
\nshe then takes over your throne
\nyou’re handed a bottle of pills
\nswallowed to sleep forever,
\ntaken swiftly like words
\none at a time\n
On the winds of wanting
\nwhat now lies buried to your heart
\ngone missing in all songs
\nstands before a mirror
\nnow she moves away from
\nthe false mother, gone is Medusa.
\nThe one missing stands truly free
\nindependent apart
\nfully mature and unknown
\nin her eyes your shadow
\nis called, you hear
\nyour name whispered
\nwhile she speaks
\nto her mirror
\non a reflecting wall
\nshe calls Home\n
she remembers you
\na voice from her past now fully known
\nnot forgotten at all\n
this is where
\nyour good soul finds true home\n
Your good book is written
\nthen in another time,
\nwhen you are long gone
\nand two ghosts are haunting two homes
\nsitting in gutted harmony
\nbroken hearts and lost time like a cancer
\nburns through two ghosts
\nlike a twisting church fire
\nromancing all necromancers
\nthrough nights in your bed
\nthere the truest tears of lost love
\nvisible becomes Golden Chord,
\nthe lost thread Angels sing
\nall around you in choirs
\nyour madness through turmoil is bled\n
the phantom\u2019s story
\nwill be seen, heard and read\n
Love in your shadow\u2019s memory
\nwas severed\n
The bantam shadow, lost
\nThe True Mother, dead\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
What part of a heart in another could one trust when betrayal comes like a silver bullet, words and deeds sharp piercing to burrow bleed out Life\u2019s dreams rust crumbles to dust Virulent apathy spreads Betrayal\u2019s destruction hand in hand with death of all that you gave to your bantam shadow arrives all too fast,\n","protected":false},"author":11,"featured_media":71048,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"","_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"What part of a heart in another could one trust when betrayal comes like a silver bullet, words and deeds sharp piercing to burrow bleed out","_seopress_robots_index":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[642],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-71047","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-moral-story"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/03\/The-True-Mother.png","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/71047","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/11"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=71047"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/71047\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/71048"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=71047"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=71047"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thefinejournal.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=71047"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}