Deproduce

Shatter a pane at the point atop
the wall-clinging ivy stalk
strong enough to support my weight
for the time taken to climb
at a gait less than walking
above the west gate where
guards talk about their
family troubles and shallow caches
while I undo their ward's window latch
coming from a bar far-off to snatch
what my fence's middleman said awaited.

On tips of toes and hunched
I slowly step on carpets
costlier than my clothes
blowing darts in guard-pets
I wait for the sleeping poison
shipped from the river Poseidon
when the death-froth bubbles
on puppy's large lips
I know the way's cleared.

Humans surpassed and animals slain
I steal on with open tread
still I'm quite quiet so she
stays asleep unaware of me.
Too heavy to carry: the many baubles
which make her wealthy,
yet I look for one trinket only
and spy it glowing o'er yonder
and have to avert my eyes
lest the staring spell compel me.

In a sack which breathes
made for the task
seething with hatred at the light
eager to smother the sight
I stuff the unwatched tingle-in-hand
turning to cheerily be on my way.

Behind me upright sits the daughter
aware her tower's invaded
though I'm experienced in my craft
and would kill for a laugh
I hesitated and heard her say,
"stranger if you are a man
then I can not understand
yet now wonder...
yes surely your employer
lied to you of the item
by robbery in your possession"
straight standing I strode
and pressed 'gainst her robe
a knife and knicked her left lobe.
With composure unseen in some men
she let out not a whimper but grinned,
"up close I know you are a man
and so will return Eskrigan,
so long as it shines
the Dutla are confined
to beyond my father's borders"
inside I said to myself,
"kill her and follow your orders!"
but she'd cried for no help
and if I had dealt
the Dutla an aid
my debt'd need repaid.
She pointed at the window,
above a carpet cast with glass,
I dragged her along
warned she'd sing her swan-song
if this were a trick of her class.

Boldly she opened the frames
holding intact window panes
and pointed to the horizon
where we could see Bayon's Canyon.
At first I stared in darkness
and sensed something but saw naught
but slowly I noticed
winged shapes in the blackness
spreading from the canyon
like a pulsing cloud.
Horror hurt my heart
so even a frail's voice gave me start,
"before they kill my people
please release the symbol"
and feeling it right
by every gut I've survived by trusting
I tore at the bag.

It would not open
again I tried
to ply the threads
they sucked in
like turtle heads
and the mouth puckered
a kiss for a sucker
then in anger I stabbed
grabbing tight the bag
slashing and cutting
'til it bled and died
with a haunting outcry
then shriveled to a husk
ripped open untrussed
and flying out thrust
Eskrigan.

It flew above the tower
and made the land look as day
flash!
flash!
light dark light/dark lightdark
and with screeches miles distant
the Dutla became scant
and I saw she
was a beauty
past the pretties
I'd collected.

Next time it went dark
she ran from her room
I chased in the gloom
but from the stark variance
in luminance
was blinded
I couldn't find her
and she familiar
with her home
ran on ahead
then I was struck dead.

Bible Tracks

http://downloads.newsok.com/documents/rinehartcartoon.pdf

Crude artwork, every character's the author's mouthpiece, no plot but promotion...this campaign comic's like a Bible track. I've never heard of anyone being persuaded by such things. The all-pervasiveness of the writer's intention is so lucid and doesn't make attempts to counter opponents arguments that enemies won't be persuaded and someone who agrees doesn't need the comic. Reads like he'd probably be better overall than his opponent (I'd have to know the opponent to decide) but the last bit of page 11 is wickedness. Good business sense is keeping cops out of business mens' hair so they're not slowed down. If work-crews have a day (or more) less they're allowed to work each week projects will take longer.