Possessed

sometimes for days he rests, sweet faced
his charm is like a sweet embrace
he cleans the kitchen, cooks the food
when he is in a mellow mood
and every time you’re so easily fooled
thinking addiction has been over-ruled

but when the monster stirs and wakes
with hunger in his eyes
God help the cringeing victim
who chances to be nearby
at first he asks in friendly tone
as if it were his due
but if you should refuse him
he’ll start harrassing you
he’ll pave the way for pity, shame
with his twisted truths and lies
and if you will not play the game
he’ll grow to twice his size
he’ll threaten, shout and growl
his face will grey with rage
beneath his hooded cowl
you’ll see him start to age
you’ll try to leave, in fear and shaking
while deep inside your heart is breaking
he’ll block your exit, grab your phone
he will not let you leave alone
he offers an empty promise
in exchange for your honest one
and when the promise unwillingly slips
from between your pale and twitching lips
and you know you’re honour bound
he opens up the door
and follows like a hound
over to the cash-point
where he stands his ground
then calmly takes your money
without another sound

and then the monster sleeps again
but soon he will awake
and turn his face toward you
your very home to take

©Jane Paterson Basil

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11 thoughts on “Possessed

  1. srious indeed…and one I relate to! I have a grandson serving thirty years in prison, and the controlling ways that you relate about your son could refer to ours. Everything you say is true…some more, some less. Although the control is less from the prison cell, frustrations and harrassment remain. I get it less than his mother does, but that’s because I flatly say if he is going to hassle me I’m not going to talk to him on the phone. Besides…I have NO money…so hassling blood from a stone doesn’t work. Drugs have ruined so many lives…and believe me when I say that I hear you and the hurt is real.

    So write a silly haiku…. if I didn’t like you would I still like your Haiku?
    sorry, I couldn’t resist.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I nearly fell through the floor when I read that you have a grandson who is serving a thirty year prison sentence. I almost said that I don’t know how you live with something like that, but I do. You live with it because you have no alternative. It has happened, for whatever reason, and you can’t turn the clock back. You have a life, and there are people who need you, as you need them, so you all just trudge forward.
      I have met so many people on WordPress. They write about waht they did today, or how they feel about the political situation. They post fashion pictures of themselves, or share their favorite recipes and images of their pets. I respect what they do, and who they are, but assume they are priveleged, that they have seen nothing of the dark side of life. Then they find one of my poems about addiction or psychosis, and they share their stories, and I know that it is me who is priveleged. Because I stand naked, revealing every part of myself, bloggers tell me the other side of their lives; the heartache and loss brought about by addiction.
      It is a sad world, made sadder by the spread of street drugs. I assume your grandson has a habit. Are drugs readily available in American prisons? Is there any kind of a programme of rehabilitation? My son served eighteen months in prison and came out clean, healthy and looking forward to a rosy future. It went a little wrong and now he’s struggling, and, as a result, so am I, but my heart goes out to you and your family.

      Like

      1. Everyone wants to pretend we are “GREAT” because we think others are, and we want to be that way too. Yes, drugs…very bad. That’s an understatement of course, but I know many people whose lives have been changed for the worse because of drugs. My motto is “it is what it is…” and I work from there. We discuss poetry, world history, philosophy, math…this is our world.

        Liked by 1 person

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