The Many Souls of Azazel

The House

I am a millennium old

A heart I do not possess

My body, empty and cold

I yearn yet nonetheless

Upon a time long ago

I needed a place, a home

To plant my seed and grow

Where I need no longer roam

I’ve had many dwellings before

Throughout my damned existence

They've taken many a form

I’m not picky, just insistent

To escape the depths of hell

This house allowed me in

This shuttered and shattered shell

Forgave me of my sin

Shingles missing, roof ‘afell

Like something from Hell-come

Fallen eaves and foul smell

My facade does not welcome

Children mock as by they walk

And they disfigure my skin

At my windows, they throw rocks

‘Tis nothing compared to within

Not one dares to enter

Creaking, cracking old boards

Shambled stairs are a preventer

Rats drive away in hoards

“This Property Condemned”

And “Do Not Pass”

Warning signs a message does send

Of inhospitality and broken glass

Not for companions do I seek

Not for company do I crave

Not for love do I beseech

But my death I must stave

Not for food do I seek

Yet I must be fed

It is a soul, not a physique

That will keep me in my stead

My vessel approaches dry

I must replenish the void

So thus, I must try

To starve, I must avoid

How shall I fill my gut?

Not a life will step inside me

Splintered doors boarded shut

Do cause many to flee

If only I had arms

Or tentacles to outreach

Or perhaps to lure with charm

I do lack the gift to speak

No physical means to capture

No enticing means to appeal

I have no draw, no rapture

How must I, a life, steal?

My time is short and waning

My circumstances, dire

I’ve little time remaining

So, a plan I must conspire

SMASH and BASH and CRASH

Another boulder, small but mighty

Children’s antics create a flash

Of an idea to fear from Almighty

Their taunts, their catcalls,

Their delinquent bad acts

Will be their luckless downfall

And my glorious climax

Though not able to amplify

I am able to “ghost”

And draw the unwitting inside

If, by chance, they be close

Al

My dark side is charming to no one, none at all,

My dim outlook on life is dismal and appall,

Friends, I have none. Family, none to speak.

Many claim that my future is quite dark and bleak.

Not so. I have prospects, though out of the norm.

Not all great expectations are tradition-born.

My attitude of solitude is my greatest asset.

For with no one else around, no one gets upset.

I would not say I am difficult, nor even a bit strange.

I simply show my truth. I am honest. I will not change,

To suit the status quo. Then, that would be a lie.

To wear a false face? I would rather die.

‘Tis everyone else who attempts to blend in.

‘Tis painfully aware they care not their own skin.

They see me and do not agree with me or my strange views,

‘Tis their lives that are fraudulent and tragically askew.

Do not care what they say to my face or my back.

‘Tis their own sense of self and esteem that they do lack.

Once, it did affect me, but now it does not.

How could I care for those who don’t practice what they’re taught?

They speak The Golden Rule. Do unto others and the like.

Do not turn your back, for it is then in which they strike,

Hurtful words, hateful actions, or worse, apathy,

Truth be told, the latter is the worst of the three.

There are those who stand by when others are damaged,

They can see yet ignore others’ internal rampage.

Not a hand do they lend. Not a word of support.

‘Tiz the soul-to-soul aim in which they fall short.

This is why I stand solo, not lonely, just alone.

No one to harm me and no one to call me home.

Human bonds are futile; thus, my heart will not break,

For I refuse to put mine out for anyone to take.

Clarisa

My visions

Allow me to see

My voices

Let me hear

When I was young

I was forced into a closet

At school

By a teacher

Because I thought she kept calling my name

But she did not

“Stop interrupting, Clarisa!”

And she left me there

She left me there

I was alone in there

Yet my name was still announced.

Over

And over

And over

And over

Until someone heard my screams of pain

The principal–the principal is a prince and a pal, yet

He was neither when he escorted me to the nurse

He was neither when he called in my nanny

He was neither when he recommended homeschooling

That was my last day of sixth grade and public education

That was my first day of becoming a woman

Joey

They say salsa is now known as a veggie!

You don’t know how glad this made me!

With bag-o-corn chips,

And white queso dip,

I'll have a nutritious and delicious snack-ee!

Kids always shout out, “Hey, Turd Fark!”

I laugh with them in spirit as a lark.

I know I am round,

And need to shed pounds,

But my plus-sized frame’s my trademark.

I’m actually known as a fat, funny guy,

They’ve no idea of the turmoil inside.

They think they are clever,

That they are so much better,

Yet I hear them laugh as inside I cry.

You may ask, “Why not just lash out?”

“You’re big and could knock them about!”

Although I am sizable,

Brutality’s not advisable,

So I take their abuse and just pout.

If I just packed up and went away,

I’d be missed in some morose way,

They’d have to find another,

To bully and to bother,

And to torture with emotional play.

My dear gran would not even know,

As her mind is becoming more slow,

Best parent I’ve had,

And it makes me sad,

That, someday, I’ll have to let go.

Please do not worry about me and my life,

I’m not unaccustomed to an existence with strife,

I just find my way,

To bring joy to my day,

I cut through time like a dull butter knife.