The Sad Boy Ay, his old mother was a glad one.And his poor old father was a mad one.The two begot this sad one.Alas for the single shoeThe Sad Boy pulled out of the rank green pond,Fishing for fairiesOn the prankish adviceOf two disagreeable lovers of small boys.Pity the unfortunate Sad BoyWith a single magic shoeAnd a pair of feetAnd an extra footWith no shoe for it.This was how the terrible hopping beganThat wore the Sad Boy thin and throughTo his only shoeAnd started the great fright in the provinces above BrentWhere the Sad Boy became half of himselfTo match the beautiful bootHe had dripped from the green pond.Wherever he went weeping and hoppingAnd stamping and sobbing,Pounding a whole earth into a half-heaven,Things split where he stoodInto the left side for the left magic,Into no side for the missing right boot.Mercy be to the Sad BoyScamping exasperatedAfter a wide bootTo double the magicOf a limping foot.Mercy to the melancholy folkOn the Sad Boy's right.It was not for want of wanderingHe lost the left boot tooAnd the knowledge of his left side,But because one awful SundayThis dear boy dislimbedWent back to the old pondTo fish up another shoeAnd was quickly (being too light for his line)Fished in.Gracious how he kicks nowAll the little ripples up!The quiet population of Brent has settled down,And the perfect surface of the famous pondIs slightly pocked, marked with three signs,For visitors come to fish for souvenirs,Where the Sad Boy went inAnd his glad mother and his mad father after him./1980 Collection
Laura Riding Jackson
God saw Hansen tighten his chokehold on Day and he could see his lover fighting to breathe. Day’s ears and neck were bright red. His lips were turning a darker color as his body was deprived of oxygen. Hansen pressed the barrel in deeper and yelled.Two minutes and fifteen seconds before I get to zero and I provide the great state of Georgia the luxury of one less narc.God’s mind exploded at the thought of not having Day in a world he lived in. He looked into his partner’s glistening eyes and saw he was turning blue and possibly getting ready to faint. Day was still looking at him, looking into God’s green eyes.No, no, no! He’s saying good-bye.God closed his eyes and released a loud, gut-wrenching growl cutting off the SWAT leader’s negotiations.Godfrey, get yourself under control, his captain said while grabbing for him.God jerked himself away from the hold and stepped forward, his angry eyes boring into Hansen’s dark ones. Hansen stared at him as if God was crazy. Little did he know God was at that moment.Godfrey, get back here and stand down. That’s an order, Detective! his captain barked.God’s large hands clenched at his sides fighting not to pull out his weapons. He ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached.Do you have any idea of the shit storm you’re about to bring down on your life, God spoke with a menacing snarl while his large frame shook with fury. In your arms you hold the only thing in this world that means anything to me. The man that you are pointing a gun at is my only purpose for living. You are threating to kill the only person in this world that gives a fuck about me.God took two more steps forward and was vaguely aware of the complete silence surrounding him. Hansen’s finger hovered shakily over the trigger as he took two large steps back with Day still tight against his chest.God growled again and he saw a shade of fear ghost over Hansen’s sweaty face.If you kill that man, I swear on everything that is holy, I will track you to the ends of the earth, killing and destroying any and everything you hold dear. I will take everything from you and leave you alive to suffer through it. I will bestow upon you the same misery that you have given to me.Hansen shook his head and inched closer to the door behind him.Stay back, he yelled again but this time the demand lacked the courage and venom he exhibited before.You kill that man and you’ll have no idea of the monster you will create. Have you ever met a man with no heart…no conscience…no soul…no purpose? God rumbled, his voice at least twelve octaves lower than the already deep baritone.God yanked his Desert Eagle from his holster in a flash and cocked the hammer back chambering the first round. Hansen stumbled back again, his eyes gone wide with fear.God’s entire body instinctually flexed every muscle in his body and it felt like the large vein in his neck might rupture. His body burned like he had a sweltering fever and he knew his wrath had him a brilliant shade of red.I’m asking you a goddamn question, Hansen! No soul! No conscience! I’m asking you have you ever met the devil! God’s thunderous voice practically rattled the glass in the hanger.If you kill the man I love, you better make your peace with God, because I’m gonna meet your soul in hell. His voice boomed.
A. E. Via