YESTERDAY'S FIRE

   


Yesterday an inferno visited the building right next to us,
Very rude she was...who in the world told her she was welcome?
But in her open palms was the invitation letter,
The same paper that had first caught fire, rolled into a cigarette, smoked by rouges in my area.

So she went on a rampage, her small self...
Destroying the properties of others with her milk tooth,
She did it so quick, chewing away beautiful buildings into dark ashes,
And if she ever lost any of her fiery teeth, the tooth fairy would be unfair to replace it with a dollar,

I liken a child to the fire or the fire to a child for it always starts innocent...
First satisfied with the little objects we give it to eat to keep us warm,
Then like a ‘child’ it becomes curious and wants to know how big buildings taste...
And then it explores causing us to need hundreds of fire trucks to bring it down.

The 'fire' in a child, causes the child to be rude which burns his or her parent's happiness down,
And the 'child' in a fire is never satisfied- wanting more and more, crawling towards bigger houses and burning them down, crying 'ees my yown'...
Crying out the more every time we try to make it 'Keep quiet'...
Fortunately the heroes in Fire trucks came yesterday and finally turned the fire off.

But when a child's actions and words begin to consume and burn...who shall we call?
For the fire is in the child and the water that normally puts out fires only helps he or she take a bath.
The fire in them burns up their insides, charring their emotions and feelings,
They grow to become evil and begin setting real fires like yesterday's fire.


Kennypoet.

Overeating caused by a hormone deficiency in brain

If you find yourself downing that extra piece of chocolate fudge cake even though you’re not hungry, it might be the absence of a hormone in your brain that’s causing you to overeat purely for pleasure.

A REVREND's MURDER

His voice had taken on a deeper color as he finally concluded, smiling, 'if you don't marry my son, David, you just may die’. Leah just stood shaking, still in her night gown silently reciting all the prayers she was taught as a child. This was not the first time this mysterious man had broken into her house and threatened her, in fact the last time she met him watching TV in the living room...playing with a small pistol in his hands. She never saw his face...the image she had of him was as dark as his words and even darker than the shadows he so brilliantly blended in. His footsteps pounded the polished mahogany floor as he made his way out of the house, 'this is the last time you shall hear from me, when I want someone dead....', he spoke without turning back then suddenly paused, his hands feeling the warmth of the door knob before turning it sharply, 'I don't waste time in getting it done', he continued as the gentle creak of the opening door created the perfect background music for a scary song in a horror movie. But this was worse...it was NO movie. As soon as he left, Leah broke down in tears and fear gripped her chest and refused to let go. Naturally she was someone that would by all means stay out of trouble but this was way more complicated.

Leah met Scavo a few years back when she was still working in 'Patricks restaurant', a few blocks from her house. His voice and composure had first thrown her off her feet and later off her toes as she tried to balance on them, being the stubborn girl she was. She had unfortunately had her heart broken some years back by a man who claimed to love her so she had threaded carefully after that but Scavo was nothing like the other guys she had met, his black shiny hair sat so perfectly on his head and his face told a story Leah wanted to hear every day for the rest of her life. So, the 'Yes' was not silent a few weeks back when he proposed, in fact that night the whole restaurant had paused to witness the so very much obvious love between this two beautiful people. The wedding was to be on that weekend, all the things for the lovely day was set and ready, everything was sure...everything except the fact that she would actually get married to the man of her dreams on that day. 'I could die!', she cried to herself. She knew the mysterious man's son but she just couldn't marry him, She couldn't tell the police either because the man had given clear instructions not to. But slowly in her confusion she found a solution...she stood up slowly from the floor her body had lay upon in a pile, made sure the door was locked then paced up and down the room...her brain slowly filling up with 'dangerous' plans.

The wedding day was more than beautiful!, both families of the couple where present all dressed up in tuxedos and gowns. Leah was the only child of her parents and almost the whole world had come to see the gentleman that had succeeded in whisking the Successful Engineer's daughter away from him. Her father was pleased even from the first day he met Scavo and he gave him a 'silent' wink as he led his daughter to the altar, the pianos booming thereby causing the Old chapel to shake delightfully but not noticeably. The Reverend had begun the vows and the couple repeated after him up until the time he turned to the man and asked, 'Do you take this woman, Leah, to be your wedded wife?'...his 'I do' reply was loud and reassuring but the same question posed to his bride was left unanswered.....and the whole crowd was confused and surprised. Her father shifted uneasily in his chair and the people murmured as they saw Leah stand, staring at the Reverend. The Reverend had carefully revealed a gun from his white robe and smiled...he reminded Leah with a voice close to a whisper, 'my Son...you must marry him, today, NOW.' He didn't notice that a young man had staggered out of the congregation and now stood before them, drooling. The young man was the Reverend's son, he was born with a mental retardation and few people normally had the patience to listen to him and attempt to join his scattered words in their brains to form a sentence BUT now, everyone listened when he spoke, they had no choice. 'Father, I will NOT marry her...not this one'. His voice was shrill and frustrated. His father looked at him with disdain, he himself had had a horrible marriage that had produced the boy as his only son and he wanted nothing more but to give his son what he himself never had....a beautiful wife and lovely normal children but even just the way his son spoke angered him so when his son attempted to continue the speech about how he(the reverend) had also threatened two other girls few months back to marry him(David) only for them to disappear mysteriously after going ahead with their original marriage plans, the Reverend pulled out the gun and shot him. The people sitting at the other end of the church could have seen the smoke dance out of the nozzle of the murder weapon.

Everyone screamed, the young man suddenly fell to the floor and the Reverend disappeared without a trace. Leah was by the wounded man's side in a fraction of a second, holding his hand in hers. Scavo was fumbling with a phone trying to call the ambulance, he was confused, he had questions but those would be addressed later. Leah put her hand in the dying mans hair, trying to reassure him....the bullet had sliced through his chest and a pool of blood had started forming at his sides. Leah had begun talking to him from the last day that man (who turned out to be the Reverend) had come to her house and threatened her, she had made friends with him and given him the encouragement and motivation he needed to stand up to his father. She began feeling it was her fault and guilt engulfed her but the son, David, saw this and smiled while gently squeezing her hands as if telling her 'No, you changed my perception of life, you gave me a reason to believe in myself and stand for what I believe in'. Amidst the chaos and distant sound of ambulance sirens, he looked into her eyes and took his last breath. Of all the women he had seen this one was different and he felt a feeling of love come over him but he would never fully understand this love of a thing, would he?


Kennypoet