literature

The Crooked Man

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Literature Text

This is the crooked man and he has crooked teeth,
He lives in twisted alleyways and makes meals of every thief.
His walk is like the profane undead, his breath is like a miser,
If you ask him any questions, you will be quite none the wiser.
He speaks in every language, until they all sound the same,
A confusing malady of tongue and mind that infects all till insane.

The streets are wrong while his face is right,
For neither face the same direction.
His feet are bent and legs are bowed,
He brings a crazed infection.

His step is shaky as his every thought; a polka of the mind,
Don’t step to close or take his hand or your feet its steps will find.
His robes a gown of royal raving a symbol of his due,
Each flea a courtier on his back to bring his gifts to you.
They dance about and join the beat, a crown upon his head,
A static form of buzzing strings on which the song is fed.

The streets are wrong while his face is right,
For neither face the same direction.
His feet are bent and legs are bowed,
He brings a crazed infection.

Beseeching hands reach out for you to clutch you as you pass,
To grab with twisted fingers as fragile as spun glass.
If good of heart you may be freed to stagger onward on your way,
Yet if deceit reigns in with evil’s hue, you shall become his prey.
For madness provides a sight of sorts to see into the soul,
And strength to even weakened bones to take your heart quite whole.

The streets are wrong while his face is right,
For neither face the same direction.
His feet are bent and legs are bowed,
He brings a crazed infection.

This is the crooked man, and he has crooked teeth,
He lives in twisted alleyways and makes meals of every thief.
One in a potential series of poems on Gothic characters in a haunted world.

I'd love to know what you think.
© 2015 - 2024 Dragonrider4000
Comments1
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Ouroboros19XX's avatar
I am put in mind of a personified plague, or pox.

I love the imagery and rhythm. ^.^