Last Laugh


I challenged
The dark interloper
Hell bent on
My innocence

Enough, I cried
I shall not flee
But stand my ground

He merely snarled
Grinned obscenely
Barked an evil laugh
Gestured with cloven hoof

I followed his pointing
Found to my horror
That I am standing
In his shoes
And he in mine

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on January 20, 2014, in Poetry, Writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. Another powerful piece. You’ve communicated well how sometimes we are our own worst enemy.


  2. Like looking in a mirror, Bravo! Take a bow. 🙂


    • Thank you. I did toy with the idea of using the mirror image, but decided against it as I felt it could be evoked by the words without a direct reference, which indeed it can, as your comment shows. 🙂


  3. Haha, yup. Been there, for sure. 🙂


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