Into my own personal and despairing Room 101

I would place you, for the lack of noble spirit

you betray, you seek to deceive with

and place any type of good will towards,

your disloyalty to the abiding

clarity of Human spirit

is but a disease, a smoking stain

on the face of the Earth

and I judge you unfit

to be smiled upon.

 

I would place those loyal to black raging heart,

I would consign to nothingness

those who seek to destroy all that is good,

I would dance, if I only knew how,

at the joy to leave gasping for

ever thinning and slowly disappearing air

all those who seek to demonise

a fellow human being whose only

crime was to be poor, to be left destitute,

to be seen as having no potential,

to be categorised and thrown to the fates

of industrial saluted scale

and rancid, slow decomposing, withering

within the black hearted twenty one gun salute;

fired at will, on the hour, every hour.

 

I would do all that to save you

but then what, what do we hate when can hate no more?

 

My own private Room 101,

small in comparison perhaps to others whose

hatred takes up an entire hotel and the en suite

bathroom in the stately home next door,

I hate the sin but I try to love you, I hate my own sins,

I hate the way I have tried to be good,

when I know deep down I am good

but perhaps not seen as such,

Into my own private dysfunctional

Room 101 I go, please nail down the lid,

lock it and guard it well, for deep inside

Pandora awaits.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015