KENNETH NORMAN COOK

KENNETH

NORMAN COOK

LORD OF THE FLIES*

The conch-shell is destroyed;

shattered into bits and scattered

over the ocean waves.

The age of chaos has begun;

our laws are finished

and our true nature has arisen.

The head of the pig sits upon a stake,

rotting in the sun

while gazing out with dead eyes,

mouth gaping in a silent squeal.

The blood slowly trickles,

baking to brown

and congealing slowly

with a coppery reek.

The era of anarchy has begun;

our culture is a distant memory

and our animal-instincts rule,

as the flies buzz, circle and consume

our mute, impotent lord.

[*INSPIRED BY WILLIAM GOLDING]

KENNETH NORMAN COOK

NOW YOU’RE LEAVING

And so now you’re leaving me,

while the stars twinkle in golden summer effulgence,

sprayed across a black velvet dome.

While the morning sun kisses the Earth

with a warm embrace of amber sweetness.

While my heart lies helpless in your hands,

and my soul burns with a fire quenched

only by the healing balm of your life-giving eyes.

And so now you’re leaving me.

Now you’re leaving… Oh god… don’t leave.

KENNETH NORMAN COOK

THE WELCOME

The thin beams of sparse sun

fall through the thick green

pine trees and spill onto the

brown needle covered floor of

the dark forest in pale golden

stripes, as the tiny spotted fawn

is groomed into the world by

her mother’s gently bathing

tongue, while the tall woods

sing out a wild welcome with

an unseen chorus of haunting

hoots and ominous howls.

KENNETH

NORMAN COOK