Before I Kill You (an arch-villainelle) part 4 of 6

Before I Kill You
(an arch-villainelle)

[originally published in Stone Telling]
(parts 1-2 of 6)

Although I’m not particularly vain,
I’m sure you’d like to know how you will die,
so, first, before I kill you, I’ll explain

my brilliant plan. Don’t bother to complain;
you won’t escape, no matter how you try.
It’s not that I’m particularly vain,

it’s just that after taking all these pains
I would like you to look me in the eye
before I kill you, so I can explain:

a cistern in the mountain gathers rain
through ducts in my enormous statue’s eye
(not that I am particularly vain).

It enters a robotic water main,
which, on command, can self-electrify.
Before I kill you, now, I will explain:

I’ve added some enhancements to my brain—
you’ll nev—

Before I Kill You (an arch-villainelle) part 3

Before I Kill You
(an arch-villainelle)

[originally published in Stone Telling]
(parts 1-2 of 6)

Although I’m not particularly vain,
I’m sure you’d like to know how you will die,
so, first, before I kill you, I’ll explain

my brilliant plan. Don’t bother to complain;
you won’t escape, no matter how you try.
It’s not that I’m particularly vain,

it’s just that after taking all these pains
I would like you to look me in the eye
before I kill you, so I can explain:

a cistern in the mountain gathers rain
through ducts in my enormous statue’s eye
(not that I am particularly vain).

 

 

Before I Kill You (an arch-villainelle) part 2 of 6

Before I Kill You
(an arch-villainelle)

[originally published in Stone Telling]
(parts 1-2 of 6)

Although I’m not particularly vain,
I’m sure you’d like to know how you will die,
so, first, before I kill you, I’ll explain

my brilliant plan. Don’t bother to complain;
you won’t escape, no matter how you try.
It’s not that I’m particularly vain,

it’s just that after taking all these pains
I would like you to look me in the eye
before I kill you, so I can explain:

 

If all poems were limericks: “Cat’s Canticle” by David Sklar

If all poems were limericks: “Cat’s Canticle” by David Sklar

If you speak I won’t answer at all;
don’t expect me to come when you call.
It’s a sort of a game—
see, I’ve hidden my name
someplace secret, and silent, and small.

 

I may eventually post something relevant to yesterday’s events. But today is my birthday, so I am featuring myself.

Read the original here.