The Murder Hammer

My father has a hammer, the handle of which is wrapped in nylon cording and plastic, as if he wants to be able to clean it easily, and doesn't want the fingerprints to stick. He didn't wrap the hammer himself, but rather, in a spontaneous act of good will, took the hammer from a wrathful homeless pimp who used the hammer for unspeakable purposes. (I was told to thoroughly explain to you that my father does not socially mingle with wrathful homeless pimps.)

ANYWAY, my father has no real love for the Murder Hammer, and leaves it lying around in strange places, where it provides an interesting coloring to every event that takes place in its vicinity. Recently, he left the Murder Hammer next to the place where we scatter seeds for the cardinals in the backyard, and it looked as if the cardinals were enjoying their breakfast while standing on top of the centerpiece of a crime scene.

Of course, I was inspired.

The Murder Hammer

When the sun rose in the morning

And light crept ‘cross the land,

One of the shadows that should have left

Lay printed on the sand.

It was a murder hammer

With blood upon the hilt.

Small pools lay all around it,

Where blood and dew had spilt.

And ‘round the pools of blood and dew

Was scattered a dainty treat.

For the hammer lay where, every day,

The birds and squirrels would eat.

Today they gathered round it;

They perched on the handle wood.

They paid no mind to the suffering,

But any human should.

 

Between the pools of blood and dew,

The murder hammer lies.

Where the pinkish water reflects

A picture of bird- filled skies.

And, while that was all well and good, it felt incomplete, so then I was all like"Hey! We need some HAIKUS IN THIS BITCH!!"

The Murder Hammer

When the sun rose in the morning

And light crept ‘cross the land,

One of the shadows that should have left

Lay printed on the sand.

The shadows recede

Each morning naturally

Unless they are cursed.

It was a murder hammer

With blood upon the hilt.

Small pools lay all around it,

Where blood and dew had spilt.

The blood bled on the

Hammer that bled on the ground

That bled in water.

And ‘round the pools of blood and dew

Was scattered a dainty treat.

For the hammer lay where, every day,

The birds and squirrels would eat.

A murder hammer

Is laying by the seeds that

The birds are eating.

Today they gathered round it;

They perched on the handle wood.

They paid no mind to the suffering,

But any human should.

Animals don’t mind

The implications of blood.

Humans know better.

Between the pools of blood and dew,

The murder hammer lies.

Where the pinkish water reflects

A picture of bird- filled skies.

The birds take flight but

The hammer cannot escape

Its own foul uses.

But even then, I could not rest. The poem needed a visual representation to strengthen its image. So, I present to you "Murder Hammer with Cardinals" in watercolor.

By the by, I think Murder Hammer would be a great name for a metal band, or album, or song, or anything really associated with metal. So yeah. Somebody make that happen.

Seriously. I want to see this.