Moxie_McTavish
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I'm not sure if it's good to post this, or if anyone is interested in poetry, but I wrote this poem recently about Charli Scott and the sad crime that took her life. Sorry if this isn't relevant to sleuthing, but I know this is an emotional case, and I wrote it to help with my own feelings about her murder.
The first part is from the perspective of her killer, the second part is Charli's perspective.
Off-Island -
A Poem for Charli Scott
You were standing stock still
Flame haired, Elizabethan,
Like Venus on a half shell.
Thumb stuck out playfully,
you jesting hitchhiker.
Taking a silly bow,
You trusting fool.
I'll admit it’s fun
Being with you.
Emerging out of the night
And into the light,
You sat down with a crash
Face framed against the dash,
In the thin illumination
Of the truck’s cabin lamp.
And just outside
Something stirred
In this horrid, sordid night.
Drizzling now,
Our windows are down.
You can lean into me
As we take the curves.
Laugh aloud
If it calms your nerves.
I’ve driven this stretch a hundred times,
With its steady croak of lonely frogs,
Raindrops on leaves and soggy logs.
Padding tires on moist asphalt
My hand on your belly…
This is kind of your fault.
Waterfalls crash,
just out of sight.
The jungle alive,
on this sordid night.
……..
So he pulls the truck in
near Nua’ailua,
A moan from the brush
I hear, ‘Auwe Akua.’
The ancient onlookers,
they see what I can’t:
The smirk in his smile,
The veins of his hand.
I see the ancients clearly,
Sense that they can see
The pain now being
Inflicted on me.
And my angel, my baby:
Please slumber through slaughter,
Go gently, easily -
GOD, I'M SOMEBODY'S DAUGHTER!!
The kapu is broken,
the cord is snapping.
Na lapu, I sense them,
I can see Ku clapping.
Ka’ena beckons,
violent winds lashing.
And with my last heartbeat,
I rage on, thrashing.
My body is ravaged,
but my soul feels free!
Intangibles compete
With this reality.
My beautiful child,
so precious in place.
His sleeping soul,
and scrunched-up face.
He’s off to the side,
bundled in brush,
Seen to by the ancients,
In a tender hush.
The man gathers my body,
pulling it round.
He doesn’t know
That I’m not body-bound.
As I rage and blast forward,
Clawing his eyes,
Something clicks into place:
All of his lies.
Of he who took me,
eternally,
off-island.
Back at the Hui,
don’t you know that I’m with you?
I’m standing right there…
smoothing your hair.
My ministrations to cool you.
The first part is from the perspective of her killer, the second part is Charli's perspective.
Off-Island -
A Poem for Charli Scott
You were standing stock still
Flame haired, Elizabethan,
Like Venus on a half shell.
Thumb stuck out playfully,
you jesting hitchhiker.
Taking a silly bow,
You trusting fool.
I'll admit it’s fun
Being with you.
Emerging out of the night
And into the light,
You sat down with a crash
Face framed against the dash,
In the thin illumination
Of the truck’s cabin lamp.
And just outside
Something stirred
In this horrid, sordid night.
Drizzling now,
Our windows are down.
You can lean into me
As we take the curves.
Laugh aloud
If it calms your nerves.
I’ve driven this stretch a hundred times,
With its steady croak of lonely frogs,
Raindrops on leaves and soggy logs.
Padding tires on moist asphalt
My hand on your belly…
This is kind of your fault.
Waterfalls crash,
just out of sight.
The jungle alive,
on this sordid night.
……..
So he pulls the truck in
near Nua’ailua,
A moan from the brush
I hear, ‘Auwe Akua.’
The ancient onlookers,
they see what I can’t:
The smirk in his smile,
The veins of his hand.
I see the ancients clearly,
Sense that they can see
The pain now being
Inflicted on me.
And my angel, my baby:
Please slumber through slaughter,
Go gently, easily -
GOD, I'M SOMEBODY'S DAUGHTER!!
The kapu is broken,
the cord is snapping.
Na lapu, I sense them,
I can see Ku clapping.
Ka’ena beckons,
violent winds lashing.
And with my last heartbeat,
I rage on, thrashing.
My body is ravaged,
but my soul feels free!
Intangibles compete
With this reality.
My beautiful child,
so precious in place.
His sleeping soul,
and scrunched-up face.
He’s off to the side,
bundled in brush,
Seen to by the ancients,
In a tender hush.
The man gathers my body,
pulling it round.
He doesn’t know
That I’m not body-bound.
As I rage and blast forward,
Clawing his eyes,
Something clicks into place:
All of his lies.
Of he who took me,
eternally,
off-island.
Back at the Hui,
don’t you know that I’m with you?
I’m standing right there…
smoothing your hair.
My ministrations to cool you.