Anonymous' Inferno

A poem about how life can make devils out of all of us.

Anonymous’ Inferno

 

If you can strum on an acoustic

A penchant’s pride will hear you play

A summer’s gale ago, I had a friend who would comply

Of my religion, mind, and state --- of my defect and alibi

But burdened by the walls I’ve noticed, I’ve been alone for quite some time…

The notes you negotiate won’t tremble hysterically, on the brink of intense device

But adequate composition and melody, my friend, will still suffice:

 

They should serve welfare to the children in the homes deemed perfect white

I never was an advocate of this, though, never much, I tried

If you could mine it with your eyes closed it was gold enough for me

If it took harsh deliberation, it was foreign currency

But I digress, onto the manner of my first accused crime

Raised far too well to ascribe tremors to an uncompassionate design

But should you wake to violent charges and be conditioned like a man

You’ll see the dogs could stage revolt, but that’s Oval Office to slave hand

My muse, frustration, at the manner in which we quantify the chain

You’ll see a beggar plead for pity, but a mutt will not complain

And so beside me they erected something much I did not like

 A barricade to shroud brutality, though vulnerable on every side

 

By now --- I’m sure you’ve realized my name

But if it still eludes you I’ve got plenty more accomplices to blame

 

Having been deceived by the minister, principal, and my own mother too

I logically began allotting time for my acquaintances to use

But while they claimed their independence they were fettered to a God

Who when employed, traversed the vapid canyon they accepted with its flaws

And though the Catholics claim devotion, with this belief they cannot compete

But I despise the blind adherents so I travelled beat to beat

And thought and thought and thought about it, till thinking made my tongue go numb

And I would press my teeth against it to feel the stringent sting it stung

 And I made note in my ambitions not to abscond that innate pain

As future failures did around me, conducting funerals in their brains

So you can imagine my objections when they decided on a whim

To construct a further extension of my existential paradigm

 

By now --- I’m sure you realized my name

But don’t blink in astonishment there’s much more to this game

 

And so instead of flowing gently from tributaries to the sea

I spent a generous tuition furthering my apathy

And had I crescendoed in admission without holding pot in hand

I may have won that awful tournament, but instead Jesus took the stand

“She loves Jesus!” cried the host as blue lights exemplified his greed

Though, no that may still be resentment because (while everyone loves Jesus) nobody loves me

And so from then on I wore a top hat on my ever-greying hair

And I must admit I still like to comb it, though, there’s no point, there’s nothing there

And while I’m partial to a party I like to think my hunchback did suffice

And culminated down a trembling cheek in mutual sacrifice

And no rat contests the sincerity of my unforgotten rage

When I learned of renovations for the third side of my cage

 

By now --- I’m sure you realized my name

But can you speculate the angle of my aim? 

 

Well I endured a manifesto and I came to understand

That while the Fat Men get free drinks it’s skinny men who work the land

And so determined to avoid the plight they called, in my home town, “The Dream”

I mustered up a stern rebellion to justly portray the Fat Mens’ scheme

But when the Sheriff heard the riot from the Mockingbird’s song, he came

And tethered all the men to rifles and had photography arranged

So that he would obtain confessions prior to any brief phone call

As if to prevent us all from saying, “That is not it, not it at all!” 

And when I escaped that more pleasant cell back to the ominous recital

I watched a Dark Man dance on headstones, and I proudly took his Title

And first they flattered me as royalty but then started to install

The fourth and final concrete connection of my own prison called ‘”The Wall” 

 

By now ---I’m sure you’ve realized my name

But if you’re still looking for an inkling, please allow me to explain

 

I shudder in a black room lit ablaze by the inferno of candles crying, “Who?”

They fester in our hesitant moments, maybe you’ve lit one or two

You don’t become the Fallen Angel through a life of poor intent

It’s just a portrait of smooth strokes, concealing what you really represent

By now I’m sure you’ve realized that you’ve learned to despise my name

But the question now, my friend, is might you just end up the same?