One Dreamed Of Rose Thorns And The Other Of Math

Poems Of Hope, Spirits, The Book Of The Dead

by Cliff Rhodes

 

One Dreamed Of Rose Thorns And The Other Of Math

11-25-2011

 

 

The murderer thought of God's punishment as only temporary.

Rarely did she worry about emotioal things like caring.

One death was just like any other, and she was always fast.

Laughing aloud, she pulled the trigger, again and again.

The poor man died on the first shot, just as she planned.

 

Across the city, there was another unusually cruel stalker.

He was talking to himself of how God's vengeance was lost.

He thought that he was the instrument of God's will.

Killing was an act reserved for only lunatics like him.

Women were his specialty and he lusted for the thrill.  

 

Sleep brings on dreams, and soon the two were crossing paths.

Somewhere in the dark ether, both kissed, then they laughed.

They had found each other, but doom was only natural.

Sharing their dreams was costly, and life could not last.

Carefully, they tried to preserve their sick dream's trance.

 

Alas, a safe haven could not be found for either psychopath.

One dreamed of rose thorns and the other of math.

Addition of complex fractions soon caused both a fatal stroke.

Ghostly numerals became embedded in a vision as a joke.

The sad elderly lady one had killed, could not forget her roses.

 

Even in death, the hope of beauty, somehow still clings.

Ringing church bells made sorrowful long streams of tears. 

Friends held dear the memories of a beloved math professor.

He died while one killer laughed raucously in vile scorn.

The other victim was yet remembered and also adored.

Her garden of flowers created a living dream that never bored.

 

Memories are transformed after death and come to life.

Beware of God's sense of humor as it too comes to light.

No one escapes the fond memories of those we love.

They change our characters and prick our conscience.

Laughter still brings joy in love, even in deathly tragedy.

 

Brave soul it is who tries to thwart love's nightmares.

She seeks killers of hope with an active gleeful passion.

Sleep will not be safe, even in death's gated communities.

Terror is no fence that makes killers free and immune.

Even conspirators find dark consequences the rule.

 

Stalking the innocent for sport is always such bad math.

Their memories live on forever with God, even in passing.

Real laughter is release of truth into undeniable certainty.

Worry is preoccupation with difficult unknown burdens.

Death brings not an end to life but an eternal future.