5th level library reflection

i feel like i'm on display out here.

To be seventeen again

and the hassle and worry of elections

are for people capable

of legally purchasing cigarettes and beer.

when the politics of the father

were the politics of myself.

eight years later

and not much contrast can be seen,

for i have absorbed the green crystal

in order to fufill the ancient prophecy

of a dead planet.

a bearded man mocks my writing,

but confers upon it a passing mark.

a man will leave his home today

and return to the one he left.

history will judge him, as it does all men,

but none have offered their neck

so readily to the blade time and time again.

the world is not the simple lies

old ladies tell us from storybooks.

nothing can change, nothing ever changes.

a liberator is a king is a tyrant.

it was our call for blood

that stains his hands at this hour,

yes, how quick the masses forget.

Barabbas marches free from the dark hill

as we fill our chalices with the blood

of our unrecognized savior.

his coffers are void of pirated black gold

but filled with the lost souls of countrymen

who, if possible, would cast his name once more.

I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones.

 

this death takes place in the shadow of new life,

the sunrise of a new world.

vanity is only temporary.

let another place his eyes

before the screws

and grimace as the people gleefully twist them

deeper and deeper

into his waiting skull.

Reviews

[Tina Kline]

Wow! This is a very powerful poem, a sort of history of the world
and of life and of politics all rolled into one. But so true. I love
your poem. It is well written and easy to read which makes it
all the better. I can spend more time thinking about it instead
of trying to figure out what your saying in it. Good poem and
good job!

tina