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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 09-June 18:34:36 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 152494
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Guised to the Gallows
[time] => 2009-08-23 07:30:29
[hometext] => Check out other posts of sections of my book of short stories called Capias at http://capiandreams.blogspot.com/
[bodytext] => Morning breaks when crow’s call and the winds call back High above the sun cuts slits through the overcast kingdom This is no day for the sun no matter how brave it may be This day is mine; I the executioner am the mystery to all I rise alone and stand tall for I know there is nothing I lack As time nears I mingle amongst the markets as a way to battle boredom Walking the roads that nobles, farmers and wives walk along so free Past families who know not that I myself guide the axes fall I don’t ask questions of guilt that is for the courts to decide My existence is to carry the punishment upon my shoulder strong I am a learned man who you will find in your temples of scholar But upon this stage I am the man in the mask who shows no fear It is easy to avoid judgement as I dance this masquerading ball to hide It is easy to avoid conscience when it is you who commits no wrong But it is hard to be the nameless inflictor of pain and never the consoler It is hard to be the angel of death but still I am not worthy of a tear I am a honourable man always thankful for my daily bread I pay my taxes and give to the wanting and never judge bias in mind I the Executioner, I the Clown, I the Thief the Villain and the Hero Guised to the Gallows I go, as mysterious to those who observe, as to myself As the clock strikes high I am directed that no one will be spared Pulling on my cloak of invisibility and leaving my own mortality behind Retracing the steps climbed so often till I reach the forsaken ground zero With my gloves of leather and crafted axe removed from the top most shelf Today is neither the day for blood not tomorrow, nor the next, to beyond Who does decide that one mans life is worth more than his brothers Behind my cloak I am prepared to make this decision and cast guilt aside I, the executioner am no one and yet I am everyone as the worlds own Clown The Villain, The Angel, The Executioner, The Man, all a disjointed bond My power derived from the stage and fuelled by the sadness of mothers Their grief and anger is focussed on this man in the mask while I cowardly hide Only to offer comfort when I, the unmasked man pass them on my way to town. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 186 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Capian [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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