Saturday, March 31, 2012


"The time has come!" the guard said to me, "That

Dreaded time has come! Do not be cross, we

Shall see whether all shall be as mum. If

Per chance there is some thing I can do? Do

Not resist, but please know this that I will

Do all in my power to save your life!"

I look in his eyes, how much I despise

The eyes of that little man. I would so

Destroy him with bow's of yew from England,

So taunt with the grace of my brothers. But

I, but a man, have no present plan, and

Am at the mercy of mine enemies.

So now I see, in his eyes, prettily,

The offer of greed that he offers. I

Look for a while, and then I smile.

With a wide grin I say, "You mean not, though

You would lead me to believe, what you say.

You have a way with your words, others as

Steeped in money's green tea would say the same.

So know this, my friend, I cannot pretend,

Shall not give in to your way. Tis finished."

Then his look of false worry turns to scorn,

That fearful brown replaced by the horns, I

Knew that he was hiding. He grabs me, pulls

Me through the door, I do so abhor these

Men who act on their anger. Then he drags

Me, his charge, all the way through the barge, and

Deposits my person at the end. Now

They all stand round, and make quite the sound, I

Can hardly know what they be saying. For

Like children they screech, as they do beseech

The judge to put an end, crave a hanging.

Now I hold my own, keep still, I'm alone,

In solitude I wait. I hear silence now,

I look up from my brow to see my dear foe.

To see him again, here, of all places,

This most gentle of friends from long ago

Turned vicious viper by systems of woe.

And you would think him turned by they

That now do jeer and jest, keep at bay my

Person as a prisoner of war. Yet

There is more to the game of politics,

It was not these men here, no! but six men

Of mine own government that did send him

Into the abyss of despair. And now,

His eyes do find mine, like magnets intent

Upon the illusive metal in my

Soul, so as to overcome my spirit,

And take control of the helm of my being.

But I know, unlike he, what I fight for.

No matter the rottenness of the egg,

No matter the cabbage that smells most foul,

No matter evil wrought by corruption,

I shall not bend my will to his cause. For

I, being what I am, should so deceive

Myself by admitting his cause true, must

Let go of my hopes and dreams, as men do

When they find themselves in despair. So now,

A test of wills; that will keep on their feet

Two men, both friends, though now they meet as foes.

                                                                                  Englishman, (c) Luke Bennette, March 2012

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