An ego too far removed from God, flowers or tea
A dragon burning the hearts and minds of the people
A monster with insatiable lust for evil
The arbiter of destructive nationalism
The hero of those who thrive on vicarious pleasure
Who see themselves in the exploits of strangers
Waving a flag of perceived greatness
Because they are unable to find themselves
Unable to impact the culture
So they become the mob instead
And though pulsing through time without form
It is the ego of the mass that looks for its mate
And he is waiting like a spider
But not to devour them
But instead to instruct them
And teach them why they are angry
And who to blame
The pain, jealousy, rage and heartbreak must be given a voice
But they did not speak
Instead they listened
It was not time to mourn the past
It was time to avenge themselves
No mist in the forest would soften the ground beneath their feet
No rainbow in the sky would soften the metallic sounds of treads
No gentle stream would soften the grinding of fox holes into dust
No
They did not look to nature for their purity
It was him
HIM!
Exclaiming yes, yes, yes, YES!
YES!
We hate them too!
THEY are to blame!
THEY are not like us!
THEY must not become us!
We are not them!
YES!
We hate them too!
And so he smiled
It was time to begin
As far as he could see
Water
The surface begging to be rippled
But it was so very shallow
He could walk anywhere he wished
And then dive into the portal
To change their nature
They didn’t want to **** anyone
Not really
But he had to make them want it
BADLY
And so he waded
So very easily
Every step accepting his suggestion
Accepting his premise
Accepting his anger
He could skip rocks across it
Float upon it
But never drown
For unlike them he knew to stand-up
While they lay face down
Prone
Not knowing they could save themselves
Instead they allowed him to rescue them
On his terms
And the time came when their fears rose
Like a Soufflé
And it could not wait
It had to be served
There were no walls to be built
Instead the boundaries were to be pushed outward
Like the shock wave of a fission parade
The order has been given
The suspension of humanity must begin at once
There will be no innocent victims
For once the order is given they will die
All of them
The innocent and the guilty
The cold air was just enough to cause dilemma
A wrap or scarf
The natural light was all that was left
Dreams were made from such moments
Especially when there is nothing left
And nothing worth remembering
Except eyes cast upon
Psychopaths
Moral destruction
Patriotic lunacy
But the past had happened
And the future had not occurred
He knew
It was not his country
But he was sent
The pawn
Representing the hopes of all
The former slaves
The weak
The infirm
The aged
But he knew why he was there
He knew the murders of Malmedy
The word had reached him
The story had ended for him
He had become a cold-blooded killer
It only required their faces
He thought of the unborn world
“I would **** every poet before they are born
For who would rhapsodize about my dilemma
Invoking the Valkyries as if this legends nobility guides me
As if Valhalla waits for me to take my place in the great hall
Yes I would **** them and their mothers
For they are no use to anyone except their own comfort”
He wanted to think of children playing
And laughter
But it made him weak
He wanted to think of revenge
And laughter
But it made him feel revulsion
He wanted to think of why it was that he was here
History recorded that lives were no longer necessary
Except during the trials that became folly and propaganda for good
Like drowning rats they would turn on one another
Suddenly life had meaning
As long as it was their own
Then they gathered as time began its rehabilitation
For though life no longer had meaning to those they murdered
The past must be re-written
The fatherland became light
Death became honor
Prisoners became justice
Denial became duty
A cyanide capsule became remorse
For he had become a tragic and heroic figure
The perfect myth
The penalty became the reinstatement of the law
The quarter they did not give swiftly strode into the room
Cloaked in robes and white wigs
Vengeance the first casualty
Man-kinds outrage failed them
But it was time to re-arrange the world once again
In the reflection of prosaic words of scales leveled no matter the accused
Where all men are equal
Where all men are made in the image of their creator
Where all men are safe
Because that is what we want to believe to be true
But he could only see blurred images
A crucifix
A female figure
A scroll
A medal
Unspoken tears are why men drown inside themselves
War is why men harden their hearts
What is overwhelming can never be true
Even if you are the one who did it
You were once a baby
You have a mother
This is not what you were taught
But you became death
Why do they think I am a hero?