Honour

They have used me and I have served.
How could I not?
They made me what I am.
A servant to their cause.

I’ve seen Queens crowned.
Threats of invasion from afar.
Overseen their communications.
Remained steadfast
As a good subject does.

I serve Queen and country.
I provide shelter for the ******
And light for her successors.
I trembled as planes flew above
And celebrated as they flew no more.

I’ve watched from afar, as the great playwright worked,
As theories and principles that would shape the world
Were committed to paper for forever more.
I’ve seen evil and good, hatred and love
Entangled in their eternal battle
From high above.

And as I waned, as I began to fall
Like all the Queen’s servants must do
Even those that had once stood so tall
Above it all, yet never apart
I can fade happy knowing this oak has honoured thy ******.
Goodbye London, my one true love.

There was a kid, he sat by himself
In classes he never spoke nor asked for help
He'd sit up the front, all quiet and calm
He never once did anything to hurt anyone

He just did his work, only spoke when spoken to
I'd see him alone in the courtyard, he never ate his food
Recess or lunch would swing by, he'd listen to music
And every day I saw him there so I got used to it

Then come one Lunch, he wasn't there
I pretended not to care but deep down I was scared
Because in the lesson before some kids were talking tall
About how they'd sort him out by setting him up to fall

And by God I was shaking, I was fucken nervous
He was just a quiet guy you don't need to hurt him
He never did wrong he was just around
I jumped when I heard him scream by Christ it was loud!

I ran into the amphitheatre and all the kids were screaming
He was mangled on the ground and **** was he bleeding
He looks across with fading eyes, says "help please"
I had to look away as I fell to my knees

He's looking hopefully
He's looking up to me
I look up at the shocked faces like
"You ******* happy? Answer me!
How the **** was I so blind to not see this happening?
All you ever spoke about was hurting him and killing me!

Now the tides have turned! You ******* killed him
You better run now before the darkness hunts down your sin!"
I look down again, he has a smile of hope
"Thank you for holding up the Bro Code"

Then his hand falls, it lays on his chest
And I'm not sure who's more dead, coz I got no breath
The sirens scream as loud as the kids fleeing
And all I remember was six shots and fucken running

My brother on the ground, burned into my mind
And it haunts me to this day that I left him behind
But I gottem back, made them join him
So he can get em back and start bashing

I am sorry,
I am sorry that this is what my culture does,
And the world has the audacity to call it honor,
God gave honor I thought,
But it seems that only honor people see is in the eyes of others,
What religion do you study I ask,
Is it truly submission or is it some *******,
How have societies throughout the world not advanced beyond this?

They call us when things are bad.
When no one else can help.
When all their ways have failed.
When life is over.

They release us.
When war is inevitable.
When the enemy was won.
When all is lost.

They force us to help.
When they can't help themselves.  
When bad does more than good.
When plans fall to the ground.

They call us the bad guys.
Well we are bad.
But not evil.
We have honour among thief's.

Who are we?
The last option.
The one who are thrown under the bus.
The Suicide Squad.

Leaning on the wall, closing my eyes,
All I could see was the vast darkness of my mind..
Tunneling my way through random paths,
I tread through those not so forgotten thoughts...

What I saw was smiles, banter and laughs,
The pains well concealed behind the cheerful mask,
Satisfied, I passed more such charades,
Stumbling for the nook, where the smile is only a facade...

It was lying there in a corner growing roots ,
Surrounded by makeshift mazes, difficult to look through,
Slipping in, I was prepared for an onslaught of pain,
Yet, the force of attack surprise me every time.

Braving through, I touched the core; very gentle,
Wincing as if it was the day of trental,
Blood singing my elegy and not yet dry,
The oil on my canvas still gleaming with pain...

I sat hugging my knees and a ready made smile,
With so much ease and practiced beguile,
The smile slipped, when I heard the door knock,
My eyes turned to see you walk...

Leaning on the wall, closing my eyes,
I could see the ray of light,
Not wanting to meet those inquisitive eyes..
Shivering, I closed and tried not to pry open my eyes...

Contemplating commenting on Susan Jarvis' latest verbal bouquet inspired this. Oh my! I never thought I could write a tribute to PF!



(sonnet #MMCXCII)


Applause o'er, money pocketed, we'll miss
The souls who happ'ly joyed in telling oh
Just what they liked of what they read. Or no?
O yes. And where's the fun? Is fan mail bliss?
We want the fawning blather stooped to kiss
Our priceless feet, the limelight's tinsel show
Of glory what we truly seek? Think so.
But I will wager all such is remiss.
Your name and self in Poet's Corner yet
Enshrined seems consolation, true. But pay
Me e'en a fortune and what I'll regret
Is all the fun of playing with folk from day
To day as nobodies who in love's debt
Shared friendship o'er our musings, yea.

03Apr13f
[http://poetfreak.com/205509/id-miss-my-friends.html]

Muslim women are ejected for standing up to Donald Trump.
This is what America is made of, most support this kind of
"Mature" activity. Many have lost what little wit or decency
We know of, and are hypocrites who actually SPEAK about
What they call patience and *Universal LOVE.