Monday, November 23, 2009

His Punishment

Sometimes people are killed randomly,
like that scene in The Omen with the priest.
Obviously this is yet another poem
about smiting, and obviously someone will say so eventually, obliviously.

But, when he gets killed,
everything becomes a quaint village
with a small rusty shop in the corner
where you can buy tea and sip with your shaking little hands.

Women send their sons and daughters,
to be near him, because maybe it will rub off.
Occasionally he will impart some of his wisdom to them,
and they will feel really loved, and blessed, and special.

But he does not do it because he cares.
It's just -- it's just 'filling time'.
"I taught you mathematics just to fill time."
And he does it well, and with great benefit and plans for their futures.

He is not cruel, and he is not cowardly.
He is just astray, wandering in the dark of his mind.
Trying to find out all the different colors of black.
There may someday be a reckoning, but it will just pass, probably.

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