Final gag of hope, as they cinch up the rope, feet twitch in the dock
A fall from grace, Hickok's ace, outlined with chalk
To sit on your hands, when the audience stands, because of doubt
To know, that it's only a show, when the dimming lights go out
How it seems, to wake from dreams, when a nightmare leaves
The relief, from plummeting grief, when your child cries and breaths
Blood to spill, graves to till, atrocity magnified
Words chill, answers kill, curiosity satisfied
When the deal, won't cover your meal, what's the price of a kiss?
Virtue gone, when maggots spawn, was Judas remiss?
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: June 10th, 2023 16:50
- Comment from author about the poem: Wild Bill Hickock was supposedly shot to death holding two black aces and two black eights known as a dead man's hand after this.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
Brilliant!
(a young heart's red string
or that life scorched, ashen black
as one, we all seek
our existential thread
to unveil fate's machinations
free us of that blank future's
dread
flip a choice, ink our worth
with our laments and endeavours
of pulsing need to belong, to mark
our lives in posterity's sights)
Thanks so much for the review and poetic words of comment L.B.
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