THE MAN I KILLED AT NOON
Futile
reactions, palpable temper,
Man sneered in
buffoonery, logic despair.
Redundant
wisdom, regrettable action.
Waving agile
hands, a fool’s reaction.
Loud insomnia,
masculine nightmare.
Shrieking
feminine, lethargic and bare.
Screaming chaos,
grappled with anger
First kiss of
the soft petals, ravenous banger.
Thrust to the
streets, a viewers charade,
Shameless
futility duly on parade.
Masculine ego,
seeking dominance.
Fist and fury,
dulling revered parlance.
Anger seething
to a perilous doom,
Fist like
mortar, a terrible doom.
Feminine reality
to be pounded like a dream,
Yet the voice
keeps sounding louder than a rushing stream.
A brother steps
into this perilous parade,
Of ravenous fist
and so little wisdom to serenade.
With few words
counting clear reason,
He sends sister
home for clear season.
Brother and boy
staring to the gruesome distance,
An angry man’s
fist clenched for unruly chance,
But brother
seeks reason, gently straddling away,
Knowing true
reason may see another day.
But cowards are
cut from the deepest deep,
Lawless
reaction, fuming to a steep,
Boy throws
reason and flies through a knife,
All in vain
anger, a charade of strife.
Brother slaloms
down to a silent despair,
A beautiful
drowning sleep of no repair,
And true reason
he saw but did not see,
His frail corpse
looking innocently at a distant sea.
Boy sees the
chaos of his uncased temper,
Guilt and
innocence became a dulled paper,
Eyes sealed,
elevated from sight,
Gently open to
this unruly plight.
The crowd, they
sang the dirge of moonlights defense,
In swift motion,
a jungle pretence,
Projectiles
elevating judgments fare,
Struck boy till
the foolishness was bare.
And when boy was
a motionless tilt,
Motion grounded
like silt,
Fortune begs
reason looking for doubt,
When wild
aimless tempers always blow out.
The trader tilts
his head in gallant reform,
Staring through the
distance to a lifeless form,
The boy no
longer breathes in the distant air,
Two corpses to
pay the truth, is that even fair?
But the crowd’s
justice was not satisfied,
Perpetrators
corpse dying was not mortified,
Till fuel vendor
trickles his ware on mans image,
And trader
lights the fire to complete carnage.
Soon crowds
disperse to revel in justice,
Perilous law
when no one sees injustice,
Jungle justice,
mathematically wild,
To sweep calming
law with no respect and see it as mild.
But no one was
as guilty as me,
As I silently
watched and let them be,
Each morning
guilt saps the beaming light,
As I recall the
face of the man that died by my sight.
full project on the way.. poem by elijah peter
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