| Lightning cracked a crooked cross across the sky above the cross where he’d
|
| Been hanging for a day (he was stoned again!) The breeze grew ice threw
|
| Knives blew halos hallowed cinders flew together made a cushion for his
|
| Feet. |
| There were spikes in his sandals, spikes in his ankles… A spike
|
| Split the wood, syringed his vertabrae. |
| Spikes in his shins in his chin in
|
| His fingers… Amused apparitions hummed the Marsollaise. |
| We had to look
|
| Away, he seemed so fragile. |
| We tried to offer him a cigarette but it was
|
| Futile… no way through. |
| The guards screamed «Front!», drew guns, splashed
|
| Acid. |
| so we retreated to the shadows squated low and said a prayer Cameras
|
| Clicked out of sight there are fights, there were fanfares. |
| Fireworks
|
| Flashed across the cenotaph. |
| Kiddies played in the pits, spitting crisps
|
| Licking icecreams. |
| A spiv threw an auction for his autograph. |
| I never
|
| Thought it would finish quite this way. |
| No resistance not a word to say but
|
| Maybe we’ll meet in heaven. |
| We can talk about those good old days. |
| I believe
|
| (at least I WANT to believe)
|
| The angels landed cleared their throats and chorused «Crown Him!» |
| They
|
| Poured a potion on his hair it nearly drowned him. |
| Then they called a
|
| Minute’s silence. |
| They called the clowns in and a cripple touched his foot
|
| And did a cartwheel down the hill… turning once for his wisdom, twice for
|
| The pearl moon. |
| A third as the thief cried «It's judgement day.» |
| He rolled
|
| His eyes, ripped his shirt rolled insane in the dirt. |
| Applause ripped the
|
| Heavens and blew the clouds away. |
| The laughter died as schoolgirls passed
|
| Around the tissues. |
| Pretty patterns while a message said «We'll miss you
|
| Bless you. |
| Bless your eyes.» |
| And the bell rang twice and we fell as his
|
| Lips moved. |
| We stared in stoney silence as the news guy scribbled furiously
|
| Down his final words: «I made mistakes. |
| I’ve been a fool. |
| I tried hard byt
|
| Never thought that what started so well could end in misery. |
| But my motives
|
| Were good. |
| I thought you all understood… Just don’t be hard when this day
|
| Is cloaked in history. |
| You mistrusted me? |
| …,» And he died with his eyes
|
| On… ash for ashes dust for dust a lust for dust a must for dust die with
|
| Your eyes on…
|
| Nomini magnus spiritus sancti filia |