PROLOGUE
Once upon a time – a strange boy came to this mine,
To this place so grim, dark and full of rust –
A place for the desolate, reject and the outcast.
A place the boy could call home – his own paradise, lone and forlorn.
There he lived, his own views set – till the fateful day a figure that he met.
The boy – puzzled (Or dazzled – he knows not better) –
Stepped out of the dark – for a moment – just a moment later.
And the boy tried to reach out – unknowing to the figure,
But little did he know the severity his sin – its punishment far bigger.
And the figure turned askew, to see the peasant in view –
And what thought ran through their heads – only God truly knew.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END OR THE END OF THE BEGINNING
Come, gather to the city square – come, see what I’ve brought!
For finally the boy is caught.
That vile who dwelled in the dark – in all that grim,
Finally have I caught him – shot him, wounded and bled him –
An offering that I had not sought - yet an offering, in joy now I beam.
So come to the city square – gather, O blessed Citizens –
The Ladies so well decorated,
And Gents in their class and canes.
I have brought this wounded sacrifice to entertain – for your joy,
What! The boy so sudden – speaks –
All your glitters are a joke, says he - All your smiles are so coy.
Quiet you insolent fool! Learn to know you place,
Today shall be your last – Your day of death and disgrace.
Take him to the city-centre and stick him to the wall,
Drive nails through his limbs -
And make sure that he yells – his screams be heard by all.
Say your prayers boy,
For the fun is about to start –
Fun it may be to us,
For you – o’ yes, it will hurt.
Say what! You ignorant brat – you say that you don’t care!
Before those thousands of eyes – haunting in their stare –
Waiting to witness your very death – your humiliation and your despair.
Before the frightening prospect of untold pain – unimaginable to bear,
In the wake of your horrid misfortune – you still insist to dare?
Well then – we shall see how long that will last,
As your bones will kiss the rust –
Of the nails and of the cold steel -
That of the thousand menacing spears –
As your blood drenches the dust – we shall see then how you feel,
We shall see then – if you’ll still dare or if you’ll start to fear.
Shall we now – without further ado – Let the events begin,
O’ Holy Blessed Citizens –
Pelt him, humiliate him, peel off his filthy brown skin,
Do as you please – of your volition – I want to hear him scream.
(As flesh starts to rip – And blood starts to drip –
His pain exceeds the brim –
As bones – with those stones – would crack,
No longer the meager boy could hold back –
Spouting blood the boy starts to scream.
As the boy shouts –
Bright and gay the – the Crowd cries out –
Showering praise to the looming figure,
The figure who is watching the boy bleed -
Who is watching with so much glee.
And when it stops to rain stones –
And the crackling of the bones –
And when the spears – to pierce – have room no more –
The figure steps before –
The bloody mess.
And with a tint of taunt, ecstatic in delight, starts to address -)
How it must be hard to bear – to be shredded limb from limb.
A bliss it is to hear – the sweetness of your scream.
As if it were near my ears – the sirens were singing song.
Resign –to you what is dear – your death will be quick and painless –
I won’t make it long.
(With effort beyond effort the boy raises face –
He faces the figure with a great grimace.
In his sheared throat, gurgling with blood,
The foolish boy utters his foolish proud words;
The figure, enraged upon hearing, starts to swear and to curse –
The foolish boy – so arrogant and retarded – so ridiculously a farce - )
You wretched filth, you nameless dirt!
You still dare to have the heart –
To say that you will not give up, that you’ll not give in
Why will you not break!
Why will you not yield that smug annoying grin!
(How can there be laughter – in those lips torn, in tatters?
Charges the figure - bewildered, rather…)
I will end all of that – your lessons you will learn,
Bring forth the torch – set him on fire,
And now you will burn.
Boy, your circumstance is dire,
As those flames engulf and end your desire,
And I stand to watch – your pain so severe -
To see you twist and turn.
Do you not see you demented being, the gravity of your sin,
You tried to reach the sky – the untouchable majestic so high.
You stepped out of your place – despair only to embrace,
Why did you ever have to leave – your sanctuary of grief.
But now you burn aflame – by the fire you tried to claim.
Boy, hold that retort – as for your life – so brief,
Blame yourself if anyone you wish to blame.
(But the weird boy – yet so amused,
With his flesh burnt and bruised,
With all his sins – condemned and accused,
Searching for his voice in the flame’s cackling laughter –
Finds only the breath to whisper -)
You still love her –
You undeserving soul,
You have last showed your audacity,
You vulgar, grotesque troll.
You are brother to no one-you're finished-you're done-
You are an unworthy son - you're a farce to your friends -
At your suffering your love will simply frown -
We’ve nailed you to the ground -
Your sorry life will soon see its end.
Hand me the damned spear, for this time I will not spare,
For this time I’ll surely take his life – his heart I shall drive it through –
(In rage the figure plunges – out comes the thick red brew.
The boy would slightly cower – as death slowly starts to devour –
As the twitches grow less and less – his legs give a jerk or two.
The boy picks his head, gives one last smile, one last glance –
Till the very end, his fate he wishes to change.
He gapes, as if it were to bid his last farewell,
But alas his life slips away – his corpse hangs over the nails.
In satisfaction the figure sneers -)
You are finally dead – as it would appear.
You gaijin dog - you arrogant swine –
You tried to grasp that which is divine -
Now with death and disgrace your fate entwines
The world’s evil you wanted to hold in you - and all of its hatred,
For others to have bliss you wished for you the dread.
Weak – you tried a conceited feat, boy - you were in over your head;
And though you tried – finally – boy, finally you are dead.
(The figure concludes the affair,
The Citizens – groomed and fair – breaks into applaud and cheer.
In extol to the figure they yell and jeer to the boy who fell,
And when the fun is done and over – they rise and leave,
A little sacrifice – entertaining – yet too little to be an eve.
Striding proudly to their carriages, with their canes and shiny laces,
With naked joy in their faces,
They leave the city-centre – from their coliseum – the Holy Cartel,
Leaving behind in the bloody plane – the figure and the boy who fell.
The figure moves as well – the boy would go to hell,
And as the figure moves away – like a robe her gown will sway,
The cold dead eyes of the dead boy would still follow her way.
The figure stops a while – then leaves with a mocking smile -)
What does it matter now – from my memory the boy will soon fade.
(The figure may be right for what does it matter anyway –
For nothing is left for the fallen and finally the boy is dead.)
EPILOGUE
The corpse stays – as a reminder to all –
As a remainder of the fall – hanging to the wall.
Just like in the desert, a worthless carcass of an animal.
Daily life passes by, disinterested of his cost -
For in the world of billions – just some other life is lost,
And the circling scavengers now gather -
To feed on the flesh of their host.
The crows and the dogs fuss among themselves – as they can’t agree,
Their feast is ever so scanty – as there is not much left of the torn shredded debris.
And through the lanes the wind would whistle – don’t mistake it for its cry,
The ground – coarse - sips in every drop of blood – no remorse – only thirsty and dry.
And the world would still move – moments evanescent in its creed –
The boy will fade along with his corpse – with his ever so little deeds.
And in the world of billions who will regret –
Indeed, in all reality – the boy is finally dead.
But the dead does not seem to mind – neither the fangs nor the world can it care,
As the dead needs no compassion, no dignity – they don’t have to dare,
The dead will never complain, to the dead no eulogy is required.
So, why did the boy die – purely in vain you might say,
His focus was veered – his resolve in affray.
His mangled corpse is in pieces (Or is that a pulse in those I see -),
His body veiled by unmistakable red (But defiance his clenched fists still decree -),
But what does it matter (But I refuse to agree -),
For finally the boy is dead (Or really, is he -).
