Of Menace

An atmosphere of menace
hanging heavy in the air.
A subtle poison softened in their drinks.
They rarely took the time to think
of that which they imbibed in.
Acting out the roles they knew so well.
Paying out the price of living hell.
Prisoners of self-inflicted solitude.
Caught within a cause they never voted for.
Spoken aloud through the lips of a whore.
Or so they called them then.
Sunken in too deeply on one side.
Adamant belief - a rising tide
of all one-sidedness.

They watch us from a distance.
Viewed by great technology.
The seeming solitude an instant
lost within the blink of sleepy eyes.
The times would change,
but only very slowly, over time.
Their freedom formed in mimed
anticipation - not quite real, but
seldom ever felt. For all that they
looked at without, the distance would
look back at them at them in spades.

Wandering within a glade of shadows.
An author, or a journalist -
thin pen in hand, would print
an other view. The distance
closing in, in opposition to
the sins they always chose to see as new.
Eschewing even their own liberty.
In order to claim credit for a scoop.
Menaced by the slot s of TV news.
Another battle playing out within
the precincts once thought sacrosanct.

Desperate, the activists
again would try to claim a victory.
Birthing yet another terrorist.
Hiding in the dark of shadows' spree.
Willing that the truth would never be.
While every breath of air was pleading
only to be free of the beliefs of their hypocrisy.
Back and forth, the boundaries moved.
Without a vote, approval never matters.
Yet even with a vote, they had no chance
at the expression of the differences
advancing far and wide. While yet again,
some inner voice kicked in. A voice
that never claimed identity. Archetypal
whisper playing out into their vanity.

Within an atmosphere of menace.
Held within invisibility that must be felt.
When ever would they come to see it all...?
And hold it all at once within a mind
too full of truancy and heart too filled with want.
The great complexity confused them so,
they went to sleep again.
Ignoring all the ardency of dreams.
Refusing any change that might yet
bring those great extremes into a balance.

And then, the menace turned to menacing.
Again and yet again, ad infinitum.
Twisting, turning, bringing yet more pain.
That only could be cured by nature's reign.
Reaching in and pulling out
the ersatz pitch of scream and shout.
And once again condemning
every particle of sin, aflame with blame.
Self-fulfilled, their belief in death
would finally trump it all...

? Michaelette ?

2/26/2005
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .