gangster aSSaSSiN SPY

… 333 …

Once stated that I was a gangster

I didn’t protest I didn’t struggle

As I might have once bared or even cared

How could I with my mean streak?

A cruel streak, a grey streak,

A dark streak, bloodied and gristle

Like something you might pass

To the edge of your plate unwanted

But I loved my mothers cuddle

Imagined, felt or struggled

We always left strained and muzzled

And here we are as a group of filings

Drawn to a north pole magnetic

A candle burning, shining hope

And warmth for our hearts ease

So easy to please, filled honestly

Yes, with emotional disease

And everything is a named disease

A disease labelled and sorted

A love true, tied and thwarted

Like limbs bound, aborted

Silent feeling rushing into a green sea

And in the sea bathing the sparkled moon

Shook its fist and waved its anonymity

Like paving stones in the desert

Like sun flares cavorting golden

Like maids abandoning discretion

Bronze warriors laying down arms

For a brief fleeting and then sober

Hard, heavy and cruel, no one is better

For a life lived with no art and no heart

..

writtenbyedenbray26.09.2013

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#Authors Note : To be honest I questioned myself long and hard on this piece as to whether it had merit and enough quality to warrant selection for the current Retrospective. I mention this, fully aware that knowledge of such consideration might prejudice the opinion of the piece by the reader but also aware that whatever my opinion may be or however that opinion is shaped, I am fully committed to the notion that I am entirely dependant on my readers to determine what they appreciate or otherwise.

The piece itself slips into the Prog-prose classification but not ‘jazz’ as despite remaining avant-garde with no obvious rhyming tenor the wording is traditional and phrased. It is a curious piece – hope you enjoy! 

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