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Poem

Bristling, brazen bodily harm
Beat the diggings, darn his composure
Stalwart, states so smug, self satisfied
His wounded victim flees
Those with soul and feelings flee
His epitaphs burn deep
Like searing acid in the open wound
Scream to high heaven
Yet mugged, mouth stuffed
almost to suffocation.

He has lambasted others,
Sets hounds on decent men,
Has cajoled to numb and beat
The old, the homeless, the innocent
He is a bastard, vilified, anathema
Yet who has the right to snuff out
To eradicate, to put him away for good
When no witness dare testify?

He is the dark soul and shadow of fear
In incarnation of all that is painful
And no grand jury has indicted.  Or will indict.

One or more of his tortures on the innocent
His eager bloodthirsty nature open
And his self destructive nature
In hero fashion will pin him too – to the wall
Knife, shoot or hang him
As he has wounded many 
And throttled a few.
He will be missed only in contrast
Since quiet and peace will appear
And an omen of good and justice
Flutter like a flag in the wind

Right, fairness must prevail, as it should
Nor is all not forgotten,
No widow will weep
No children attend a father’s funeral
Friends scarce or non-existent
But a new air of calm, of harmony
Will sound as princess justice
Has won again and weighed wisely

Why did it have to take so long?

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