[Poem Request # 10]
with apologies to William Wordsworth:
Behold him, single in the field,
Yon solitary skeleton Death!
Reaping and singing by himself,
Stay here, or lose your neck!
Alone he cuts the people's throats
And sings a melancholy note;
O listen! for this next encore
Was never sung with so much gore.
No hungry wolf did ever murder
More wanton goats of weary bands
Of shepherds in some shady verdure
Among Arabian sands.
A voice so chilling ne'er did wail
From blackboards rubbed with fingernails
Breaking the silence of the sea
With what sounds like AC/DC.
Will no one tell me why he kills? --
Perhaps these plainitive murders flow
For old, unhappy, far-off thrills
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble trip?
Familiar matter, Freudian slip?
Some unnatural lust, maternal woe
That turned this guy into Psycho?
Whate'er his theme, the maniac slew
As if his rage would have no ending
I saw him singing at his work
And over his chainsaw bending; --
I listened motionless and still,
And after I was also killed
That music to my grave I bore
Long after I could hear no more.