Ides

Painting by William Holmes Sullivan

 

the ides that hid the knives
of March now come and gone
my wounds gaping witnesses
knowing who owned daggered hands
holding heirloom my empire
I gave them maps of the world
drawn in blood of the eagles
their gratitude cloaked in false
tribute they murdered my glory
for wanting true title of king
but my death lives forever
beyond crimson dust of my bones
for in grief of their guilt they
gave height of summer my name

 

 

From my books Bohemian Scents and Legacies (vol. 1)

Human Stain

“Human Stain #15” by Will Steacy

(Regarding the Baton Rouge assassinations of police)

blue burgundy blood

once the bright

crimson fluid of life

now a dark seeping

stain verging unto the

dead hue of rust

spreading over this

landscape of menace

disfiguring ethical facets

philosophers carved

from strong civilized bones

precious gems of republic

the functional stalwarts

of ordered society

modern centurions

serving protecting

become now

its violent victims

their innocent offal

unspeakable trophies

of rampaging hatred

the hallmark of monsters

descended from Cain

skulking in and among us

to furtively strike from

decayed intellectual barrens

where cowards have

ever found reason and root

to grow into assassins

Ides

Painting by William Holmes Sullivan

the ides that hid the knives
of March now come and gone
my wounds gaping witnesses
knowing who owned daggered hands
holding heirloom my empire
I gave them maps of the world
drawn in blood of the eagles
their gratitude cloaked in false
tribute they murdered my glory
for wanting true title of king
but my death lives forever
beyond crimson dust of my bones
for in grief of their guilt they
gave height of summer my name