Bernardo's Campagna Poem by Madrason .

Bernardo's Campagna

If Narcissus isn't Killed
he will kill himself.
The fire of his presence
arouses every peasant
it burns the arid fields
it's attracting the beast
those with no aspiration
his condemnation fuel
crippled by his knowledge
tripled like a mule
the crowd will trample down
and leave nothing to doubt.
The arrows of fascism sting
together like a bundled thing
they crunched to crush
this insect in a rush
and press its' ripeness
like a grape-press before feast
they tramped one man
into their dirt
into their pale white earth
and too those girls in madness
accompanied with sadness
crushed his bones
his bloodless corps
as if to touch in vain
a long last cry
a red bow tie
his vanished splendor
in this barren ground
no reason found
and yet so strange
a thing did sprout
for when he came to stay
just Nothing, really Nothing
stayed the same
.

27-06-2014 Madrason
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