Treasure Island

Mustafa Marconi

(23 Nov.,1961 / New York, New York)


Thinking back I couldn’t phantom
How his judgment could have been so bad
Rising only to plummet yet again
As the heavy sting of retribution
Caused his legs to buckle
Perhaps his thoughts revolved around his “peoples”
If they banded together
It is possible they could have put in some work
You know, “represented to the fullest”
Perhaps his thoughts journeyed back
To the birth of this black cloud
That now hovers menacingly over him
Brazen disrespect unwarranted and unprovoked
His impudence, witnessed by my two feminine offspring
Managed to seal his unenviable fate
Perhaps he wondered if his overwhelming numbers
And seemingly impenetrable locality
Had gone unnoticed by this zealous adversary
Appeals for decorum by apprehensive faces
Only postpone, temporarily, the inevitable
With ice water in my veins I attacked
Seeing the fire in my eyes the imposters postured
Fearing for their safety they wavered
Armed with confidence alone, seeking vengeance
Immediately these “gangsters” petition for a truce
Spirits broken, reputations severely damaged
And thoroughly humiliated and humbled
I put away these weapons God has blessed me with
Battered and bruised I gave them a pass
Granting them mercy and forgiveness
Now when I see them I can not differentiate
Is it humility or is it fear
Praying for peace, I ready for war
Always alert, always on point
Thinking back, I still cannot phantom
How his judgment could have been so disastrously bad
Now he will always fear the heavy sting of my retribution

Submitted: Friday, January 04, 2008
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