The Village Idiot Poem by Byepolar Bayer

The village head-case stands up straight
And all the locals turn and frown
The public meeting’s running late
Who wants to listen to this clown

He clears his throat and looks around
His mind a tortured mass of weight
He knows the sky, he knows the ground
He’s been the catch, he’s been the bait

He’s watched the clever lose their way
He’s seen the rich come tumbling down
He knows just what he means to say
He’s full of whisky from The Crown

The headlines flash across his eyes
'He had them eating from his hand'
'Considered for the Turner Prize'
'Elected leader of the band'

But time is short he must make haste
He’d been a dark horse since the start
The crowd grew restless, children paced
The time had come to play his part

His mind was calm, he looked about
His face gleamed like a winter’s moon
His arms were open, reaching out
His tongue felt like a wooden spoon

Thermopylae then came to mind
Against the odds he’d pull it off
He checked the alphabet to find
The winning words and one crisp cough

Dear gentlemen and ladies high
I’m here today to help you see
There’s more to me than meets the eye
And as he talked his tongue grew free

“You know me as a fool” he said
“And when I spoke you couldn’t hear
I had the presence of the dead
And so you prattled without fear

And I filed all your words away
I’ve seen your hearts, your warts an all
You might call this your judgement day
When you fall down and I stand tall

How bright the sunlight blazes through
The windows of this sullen hall
Where minds long formed into a queue
Can’t wait to see this madman fall

How darkly promise falls from grace
And human sympathy retreats
To leave so little moral space
To those whom worldliness defeats

I have no power to command
The smitings of that ancient book
I have no answers in my hand
Or strictures none of you can brook

For I know only this much truth
That all our standing tall still leaves
us lower than the most uncouth
Of all the creatures Earth conceives

And all their ruin, all their thrill
They cannot choose and cannot rue
As we construct a crumbling hill
Where only madness knows what’s true

So take your dreams and polish up
The lies your life is fastened to
And sipping from our poisoned cup
We’ll keep on doing what we do”

And looks in vain in every face
For signs that more than death redeems
As through the windows pour the rays
That drive our spider’s web of schemes