On and off
The lights flicker eerily in the cold night.
The slight jingle of the guards keys, a pause, then a cough.
I am ready.
The door swings open, the guards stand clear, impatient.
The long shirt, that segregates me from the rest of life is put on and pulled tight
I am the next patient
The next to die.
But, I shall not whimper, nor shall I cry.
I am lead through the hallway.
This is the day.
Another door is pushed open
A lone man in a priest’s uniform stands at ready.
He begins a long speech, a bible in his hand is held steady.
He asks me to confess my sins, Where shall I begin?
Minutes later, I leave and enter another room.
A crowd, they stare at me
This is the sight, the horrible man, they’ve been waiting to see.
To Die in a chair.
Electricity to run through my head and hair.
The shackles feel heavy but I move on.
I sit down. The straps are tightened down.
A metal cap put on my head
Death's crown.
A women in the crowd voice rings out clear as a bell.
“I hope the furnaces are burning bright for you in hell! ”
They ask for any last words before what here is begun.
I said I was sorry for who I am and for what I had done.
The executioner nodded when I was through.
Then he said, “ roll on two! ”
Next thing I knew I saw my charred body below, slumped in the chair.
As I climbed the holy stair.
Upon my arrival there
Saints and sinners, the dead who were waiting
Stopped and stared.
A name is called out
It is mine.
Saint Peter, looks at me and did frown
Pushed a button and next thing I knew, I was through a hatch and being sent down.
Here I am now, screaming over a huge roasting fire.
Gone to hell after my bosses eternal nagging and scolding
Which rose my inflamed ire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem