'The Lion In Winter'....A Takeoff Poem Poem by elysabeth faslund

'How dear of you to let me out of jail....'
Beckett, dead in the Cathedral,
memories of his, and your father's, arms,
but that's only here-say heresy.

'What mother does not love being
locked-up with her children....'
in the political boredom of
throne ascendency....

but not this year, children.
'We'll see the Second Coming
before....' another carpenter
is resurrected from stone-tomb.

'Oh can't you see it is us!
Not countries, not politics,
who breed war....WE are
the barbarians, WE all carry

knives....can't we all live
in peace, for a change? '
We all own this earth,
indivisible by lines on a map.

Indivisible by who challenges who.
We are all barbarians
of the printed word....
'Love me, little lamb, or leave me.'

'Departure is a simple act.'
Put the left knife down,
and then the right....can't
we all live in peace, for a change?

'Well, all families have their
ups and downs....'

And, 'peace', correctly spelled
here and now, is 'a glimmering
of Light in barbarians' minds.'

We ALL wear cave-skins
to ward against cave-cold,
in fire-lighting our world
of neolithic ideas, printed 'again'.

Murder is a sport.
Again, take the knives I give you.