Pleading The 5th

 If you chance upon a bonfire in your travels

as you go

Would you ask the guy upon it some things

folk would like to know

Has perspective from his vantage

changed his mind one bit

Or does view above the gallows

convince him right of it

Was it treason, treachery or a fight

for freedom bid

Would he try again to be shot of them,

politicians, all well rid

Were voices raised in passion but denied

a listening ear

Did he do it with a brave heart or a soul

choke-filled with fear

Did desperation drive him and does he think

we’ve learned a thing

About method and its madness, the results

some actions bring

Would they better listen now to the cries

of human rights

Or is power the same oppressor

the same old history to fight

Was it carelessness or vengeance that denied

his V for victory

Were there moments he regretted when

admitted he his plea

Was he guilty of the horror of a terrorist

home-grown

Was there quite no other way to go, all other options,

had they flown

Does he take November note of fireworks

and blast them all to hell

Was he demon, daring hero or a

roguish ne’erdowell

In your travels, if you see him, would you

ask the guy on fire

If the pyre is worth the burning, would he,

yet again, conspire

While they lift his carcass high to brilliant

colours in the sky

If you see him as you’re passing would you ask him

if again he’d try

Was persecution, bigotry

rife on both the sides

And does he see more clearly from on high, please

ask him to confide

If no answer is forthcoming from that effigy

they lift

Tell him hindsight colours history and let him

plead the fifth.

Not They

Who are these goons?

These lepers?

Apart and yet controlling.

Ignorant of the common man,

But determined to know

Every secret thought

And action.

Who are these jerks?

Watching my movements,

Listening to my words,

Reading my mail.

Are they representative?

Did we vote for this?

Are all the policies

Pronounced

Prior to election

A blind?

The motives deeper

And more devious?

Who are these bastards?

My mind is my own.

My soul belongs to god.

My words to whom I speak them.

Who are these morons?

Thinking we will accept

Anything

And everything,

Like the

Roman populace,

Grateful

For handouts

And an arena

Where self-proclaimed

gods, decide thumbs up

Or down.

No Caesars here.

Who are these clowns ?

Thinking they are above

And beyond

The acceptable,

The righteous,

The moral.

Who are they?

Is this what we asked for?

Controlled

And controlling.

We are the people.

Not they.