Bearer of Peace


I am the deadliest of fools
armed harlequin
whose makeup is the white of fear bled into red of blood
my grin stretches, waxes wide and insane and gleaming with the waiting.

the recoil hits and I'm rocked back
my weapon smoking with the fumes of a funeral pyre
that should have been

a high thin laugh pierces the air
a bright thread of chaos
a regression to the primitive, the pure
the insane alone in the dark

and what so funny? an idiot's view of peace. Really -

O Eternal Reaper, dost thou bear gentle peace on the bloody cross of
thy swords?

O Moon, your fragile light should draw back its hands
aghast at the horror it has visited
your soft pale hands should mingle not with glistening miles of
proof of war - of proof of peace!

Let the jester speak for the dead
tis only the right that damned should speak for damned
Let peace come here to view its handiwork

And will it laugh? Will that laughter break? Will eversweet Peace
fall, once it sees the common soldiers felled? Will it put the gun
to its head and stare stare stare, then laugh as it shoots? Will
that laughter echo echo echo -

Will they damn you too, d'ya think? or do politicians take it easy?
will they forgive you, Your Loveliness? will they bow for you? d'ya
think?

Or will you remain unperturbed? Or will you turn away from the
scene, turn away shaking and pronounce war wrong? What then? Fair
Lady Peace, your consorts fight for right of you. You see, you see?

And then, and then, and then I'll speak, then the fool will speak,
then the soldier will speak, then the harlequin will jest for you
and nevermind the pain behind its eyes, no no no

ne'er mind