painting by Frank Frazetta
Dark Knight
“When he is needed, a dark knight will rise, but you
may not like his methods.”--Bob Kane.
Too often I feel catapulted into darkness,
out of control, fueled by manic madness,
bereft of empathy, riding my sweet anger,
eyes drenched red, feeding my hunger
for blood on the infested mean streets,
for fists in the faces of cops on the beat.
Long enough under their heels, time to beat
down those silver-badged thugs of darkness,
to erase their fucking bully stains off streets.
Time for us to French kiss our madness,
get off our asses and really banish hunger,
pour jet fuel on our collective molten anger.
Step forward boldly, notch up our anger,
being true to our selves cannot be beat.
Raise our voices loudly, remain very hungry,
sharpen our swords, worship lords of darkness,
stoke our vitriol, stroke our phallic madness,
hear our demands, really dig our blessed anger.
I have suffered too long on Lonely Street.
Soon you’ll lament belittling my throbbing anger.
You’ll witness the Devil when you meet my madness.
You’ll hear my drum, and puppet-dance to my beat.
I will force you to be terrified of the darkness.
I will be the one who compels you to hunger
for the false safety of the past, and then hunger
for a time when I won’t roam freely your streets,
because my bitchin’ assault rifle will bark darkness,
and each brass bullet is leaden shards of my anger;
my revenge for a lifetime of me being beat
bloody, while constructing my terrible madness--
a gorilla on your back type of monumental madness.
Many of you will die, never to be hungry
again. Now I march proudly to the inevitable beat
of White Supremacy, real death in the streets,
performing my duty, while unleashing my anger.
Suicide by cop, soon to drown in profound darkness.
I know I will not be alone in that darkness;
I go smiling, mantled magnificently in madness.
I wonder if the streets are ablaze in downtown Hell .
Glenn Buttkus
Sestina
Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub
9 comments:
Whew! This really articulates the seething anger that seems to seep into every segment of our society today. You have used meter and subtle rhyme so as to avoid anything "sweet" and to create an effect of drumming or the pounding of a sledge hammer...so expressive of your theme. This is raw and you've used the form to create exactly the effect you want.
Glenn, it's like you've looked into the mind of a mass murderer, who feels righteously imbued through his madness to commit any evil, full well knowing where he's headed afterwards. These Mad Evil Warriors have been assembled by our evil society just as surely as Victor Frankenstein assembled his monster. When you strip away every good thing from a culture and replace it with evil, those monsters have nothing to lose. The way you pulled this together is impressive.
Dark, angry, violent, triumphant, poignant, and beautiful... rage on, rage on brother! You do it well Glenn. My fists were clenched when I finished reading this — I like it...
These are scary times and this line just terrifies me:
Now I march proudly to the inevitable beat
of White Supremacy, real death in the streets,
performing my duty, while unleashing my anger.
Scary stuff indeed, and all too convincingly imagined.
I love how you went all dark into this.. and the perspective of such terror made me think of modern variant of Patrick Bateman... each time has his own monster.
I really felt that anger, Glenn! I'm not sure if I can cope with any more anger, not after Boris Johnson's recent actions and the latest from the POTUS. I'm surprised I haven't exploded.
I feel the anger and rage. Your words catapulted me into the darkness of the speaker.
This really builds up the pent up anger and the hopelessness, frustration that can build up inside. I have often heard some men in the UK just saying how angry they are and could shoot out but at least here in U.K. It is quite difficult to get hold of machine guns. Anger with knives seems to be increasing though. I feel you explore an inner wrath that hasn't been addressed of those who are ignored in many ways.
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