Gordon G Hall
Writer and Neo-Philhellene

Poetry of Execution

I Am Boy
Hanged at Lancaster Castle for his crimes

Greet the pain.
Draw it longingly up my
Twisting torso.
Hug the lash, the whip, the stick.
This is Love.
Brutal words, brutal deeds;
Succour for one so young.

Crush all others,
Stamp them into shards.
Crash the ice-cold steps;
Slam the rust-iron door.
This is Love.
Suck slime or starve
In excremental sewer.

Mary had a little lamb;
Matron got the needle.
Smashed her head in with a stick,
Now they say I’m Evil.

Eyeball popping glee;
Brain stuff oozing.
An ecstasy of Freedom;
Fulfilling rhapsody.
This is Love.
Thence to freedom;
To run, wriggle and go

Mary had a little lamb;
Almost pure perfection.
Kill and kill and kill again,
Cleansing my rejection.

And then another, yes another!
Blond and pale and only mine.
Grasp for her head and smash,
And Smash, and Smash.
This is Love.
Now they can take me,
Now I am spent.

So hoist me neck first,
Feet a-scrabbling.
Hemp on skin,
And choking, choking.
This is Love
This is real Love
This is Love - forever


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