Stoned Obituary

lightning cracked a crooked cross across the sky above the cross where he'd

been hanging for a day (he was stoned again!) The breeze grew ice threw

knives blew halos hallowed cinders flew together made a cushion for his

feet. There were spikes in his sandals, spikes in his ankles... A spike

split the wood, syringed his vertabrae. Spikes in his shins in his chin in

his fingers... Amused apparitions hummed the Marsollaise. We had to look

away, he seemed so fragile. We tried to offer him a cigarette but it was

futile... no way through. The guards screamed "Front!", drew guns, splashed

acid.. so we retreated to the shadows squated low and said a prayer Cameras

clicked out of sight there are fights, there were fanfares. Fireworks

flashed across the cenotaph. Kiddies played in the pits, spitting crisps,

licking icecreams. A spiv threw an auction for his autograph. I never

thought it would finish quite this way. No resistance not a word to say but

maybe we'll meet in heaven. We can talk about those good old days. I believe

(at least I WANT to believe)

The angels landed cleared their throats and chorused "Crown Him!" They

poured a potion on his hair it nearly drowned him. Then they called a

minute's silence. They called the clowns in and a cripple touched his foot

and did a cartwheel down the hill... turning once for his wisdom, twice for

the pearl moon. A third as the thief cried "It's judgement day." He rolled

his eyes, ripped his shirt rolled insane in the dirt. Applause ripped the

heavens and blew the clouds away. The laughter died as schoolgirls passed

around the tissues. Pretty patterns while a message said "We'll miss you.

Bless you. Bless your eyes." And the bell rang twice and we fell as his

lips moved. We stared in stoney silence as the news guy scribbled furiously

down his final words: "I made mistakes. I've been a fool. I tried hard byt

never thought that what started so well could end in misery. But my motives

were good. I thought you all understood... Just don't be hard when this day

is cloaked in history. You mistrusted me? ...," And he died with his eyes

on... ash for ashes dust for dust a lust for dust a must for dust die with

your eyes on...

Nomini magnus spiritus sancti filia