Tirade

The crowd they really had a laugh at her,
a scoff at effort though it was in seed.
She took a bow just when the laughter wore off,
their laughed-off heads were rolling in the street.
This is often where the move is made,
though in delay, it strikes a deadly fate.
At the back you’ll hear the cash exchange,
you’ll hear the deal’s been made,
you’ll hear the laughter fade away.
You’ll hear the sound of a tirade,
sent up to summon an air raid,
she says ‘this isn’t just child’s play!’
She isn’t placing others downstage.

At the back he drew a comic book,
either by hook or crook he’d get a steady hand.
But he had the book thrown at his head,
‘A waste of time’ they said, they weren’t to understand -
He’d have imaginings in all the stores,
And walls galore, and stacked up on the stands.
He’d have a line of heroes in his name,
beyond living fame they’d live on in his fans.
He’ll be drawing up a new age,
only in wake of the old age,
he’ll set the bird free from the bird cage,
by penning witness to the blank page.

She gave and took a blow straight to the gut,
put herself in a rut, but still forgave the blamed in vain.
It wasn’t her call to call punishment,
and nor the government, but in astonishment it came.
The answer, all along, was mirroring
what she was questioning, in spirit and in name,
the words she uttered were already there,
a quiet prayer, scratched out in the tain.
She’ll feel them running up behind her -
the pack that used to run beside her,
their teeth will tear what lies inside her,
the sky will open to receive her.

You set them running
and they know just where they’re running to…
You set them running
and they know just where they’re running to -
You...