Poetry Corner

Verse & Graphic by Poet Etc...

The Executioner's Song

High Upon the Chapel hill.

The bells begin to toll.
Calling out and reckoning. 

The lost and guilty soul.

Gallows wait in village square.  

Now gather congregation.
Come stand within it's casted shade.

And join the condemnation.

This day has come so often.

I've callused from their rage.
Yet still they can incite me.

When I step upon the stage.

"Give us Blood!"

"Give us Justice!" 

Cry the pious thirsty band.
If blood is their desire. 

Why are stains upon my hands? 

Yellow men and little boys.

Who know not what they do.
Strong enough to cast their judgments. 

Yet too weak to see them through.

So now I stand before them.

To commit my act of sin.
Do they think of me a killer?  

Or their dancing harlequin.

I suppose it's for the better. 

That alone, I walk this path.
By day the widow's cursings.

By night the spirits' wrath.

Do you hear the beat?  

The guilty heart.
Only thirteen steps to live.
A hollow sound.  

Mother's grief.
She has nothing left to give.

I am evil.  

I am justice.
Alas, the great facade.
My left hand, of the devil.
But the right belongs to God.

I am outcast.  

I am haunted.
But I am me, for right or wrong.

The man in black.
The Executioner.
And the words within this song.