My Commander

October 11-14, 1998

I've tried so very hard to stay way from this.

It is much too easy to wane.

My pen from paper I tried to miss,

But kismet will not detain.

To turn away from the 'crystal clear'

Mocks a current blotch, the broadening hole.

The obviousness of this is nothing to cheer.

Now, there's the frigid end of the pole.

More than a moment, and in tenacious time,

Custody in the hands that pander.

When the land proceeds to reclaim its prime.

Agreement confounds you, my commander.

The parties are dreary.

Perfection is not perfection, but only a suggestion.

When reproach repines, endorsing the weary,

This, the first confession.

Chamber to chamber visits the louse.

Tailor-torn from each side.

But, in the midst of an unclear house.

You failed to rebuke, then opt to hide.

All the articulate speeches that follow:

What a gift for the repetitious.

To quickly fill the deepest gorges; all hollow,

Hungry and ambitious.

Determined to keep your seat,

Why do you, now, spring from your current station?

Does your heart, from only worrying, beat?

Or tainted by the spree of your creation?

Causes and effects, and whatever;

However, the people's business, thus

The stuff that held firm is no longer together.

Who will catch us?

How many more hits?

Will there be yet another mistake?

The majority is in fits.

We all tremble and ache.

You are my executive and chief,

And respect is due to you,

As credence is belief,

My code stands true,

But what of the dazzled youth

With burgeoning inquiries that are lone.

Is morality a play thing or an unwanted truth?:

A crack in a once valuable stone.

You will play it till it's finished, out.

Mark more than eyes that gander.

Some will remember a like, other a lout.

Accept it, my commander.

You, both, have and had my recognition.

Silent, loud, shameless, proud.

It dies. The race. Dead is the ignition.

I'll accompany you, though my head is surely bowed.

© 1998 Jarrod C. Lacy