Cloistered, Confined, Convinced
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.
- William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616), “King Henry V”, Act 3 Scene 1
Imprisoned emotions, concealed amidst a tattered past
Incisions in motion reveal tranquility beneath ones battered mask
Shallow voices seek symmetry, a lifelong spattered task
Callow choices wreak synergy, within a shattered flask
Deserted amongst volatile morals – happiness, love, perfect?
Inverted are such words, meaningless, in his dialect of neglect
Exerted abilities, decent at best, a smudge amidst life’s colours
Subverted, hostility, labels placed above the heart his strife covers
Nightmares, for some, reality for the helpless forsaken
“Mistaken? Approximation can’t survey how many lost ones have been taken”
Encased in hate, freely his feelings bleed onto his scriptures
The flow of the ink, the smite unto the pain, known simply as his life’s fixtures
Mimed – are his words, as one screams, yet cries fall upon deaf ears
Blind – are his eyes, yet one dream’s, and welcomes his once left peers
Refined – is his knowledge, yet he feels shackled, based on heartless insults
Denied – instead of acceptance, since that nights deadly results
Wednesday 25th August 1994 – To Whom It May Concern
“Thirty years before the present, I was handsome, respected, and known
A perfect gift, every girl wanted, amongst the customs, I had always grown
One night I was driving to a party, with three friends, just helpless fun
The only day in my life, which remained endless, had just begun
We arrived at the party, drank a few, until we were welcomed by the night
Checked my watch. “3:00 A.M”. So we drove home, with hazy eye sight
A red light at the intersection, we began to talk, and laugh for a while
Drunk, but still, I could never forget every one of their last smiles…
Unwinding windows, letting the cigarette smoke escape the automobile
The green light glowed, a safe drive, we were hoping for still…
Cracking jokes about today’s events that had occurred at the bar…
“Oh Shit!” my friends final words, as a bus rammed into the right side of the car
I couldn’t remember much, I woke up with crushed legs and a damaged skull
Rushing into the emergency room, nurses screaming, “Please help!... Anyone!”
30 years have passed, 30 years of anxiety and pure insanity
30 years of rebuilding my vocabulary to write my last letter to my family
30 years of dreaming about the woman I loved, but forgotten is her name
30 years, my soul has been stained, attained by tears filled with shame
30 years, I have mastered my story, yet by day one, it was engraved in my heart
30 years in the making, to make a new start… for after this letter, I depart
Entrapped in this metal wheelchair, amidst 30 years of self hatred
3 peers died at my hands, if I didn’t drive, would they have lived to hear this statement?
Blatant, still after 30 years, of this unruly enslavement
30 years, of being the punch line for every joke, strictly for entertainment
Yet above all the reasons of sadness, 30 years on, this is my fate
In heaven, eternally I wait for my love, at the entrance gate
With undying passion, I rest tonight, for tomorrow I wake to be her prince
Seeing her smile makes it worth….
.... 30 years of being cloistered, confined, and convinced”
Until the final days, I wait for you eternally, at heavens gates…
…I love you Claudia…
…Claudia…
…Claudia… Gates…
R.Wellington
- Roger Wellington
1945 – 1994
*BANG*
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