Saturday, February 26, 2011

The Days of Side Arms

The days of side-arms for every man,
Might be forgotten by the majority,
Yet remain habit for a few,
Reaching for their holster at the slightest sign ado
Waiting to snap the leather from its clasp,
Seeing conflict as a revolution,
To which they must commit,

The planks are set fifty feet out at sea,
The waves are violent,
The fish swarm,
To the scent of blood forthcoming,

Three men standing side by side
A crowd waits in earnest
As the ropes are tied
Each offered a moment for apologies
Yet most claim injustice is being served
One kick of the chair,
A drop in the floor,
Cease their words forever more

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