They say he first worked for the bad guys then He saw he could work for the good guys when They called him up not caring right from wrong So slaughtered for both sides silent and strong Since all he ever wanted was to kill And this hunger was shared by other men
When he found out the good guys were worse than The bad guys then he asked what kind of man He was and his answer was to go mad As honest killers have done and do still His heart and mind broke beyond good and bad Beyond the black breakwater of the will
I can finally understand him now But used to seek to summon him somehow To disappear imagined enemies Who were not amenable to reason One of my absent father fantasies A childhood nightmare of killing season
And so my father Wallace Dean Lance was A hitman for the cause of just because Which seemed I suppose like reason enough And now he is dead as I will die too Should such time come as I can bear no more Until then that which keeps me here is you
You and a certain curiosity My hitman father passed along to me Since I am here with my ticket paid for Past pain to remain until our play ends To place my rhyme in space and time and soar Because unlike my father I have friends
Not friends with connections nor friends with guns People like that are not friends anyway Who go away when the going gets tough But friends like you who are genuine ones With whose help I am able to get through The night that I might live a better day
Son of a hitman bad good and then mad My father's life seems meaningless and sad And though I have killed no one that you know It is hard to stay and easy to go Meaning costs more in the market these days If I could afford some I would be glad
Balancing here on the blade of always I mean to make atonement for the sin Which burns in the blood of my family And would prevent me before I begin But there is a certain stubbornness in A son of a hitman a son like me
If it can be done then I am the one To balance the wheel: a son of a gun
You do not have to carry on your father's legacy, Steven, the language of weaponry or blood. You can right the injustices with your pen, and your friends. Know I'm here for you--ANYtime you need to talk, message board me. I'll answer. A heartbreaking plea for change, powerfully penned.
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
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The bad guys then he asked what kind of man
He was and his answer was to go mad.
In todays world there seems to be a fine line between the two.
A Powerful Write!
God Bless,
Lew
(((((HUGS))))) and love, Karla.