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ICONOCLAST
Barred globe gleaming on his glistened skin.
Thoughts consuming now of tranquil seas and soil.
He fought a battle no man could win.
Were his beliefs worth the toil?
Contesting voices lie in billowing smoke.
Fate fought the battle he met.
Gallows lined for what he spoke.
His life drained like his final cigarette.
/I’m not a hero, not a goddamned martyr!”
Blind disciples preach will lead to nil.
The clouds, the dreams, edged no farther.
While wars are fought true blood will spill.
A defiant symbol with no lament.
The rebellion stands aside the wall for judgement.
- Jameson Hutton
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