TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS

i can see them outside of my window
the angry faceless masses in riot
the cracking of windows
the breaking down of the front door
they’ve got their torches
they’ve got their pitchforks
they’re after the something i have
that they know they will never possess

they’re shuffling through my drawers
knocking over my lamp shades
they’re filing sinister through my papers
my computer, my phone, my internet search history
they know where i’ve been
and they’d probably have a pretty good guess
at where i was going
if i was trying to escape

they’re tying me to the chair
they’re cracking my ankles
they’re breaking my neck
they’re poisoning my mind
they’ve got me tied to the chair
and they’re pacing confused
and they’re pacing confused
and it all comes burning down
and their yells fall lower
and their demands become useless
they can’t have it

they will never have it
the smirk on my face
the smile that i’ll wear
under the thickest of torture
under the heaviest of trials
under the darkest of genocide
the cloudiest of fog
i will always be the same
under the worst persecution
i will remain
that locked box within my heart
in the light of any torch
or through the piercing of any pitchfork

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “MAMA, I AIN’T SAD (I’M JUST SINGING THE BLUES)”

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21 thoughts on “TORCHES AND PITCHFORKS

  1. Pingback: GENESIS | FLASHLIGHT CITY BLUES

  2. Seriously Brice. Get published. You have a lyricism that most other poets on WordPress could only dream about. That stanza with the “pacing confused” bits in the middle is sheer gold. Beyond impressed.

      • Don’t recall if I responded but it’s great to hear that you’re putting your stuff out to a wider audience. Deserves to be read, and I say that sincerely.

      • It’s Vimy Ridge in France. Site of a brutal battle in WW where many Canadians died. Took 12 years to build and the site is still run by Canadian folks. It is an amazing but sombre place.

      • It’s a great place. Great people and food, not as exciting as NYC or places like that but also is a bit more sane. Summers here are wonderful, fall is the best.

      • Is that where you’re from? I never been. Always wanted to go. For some reason, people tell me Boulder is wonderful, but I’m a baseball nut so I’d love to see Coors Field some day.

      • Boulder is great. It’s been gentrified quite a bit over time, so it’s kind of lost some of its charm and it now has a lot of trust fund hippies, but it’s beautiful and I love Pearl Street. Coors Field is fantastic. And yeah, I am from Colorado, about 30 minutes outside of Denver. I absolutely love it here, and highly recommend coming.

      • All right. Thanks for the recommendation, I keep missing Colorado by just little bits. Let me know when your book hits the light of day Brice, I would be very curious to read it. I suppose it to be a book of poetry but I could be wrong there, I think I have seen some prose from you before. Prose is all I do; poetry is something I don’t understand how to write, but I do appreciate reading if it’s good and unique, and I think yours fits the bill. Don’t know how much other people’s stuff you read, but your poetry is hands above most of the other stuff out there, if I may say so. And on that note, I gotta hammer away at my next inane rambling.

    • I would take offense to that, being a poet myself, but I know my poetry is terrible. :) It’s easy to write bad poetry. It takes something special to write good poetry, and this poem is so brilliant that if it turned around to look, it’d never see good.

      • No, I was replying to the comment above, to Trent! The one about your lyricism being something other poets only dream of. And I was totally being tongue-in-cheek! Gaah! Someone needs to invent a way to read tone in text that works better than emoticons! *so embarrassed now*

  3. What a powerful poem! It left me thinking of Orwell and Bradbury (1984 and Fahrenheit 451 specifically and respectively). I love them and I love this.

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