Jan 8, 2013

Hamlet vs Hitler


Never should’ve gone to trial. Neither
the prosecution nor defense will rest.
To’ve had the dagger under his Adam’s apple,
hippie Horatio begging me back
from these un-peaceful means: “Think of how it looks, man!”
And though I’ve checked and re-checked my moral
compass against the sparrows and the stars,
the fools all heckle me to reconsider
my reconsiderations. Weigh the fact
I’ll pro’bly die, and ask myself the quest-
ion, “What good, sir, will killing a man bring?”
They argue, “Maybe his death shall only
fortify a greater vengeance unforeseen.”
All reason, at last, is mere weaponry
for our hearts. I’ll not demand you join me
in his slaying—that I’d leave to my own
bloodied hands. I’ll not encourage inaction further.
Now is not the time
when so many of my kinsman are dead
and dying, crying “Save us!” Now is not the time
to question what my heart already knows.
There is no good or bad but thinking makes it so.
And blood makes it so.
And death makes it so.
Being and non-being are of no matter.
If I’m to not-be, then let it be so.
But I'll no longer sit idly by
as this empire makes a black sick tar pit
of all that’s lovely, green, and innocent.
Bang your gavel, judge!
Your dreadful verdict, jurors, bring!
This sentence doesn’t end a thing



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