Excerpt: The King's Secret (Poem)

Thousands of years ago, when our fathers came to land
There was a sacred treasury, the property of one man.
His money bought a thousand miles under the sun
And on his death, he passed them to son number one.
Who that son was, there's no record to say
Just how this man, the King, passed away.
Into the sand, the child was cast by his mothers
His wealth seized and passed amongst the others.
His kingdom spurned, his heart destroyed
The child built armies, which he then deployed
On his mothers and sisters, cousins and brothers.
The army was destroyed, but decimated the others
The first son mourned for years the lives of his kin
And preached the cost of his murderous sin
For there was darkness in the boy's heart, buried deep
And although he lamented their deaths, he did not weep.
The boy became the first king, the king of the entire world.
His grip on reality shaking, in a dark, far corner he curled,
Calling out for his family, his mothers, his brothers
His sisters. He cried out fervently for the others.
But his family was dead, killed by his own hand
Their bodies cried and cremated, buried on his land
There was nothing the boy could do but keep his eyes open
For the darkness, his horror, played across them as a hen.
There was nothing more scary or terrifying to the boy
Then a hen clad as any child would clad a toy
Dressed in a darkness, silver and gold,
The boy knew the hen was a sight to behold.
But there was something to his hen, something different.
Surely it was not this hen that the prophet meant?
The boy travelled the cities, seeking the man from yesteryear
The one that had once told him he'd kill what he held dear.
The boy, now a man, stumbled on the prophet's home
And of all the places, both near and far, he had to roam
In order to find this house, to see the prophet's face
He'd never searched above the lonely, dry place
Where his family had been laid to rest
All draped out in finery and looking their best

And when the King rested, weary and beaten on the step
The prophet appeared and asked the king why he'd kept
The darkness within his heart, to blind his eyes
And when the King answered, it was with surprise.
Old man, he did say, his voice dusty and weak,
How long have you been living here, alone on this creek?
The prophet watched the man, holding his chin
He replied, Since I saw you commit that sin.
The man bowed his dark-haired head, sad and scared
Why, you cunning old fox, it appears I've been hared.
You've seen the shame that I've hidden from all others
Since I killed my mothers, sisters and brothers
And today when I came here to seek your help in this
You comment on the shadow of my heart, the darkness.
There is nothing more I can do for us all today
Then enter here your house of straw, wood and clay.
I seek your help with this my greatest shame
To clear my conscience, my mind and my name
For it was not me who killed my family here
But a crowd of soldiers, rowdy on buckets of beer.
They found the family, destroyed my life.
They even killed the girl who would be my wife
There was nothing I could do, no way to prevent it
There my soul died, cast into the Hellfire Pit
And the prophet watched the boy, his fear on his face,
And the prophet did say, it is not my place
Here on this morning, within the darkest times
To cast that stone, out here, on the Mines
There will be a day when you pay that price
But today is not that day, and so I'll be nice.
Come in, rest your head, your weary feet.
Tell me what has you marching such a beat
Your hair is messed, your shirt is ripped
It looks like you've fallen, drowned and tripped.
There's something in your eyes that speaks of woe
I can even, through your sandals, see a broken toe.
The man stood up, looking the prophet in the eye
If you shall treat me as the villain, I shall bid goodbye.
The prophet watched the King, his eyes unfocussed
Come in, but do not accuse me of hocus pocus
For my ways are the ways of my gods.
The king entered the house, all smiles and nods.
What is it here that you would like to know?
The king sits and asks, what makes the trees grow?
Why is the sea green, the cat sacred, the river flowing?
And the prophet said, There is no harm in you knowing.
The trees grow because of the light from the sun
The sea is green because of the animals whose life is done.
The cat is sacred for your fierce goddess Bast
The river flows because of the waters which last.
The king rubbed his chin, his head in his hand
I want you as court bard, part of the band.
I want you to sing and dance for my court
Drink wine, mead, water and port.
I need a man as wise as you are now
To answer for them, the world works, how?
You're the wisest of the men I've met
Maybe in this whole world. And yet,
Your prophecies of the toy-dressed hen,
I can't help but question why, of all men
That hen was directed towards me, the king
When one knows that my fear is of this thing
Have you been sneaking, a coward against his home?
Did you have accomplices? On your own?
The prophet stepped back, his hand on his heart
Who the hell do you think you are?
I have served this county from the time of your father's birth
And I will serve it until I am returned to the earth.
How dare you accuse me of such a thing as that!
Get out of my house, and don't you dare come back!
I tell you what, prophet, do your very best.
The king stood up, arms folded over his chest
I am the king, prophet, and I will not leave.
Do your damn best, you push and you heave.
But the prophet stood up, watching the man
This is no longer your place, king, not your land.
The king stared in shock, the prophet in silence,
I have news for you, and your alliance.
This land is mine, claimed by my father
And passed onto me when his life went no farther.
When the king's rant came to a finish
The prophet grabbed his ear in a pinch
You will leave my house, said he
Or cursed and dead you will be.
The king scrambled to his feet and cried
You're going to wish that you've died!
The king scrambled out of the house
His footsteps as heavy as a dying mouse
There was nothing left for him, nothing at all
Not in this house, not in free fall.
There was a man outside, waiting for him,
He screamed at the top of his lungs, Block him in!
There was a scream and a cry and the bolts slid home
And fire graced its walls, flowering in a dome
The king laughed and yelled, Let that be his lesson!
The slimy old braggart won't call this a blessin'!
The house burnt to the ground, leaving only a cinder.
A child ran up and took a twig to use as tinder
And the young king ran home, yowling out, Five!
But he didn't see the priest crawl out... alive.

There was nothing in the kingdom out of place
The king was happy with the chores to face
He left on a hunting trip, far from the city
When he shot an official, he cried, What a pity!
I've lost my horse Nel and the dog I call Fred
It appears that I shall be the next to be dead
There was a greak ruckus as the king laid right down,
His official rode up. Sir, should we go back to town?
The king did sit up and look around him
Where the hell have you been? He demanded, Sonny Jim?
My hunt is a failure, I shot my own horse
The official said, Sire, with the curse, but of course!
Curse, what curse? Demanded the king in the sand
Why, the one that has been set over your land.
There's no one so bold as to dare do that.
The king cried out, searching for his hat
No sire, there isn't, not living at least.
Anyone who would, would be fed to the beast!
The priest shook his head, looking the king in the eye
Sire there is nothing for it but for both you and I
To search out the house you burnt down last year
What, you think that he could be alive...here?
You daft old fool, nothing survived the flame
Then explain, sir, why he's been seen again?
The king turned on the man, his temper unmasked
And I daresay, he cried, that you haven't asked
What kind of fool think's he's seen that old coot
Why, the type of man, about whom I give no hoot
He'd be drunk, a skunk, no friends there at all
No sir, the man said, Not even one fall.
A man does not fall when he is not drunk.
You thick headed scoundrel, you're another skunk!
You've cursed and you've created, you've slaughtered my friends,
Now wait there, young sir, let us do make amends.
Not on my life, you villainous hag!
Oh god, the man cried, Someone get me a bag!
I daresay you could be carried in one,
After my inquisitor has had his fun.
You'll be boiled in oil and flays on the rack
And then you dead body will be sunk in a sack.
There's nothing more here for someone like you
Oh please sir, please sir, think of what you're going to do
You'll destroy my life, and that of your own,
In your dreams you'll hear me shuffle and moan
There won't be a place you can hide from me.
Guards, cried the king, tie him to that tree.
The guards looked around, confusion in mind
You idiots! the king shouted, Any one you can find!
The guards seized the man, not a blade drawn
You'll regret this, said he, when he newly is born!
The king rolled his eyes, waving his hand
But you won't see it. You'll be dead in this land.
The guards dragged him away, shouting to the sky
Save your breath, the king shouted, You're still gonna die.
The man cried a curse, and a guard hit his head.
Iago! cried the king, He'd better not be dead.
The guard shook his head, lifting his sword up high
No sir, said he, that's for the executioner, righ'?
He nodded and followed, out over the sand
Aye, yes. But what plot is at hand?

There was near nothing the man down there knew
But the highest of these was to know when he's through
He was slammed on a table, then butchered with knives
Even the memory brought up tears and hives
There was nothing fun here, without his old friend
The prophet who swore he'd be with him at the end
There was nothing more friendly than a man at his worst
The torturer punched him til he thought he would burst
But there was something there, in the depths of the room
A kind of assurance on the knowledge of your doom
The man stared there, at the corner afar
Cried the torturer, Not yet! I've not raised the bar!
You'll destroy my life's work with a breath, you fat ape!
I want you to focus, no mouths left agape.
All I want is a name, a name and I'll help
Then smashed the man's leg. He let out a yelp.
You are not a human, you're not a real man
Tell me what you know, yes you can!
There's nothing more that we need from you
Except to know where your friend has blown through.
The man on the table, he squawked and he squeaked.
The torturer stabbed him and his waves of pain peaked.
The man lay dying on that table, thrashing around
The man grabbed his throat, dragged him to the ground
There was nothing the dying man could do
Tell me the name, and I will not kill you
The poor man sighed, his heart gave out
But with his last breath, he managed to shout,
There's no way you'll find my friend, you won't.
The torturer grabbed a knife, even as the man cried, Don't!
His name is Jacob, he's a Christian priest!
And where is he? Give me that at least
I don't know where he is, I've not seen him in a year
Then guess what, young man, you will die here
The knife flashed down, he let out a scream,
And then he was dead, or so it would seem.

The king was furious, his anger paramount.
How dare you kill him without orders! Get out!
The messenger scrambled out of the way
As he ran, he thought, Better to live another day.
The king's insane, his humanity gone
There's rage in his mind, no mercy is born.
I'm getting out of here, I'll send for help,
But I do not wish to be the whelp
The one he catches betraying his kingdom
His mind will see everything as a con
The messenger tore out of the palace
And he treats everyone with obvious malice!
A guard jumped out of the shadows, weapon in hand
You there, messenger! he called, You take the king's land!
The messenger jumped, squeaking out loud,
What are you talking of, your head's in the clouds!
I have no knowledge of this, you brainless cretin
And I know what you're trying to do, you're bettin'
That I will be guilty and you'll be advanced.
But all that awaits you is a kick in the pants
You'll get no help, not friendship from me
The guard latched out, kicking him in the knee
You'll do what I tell you, he said under his breath
Otherwise, there's only one choice left
You'll go with this man, or stay here with me,
But I warn you if you choose that, be ready
I will not be light, I will not be fun
I look out for person number one
The boy stared at the guard, surprised.
Care to predict what I have surmised?
You're a slaver, a sham, ready to kill
The guard laughed. You're such a dill.
I'm here to help you, to prevent your death
But if you prefer... and he drew a deep breath
The messenger tensed, ready to flee.
Betrayer! I caught him! Come here to me!
The guard seized the messenger before he could run
Now, he whispered in his ear, time for my fun.
The men flowed forth, to the man's side
There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
The messenger thought, but his thoughts were in vain
A crack over the head and he never thought again.

And so it went on, death after death
Until the world quivered with every breath.
Not many were left in the land of the living
For the king was not so forgiving.
The populous dwindled, most left the land
The kingdom reduced to a world of sand
There was little to be dome, little to do
Everywhere the king went was cried out 'Boo!'
The people hissed, his highness was attacked
The people called him to abdicate, to be sacked.
The king declined the offer, setting guards on them
But the guards could not chase them all. And when
The king became ghastly ill with stomach pains
But all the doctors had been forced out with canes
There was nothing for it, the king did die
Despite the lone doctor who did try
To save his life, despite the peoples' thought
The people wanted him dead, thought they ought
To kill the man who committed such crimes
But before they could, a change of times
Forced his hand along its course.
The death of the king required little force,
A single pillow suiting his purpose

A party was held out in the street,
Where people could come together and meet.
An heir had not been chosen by the king –
At least, the city had been told such a thing
There was nothing for it but for the kingdom to die
The people running for a new home; but I,
I stayed here, under the sweltering sun
The man known to all as the prophet's son
I too have a gift, though different to my dad
It isn't all that special, though it is not bad.
My talent is working out the dreams of others
Where men want to be fathers, women mothers.
I talk to the gods, they bring them a child
Though intimidating, my gift is mild.
Like my mother, I am the son of a god as well
Born and raised in a place called Hell
There's no one like me in the whole world
Which is why someone found me, all curled,
Hiding in a corner, chattering about demons
While surrounded by the unpopular heathens
He raised me, far from my father's eye,
Which is the reason, when he did die
That I appeared on his doorstep, claiming him as mine
And into that confrontation with his spirit at Death's time
He refused to claim me as being his son,
His mind only on the harm I could have done
His reputation gone, destroyed in an instant
Because I was loud and independent
I would tell the world of his disgrace,
That he'd impregnated a woman of a different race
But she had been a god on earth
Dying, slowly and painfully, in childbirth
But I showed the old bugger, I killed him dead
Smothered him with a pillow, a noose round his 'ead.
So now there's nothing quite as fine
In the whole world, which is now mine.
Not man, not woman, angel or demon
Raising the seedlings like only I c'n.
I took the prophet's role from him,
And started my campaign, cleaning up sin
The people learnt to bow at my feet,
Or cold Death's hands, they would meet.
Some compared me to the old king
But not many would believe such a thing
I was worse, I knew it well
But those who said it went to hell
I returned order to the land
But stayed all power in my hand
Only I could control the lives of my people
Combining all our lives under one holy steeple
There was little to be shared around
Fir little food grew on our ground
I was not a greedy king, though
I shared what I could, even to those who said so
It's barely my fault if I need more than others
More than the children, crying with their mothers
It was with this in mind that one boy did try
To take my kingdom with a knife.
My guards caught him, and he was rendered dead
With a short, sharp blow on the top of his head
There was nothing his mother's wails would do
To bring him mercy and life too
His body was fed to our crocodiles
And I swear her wails were heard for miles
I ordered her dead to shut her up too
And her body was fed to beasts in my zoo