Dressed All In Green


I see you atop your castle
your feigned benevolence
like stained y-fronts
on a hungover morning
a visible disgrace
you can weave your
silver spoons into a
thick suit of armor
you can take the
paper education
that your father
bought from Eton and
mash it up, conceal
the windows with it

I can still see you
up on your throne, feigning benevolence
deigning to entertain the lame and the poor
until, bored, you sling them off the battlements
and wait in disguise for new prey to appear.
then you’ll feed them on lies and idle suggestion
they’ll eat your promises while you steal their dreams

I can hear your
insincere words
slip seamlessly
from over-used lips as
they pay casual service
to trendy causes
everything except
eye-batting is
quite within bounds
you crave publicity
media coverage
your picture in
the odd living room

handy for clearing
up a spillage
deposited by the
dogs rear end

and what of love?
once, you
were loved for
what someone thought
you were, rather
than for your wealth,
or for what you
really are
and what did you do?
you foolish man.

even the chattels stolen from historic crimes
lie chipped beneath the dust of your indifference
your wine turns to vinegar, pickling your cold heart
wintery chills sweep through those ignored cracks
but you sit atop your cold castle, with immeasurable
ignorance, you stare into your eternal night.

and what of revenge?
the persecutor
with his unique
version of the truth
you strike out at
another one of us
another innocent
maybe you call it
collateral damage
or maybe a bit of fun
but you don’t realize
we have love on our side
there are many of us
we administer salve
to the infected wound
she will recover fully
as will your
intended victim.

will you?

© Jane Paterson Basil


16 thoughts on “Dressed All In Green

        1. Grr… I’d like to do so much more. If I wrote him a letter telling him what everyone I know thinks of him, he’d be really hurt. I have a powerful pen, and I may just use it, but I have to wait about a month. anyway, he’ll die miserable and lonely. He’s so stupid that he thinks people without money are inferior to him – not that he’d admit it. I’d like to stuff his manor house up his… but enough of this. He’s a waste of my energy.

          Liked by 1 person

            1. Ha ha! Not unless Donald Trump has moved into a crumbling manor house in the South West of England, changed his name and become a bitter, twisted old git.
              Maybe it’s time for me to settle down in bed with a good book and get over it…

              Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m furious! there’s me, trying hard to learn to love everybody, and he rears his horrible face again. That man is trying to ruin a very big day for someone I love. He’s a nasty, spoiled brat.


        1. It’s a choice he makes, and he’s had many opportunities to learn, having often been surrounded by love and peace preachers and new agers and the like. But he assumes he is above reproach, and never looks within.
          Is that what money does?


            1. I wasn’t expecting that! I expect you’ve guessed right. His name gets around in certain circles, and then there are the occasional newspaper articles and television appearances. My family has been far too closely connected to him in the past.
              I’ve probably said too much. This is a public arena. But I’m so angry. What he has done was cruel, and shows him up for the ruthless loser that he is.
              I tell myself that money doesn’t matter, but it does, because those who have it are in a powerful position. They run the show.

              Liked by 1 person

              1. Well, I’m in the South West too, so I perhaps have heard of him more than some. I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard time. I’m afraid some things don’t change: Money = Power everytime and it probably always will. It’s not right, but it’s true

                Liked by 1 person

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