Lightning cracked a crooked cross
across the sky above the cross
where he'd been hanging for a day
(he was stoned again!)
The breeze grew ice threw knives, blew halos
hallowed cinders flew together
made a cushion for his feet.
There were spikes in his sandals, spikes in his ankles...
A spike split the wood, syringed his vertebrae.
Spikes in his shins, in his chin, in his fingers...
Amused apparitions hummed the Marsellaise.
We had to look away, he seemed so fragile.
We tried to offer him a cigarette but it was futile... no way through.
The guards screamed "Front!", drew guns, splashed acid...
so we retreated to the shadows
squated low and said a prayer
Cameras clicked out of sight
there are fights, there were fanfares.
Fireworks flashed across the cenotaph.
Kiddies played in the pits,
spitting crisps, licking ice-creams.
A spiv threw an auction for his autograph.
I never thought it would finish quite this way.
No resistance, not a word to say
but maybe we'll meet in heaven.
We can talk about those good old days.
I believe (at least I WANT to believe)
The angels landed, cleared their throats
and chorused "Crown Him!"
They poured a potion on his hair
it nearly drowned him.
Then they called a minute's silence.
They called the clowns in
and a cripple touched his foot
and did a cartwheel down the hill...
turning once for his wisdom,
twice for the pearl moon.
A third as the thief cried "It's judgement day."
He rolled his eyes, ripped his shirt
rolled insane in the dirt.
Applause ripped the heavens and blew the clouds away.
The laughter died as schoolgirls passed around the tissues.
Pretty patterns while a message said
"We'll miss you. Bless you. Bless your eyes."
And the bell rang twice and we fell as his lips moved.
We stared in stoney silence
as the news guy scribbled furiously
down his final words:
"I made mistakes. I've been a fool.
I tried hard but never thought that what started so well could end in misery.
But my motives were good.
I thought you all understood...
Just don't be hard when this day is cloaked in history.
You mistrusted me? ..."
And he died with his eyes on...
ash for ashes, dust for dust,
a lust for dust, a must for dust,
die with your eyes on...
Nomini magnus spiritus sancti filia...