Kicsi Némó

Mason Mike

In Memoriam
O. W.
Sometime poet of Great Britain

Our story sets in England
Where a building stands
Old monstorsity; crumbling by ends.
The Prison of Reading,
Infamous stone
Used to be leer... no more!
Only curious masochists
Visited this gruesome site
Ones, who found joy
In the grief of the old guys
Who searched for the tears
Of lost soldiers and poets
Between the age-old cements.
Masons were sent out
Exactly twelve of them
To create a castle out of the wreck
For so, big people would move
And they needed a place,
Needed two hundred rooms
Why not? It's a home they're pleading;
And Where Else?
If not in the Prison of Reading.
But the Gaol almost collapsed
each and every night —
This way no castle will stand high!
The workers were angry
Their employers as well
Yet no-one figured out
What might've caused the affair.
One mason, namely Mike
Thought of a sacrifice
In which someone's wife
Would decease by that night,
Her soul'd support the bricks,
And the Prison would be fixed.
By midnight a voice would often say
Some terrible things,
While the workers were away:
"Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!"
A prophecy it is! Thought Mike surely
His wife must be chosen! It was his duty.
Next day, did he as the voice told,
Killed her in her sleep, let her grow cold
Buried her in the walls
And waited for the night
This would be the end
to this cruel trial!
But the voice was weeping that night
It was quite confusing
And even then, he wouldn't stop musing:
"For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die."
The night had gone, Sun came by
The scenery changed: not sure why.
When the wealthy came
They did not find a building
Only a handful of stones
And some dust were left
Of the Prison of Reading.

2019. 10. 15.

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