A Vigilantes Curse- { A Short Story in Poetry Form}
A Vigilantes Curse- { A Short Story in Poetry Form} poem stories
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jbo
jbo Live, learn and yearn Twitter@jboMedia
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An empowering poetry themed story, an LGBT and equal rights affirming tale. An interview.

A Vigilantes Curse- { A Short Story in Poetry Form}

There once was a child who would grow into a man.

Never one to walk away or have his head in the sand.

Never fully did he understand the mastermind nor the plan.

In the house he lived free thinking was banned.

Of poets, grime artist, lyricists, and metal bands he was a fan

Estranged from his family his emotions canned.

Looking across the room vacant like a desert pan.

Until one day his call for respect became a demand.

Hate speech was preached with cold humour.

He could not wait to get out, begging for it to end sooner.

He didn't fit in there he was treated like a malignant tumour.

Sometimes racist or homophobic comments were spluttered into the air.

The syllables ricocheted in the ears like bullets and caused despair.

This boy had always been taught to treat fellow people fair.

Eventually no longer did he even have an inkling to care.

He blurted out wilful comments of equality with flare.

Showing his position and stance to everyone there.

Sick to the bone of the hate speech, societies cancerous leach.

At school he was taking time to listen to holocaust survivors' stories of the preludes.

Read about Rwanda and Bosnia too became overtly sickened with attitudes.

Cheap and ill witted jokes upon his sanity began to protrude.

Realised the place was no home for he, even at school with troubles he felt free!

He began to calmly discuss equality and respect for people was his plea.

The house was chauvinistic ruled by a man who set out rules like decrees.

Speaking ill of races and of the likes homosexuality.

In this time this young man stopped writing his lyrics.

Bellowing laughter surrounded him from ill made satiric.

Quit the poetry club and fitting in for a short time became an empiric.

Yet he never sold out and just served to be sickened to the brink.

A brush with death and a greater evil made him think.

Soon again once more he wielded the quill and the ink.

Emotions and a hardened sense of self no longer to sink.

What comes next is worth all the anguish and being on the brink.

He was empowered and what was thin ice became an ice rink.

When he left the house, he was given a gold ring by his mother.

He went to live with his long unseen father, and they met with glee.

Back in a place where equality was the only rhetoric to see.

He looked at the gold ring and carved into the face was the word gay.

A last snide joke, or a comment of acceptance be it as it may.

He did not see most of the people from that house even to this day.

He took it on himself to wear that ring regardless of sexuality anyway.

He frequented bars and late-night sessions assorted with many.

Sometimes things turned sour as they read the ring and threw in their penny's.

Violence occurred too many times the gold ring a sign of the times.

He escaped so many battles unscathed he began to feel the ring was divine.

Affirming his thoughts of equality as with chauvinists his fists dined.

Vigilante became an accidental pass time, fighting racial, gender and homosexual hate crime.

Facing fists, knuckle dusters, lead pipes, knives and pistol Pts59's.

Behind everyone of them a chauvinistic pig waiting to have gay imprinted on their face.

The carving on the ring leaving a subtle reminder of equality's grace.

So, many times that lives could have gone to waste.

If he had never been given the ring in the first place.

From gay bars to average clubs to the streets and the college halls.

Many bigoted chauvinistic fools to this ring did fall.

He worked out 4 hours a day lifting 20 kg continuously.

Cause he had haters attacking him insidiously.

As time went buy the letters began to fade.

And ended his vigilante days.

He grew old and still wears that ring to remind him the man that ring made.

Cause all it takes for evil to prevail is for one good person to do nothing.

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