A succession of poems about the travesty in Norway this last month
An anonymous knight in shining armor,
his last pages of the manifesto complete,
Not a friend nor family member could predict his actions,
he set foot on the island.
What’s under his medals,
that silver shield he calls a badge?
Each step a countdown till the last,
muddy foot prints on the soft green grass.
A hunger that consumes him like lust,
no matter how many thoughts he has to doubt his plans,
a darker part of himself insists; “I must… I must.”
The teenagers gather round,
joints tucked into back pockets and socks.
He is confident,
like the policeman he pretends to be,
the consequences no longer exist to him.
Death is welcome,
a price to pay for his needed sins.
He pulls the trigger…
it was nothing near to his experiences watching movies.
How could he think that video games would have prepared him?
But he is no longer conscious,
no thoughts cloud his judgment,
he moves forward,
stoned and jaded;
watching the youth sink in the water.
Like tracker on the hunt for a buck he stalks,
picking out the teenagers from the foliage with relative ease.
Watching them cry,
watching them surrender,
watching them hurt and bleed…
they can beg to wonder why,
but he won’t regret a thing.