The Performance

Art By El-Branden Brazil


War is waiting
In the darkness of the wings.
His improvised performance
Awaiting crowds to please.

Gun and sword in hand,
He lifts in battle readiness
For pouncing out aggressively
Upon the flood-lit stage.

The music rises, rises
More violent in its themes;
As his entrance approaches,
The horns play their patriotic phase.

Ever closer,
He listens for his cue,
As Peace decides to exit
With her failed Diplomatic beaux.

Adrenalin flowing,
War anticipates his role.
The stage director prompts him
Suddenly to go.

As the spotlight hits the ceiling
And the sirens begin to squeal,
He leaps out in a frenzied fervour
Towards the seats below.

The audience alerted;
The women start to shrill,
As they watch transfixed the master dancer
Behead the local mayor.

The humour, oh so Grand Guignol
As the blood runs down the aisles;
The show has yet to finish
And a massacre ensues.

At last, the big finale;
The show-stopper of them all.
The music fades.
The curtain drops.
And he waits for his encore.

- El-Branden Brazil
Copyright 17/10/2000 -