It was just a movie
But the words still move me.
Am I Ringo?
Or I am Jules?

I know the answer.
I bury it
In a shroud of righteousness
That sometimes looks like Jesus.

I stare into the eyes
Of Nazi sons and daughters
And judge them,
Implicitly,
Look down on them
As my own (be)guilded horrors
Surround me to the waist.

My doubts
Swirl about the throat.

We were all raised
With tales large and small
Of the Greatest Generation
That was called upon to save our World,
And did.

Though I wonder what others heard,
Histories devils,
The lost and the broken
Back when a swastika meant pride.
What were they promised? Their call?

Were they going to be Great Again, too?

08/27/2016

Author's Note: Inspiration: "...I saw some shit this morning made me think twice. See, now I'm thinking, maybe it means you're the evil man, and I'm the righteous man, and Mr. 9 Millimeter here? He's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. Now I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is…you're the weak, and I am the tyranny of evil men. But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd." -- Jules Winnfield, Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino)

Posted on 08/27/2016
Copyright © 2024 D. Xavier Bari