I, too, have been in the underworld like Odysseus,
and shall be there often yet …
– Friedrich Nietzsche
Tripping into court Morality
cringes silently,bells on the tips of his toes
exaltedly clang his life’s work as leotard
and tassels splash gangly to Wagner tones.
High beams and grey hooded revelers –
Lohengrin toasted from marble mugs,
filigree nectars beneficently gulped –
it was deemed our accused was a prophet,
allowing the death of Gods,
come to absorb us in non-existence.
Wise men in purple robes suggest
a lusty flogging, reflecting that violence
commenced with the comedy of pain.
Clenched brittle teeth crack,
synapses shatter and snap,
the gavel gashes hard, again and again,
against the tear-stained judge’s stand.
Pried from this seat of Turin justice
this jingler of Christian conscience
curses through rigor, foam and spit,
condemning his condemner
for striking the poor dumb beast below him.