A badge of honour

The Office is void of a people who wear the crown of the badge in reverence to neutrality. I see a life-source scream in anguish from the impact of the pains jeered it by the executioner of power in barks of language. Who would have thought that this terra firma would have come to be a Wild West where roots feeling and cell meant nothing? But yesterday, today, and days marching onwards, all the wild lilies had distinguished marks for separate care. I see those that live above the earth parading their chattels with perturbing snouts as symbols of vigor. They demand the right to free expression, the god given claim to openness of privacy, the will to blossom from one environ to another with diminutive interference from men who execute the king's wrath. Then I looked to the other side, just to establish the impartiality in the cultures, and saw some clusters with many hanging like ripen mangoes, where gem appears not, and numbers spelt ridicule from the king's men.

They were drafted from off the battlegrounds of the streets where life was always in hope of something, seeing everything while not owning breeze, to an office to serve the clusters. They vowed to protect none call one, but for some inconsistencies in the throng, they operate like hungry animals, in need of a blood's meat for that's the only explanation for their instinctive behaviour. To have respect show them for the badge of honour, that they crave, that piece of power; I have sometimes witnessed turmoil and disfigurement without hide as the black blood walks wasted on our streets. The old are held in opaque vase by the fear of knowledge. The young open their mornings with inhumane call and by night-fall see the mild scrimmage take over of their clustered concourse by weaponry that were never used in the stone age. Each age would have experienced the cry of the blood in the streets of one they held near. The carnage was now stepping across the bridge of the nameless and the ghost stood so that our neighbours applaud our records.

Little did they foresee that those below the heavens were only tagged equals, and they understood this without ever having said this in standard language prose. But why did they accept the badge of honour from among the very clusters of which they emerge knowing that the system's sustenance thrives on the cluster's ruination? Is it that forward march of the present myths; is it to reconstruct, to stimulate fear, enhance the ordered division of the lilies, purge the cluster's stench from the fools within its defence or is it just paranoid I?

Of all spoken words, did any read that the abused of a badge of honour is a king void of power? They made a vow to serve, uphold, protect, and stabilize even the flawed lilies. Today, their dreams are concretized by mutation because of an authoriy in a of badge of honour.


By Paul Andrew Bourne, MSc. (candidate); BSc. (Hons); Dip. Edu.