Ballad Of The Hanged Man (A Fragment) Poem by Leon Moon

The gong rings out the laughter of all life;
His twitching leg, his slobbering mouth,
The clouds seemingly tuned to his strife
And ballads burning in the south,

The gold-plated spider without sight
Weaves a gossamar bulb around his neck
And tightens around the fruit below the deck
The ballads sung by the crowd from night.

His crime was honesty, honesty in death
Death familiar in all aspects of his liberty
Seized by the spider's control in breath,
That ballad of the elite who conceal eternity.

The gong rings out the fire of all life;
His seized leg, his hardened mouth,
The storms forever rails on in strife
And the ballads blaze, laughing in the south.