> "In Reading gaol in Reading town, > > There is this pit of shame, > > And in it lies a wretched man, > > Eaten by teeth of flame" > > -{Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol} > > > > > > PRELUDE > > ======== > > > "All men kill the thing they love" > > Said Oscar Wilde of yore. > > But when more than thirty bullets found their mark > > It was not love, just blood and Gore. > > > The meaning of life > > is not to be found > > in a thing so arbitrary > > as a speeding bullet

> > > > The Question Mark Man ================ > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Who are you, they asked him. > > > > > Who am I , he asked himself. > > > > > You're the loner weirdo, they told him. > > > > > I'm the Question Mark, he told his teacher. > > > > > The loner, the lonely eagle, > > > > > Cuz every man's an island. > > > > > So what's in the sea, > > > > > where these islands float? > > > > > > > He knew he was Asian, cos everyone told him so. > > > > He knew he was American, cos he grew up here, of course! > > > > They found him morose & moody. > > > > He found them grubby & greedy. > > > > When neighbors said "Hi, howzitgoing" > > > > He was quite oblivious, he kept on going. > > > > Hands in his pockets, safety of the womb > > > > Mind full of alienation, and silence of the tomb > > > > > > > His sisters went to Princeton > > > > And were sociable & nice > > > > He kept to himself > > > > Lone eagle, like so many around > > > > In a world of plenty > > > > He grew up wanting > > > > Though he knew not what > > > > "surely nothing around here!" > > > > > > > of that he was sure > > > > > > > It was time to go to college > > > > Oh those brilliant days of youth > > > > And the rites of passage > > > > With fraternities, & football > > > > spring breaks and heartbreaks > > > > > > > But none of that for him > > > > He was the question mark man > > > > > > > But he didn't ask anyone, > > > > for the meaning of his life> Some day somewhere, though > > > > there came a powerful voice > > > > that banished from him those traces > > > > of imagination and feelings > > > > of the rush of adrenaline > > > > > > > those things that makes life life > > > > > > > The voice perhaps was a sweet whisper > > > > perhaps it was a harsh cry > > > > That penetrated his insides > > > > And reverberated through his empty heart > > > > The echoes just wouldn't go away > > > > After many days had passed > > > > Other people heard each other talk > > > > He heard only the echoes.. > > > > > > > Enemy...enemy..enemy...enemy > > > > said the echoes sometimes > > > > So lonely.. so lonely.. so lonely.. > > > > He perhaps heard at other times > > > > (For wherever he looked > > > > > > > An Enemy found He) > > > > > > > He looked all aroung him > > > > Something's Gotta Give! > > > > said the voice again > > > > tearing through those echoes > > > > > > > Those infernal echoes > > > > His teacher had perhaps heard > > > > throught that paper he'd submitted > > > > as assignment in creative writing class > > > > The teacher felt concerned > > > > and let the counselor know > > > > cos if there was anybody trained for this > > > > It would be those that know > > > > > > > About how humans are wired > > > > and about how they are structured > > > > And what causes input into equations > > > > Tell of the Effects or results > > > > Time passed...things were forgotten. > > > > But not by him..oh those infernal echoes > > > > > > > He went to a Gun store > > > > And bought just two, sleek & shiny > > > > He was not a criminal, > > > > And yes he had the money, > > > > That his parents had earned > > > > in another lifetime > > > > in the promised land > > > > where they came with hope > > > > > > > Oh those infernal echoes.. > > > > Oh the injustice in the world! > > > > Something's gotta give! > > > > Something's gotta give! > > > > His protest was for the injustice > > > > of those who had money > > > > of that he was sure > > > > and those people all around > > > > > > > who seemed evil > > > > and didn't deserve to live > > > > His parents, where did they belong? > > > > He didn't know & he didn't care > > > > Itchy trigger finger > > > > Shiny gun in hand > > > > walking around campus > > > > "They have no idea. Fools!" > > > > > > > "Of the Power in my hands > > > > Of the pure ideas in my head > > > > Of a better place than this > > > > Without echoes..those infernal echoes"> Blam Blam...Bang Bang... > > > > more than thirty times.. > > > > Far away in a foreign land > > > > with surprise & sadness > > > > his grandpa said > > > > "He was a Good Boy!" > > > > > > > Closer to home his parents > > > > with a hint of accent > > > > and hesitation said > > > > "He had some problems talking." > > > > More stories of this > > > > some more of that > > > > mixed with tributes and mourning > > > > of those the bullets had found. > > > > > > > Some say it's water under the bridge > > > > Others want to get to the bottom > > > > so, soon there will be fact finding > > > > so this never happens again. > > > > And after all that is done > > > > And the reports made and read > > > > One may still wonder > > > > As to what the whole point is. > > > > > > > And the point is...? > > > > > > > Some day somewhere, though > > > > there came a powerful voice > > > > that banished from him those traces > > > > of imagination and feelings > > > > those things that makes life life > > > > HE LISTENED > > > > > > > THE END