Inside the Vulgar Hall

 

There is no place for us to stand.

The floor is all filled up.

There is no food to munch upon,

nor ale to fill my cup.

 

The air is stale and musty now.

It seems so foul and warm.

My toes now ache from otherís heels.

I feel so insignificant within this buzzing swarm.

 

Just one amidst the millions,

I speak as loud as they.

In this crowd, all are heard,

but no one knows what they say.

 

Voices - a buzzing obscurity,

and elbows are in my back.

The smoke is thick and burns my eyes.

Fresh air is what I lack.

 

Iím searching for an exit now.

I feel so sick inside.

I must make hastÖ to find a place

to relax - to breathe - to hideÖ

 

away from all the others

who make up this great race -

who practice vandalism, rape, and murder,

and who think nothing of lying to your face.

 

There is no compassion within this hall

where we gather tonight,

for in the dance of life, my friend,

thereís but one way to shine so bright.

 

By dulling all the others

that shine around one light,

it makes the one stand out, you see.

It makes it seem more bright.

 

ButÖ brightness, like everything else in life,

is relative to what we see.

A bonfire to a volcano seems dull,

but to a firefly seems bright as can be.

 

And when two lights of equal strength

and which have never been outshone before

come face to face with the help of fate

out there on that filthy floor,

 

there must come out a victor -

one which shines above all.

It cares not how nor why nor who it dulls -

only that it is the brightest light within that vulgar hall.

 

To many the bright light is a hero,

for itís outshone the rest.

But what of the ones itís put out -

the light that itís suppressed?

 

The firefly and the bonfire

despise the great volcano.

To all those little lights

itís a murderer, not a hero.

 

I refuse to step upon,

diminish, destroy, or hide

even the most obscene of lights.

Thatís why I step outside.

 

For if I must shine brighter

than anything else around,

I close the door behind me

and go where no light is found.

 

All these things are known by me,

and I grow nauseous at this ball.

I step outside - Iím all alone -

and shining brighter than any light inside the vulgar hall.

 

July 28, 1991

 

Return to My Poetry

Return to Home Page