vigilante


The wind brought the night,
drifting through the buildings,
the moon was shining bright,
lost behind the skyline,
the streetlight moved endlessly,
through the central park,
the vigilante came rebellious, unconstrained, unruly,
the vigilante came unrestrained to the hotel lobby.

He has a black mask the hid his face,
shadow on his eyes,
a jacket dark of shadows,
and pants darker still,
covered in bulletproof armor,
his boots mirror polished,
he moved with solemn reason,
his gun served one target,
his knife has seen purpose,
the night wont hide his ambition.

Into the silent lobby he barged,
looking for a place to hide,
he tapped the glass with his wallet,
but the concierge was dead asleep,
he glanced at the balcony,
and who was waiting there,
but the concierge's black eyed daughter,
Bess the concierge's daughter,
tying a red ribbon into her long black hair,

"One kiss my love, as it ends tonight,
but I will be back when its finished before the morning light,
the cops are sure to surround him tomorrow
so look for me in the moonlight,
watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come back by moonlight even if hell gets in the way.”

He rose on his bike,
they barley could hold hands,
but she let her hair down,
his face burned like a cherry,
as her heavy perfume wondered down,
and he kissed her hair in the moonlight,
oh to see her in the moonlight,
then he turned the ignition in the moonlight,
and he drove away to the west.

He did not come in the morning,
he didn't return at noon,
and the sun went down,
before the moon could rise,
the streetlight moved endlessly,
through the central park,
the red and blue light were flashing,
gleaming, blinking,
the corrupt politicians men came knocking,
onto the lobby glass.

They said nothing to the concierge,
but they trashed the place,
and they gag his daughter and cuffed her to the bed,
two of them laid on the balcony,
guns cocked and aimed,
there was a man at every window,
and death at one window,
for Bess can see thought her window,
the road he would return.

They tied her to attention,
with many joking as they work,
leaned a rifle on her,
aiming at the heart,
"keep a look out " and they kissed her,
she heard the dead man say,
so look for me in the moonlight,
watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come back by moonlight even if hell gets in the way.

She twisted her hands behind her,
but the cuffs wouldn't give,
she squirmed till her fingers,
were covered with sweat and blood,
they stretched and strained in the darkness,
and the hours crawled by like years,
till, now, at midnight,
cold, at midnight,
the tip of one finger touched it!
The trigger at least was hers!

The roaring of an engine, Did they notice?
The motorcycle coming near,
the roaring of the engine,
they pretend not to hear.
down the endless street lights,
through the central park,
the vigilante came rebellious, unconstrained, unruly,
the blue men looked down their scopes,
she stood up straight and still.

The engine roared in the cold silence,
the engine roaring through the night,
nearer he came closer,
her face covered in sweat,
Her eyes grew wide for a moment,
she drew one last deep breath,
then her finger moved in the moonlight,
her rifle shattered the moonlight,
shattered her heart in the moonlight,
and warned him--with her death.

He turned back to the west,
barley hearing the gunshot,
her head leaned over the rifle,
dripping with her own blood,
not till the next morning he watched the news,
his faced turned ghostly pale,
how Bess the concierge's daughter,
the concierge's black eyed daughter,
had watched for her love in the moonlight
and died in the darkness there.

And back he drove like a mad man,
cursing at the sky,
smoke blasting out,
waving his gun high,
blood red was the footpegs in high noon,
maroon was a black jacket,
when they shot him down on the highway,
down like a criminal on the highway,
and he lay in his blood on the high way
with tears dripping though his shadow.

but still in the winters night they say,
the wind brought the night,
drifting through the buildings,
the moon was shining bright,
lost behind the skyline,
the streetlight moved endlessly,
through the central park,
the vigilante came rebellious, unconstrained, unruly,
the vigilante came unrestrained, to the hotel lobby.
he tapped the glass with his wallet,
but the concierge was dead asleep,
he glanced at the balcony,
and who was waiting there,
but the concierge's black eyed daughter,
Bess the concierge's daughter,
tying a red ribbon into her long black hair.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem



This Poems Story

thought it could use an update