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NAPOLEON
 
sketch by
walt larsen




















NAPOLEON
is dead,
but he's still
inside the
head,
and for years
I lived in
fear
to lose that
ancient
thang~~~,
the old
Time Machine
that sat there
in the attic
as if
making
it's request
to do it's
best
in silence
dust,
just a longing
to be
free
for another
trip
with me
'n for unto
thee
to tell.

I've read
about Napoleon
so many
times,
and it almost
seemed
that I knew
him
as if in dream,
that small
noble Lion of
France,
and longed
to view the
face of one
made famous
within battle
to control
the world,
and so I
looked for my
golden coin
dated 1820,
yes it 'twas
twenty
francs
of purest gold
in worth
when Louis
the eighteenth
was then
the king
of France,
not long before
WATERLOO
came into
view
with Napoleon
with his bride
named
Josephine
so embued
within
the glint
in fiendish
POWER.

Climbed
the creaky
stairs
up into
the old attic
and stared~~~
at the dusty
Time Machine
still in waiting
for a dating,
and it was
a crude
looking
old thing
within it's
awesome magic
POWER,
and I spent
some hours
cleaning and
adjusting
it
for a trip
back in time
once more
so fine.

No one knew
what 'twas
about to do,
for I was
all alone
within the
pilots seat
as I plugged
it in
to electricity
and watched
the lights
in the house
grow dim,
and then
come on
in the
Time Machine
with it's dial
lit
as if
awaiting for
a trip
to Mars.

I will admit
that I didn't
know
where
'twas going,
so
I spun the
dial almost
back two
hundred years
to pull~~~~~
the lever
and let her
rip~~~~~~~
'n feel
the spinning
pull
of centrifuge
of a blinking
world of light,
like unto
a tunnel
through
the fog
with rainbow
blinking lights
ahead,
and then
I was there
in silence
of the lamb
and dambed
right there
in the
Time Machine
on Saint Helena
island,
and there
he lies
in state
within his
casket,
the one
that died
from poisoning,
yes Napoleon
it's true,
the very one
I wanted
to
view
in the flesh,
'n I must
confess,
too
late
I think
for pink.

As if within
this cryptic
view
within the
crypt,
he's still
the same
today
as then;
perfectly
preserved
for all
time
as if he
'twas a
tainted
saint.,
'n no he
'aint'

'valdemart'



By walt christian larsen

© 2009 walt christian larsen (All rights reserved)

 

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