Enoch

Enoch

From deep in the depths of my memory,

A tale, long forgotten, came back to me:

A small, invisible, anomaly,

Was alleged, by the certifiably,

Insane occupant, of a prison cell,

To be residing on top of his head,

And he, unwillingly under its spell,

Was urged to do whatever it said.

In a forceful, irresistible way,

This parasite imp, acquired in a dream,

Relentlessly, worried him night and day,

Polluting his mind, with a constant stream

Of toxic rhetoric, poured in his ears;

Thoughts, uninhibited, grown from seeds,

Extracted from fruit, bearing ideas,

Abound with prejudice; the type that feeds

On ignorance, fear, and bigotry.

Presently, he, with a doctor confides;

A cerebral, highly admired, MD,

And criminal psychologist, besides:

“Return if you can; go back to the start;

When did these murderous urges begin?”

He asked, and, on being urged to impart;

The murderer shared his secrets within:

“I was asleep, dreaming, when he first came,

Falling from out of the sky or a tree,

He landed on me, announcing his name;

I woke up, and Enoch was still with me,

There on my scalp, like a louse or a tick;

At first, I thought I was having a kind

Of breakdown, and there was a lunatic,

Babbling on and on and on in my mind,

He's a terrible burden; day and night,

Droning: ‘Beware, if you have a white face;

In a world of yellow, brown, black and white,

Yours will become the minority race;

Prepare!’ He demands; “The darkest of times

Are approaching, and will shortly be here.”

He whispers commands; commits me to crimes,

And if I ignore him, he’ll kill me, I fear.”

“Terrible burdens are far better shared;

What is it; right now, he wants you to do?”

Said the doctor, and the killer declared:

“He says he wants me to give him to you”;

“Oh does he really? That seems pretty fair;

Let me have Enoch for a day or two.”

The doctor suggested, leaving his chair,

As the killer, without further ado,

Complied, allowing the doctor to take

The burden away, immediately,

And Enoch, being received as a fake,

Was all but a horrible memory,

Now crowning the doctor, taking his leave:

“See you tomorrow; both Enoch and I.”

He said, in the spirit of make-believe,

And exited, with a final “Goodbye.

For two days, the killer, restlessly slept,

Or lay, wide-awake on his prison bed,

Whilst wardens watched; wondering why, he kept

Obsessively touching his head,

Oblivious; neither eating nor drinking;

He apparently, had lost, or was losing,

His reasoning; progressively sinking,

Against his will, or by his own choosing?

The cell door opened; the doctor came in;

Stood at the foot of the murderers’ bed,

With his mouth open in a rictus grin,

Recalling some things that Enoch had said:

“He says, our enemies are non-white-men,

We’ll be overrun, by the time they’re done;

He wants me to buy a weapon and then,

Go on a rampage and kill every one;

And if I refuse, he’ll rupture my brain;

He’ll kill me, unless I do what he says;

Even now, he’s threatening me again;

I haven’t eaten or slept for two days.”

The killer said, “I told you it was true;

Enoch’s a prophet and he knows what’s best;

Try following one of his orders through;

Do like he says and he might let you rest.”

“No!” Said the doctor, Enoch isn’t real;

This madness is somehow your wicked plan.

My purpose in life is to cure and heal;

I’m not like you; I’m a peaceable man…”

… And then, he collapsed, landing with a thud

On grey-painted concrete, breathing no more;

Streams from a river, “Foaming with much blood”,

Poured from orifices, flooding the floor.

The wardens came in; a streak of white light,

Flew from the floor, to the murderer’s bed;

Quick as a flash, beyond all human sight,

Enoch returned to the top of his head.

Assuming a look of shock and dismay,

The murderer was securely restrained;

The wardens lifted and carried away

The cadaver, warm, white-coated; bloodstained.

An autopsy revealed the doctor’s death,

Was caused by a clot and internal bleed;

His organs, having been studied in depth;

The funeral was allowed to proceed.

The murderer; incarcerated still;

From a cell in Broadmoor, started a trend,

Preparing a far-right-funded appeal,

With the help of his

Invisible friend.