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Killing Fiends
& Monsters
—for Will Francis, died in battle, August 22, 1831
By Rudolph Lewis
INVOCATION
O Southampton Forest Man
of the Broad Ax!
Lover of freedom! Nerves
wrought with
iron!
Speak to us how
you cleared the way to
Jerusalem
From house to house
Hail! Maker of the
Way!
A mountain taller
than Nat’s Trusted
Four
You, Will Francis,
were a stone wall, an orgy
of brandy, gunpowder, & blood.
Tell us of cutting
down trees of
illusions.
Speak! How came you
to the Sunday feast
at Cabin Pond,
Reese plantation, 21st
August
1831? Hark brought
a pig, and Henry,
brandy.
Yet you hungered
for a more delicious delight.
WILL SPEAKS
My life is worth no more than others;
My liberty dear to me as my life.
Don’t you worry prophet, preacher
man. I want stutter, nor stumble.
You, preacher man,
will call me
Executioner.
But I’ll don no mask,
other than God’s
creation.
I am God’s soldier,
ready for Judgment
Day,
I am your black
hand, chopping them down!
I won’t give
a hatchet’s glancing blow
I’ll lay Joe Travis
out; his wife in bed—one
blow of my ax!
I’ll bash an infant’s brains
against bloody bricks
of a fireplace.
Call Richard "The Rev"
Whitehead from his cotton
field,
Astride a horse,
I’ll send him to his
grave.
Whack up! Whack up!
Just a flip of the
wrist
Catherine Whitehead,
her severed head
falls into the gray
nothing from her shoulders
like broken door hinges.
One stroke of my ax
heads roll like marbles
Elizabeth Turner too,
one blow of my ax,
Sarah Newsome,
I’ll send her packing!
Whack up! Whack up!
I will cut my way
Through white bullets
of fiendish fear.
Monster-filled woods
bottoms of betrayal
Then die gloriously on Harris’ Field.
My life is worth no more than others;
My liberty dear to me as my life.
Don’t you worry prophet, preacher
man. I want stutter, nor stumble.
There’ll be no court for Will Francis
They’ll never take me and my ax
to trial, wild spirits fly in freedom
swamps, illusions, falling like trees.
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