End Game

Based on a real event

It will always be his, and no one shall have it!

When you get all you want, getting more is a habit

He had all he could wish for but couldn’t go on spending

Except for the banks, no one knew what was pending

They’ll do much for the rich - except carry on lending

 

When there’s nothing but debt, and collaterally-met,

They would take all his cars, and his house, every fret

His wife’s birds, his guns, and his little girl’s horses

But all said and done, they’re just horses for courses

They were all to be fodder in a war with dark forces

 

That had plagued his strange mind since the first day he prospered

From then on control was not easily fostered

The money rolled-in, too fast for the counting

His roots seemed so lowly, he’d soon be renouncing

His family, his home-town - they’d all come a-pouncing

 

At the first sniff of wealth -he now shared higher circles-

They’d embarrass him, just like a zoo or a circus

He’d moved on from that, now a squire, now a gent

Big deals, country house, and the rules to be bent

But his genius for buying he’d soon circumvent

 

The posh school for his daughter, two cars for his wife

-For what he owed the taxman he might just get ‘Life’-

His millionaire trappings, his shotguns and dogs

Member’s card to the gun club, the Rolex-gold togs

He’d be losing it all - but not ‘popping-his-clogs’

 

And he’d not live with that, nor leave it to them

This mess, this disaster, what would he be then?

A failure, a nothing, no man you could trust in

No man at all, least of all like the mountain

His daughter imagined him - three coins in a fountain

 

That’s all they were now: he, his wife, and his daughter

The wishes of lambs that were led to the slaughter

He watched his wife sleeping, his childhood sweetheart

He’d not go on cheating, and rip them apart!

Their ‘pride-and-joy’ saving herself to be smart

 

He noticed the little girl’s light was still on

She’d long said ‘goodnight’ but he knew her old con

The teenage obsession with gossiping prose

She sent one last message which read ‘Dad’s too close’

And pretended to sleep like she’d taken a dose

 

As he entered her room, loading blanks in his mind

He knew that he had to be cruel to be kind

Put the gun to her head, closed his eyes, pulled the trigger

He would’ve had to be strong, would’ve had to be bigger

To carry on living, see her blossoming figure

 

As she grew up to find that her life had no bottom

Just a loop-hole to fall in, that he had forgotten

He forgot it all now as he turned out her light

And shut up the door on the hideous sight

There was no turning back on this terrible plight

 

And his wife was still sleeping, not hearing the shot

-With a silencer on for the death of her tot-

And she didn’t stir now, as he knelt down beside her

Knew nothing at all of the final reminder

And the note from the bailiffs -his final decider

 

Hammer cocked, squeezing trigger, and eyes wide shut

All he felt at her death was the recoiling butt

He knew for all else that he’d have to stay cold

The only way through it for a plan so bold

For already, at 50, their lives had been sold

 

Now all that was left were his dogs and the stable

For this part of the end, he was far more than able:

Dispatching them calmly, dog after horse

With tunnel-minded focus, unspeakable force

No space now for thinking, no place for remorse

 

Then he fixed-up a hose to the oil tank he’d bought

Fed it into the house with but one single thought:

To let it all burn. Then he stepped back to look

At his fairy-tale palace, like the end to a book

Like a mirage, a dream - his ‘Rookery Nook’

 

That he’d built-up on paper, foundations of debt

And gambled-away like a school-boyish bet

Too late to regret now, he flicked-up the flame

Of his gilt-edged old lighter, embossed with his name

Then petrol to flame - and an end to his game

 

He entered the kitchen -it wouldn’t be long-

And took out an album: old photos, days gone

A last tragic cry, put it back on the shelf

The past was a plot, deciding his self

His marriage, his daughter, his nature, his wealth

 

Then he ambled upstairs to the faint smell of smoke

Laid next to his wife and waited to choke

But his very last thought was oddly quite sunny:

A misquoted phrase which he’d always found funny -

‘A fool is soon parted from he and his money.’

Reviews

[Sara]

wow, what an intense poem, and extremely well-crafted and so relevant for today... i love the contrast between the almost flippant tone the rhyming gives the poem and the actual content of the poem itself - it makes everything even more chilling. i love the build-up to the end as well: the initial set up of having this rich, selfish man - and then this slowly dawning horror as he takes this same selfishness to such an extreme. just, wow... great job.

[Lorraine]

Indeed a tragic story written with such elegant flow and rhythm. It has a brilliant concept empowered by an excellent writing style. Every line is accurate, descriptive and compelling. Although it's a little longer than the normal length, it never turned draggy.

Keep Writing. ^___^

[JENY]

Very touching story…
Very sad….
Reality is so harsh…

[Taylor H.]

I agree with Sara. This was a great peom and wonderfully written :) Great job

[.]

I remember this Devon, you have got the whole story down to boot, it was a tragic story..the daughter on facebook executed and wife in bed asleep..he even blocked the entrance so the fire crews couldn't enter..and all over money...what have we become...this unfortunately is not a isolated incident...another one this week..you have captured this in such detail and to keep the rhyme so tight, hats off my friend

[Fran Marie]

That he’d built-up on paper, foundations of debt

And gambled-away like a school-boyish bet

Too late to regret now, he flicked-up the flame

Of his gilt-edged old lighter, embossed with his name

Then petrol to flame - and an end to his game


Such a sad way to live one's life incurring so much debt,having it made in the big league with fancy houses,cars,money...etc. and all for nothing,for it all collapses /crashing down like a rich house of credit cards/ in the end of this rich played game~ and how ironic to set it all aflame with his own embossed lighter~a touch of poetic justice in this End Game, indeed, an aptly title for this great piece of literature~

Well DonE!!

[ShaneBerry]

very captivating, i loved he last two lines!

[Chloe..Across the Unive..]

Very intense , gripping and so so sad.. I wasn't expecting the end to be as it is .. that it is based on a real happening makes it even more disturbing.. and you are good with this ... writing of true events in poem or story form... a haunting piece.
The last line is so fitting .. loved the read but sad for the real people.

Chloe

[jenniewren (J.W. Bouwma..]

oh wow D.. this is such a gripping poem. there was a point where every bit of me was screaming "read no further, put it down and walk way" but the tale was so chillingly well-told i couldn't help but continue. that is one of the hallmarks of an excellent writer, to me.

[FlawedByDesign]

Greed will consume you, isn't that what they say
To watch it eat you up, flourish and wilt away
Ask yourself, was it all worth it in the end
A bountiful life, a wife, a charming daughter; just to end up dead.

Well written. Thought of Trump for a second, but he's got a ways to go :)

[ettorney]

Very powerful piece. I was captivated all the way through. Rags to riches to rags.

How weak are we humans that that we summon incredible strength to kill our loved ones or find the strength to commit suicide. Where is that strength to be found when it is needed to live, for the giving of life. Why is it not used toward facing the problem instead of the ultimate cop out?


Nice write