A Matter of Fact

A walking talking archive of events gone by,
he witnessed them all, with an unbiased eye.
Right time and place he happened to be there
looking to take advantage, he just didn’t care.

He wasn’t born man, so he didn’t grow old,
and his boyish looks were a gift to behold.
Mostly he was a he, but he was also a she,
with the attributes of either he chose to be.

He had been an emperor in ancient times,
also a writer of poems and nursery rhymes.
Alexander the Great had him as a close friend,
and Cleopatra used him when choosing her end.

Throughout the years he has always been there,
Samson cursed him for the loss of his hair.
He provided the fiddle which Nero played
and assisted Adolf Hitler to his bunker grave.

He did all these things and many more too,
in all the ages of man from the first to you.
I know this is true, because he’s of my blood,
to many he’s an enigma and not understood.

poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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