3 October 2010

The Mark Of Cain

I come from East of Eden,
And bear the mark of Cain,
That may be the reason,
They say that I’m insane,
My boots are caked in mud,
From walking in the rain,
My hands are stained with blood,
From the brothers I have slain.
The End

*Image by Robert Crumb


  1. A beautiful presentation of a classic story.

    For me, the irony in this piece is how so much of our religiously conservative peoples
    (the extremists/imposers of every faith upon itself and others everywhere)become the aggressors against true peace and harmony that gets stamped out as a 'waste of resources' or 'the wrong path' etc.

    An idea of Love becomes the institution that corrupts and controls, berates and lies (exchange political ideology with religious ideology, and such results come out the same!)

    This poem and accompanying picture is full of many, many more interpretations with each read! Thanks you for sparking some fervor in my heart, my friend!

  2. Thank you Uban Hippie for your kind comments. In truth I'm not sure what this piece is 'about' as with most of my stuff I'm painting with feelings. I think it's about being the outsider - the sinner. Writing it as the first murderer seemed apposite. I'm pleased when I acheive an ambigious note - I think that allows the reader to get more from the experience and to find meaning that hadn't even occured to the writer. So thank you very much for that Urban Hippie, cheers.