MARLOWE

No one understood
Marlowe in his quest
for poetry's throne
among the lost
as a poet in the wood,
a guest in his manifesto
who double-crossed
his ego becoming manifest
from his own brotherhood,
wondering at his dry bones
in an underground alone
wishing to have a crown
of laurel instead of stone,
he was to endear trouble
a wanderlust and double life
of woeful political quarrel
with magical endangered strife
in a devilish sway,
yet it was to Shakespeare
that was conferred in his day
the wonderful power
in a  lyrical way
as words to flower in play,
for Christopher Marlowe
knifes in a rivals loyalty
or falsifies his death
in his martial law league
with his once enemy
holding revenge on his breath
on this intrigue's hour
to show his personal power,
now on his knees
for a day long rife
with English royalty,
then in turn among
selfish murderers
with a raging brutality
as Marlowe burns with hate
for his own god's disloyalty
about his British cognoscenti,
as if he were to war on red Mars
he yearns to ease and hide
the arbitrary state
of his own literary scars,
among the martyrs who died
on learning his Roman fate
like the author of Brutus
among Romulus and Remus
on this planet of his stars.