Let this be a Warning to the Photographer

Let this be a warning to the photographer

Burton never liked me really
But I didn't turn gay or ever really prefer
The people in Lichfield.
The fuckers in Burton! They actually knew
What was good for me in a no bullshit, antidote way.

I think I used to want to live in
Poe's world of the verdant ringed by
Daisy meadows and full of abandon,
Frolicks.

Burton isn't like this so I was battered,
Tempered a bit.
And this man had gravitated towards
What he innocently perceived as his own kind (how wrong!)
Beaten with sticks!

Later?

The inevitable exile and 2nd chapter
Involves making a fortune amongst New Yorkers
Fascinated by his rough analysis
Of the 'Ode Country (to be honest
They had viewed it like this already, hunting difference
But needed first-hand testimony) - he was willing having
Found open arms).

So he returned with open arms to Blighty, smiling
And proud of his success.

First bad move.
See they had of course read and recognised
Themselves in his work, delicately sketched in honesty
a gifted portrait
But this time they finished the job
and killed him.