The King's Ultimate Argument

What shall we do with Daddy
He spat his food at the wall

Burned his vest upon the fire
And dived down the stairs in the hall

It's the King's ultimate argument
Taken out on things
It's the King's ultimate argument
Taken out on things

What shall we do with Daddy
He punched the glass out the door
Tore the legs off the table
And dropped the wireless to the floor

It's the King's ultimate argument
Taken out on things
It's the King's ultimate argument
Taken out on things

I make use of the phrase 'Ultima Ratio Regum' here to refer to the way that Dad used to turn his anger onto objects -'declare war' on them and himself to avoid doing harm to Mum. Spender's poem doesn't relate to my Dad - it's just another part of the bundle of connections around this phrase - but I don't mean 'just' in any way that plays down what Spender says.

Ultima Ratio (Regum) from Wikipedia)

The last resort. Short form for the metaphor "The Last Resort of Kings and Common Men" referring to the act of declaring war; used in the names the French sniper rifle PGM Ultima Ratio and the fictional Reason weapon system. Louis XIV of France had Ultima Ratio Regum ("last argument of kings") cast on the cannons of his armies; motto of the 1st Battalion 11th Marines.

Stephen Spender:

Ultima Ratio Regum (1939)

The guns spell money’s ultimate reason
In letters of lead on the spring hillside.
But the boy lying dead under the olive trees
Was too young and too silly
To have been notable to their important eye.
He was a better target for a kiss.

When he lived, tall factory hooters never summoned him.
Nor did restaurant plate-glass doors revolve to wave him in.
His name never appeared in the papers.
The world maintained its traditional wall
Round the dead with their gold sunk deep as a well,
Whilst his life, intangible as a Stock Exchange rumour, drifted outside.

O too lightly he threw down his cap
One day when the breeze threw petals from the trees.
The unflowering wall sprouted with guns,
Machine-gun anger quickly scythed the grasses;
Flags and leaves fell from hands and branches;
The tweed cap rotted in the nettles.

Consider his life which was valueless
In terms of employment, hotel ledgers, news files.
Consider. One bullet in ten thousand kills a man.
Ask. Was so much expenditure justified
On the death of one so young and so silly
Lying under the olive tree, O world, O death?

See and hear at:

http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=7524