PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am seething
it’s almost time
it’s already too late
the recent past marches backwards
an army in withdrawal
able to pull out confessions
on the way to indictments
dying to hear the verdict
don’t give them an ounce of empathy

or bite the slithering tongue so as not to make a ruling
to sequence forward in a remaining lick

in one long slurp
it is good judgment that passes judgment,
from another drunken judge
that is mentally sterile from existence
with herky-jerky hands
waiting to remember
inaudible apologies,
delete them to the computer recycle bin
musing once written in blood sweat and tears
nothing left to save
makes you destroy what you crave
and that fly on the wall heard nothing
flies don’t have ears
he never heard the swatter coming
fragments of the fly upon the ivy wall
stir echoes
across the page
as notes of blues tunes played on a Mississippi saxophone in the key of D
appear like Tom Wait’s apparition
like a real celestial oxymoron
and I keep thinking about Bukowski and all the other outlaws
they were the real reality
the real surreal
but in today’s 24-7 world
these times of corruptus without interupptus that tries swallow my cliché soul
to higher a tormented experience

in the night coffered by muted streetlights
decadence
bound in silk,
stretching voyeuristic views

so I put a sign on my front and back door
it says
DO NOT DISTURB the DISTURBED

I can’t take all of the unreal reality of knuckle headed moronic assholes anymore.