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Never Land Part 2

Terry O'Leary Avatar Terry O'Leary - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled Never Land Part 2 which was written by poet Terry O'Leary. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Never Land Part 2

The alley ways within the maze are paved with rats and mice. Evangelists with moneyed fists collect the sacrifice From losers scorned and rubes reborn, and promise paradise, While in the back they cook some crack, inhale, and roll the dice. A bum called Boe has stubbed his toe, he’s stumbled in the gutter; With broken neck, he looks a wreck, the sparrows all aflutter, The passers-by, they close an eye, and turn their heads and mutter: “Let’s pray for rains to wash the lanes, to clear away the clutter.” A river slows neath mountain snows, and leaves begin to shudder. Though rip-off shops and crooked cops are paid not once but thrice, The painted girl with flaxen curl is paring down her price And loosely tempts cold hands unkempt to touch the merchandise. A crazy guy cries “where am I”, a schizo titters twice, And double quick a lunatic affects a fight with lice. The jungle teems, a siren screams, the air is filled with meth. The Reverent Priest and nuns unleash the Holy Shibboleth. And Righteous Jane who is insane, as well as Sister Beth, While telling tales to no avail of everlasting death, At least imbue Hagg Avenue with whisky on their breath. The Reverent Priest combats the Beast, they’re kneeling down to prey, To fight the truth with fang and tooth, to toil for yesterday, To etch their mark within the dark, to paint their résumé On shrouds and sheets which then completes the devil’s dossier. Old Dan, he’s drunk and in a funk, all mired in the mud. A Monk begins to wash Dan’s sins, and asks “How are you, Bud?” “I’m feeling pain and crying rain till soon there is a flood. And no god’s there who seems to care I’m always coughing blood.” The Monk, he turns, Dan’s words he spurns and lets the bible thud. Well, Banjo Boy, he will annoy with jangled rhymes that fray: “The clanging bells of carousels lead blind men’s minds astray To rings of gold they’ll never hold in fingers made of clay. But crest and crown will crumble down, when withered roots decay.” Now, Railroad Bob has lost his job, he’s got no place for working, His wife, she cries with desperate eyes, their baby’s head’s a’ jerking. The union man don’t give a damn, Big Brother lies a’ lurking, The boss’ in cabs are picking scabs, they count their money, smirking.

Copyright © Terry O'Leary

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  1. Date: 11/9/2012 10:49:00 PM
    Great! I'm loving this continuation. What you said about the evangelists -the rot in religion keeps getting worse. Crime, drunkeness, unemployment, the world keeps degenerating.

  1. Date: 10/19/2012 4:57:00 PM
    And so it goes onto part III I will travel on the path of your words...

  1. Date: 10/7/2012 12:08:00 AM
    Boy you have really included a lot in this one!! It has so much of history in it! Kind of reminds me of American Pie.

  1. Date: 10/6/2012 2:08:00 AM
    Part II wow onto part III !

  1. Date: 10/4/2012 7:58:00 PM
    Wow! You say so much with your words...I guess I'm "Old Dan" hey? Ha,ha..Another beauty bud!

  1. Date: 9/30/2012 8:23:00 AM
    they're kneeling down to prey -- Bravo!!!! I'm immersed now - and I now I'll go deeper with Part 3

  1. Date: 9/29/2012 10:42:00 PM
    Ah, you've written each stanza in a monorhyme of its own. Onto the next part.