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The Ballad Of Heretical Appliances Pt.1

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Below is the poem entitled The Ballad Of Heretical Appliances Pt.1 which was written by poet Ryan McCabe. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Ballad Of Heretical Appliances Pt.1

Late one mornin', I was layin',
the sofa makin' me sore;
the fridge was hummin' nastily,
leakin' all over the floor,
while the fan noisily disturbed
dust motes of all kinds;
Sunlight was busy peakin' through
my carefully closed blinds.
I, then, started sneezin' with
horrid strength far too often.
At first at a loss for what
got me wheezin' 'n coughin',
it suddenly dawned on me,
it was my soul tryin' to escape.
So, I knew what I really needed:
a fresh roll of maskin' tape.
But, those connivin' appliances
were conspirin' against me,
for some reason, aidin' my spirit's
traitorous attempt to flee;
as I arose from the sofa, an
unholy fit made my chest tight,
dust blew into my eyes, robbin'
me of righteous sight.
Yet, like some noble saint,
I struggled ever on;
the sole, uncarin' witness was 
the curious mornin' Sun.
Sufferin' from watchful heat
and fan-blown blindness,
made my way to the kitchen,
thankin' it's cool, linoleum kindness,
only to slip on it's tiles,
where the fridge's water'd settled.
Like Peter, my near-martyrdom
was ass-over-tea-kettled.
Resurrectin' myself, resentin' now,
the Sun's greedy gaze all mornin',
My sightlessness was lifted
to the chorus of robins singin'.

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