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Ulysses Rudolph Roberts
a Federalist by default
laid on the couch
and spilled out his guts
to a women he
envisions to be
the ultimate 
siren of shrinks.
With her hair in a bun
books, glasses
and that half buttoned
blouse thing.
He cried and he shook
over the battles he fought
and how everything
that ever happened
was never his fault.
After all
he would reason
he had built
the best fortress
in all God's Kingdoms
with ultra thick walls
turrets and draws.
The tallest
strongest and soundest
in all worlds.
So what if he had to kill
capture and rape
in order to feed 
the armies he made
he had God's blessings
His sacred grace.
Yet, Ulysses was
still cowering in the arm
of an old red couch
and crying out loud
It's Not My Fault!
as the Doctor scribed
delusional 
pathological 
denial...


Dean Walker

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