Concussion Therapy
the free state is actually not free
casting my line into the many manipulations
worked by dust devils and hierophants
gambling their grunt wages on my young ass
like cowboys on a cattle free vacation
unwelcome by all rational standards
it's a new skill set for those complicated shadows
and their thistles and thorns tearing at the flesh
hounds snuffing and baying and getting close
wishing for an angel to wrap her arms around you
swindled by Fate that two bit alley hustler
while storming the gates of credulity
a knight most errant enters at a slant
lance lowered at the donjon's holy centrifuge
and its manifold rank ranks of rank
an armload of blackmail mail to deliver
keeping those bacon and eggs on the menu
with every move and happenstance an augury
the one thing that can never be said
with all such derivative conclusions
from those who fear becoming has beens
more than they fear the death wagon
an envy complex every child's heirloom
Fate's leg rubbed mine under the table
hunted me down with yellow eye wolves
her deluvian templates swung into action
contouring my meat manikin to the last atom
in a mechanical avalanche of likenesses
credibility factor fading like a wet witch
being clueless this seemed applicable to my case
unable to attenuate the accursed guilt magnets
a contriver of advantage beneath the beasts
a product of her times assuredly no excuse
concussion therapy and then crimson horror
you'll want to live among people that talk straight
not having to be lunatic or trapped in ethnology
to find oneself receptive any longer
Copyright © Walter Alter | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment