Feeding Off the Weary

Feeding off the weary Castor oil concubines in deep hip hugger moons Shouting to the vestibule in torrents filled with rage Voices shriek in rampant screams, off key to every tune Changing up a photograph that sits along the stage Feeding off the weary as they take their morning tea Crushing every crumpet so the crumbs collect the floor Holding up their heads in shame for they no longer see Flagging down the waiter just to get a little more Hit below the beltline made of polyester fill Break the rules on purpose so the multitudes will find Mops now wait the drool appearing nightly in the spill No one really cares at all what stagnates in your mind Here’s a tip to fill your needs with eyes a squinting mess Take this color you declare in blackened tinted hues Paint the wall that’s just outside in all that you profess Other’s now will take your blows as early payment dues Find the poor in gutters strewn with all that you believe In cauliflower camouflage beyond your garden gate Laugh behind the foolish ones who linger lost and grieve Fill your pockets with their fear before it is too late Dress up for the evening in your Sunday morning wear Push away the people dancing slowly on display Board a train to someplace where another just may care Wave goodbye to all of us as you go on your way