Futile Escape Out Clutches of Penury Rattle Tin Can Twice
Yours truly dug deep with bony strength
in tandem with fantasy notions know
king around in figurative heady
toboggan noggin like cranial carapace
to muster every ounce of strength
in an effort to escape chronic confrontation
with endless streak of bleakness.
Although cursed with brutish,
nasty, and short nefarious fate
as a measly looking human
varmint, this grimy,
grungy, mangy, rangy, et cetera
looking besotted being
clung with all the might
within his five foot ten inch
or so tall and one hundred
and sixty five pound body
to transcend sigh grimly
twerking terrestrial travesty
that tweeted n tweaked laugh-in
fickle finger of fate in my favor.
I tapped into atavistic survival skills
summoned willpower to stay alive
drinking butter bear while heavy cross
of dirty poor poverty borne.
No matter a hard-core skeptic at heart,
this cynic plaintively called
for divine intervention
to help one nondescript human piece
of flotsam and jetsam
to cope - living like
doleful junkyard dog.
In essence, this abandoned, ignored
and shunned vagrant frequently
raged against the Deus ex machine
found figurative amidst
literal lovely bones
slim pick hens with demons
that tormented psyche.
While traipsing along litter strewn
condemned boulevard of broken dreams,
torn and well-worn shoe kicked
a couple of long discarded items.
These weather beaten hands
reflexively bent to retrieve accouterments.
One comprised colorful jagged shard,
in a previous lifetime
housed cheap fermented liquor.
Nothing but crud
filled remnant of dog gone
booze hounds’ favorite drink.
Copyright © Matthew Harris | Year Posted 2022
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