Anthony Bianco Poet Rhyme

The Happy Asp

Truth is a mouthful of blood -spit upon a Persian rug.
A kick to the balls in the middle of the sweetest dream.
Karma doesn't stop gnawing until the soul's licked clean.
And what of our far-off God -that mysterious golden being.
Stirring devils into our kettle since we were mustard seeds. 

Everyone thinks of offing themselves from time to time.
Usually when we're running low on honey and wine. 
When mad horses trample over our parched lives.
Something brings most back from the frothy brink.
Maybe it's the bouncing star baby sleeping in the crib.
Or the dirty plunger when it finally frees up the sink.

You may as well dance because it's more painful to crawl.
Kiss a stranger on the mouth, have yourself a ball.
But don't bounce the ball off the devil's burning grass.
Or he just may kick over your little white picket fence. 
And light up your fake happy little a$$.

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Caren Krutsinger May 17, 2019 at 7:22 PM "Something does usually bring most back from the brink" and I am grateful that it does.

Panagiota Romios May 17, 2019 at 5:26 PM A Poet Laureate as usual! {Or should I say most unusual.} Thank God~you do not write @%^! You actually write poetry, Anthony! I envy your talents! Best as ever, Panagiota