Happy birthday, Sister Jorie,
Men are bothered by woes and strife;
One ought to know that the worry
Will never prolong human life.
Topic: Birthday of Jorica Araracap (March 28)
Put Off and Prolong
.
Put off and prolong
Sure seems to be same old song;
Stick us with their prong.
How much more can we
Take while we also endure;
Wish there were fewer.
Of them Republicans
A bunch of son of a guns;
Want women with big buns.
Wonder what is the stage
We are in with all the rage;
Is hair orange or beige.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Virginia born.
Portsmouth Naval Hospital to be
exact as a matter of fact.
T-hirteenth December morn
I-s breaking before sunrise;
T-aste of delightful day
O-ffers smile so sweet and nice.
B-right beautiful radiance
O-f the light from the sun
R-eflects the sheer happiness,
G-iving time for mirth and fun.
A-s you enjoy the laughter,
N-ice jokes and birthday song;
I-nside your heart dwells the love
O-f God letting your life prolong.
"give this,
one blood stained
word scrawled
on a stretch of
swine flesh.
call it "soul"
& sacrifice the known
to see it become
whole for one
fainting second
& shown
the surface undone,
completed in its
ever revolving
cycle towards
the center."
& he'll stand
& stretch & close
his briefcase
& he'll turn around
to go & you'll swear
that you saw the
light for just
one second.
satan would have
been a
good guy,
his closet all
clutter & cloaks
& bowling bags
full of severed heads
down to the throat.
the type of
guy you could
really
talk to.
he'd mention
or show
the better temptation
& nobody
would know about
the new you.
satan would have made
a good psychiatrist,
letting loose your
flaws & if
you're weak
you're suffocating
beneath your own
claws or
you could get a
handle on a whiskey
bottle & save yourself
or at least prolong
the inevitable
shoulder tap
of death for just
a couple of hours
until everything
just seems the
same again.
a thin presence
in a dark, well tailored suit
catches your eye from the corner
silently,
offers a cigarette
& you understand,
that he would.
before you know it,
there's ash at your finger tips
& a business card
printed blood on blood
his dark; the void beyond blackness,
yours red & drying
soul signed away
on a paper napkin
all because no one accepted
the heart
you gladly poured out
a glass of fresh bitter truth
with a pulpy center
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