Poem-A-Day: Day 43

Heresy Hearsay

here it comes in wild destructive glory
riding valiant on a steed
held together by sinewy chords;
sound that gallops through the brain
from ear to ear,
in a grinning fashion
that exposes the dirty underbelly
of everyone’s own indifferent
bastardization of what we’ve come to love.

we love fucking up
and blaming everyone else
for some misbegotten gathering on,
like some accidental injury
rubbed deep with shit
so it stands out better on the skin.

there isn’t that big of a difference
between the
sacred,
scared
and the scarred,
because they’re all lying about something
far deeper than the dropping
of salutations and the sacrosanct
solution of some saving grace.

the best thing to do
is to remain calm,
and follow the fall
of this fastidious fellowship,
because it’s far more fascinating
than thinking
about inevitable obliteration.

Poem-A-Day: Day 30

A Horse Is A Horse

Why the long face
teenage abeaution,
or something like that.
It’s a far cry from beauty queen,
and somewhere not as horrible as an abortion.
There’s no crown,
but a toilet bowl scepter
and a model to match the look.

It’s hard to tell if it’s horse envy,
or the other way around.
Either way I say neigh,
under my whinnies of disapproval
and triple crown champion stock.
It’s lamentable,
only in regards to my arrogance,
and complete lack of sympathy for the devil.