And You
Thought There Weren’t
The children
were the first to leave,
seats swallowed
by hawked up rabies
and you thought
there weren’t
anymore.
Above the
crowd, hands conduct,
about game play he gives not a fuck,
and you thought
there weren’t
men like these,
anymore.
Corners, goals, talent passed by unseen,
he’s fouled his
pants, ripped his spleen,
mouths that
spew in white, red, green,
and you thought
there weren’t
men like these,
anymore.
Women bore him so they force an exit,
ducking shot off broadsides and strayed bullets,
and you thought
there weren’t
men like these,
anymore.
Thinning
crowds witness his thinning hair,
now flicking witless fingers at fresh air,
worn drums
beating, klaxons blare,
and you thought
there weren’t
men like these,
anymore.
Tripled chinned and full bellies five,
unfathom how he
stayed alive
this long, how his doctrines
are allowed to thrive,
a heart attack
that was revived
by worker wasps that stock the hive,
men like these,
anymore.
Fervent fist-falling fat faces pound,
blasphemes our
holy sporting grounds,
a charge of
static, a tedium of change,
aspects of
blood unborn of blame,
from here besieged
his world will burn,
in
conflagrations his nations churn.
Beat thunder,
bring on his end of days,
see ancient dogma
in his eyes ablaze,
submit to the
will of men who pray,
beget rotting fell
fruit fall from apple trees,
and you thought
there weren’t
men like these,
anymore.
💯💯💯💯🗝️
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