Impious Garage Sale
Doctrine diamondbacks
Hiss behind the pulpits
Of the morbid Metaphysicians.
Extirpation
Of the young
And old's sin-scape,
Enshrined
In these odd flesh skeletons
Of both the callused working class
And tempered bourgeois.
Permission slips
Seal hope
And inauthenticate silicon security
For the elite fleet
With the gilded
And embroidered silver-shod feet.
One said
That if slapped
With a Bishop's infula,
The Devil
And his interns joukery
Would emboss the streets
With an impious graunch.
No escape
For the liberals
And free passes
For the staunch.
Though the head be shorn,
Leaving but a floccus,
One tuft of wool
To identify that religious soul;
From outside space-time's stare,
There be heaps
Of faux illuminous halos
For sale.
Impurity Fell On Deaf Ear
My fury came out
Like Mexican jazz;
Both inaccessible
And lazy.
Laying the daub thick
On my witless subject,
Icarian-like
Was the slut in her;
Never concerned that the gamete
Lie prone naked
On the red and raw.
With no person standing guard
Withstanding the old sword-waving Huguenot
With gold-gilded Holy Writ
Beneath stained and straining wing,
And the ancient blue-haired hybrids
The confederate flock
That swayed to the tedious
But pertinent sermon
That could not but effloresce
In the darkened sanctuary.
Indecision
Late morning perspiration
Appeared
On the Poetess's brow
Trickling
With the reminiscing
Of last night's mingling
And nestling
With those who chose to gamble
With the forsaken.
A less generous world
Alive
With Russian superstition
Over-stimulated her,
Placing her
In an unearned lead
In theatrical tragedy
And bringing her
One nervous breakdown
Short of her nineteenth.
Would she sow remorse
She wondered,
If plans for retribution
Bore conclusion's fruit?
The plan
To christen a skull
with an empty milk bottle
Was an unusual method
Of being effusively affectionate
And one she dares not repeat.
Ideal Crime
Ideal Crime
When the days flowed longer
Than the largest U.S. food chain,
A tale
Of luxurious lurid misadventure
Was spun.
Sitting
On a drug business nest egg;
Guarded
By a lady's tight fist;
Fingers fragile
Like Vegas hotel breakfast china
Was member of a society
Stereotyped
By heavy use of bragging rights
To bug-eating courage
At exotic hot spot excursions.
Famously escaping more scrapes
Than found on a schoolkid idiot
With a pension
For pushing the wrong peer's buttons,
The latest being
A bait and switch
At a weapons-rich Burmese border.
Mountain's chops weren't made
By edge of any man's hand
As lyrics boasted by Jimi demanded
But the sonic buzz droned
Just as loud
In the unprepared consciences
Of unprepared citizenry.
Publicity exploded,
Creating batches of chaos
In waves
A small tactile nuke could generate.
The best yet to come
Came in;
A piece-meal train,
Each cart bragging
Of a small fortune's haul,
Pleasingly acting as anesthetic
To the lady's feverish greed,
Toning it down three times longer
Than the usual heist's prior
spoils had done.
