The Ultimate Rant

Vintage Words


I could absorb your anger with a small

kerchief, whip it into a Q-tip sized attempt

at vitriolic speechifyingand slash your

little rantings with a sword of truth that would

make onlookers gasp and you pay


I could take your attempt to make me

hurt, as if you owned power and I 
none, and throw it into a big pile of vacuum
where it was born and where it was invisibly

destined to return.

I could take all of your name slinging

and douse it with having more hatred per

hour slung at me than you have experienced

since before the birthing table that was a

shame and after your funeral attended

by no one.

I could imagine a world without you, but then

the world would be an uninteresting and peaceful
place. You are graffittii; walled, anonymous, 

and cowardly. You are a hider and act only

when there are no witnesses.
I could imagine the horrors you
have experienced, the molestations
and abuses personified into such a befouled

character. I can imagine a rant so big, your

mind would shriek and vanish.

I could imagine words as stones 
or sticks like curses, and I would be able

to write the epitaph below each poorly

constructed  spillage of, "I am better than

everyone who  does not bow to me?"

Here lies  the first  and best example

of not much really. He  died the way he lived,

condemning  some group or other to prove

he is superior.



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