i
We are many and
the predator is alone.
He cannot withstand
us; nor hurt us tangibly,
the way he hurt that other.
ii
Wracked with hard grieving,
the poet sleeps fitfully
through this night, as we
plan to render this service
(not just the least we can do).
iii
Intangible, we
can deploy our poetry
toward the predator,
twisting all of his senses,
and his experiences.
iv
We can expose---as
proof of his degradation---
his soul's damnation.
He shall scream, that stammerer,
nor persuade us to demure.
v
Soon he shall descend
into torment without end,
into the darkness:
away with that bastard son
of a bitch, to be undone.
Kyakuchuu
[jlc]
Is It Just Me or
...was I feeling exactly like this for the last two months. Naw, different son of a bitch bastard. But sooooo close to the way I felt and still feel - AA's are boycotting Christmas purchases. Did you know? - Lady A
.
Thank you
That someone of your keen sense also feels this way, or has felt it, validates the emotion in the poem, and makes it more believable. No, I did not know about the boycot.
Seryddwr