PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Left work early that day, due to vertigo I'd say. Still didn't stop me to take advantage of the rare time out on town with the sun still out to dally over to the nearest pizza pub. They weren't serving me what I needed, only 2 beers in and them telling me it's time to leave. Memory's a bit blurry but I do remember the owner coming over and give me 3 options: either pay the check and get out, even offered to pay for me to prevent the scene that occurred choosing the third: or we could take this and settle it outside. I had been desiring a real fight for the past couple months in earnest, actually, asking random passerby half sarcastically 'Wanna fight?' for a time by now. So, he showed me the door like the host of any good house, which was ironic, I thought. He swung it open and held it for me first with his crew slick behind, all big bearded guys about thrice my size, no lies. But before any of those egging behind me could exit I threw 3 heavyweight punches, rather accurately and full throttle and quickquickquick. They felt splendid. I hadn't known I was capable of such power and prowess. They were such strong punches that I got proud though I didn't land a single blow. My reach must've been short, depth perception or something of the sort. Besides, like I said, he was a rather LARGE man and so therefore it still missed merely by inches, what with him barely nudging a neck muscle to dodge just in case one would land and he'd be fuckin' dead on the floor, I can assure you that. And I would give a great roar because I'm a beast.

After they had strapped me to the stretcher bed ‘for poor behavior’ they said I screamed, roared rather as loud as I could for hours on end like a wild caged carnivorous bird tiger or zoo lion to make their satanic brains explode and splatter that nasty matter all a-scatter over those fuzzy-drug white walls and fanless ceilings of those blank-faced oyster halls, lobotomized erased, raping and molesting my body restrained. God how they aim to humiliate.

Wanna fight?

What’s ordained as proper opposites, 2 fuses crisscross thru the universe merciless. Thank Yin Yang wisdom, mustaches flexed out, symmetry aflame like science devised though you could call it however you fancy bound without stress, big brain.

So then who’s to blame in this perilous pursuit of the Peculiar? Well, it sure seems we are invariably flavored and spiced up- much too much- toward the paradoxical pendulum sway of the derogatory, wrong way. It’s a riddle, a game. She may appear mystique, but a sinister mistress indeed, unlike momsong which is with us all along, familiar, family.

I can help myself, thank you very much, to these earned treats turned to mere cumulus clouds of proof and patterns of juicy indulgences. I come in peace, darling, don’t you see? 

It is a great strain to put these ideas in order, shimmering visibility, let alone the simplest and most standard setting of any given scene, answering simultaneously as testimony and defeat perchance shared vicarious thru epic tunnel vision like a cute little kid twiddling his cute little thumbs, gone desperate and numb.

Dominion is His!