Imagine it
\nits an hour or two yea infact beyond
\nNoon that is on Christmas Day
\nWhere everyone is fond
\nOf eating a roasted bird
\nThat wanted to live , but we
\nDecided it was time to leave
\nthis mortal coil and see<\/p>\n
No more the ugly cages
\nThe battered barn
\nThe shit
\nThe dubious pills they fed us
\nWherever we did sit
\nInstead thrown quite aggressively
\ninto a smelly crate
\nTo be transported to the abattoir
\nAnd shackled there to wait<\/p>\n
For the Rabbi and his helper
\nTo affirm my place of death
\nTo read from some hebrew manuscript
\nAnd to expect my breath
\nTo be forcibly restricted
\nAt the hands of some vile thug
\nWho seemed to speak in gibberish
\nAnd who had an ugly mug<\/p>\n
Clearly it all was meaningless
\nAn illogicality
\nWithout anticipation
\nOf how i could get free
\nA prophesy was evident
\nAnd anticipatory
\nOn what would be the outcome
\nOf the guillotine that be<\/p>\n
Positioned out in front of me
\nBloodied and on fire
\nHere I was to lose my head
\nThe thought of that felt dire
\nBut that was now expected
\nFor it seems I had been sold
\nWithout any recollection
\nOf really how much gold<\/p>\n
I was worth, apparently
\nDressed in worthy silk
\nStuffed with sage and onion
\nSoaked in dead calves milk
\nThe lunacy and madness
\nThat followed on from this
\nCJD psychiatry
\nAnd a second chance at bliss<\/p>\n
It is the height of absurdity
\nThe shenanigans around
\nThe extravagance of knowing
\nThat in my blood I drown
\nThe genius the master
\nOr perhaps the idiot born
\nA dipstick and a numbskull
\nWhose given extra corn<\/p>\n
Imagining that by so doing
\nTheir station might just be
\nHigher than the next charge
\nWho grows with dignity
\nEnvisaging a future
\nBeyond the guillotine
\nBeyond the rotten torture
\nCarried, by the vile machine<\/p>\n
Into boiling water to soften up our quills
\nFor labourers to come and pluck
\nAs a blood droplet spills
\nThe unintelligibility
\nThe equivolence of same
\nA semantic shift in empathy
\nUncoupled from the blame<\/p>\n
There is nothing esoteric
\nAbout what has happened here
\nI was the picture of innocence
\nBrought to a place where fear
\nWas rampsnt common purpose
\nWas really everywhere
\nTall men with dark glasses
\nAnd very litte hair<\/p>\n
Disguised among the brussel sprouts
\nThe parsnips and the soul
\nThe really sticky gravy
\nThe juice as thick as coal
\nThis is where it ended
\nIn an oven from Japan
\nbasting every minute
\nIn accordance to some plan<\/p>\n
Oh to have some silence
\nAnd perhaps coconut cheese
\nRespect, for we are witnessing
\nThe scorching of my knees
\nThe sage felt overwhelming
\nSuch brief sincerity
\nA swindle in the offing
\nThat became a fallacy<\/p>\n
The dupery and the larceny
\nThe deception all the way
\nRiddled with the hormones
\nA mockery some say
\nSharp practice they were good at that
\nThe illusion of it all
\nWhat was exaggeration
\nWith Our backs against the wall<\/p>\n
Afterwards the pudding
\nPig fat I can smell
\nSoaked in the best cognac
\nWhich was shipped up from Hell
\nThe river styx distillers
\nCharged with obstinacy
\nAnd lots of hesitation
\nAnd variability<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Imagine it its an hour or two yea infact beyond Noon that is on Christmas Day Where everyone is fond Of eating a roasted bird That wanted to live , but we Decided it was time to leave this mortal … Continue reading