Adam’s Lament

He lives his life in quiet desperation;
Or so it’s said.

He makes no difference in his diffident indifference-
coasting in a callow coterie of drones –
unmanned, unmade,
afloat within his murder –
A colony of bombs, a cluster
fuck it.

Boiling in an apathetic fervor,
he’s benefitted but forgotten
on the ash-heap of mankind’s empty memory –
stolid, steady, badging through the years.
Every day, another day
used-up and spent.

Neither flashy nor showy
(dumpy, dopey dupe),
he’s middle-aged, over-weight, middle-class, over-wrought,
a laughing-stock within the shitted shoots,
fodder for the butcher’s slaughterhouse.

He’s honored with the dregs of juvenile attention,
offal from the shapely ass of Jesus’ luscious bitch
who straddles him with promises of heaven’s cream;
stretching him upon her pillowed rack,
she mounts and rides him to the dust
and milks him dry
to die
within her pungent flood.

Drowned in tortured dreams,
he lives to die within his mind –
his hell.

Rotting in his purgatorial palace,
the sap finds solace in the sullen dreams
of darkness’ kiss –
alone within his paradise.

Quiet desperation?
He mourns,
he weeps,
he burns with silent rage

and aches for bleeding grace.

(featured image source)

Advertisements
Categories Free Verse, My PoetryTags , , ,

Express Thyself!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close