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Messing with the man upstairs, (temporary title)
by Darren SwiftI would have survived had not
god pissed on my shoes at
the end of the night, his
drunken sprayings spreading out
darkening my hush puppy suede.
Umbraged and resolute I swore
an age of discord unless
he sorried himself and cleaned
the stains from my footwear.
It's funny how things turn out.
The frogs were easy, locusts
delicately chocolate dipped
fed my house for a year...
It was the barren-ness that killed us
bleached us, leeched us...
No sack cloths and ashes for I,
a simple t, white,
emblazoned
"Don't fuck with god".
My penitence will last a thousand years... 07/07/2010 Posted on 07/07/2010
Copyright © 2024 Darren Swift
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