a croaker...
a croaker
caught
in the drain
of the porcelain
cast iron cauldron
for bathing
last breath
silence
bloated
stuck
now drying
in the hot rays
of brilliant yellow
baking
as a preservative
a reminder
just
how fragile
the world turns
floats
rematerializes
again
and again
in the mystery
of lies
we are told
no clue really
no answers
only questions
as the child learns
early on
WHY
the fuck
the where w/all
HOW
in hell
NOW still
no real answers
all speculations really
my best guess
just trying
to make a living
following the herd
no harm
no foul
no penalty box
to serve
yet
in the folly
of the big bang
boom boom
out go the lights
another round
while we listen
to the quiet
whispers
of warning
you never hear
the shot
that..
too late
toe tag not needed
as the evaporation
an incineration
of all surrounding
life
so they say
such is the war cry
a stupid ritual
seated regal
tabled
around
the flames
of hate
and power
fueled
by the greed
and arrogance
a small percentage
rule
planning on
moving underground
ribbit ribbit
ribbit away
in the darkness
of night’s cover
no majestic howling
at the moon’s glow
the pleasant
elegant hoot
of the owl’s plumage
blending in the foliage
instead
a lethal exhibit
of ego
inherent
in every psychopath
intent on annihilation
pleading the silenced
voice
of a croaker
caught
in the drain