The Pound
By Phalanx
I want my eyes back, the ones with roses for pigment.
​Something a far cry, prettier than now.
I dream in echoes.
A black balled dancer.
​Let's face it, I sucked anyway.
​I'm no marionette, nor can I twirl like those fancy people do.
​I'm just a man, ugly, solid and begging for forgiveness.
​Provocation is preperatory for hell.
​Remember that.
​You can shout as loud as you like but, I can't hear you.
​I'm saying, most people are dumber than I care to deal with.
​Vermin get beat with their own brain cells.
​While you're thinking, I'll put my foot in your ass once more.
​Today and the next won't be enough.
You should be fixed but, I can't do it.
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Ask the author first.
Copyright 2017 Phalanx
Published on Sunday, January 1, 2017.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
Author's Note:
This is not directed at stupid people, unless your stupid. Please die.Awards
Comments on "The Pound"
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On Sunday, January 8, 2017, LordColdwater
(31) wrote:
angy and honest. two qualities often overlooked.
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On Tuesday, January 3, 2017, Queazenart
(212) wrote:
Blunt and ugly. Simple, too. My kind of writing, right here. Good stuff.
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On Monday, January 2, 2017, dwells
(4288) wrote:
Sounding like my old drill instructor Phalanx (or T.I. as they were called in the USAF). A righteous rant and I think you are up against a very large gene pool of intermingled alien DNA maybe. Provocation is preparation - roger that, and cheers! - Dan
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On Sunday, January 1, 2017, Phalanx
(677) wrote:
This came from somewhere, worse than others. Try and keep it in context.