The Piss of Death

This is a poem I wrote a few weeks ago – drunk – in as little time as it took to scribble the words.

Never underestimate the intelligence of a trout

Piss and sod off

sod right off

Run the plates, Bill

Run the fucking plates, Bill

                                                                it’s a freaking partial dood

                      stop watching those profane 

crime shows

Stop pretending

             Father, I have nothing to say

But God Sees All

The Lord God he gives little

People seem to get rationally irrationally upset

I can’t imagine anger staying around long enough to rationalize it

Write lighter and produce words

like this

What does it mean, one murder?

She was as fit as you

or me!