My115thDream

Dave's Mental Meanderings
2002-12-10 05:35:02 (UTC)

Poem - "Twenty Words for Stolen"

The cabs are waiting at the station,
The trains all run on time.
The midnight men are in full force,
Sweeping away the city’s grime.

The library out on First Street
Is closed for the holiday,
The whorehouse right across the road
Just opened up last May.

The lamp posts in the city park
And all the traffic lights,
Their brilliant glare and watchful stare
No longer guard the nights.

The preacher sells communal wine,
But no one ever tells,
No one hears him sin out loud
Above the Methodist bells.

The circus men pour into town
And everyone awaits
The hanging of the traitor’s son
Whom even God should hate.

The city council members
Along with Rasputin the Great,
They’re pulling apart the wishbone
From the turkey they just ate.

Their stomachs grow to rip their shirts
Like their pockets fat and swollen,
Is it really any wonder
They’ve got twenty words for stolen?

The bread line stretches far and wide
As drivers pay their tolls,
Twenty miles of single file
And all made up of proles.

At the reservoir they’re opening up
A brand-new waterslide,
The old one had to be removed
When all the lifeguards died.

If you’re looking for your childhood home
Go check the lost and found,
The best advice you’ll get around here
Is to keep your head underground.