Dirty Harry

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I don’t think too much about it    I just write from whatever direction the wind’s blowing     I have no flags to wave    I don’t believe in ‘things’      so I got no use for flags     I have no cause to affect      and no mission to accomplish    I already set myself free    as befits a man of my temperament

I have no beef with anyone     in the normal flow of events     but when some numb nutted   bovine brained   worm tongued  would-be  Wordsworth wanders lonely as a fucking cloud across MY horizon      I figure  why shoot the breeze    when you can shoot the messenger?   I bark bullets   I don’t take prisoners     I don’t have the facilities

I dish out summary execration     to anyone waxing lyrical on the virtues of agape    or how their soul is stirred by nature’s beauty     I read them their rights     before I ram my muzzle home     and loose my words    BLAM!     d’ya feel that?  BLAM! BLAM!    do you understand?    BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!      any questions?     then we’re done here     one less polygluttonous book maggot wasting good paper

 

*This work is entirely fictitious and any resemblance to person or persons actual or fictional is purely co-incidental. The views expressed here are not necessarily not the views of the author.

The Mark Of Cain

1
I come from East of Eden,
And bear the mark of Cain,
That may be the reason,
They say that I’m insane,
My boots are caked in mud,
From walking in the rain,
My hands are stained with blood,
From the brothers I have slain.

The End

*Image by Robert Crumb

Hollow

there’s the tenderest vibration 
of laughter’s unheard echo 
the emptied out sensation 
of rooms now left hollow
and something fragile vacillates 
between happiness and sorrow 
something now is missing 
some subtle nuance fled
it's something nearly tangible 
that burns inside my head 
as half remembered passages 
in a book that I once read 

The End

Finis