me works the gallows me works the gallows at queers end. i sends the sorry up the treads, of steps that rise to heavens sea, but stars be not what wait for thee. for as they clamber in the chains and cries out in their mothers names. the only heaven they will see is crowds of jeerin profitese. who sell the lookers hardened eggs and buttered rum to dim the haze, of body parts that soon will hang like flailin pigs in poopin rain. so as the lookers stand transfixed i slides around inside their midst. and pick apart their pockets clean so i can take home pork and bean. to feed me horde of cellar brats me wife keeps spurtin out like cats. it keeps me workin night and day one step ahead of me own grave. for theres no crowns in hangin men, no pension plan to feed me kin. and if im caught at what i do the gallows stretch will be your cue. to grab me spot at foot of stairs as executioners young mare. for son it is your destiny to work the gallows just like me!!! © Stephen John Wade 09/16/09 inspired at this very moment in time by the infamous Creep and the howls of justice! from the barbosa series of poems
Posted on: Mon, 28 Oct 2013 19:25:49 +0000
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