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Image for the poem beat down the night

beat down the night



don’t look for a pretty story when you come to
the seedy avenues of my jungle. it’s never pretty.

the smoke & fog of the city get thicker as they rise.
they obliterate the midnight sky & kill every star. &
the moon ain’t nothin but a big grey rock.

from the filth of the walls, my deluded mind watches
tempered metal bars emerge, real steel to keep the
growling  savage of me caged. cigarettes are unfiltered
& putrid. the hurtful rain can’t wash the accusations of
ex-lovers off the windows. & the radio talks back to me.

this woman, who stays with me without logic or purpose,
parades around all barefoot in a clingy white slip, like
some slut from tobacco road. she knows I get mean after
a few drinks, yet when I tell her to get me another beer,
she brings it. she leans on my shoulders when I don’t want
to be leaned on, so I smack her. smack her hard. she
crumbles, a miserable heap, sexy & pitiful & teary-eyed.

I grab her hair, & my rattlesnake eyes tell her to pack a bag
& run. find that yellow brick road before the Big Sleep wraps
her in its cold, cold arms. but she won’t go.

I guess you like it rough, don’t you baby?

Well Don’t You!



Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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