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Image for the poem Berserker Rage

Berserker Rage


A dislocated voice
In the air vent -
 
Brandished in a
Blemish
 
Of
 
Discoloration.
 
He did a ten year sentence,
Is released
 
Then
 
They put a GPS under
His car -
 
To follow him
 
&
 
Now  
He’s looking at another ten.
 
I marvel
At the roguish audacity
 
That
 
I see.
 
At 3 AM  
My eyes are wide
 
In  
 
The tide
Of perpetual light reflected upon the stone walls.  
 
I hear him -
As he smashed bullet proof glass, with a detached  
 
Seat,
Flashing gun metal:
 
The Balls.
 
Written by Cipher_O (WarlordoftheWrittenWord)
Published
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