Ignoble Ending

They found me face down in my poetry today
Drunk and incoherent after an all-nighter
Burned up the internet with what I had to say
But then I’m a writer, not a freedom fighter

They broke down my front door, when I wouldn’t come out
Zip ties on hands and feet, in the back of a van
Patriot Patrol pudwhackers ratted me out
A hood pulled over my head, all part of their plan

Bouncing along over some remote country road
The van lurched to a sudden stop, I tried to sit
Dressed only in my underwear, bone-chilling cold
No feeling in my hands and feet - I had to shit

Then backing with gravel crunching under the tires
Until the doors were thrown open and they dragged me
In the junkyard with the pickers tending their fires
The goons on each arm laughed when I couldn’t break free

One with a fancy uniform read my sentence
My bowels let loose and I shit all over his shoes
“For speaking against the leader – no repentance”
So I told him I had a very good excuse

He continued “for polluting the minds of youth”
The price for my transgressions “two in the head”
I protested that my words were only the truth
(As somebody was telling me to go to bed)

“You crapped your pants again, you disgusting old fart!”
I woke up face down in my poetry today
(Nobody understands a poet – or his art)
I went to bed then, but I still have much to say