Gasoline and Dynamite

Another poem

about dying stars,

roosters in search of wars,

and old people’s shoes

credit where credit is due

but why do you never write

like you love, with your mind, body

and soul, all in unison but with a

lack of control, why do you

not burn the filthy men

who caused you so much pain

you hold in your hand

the power to command a demoness

and yet you chirp

like a cherub on lozenges

Set the stage

and light the powder keg

let the fire cleanse the world

of all its rotten flesh

this fucking world

doesn’t deserve a love poem

but gasoline and dynamite.

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