Saturday, July 20, 2019

A Sound Garden

Sarcasm ceases
      when it's the only tone you speak;
   but the irony was not lost on me
     when they cut you down
            from your pretty noose.
  A hardheaded "fuck you all"
                                             indeed.
It was exactly like suicide,
    and now no one will ever
                     sing like you anymore.

  The grass is sometimes greenest
           where the dogs shit,
       and sometimes we wallow
                     with all the other pigs...

So say
    "Hello,"
         to heaven for me,
   because I was as low as
              I could get--
         just two drinks away...
   But I climbed down
                  from my cross,
        I've lowered my arms.
                            I'm sober
                             and I want to live.