sixty five

Ghoul is up over at Writers’ Bloc magazine, which, incidentally, is one of my favorite little webzines.


I woke up this morning
with a noose round my neck
I took me to the coroner
to see what he suspects

He told me, ‘Billy Jean’
then he coughed and he spat
‘there’s not a man i seen
that don’t quite know
what that oughtta mean.’

Well, I hung down my head
what more for a man to do?
I picked up my noose
waved him goodbye and so long

The day was just starting
but a millstone was lurking
round every corner
behind flashed smiles
Bright sun, naught to run

I found me a treebranch
a fitting crook like a solid rook
where the wind blew less
and the sun shined warmest

Up on that greencapped hill
the whole city gave me a chill
some imperceptible thrill
smiling above the city of shill
I tied up the rope, tight as a will

Hanging here in the cool air
the years, they’re slipping away
like the hours of some lost day
I smile only to show it no more

Wrote that poem on the fly for sillies a few days ago.

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