November 11, 2017

Poetry: “Hit”

Warning: the following poem contains strong language. Reader discretion is advised.

We replace the unlined pages
With unpolished penmanship
To unburden the unraveling
Of unassuming pacifists
Who wound up with top-billing
On the monarchists’ shit list,
And took the hit intended
For terroristic anarchists.

The art of handwriting,
A lost pursuit of happenstance,
Caused casualties beyond
The passenger’s control…
Though he pleaded with a green-go
To switch teams with stubborn red,
The driver accidentally killed
The messengers instead –
Unicyclists whose P’s & Q’s
Were not minded in the least –
So the meddling eye lifted
Their coffin lids with ease,
Like two middle fingers
Hiked above the speed limit…

It’s a fucked-up world we live in,


© Jane Bled 2016-2017
All Rights Reserved.

Irish Lass © Colored by Jane Bled | Sourcebooks

I still dream in graphic color; I don’t always like what I see.


Thank you for faithfully reading.


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About Jane Bled

Dreaming, writing, singing. Curious queer human. Soul-deep; heart speaks.


All Things Jane Bled, Art, Free, Poetry, Writing


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