The writings of Oddpoet

The world was in chaos

Turns out

The mad­men were right

The Tribu­la­tion

The Rap­ture

The Wrath of Trumpets

And the almighty had spoken

His voice

Sound­ing a bit like Grou­cho Marx

Pro­claim­ing

“I’m flush­ing you all down the hopper”

Accom­pa­nied by Archangels’ on Horns

And the whole rhythm sec­tion was indeed

The pur­ple gang

Men of God

Gashed their Teeth

Unable to assimilate

They were right

All along.

I couldn’t under­stand the madness

The tears

The wrench­ing of hands

I always knew

It was a five ticket ride

A cou­ple of laps around the track

Then

Some­one else’s turn

I thought of the woman

I had loved

And won­dered

What they were doing…

I thought of love

How it never seemed to last

Eter­nal yet

Frag­ile, like hand craved China

And

How my clumsy fingers

Always seemed to break it

I could never glue those pieces

Back together again

Sad…

I thought of the rich

And how pissed they must have been

To real­ize

That at the end of all things

All the wealth they’ve accumulated

Didn’t mean fuck

I thought of the poor and the sick

How they must have been saying

About time

I decide to roll solo

No sense being a hypocrite

At the very end

I got a beach chair

And sat

A hot wind was blow­ing cold

There was fire in the sky

A young child

In tears

Was wan­der­ing lost down the street

I knew him

Appar­ently his par­ents couldn’t take the pressure

and offed themselves

I guess they wanted bet­ter seats

Self­ish bastards

I scooped him up in my arms

And turned him to face me

It looked wicked up there

He smiled

I smiled

We waited

But not too long