Politics on a small scale   toc   A friend offers his help
print format

The crazy lioness has slit me open,
I grope for anything to say to her.
My words are lost.
She never knew what drove her
fierceness or the panic to subdue.
She saw me in a mirror, sensed her father,
and shattered any evil man in there.
She drank and drank to keep the image blurry
and keep the crosshairs sharply trained on me.
Those of her crazy kind are still so furry
and still so mad at me for being there.
It is my fault because I'm contradicting,
countering her grandness with my No.
It's stupid 'cause I'm far too weak to stand her
lines of fire or the holy rage.
A man without a stomach shouldn't fight her
and diagnosed with ulcers should just die.
The open belly sheds its load of bowels,
the pighead tries to disregard the cramps.
I crawl along, still terrified and angry,
she doesn't see me since I'm
just too bad.

13. - 15.11.2008, edited 6.5.2011

© Anthony Thwaites