Laying In Weight (A Poem)

 

Watching them, I seem to hear the far off drone

Of a Lockheed P-38 – fork-tailed devils as they are.

Chanting their chants. Waving their signs.

Nothing more ominous – fork-tailed devils, they are

 

Cruising by, I seem to feel it welling up inside me,

That feeling of being a destroyer – gunship as I am.

Thinking my thoughts.  Holding my own.

Nothing more ominous – gunship as I am.

 

Remembering Churchill, carrying a Tommy-gun,

And reminding us all of the thuggery.

You never pictured Bertrand Russell in a knife fight

Philosopher punk.  Philosopher drunk

 

The game is laying in weight.

The fight was never so deep.

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