For Linda
So dim that light. Your daughter's
Child isn't mine. Your ledgers don't
Contain my name, and, thus, the way
You make your living, sucking blood
From broken souls, does nothing more
Than demonstrate that you're a parasite
To me. You're well regarded, so that's
Fine. The finer people all are parasites
It seems, and those, like me, are hosts,
At best. We let you live, but suck too
Hard, and we will perish. What, then,
Would you choose to do? You lack
The strength to lift a shovel, lack
The sort of decency which might
Dissuade those sullen debtors from
Collecting at your door to take
The wealth you don't deserve.
Oh, look, all that you loved is gone,
And there's your daughter, growing
Large. The mob would call her
Child bastard. Is that what you'd
Like to see? Then, bow your head.
Apologize, and dim the light on
Me.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 14 times
Written on 2013-02-28 at 02:46
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I haven't come to be interrogated, sir,So dim that light. Your daughter's
Child isn't mine. Your ledgers don't
Contain my name, and, thus, the way
You make your living, sucking blood
From broken souls, does nothing more
Than demonstrate that you're a parasite
To me. You're well regarded, so that's
Fine. The finer people all are parasites
It seems, and those, like me, are hosts,
At best. We let you live, but suck too
Hard, and we will perish. What, then,
Would you choose to do? You lack
The strength to lift a shovel, lack
The sort of decency which might
Dissuade those sullen debtors from
Collecting at your door to take
The wealth you don't deserve.
Oh, look, all that you loved is gone,
And there's your daughter, growing
Large. The mob would call her
Child bastard. Is that what you'd
Like to see? Then, bow your head.
Apologize, and dim the light on
Me.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 14 times
Written on 2013-02-28 at 02:46
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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