Tuesday, December 01, 2009

For Sale

Everybody is deformed,
Or so I've been informed,
And though most think I’ve been very still so far,
I was slightly ill, so
I think I'll just keep tripping.

Dogs will dream of puppy drugs
And cats will catch a mouse named Fire
And burn right to the ground,
And nothing will call us by our names
As truly as we would hope,
As truly as in our youth that’s lost.

Things are over.
Life is done.
Some of us are already gone,
Though many are just doggedly alone—
Those ones of us still in the scythe-man’s path
Doubt not that all the devil’s dowsings will be done.

Everybody is for sale,
That’s what the sad tale tells—
The ads I hear on midnight TV,
The same I hear on daylight cartoons:
At some level we are all bozos and all for sale, cheap.

Created on 11/8/2009 12:57 PM


  1. Hmmmm - interesting! The first and last verses seem to match and the middle two match. It's a bit like a song with a verse and chorus, or a bridge, or a hook ....or something. Is it a particular style of poetic pattern (like sonnets etc.)?

  2. You may be right, but for me it's just one of my usual slouchy poems that coulda been, shoulda been, better! But it kept me amused for a little while.


Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)