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Shakespeare's Monkeys

Infinite Monkeys. Infinite Typewriters.

More in Poems In The Basement

10. fall from grace

you called yourself a fallen angel

at noon we pulled into the parking lot
the gray from the clouds hung in the air
gouging deeply, much like the baggage
that had settled itself under your eyes

spitting on the ground you
uttered something about
your "Divine Right"

so we went in

through the silent prayers
the sun cast a red glow about you
from the stained glass

you spewed obscenities to those
God-fearing men
and we were ushered away
while i murmured apologies

you laughed
and called yourself
their messiah, the savior
a fallen
angel

lighting up a cigarette
we drove off

leaving God in the dust

Jerseydanielgibson - on Dec. 2 2007

hellish wicked. like a soccer kick to the front teeth, you drive your words home. great to see this!

 The Jers

----- Wot, no tea?




I'm standing in the corner of Winslow, Arizona, and whoops! I'm in the wrong song! -Tissi Germain
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