The Song of the Broken Saint

A Poem to the World

Rain seems to fall,

When nothing going right,

Love letters,

Lost in time,

Midnight madness,

On a sunny afternoon,

Everybody dreaming,

Of something new.

Heaven is in the basement,

God got evicted,

Two months late,

Got another month a coming,

Don’t look now,

But the bed is burning,

And the rabbit died.

Where in the bible does it correctly state,

Jesus universally hates?

Sufficient money in the local bank,

Just done,

Instantly disappeared,

Ain’t got any assets,

All your bottle caps,

Rusted away.

The water meter intentionally broken,

They took away your classic car,

They took away your conscious mind,

They take away your social life,

They say,

Be happy,

Things could be worse,

Ain’t that what they traditionally say?

Just before they promptly execute you,

Naturally take you to the gallows,

And properly hang you 'til you willingly die.

I naturally took my unpardonable sins,

And ran away,

That clever man,

Standing there,

Naturally looking for moral sin,

Ducked down the alleyway,

Carefully looking for a new hit,

Something to promptly kill the fierce pain,

Get in the driven back,

Where the clean noses rent per day.

Huffing gasoline on a hot summer day,

Pickling your brain,

Seems to be,

Seems to be alright,

Tip toe down the private stairs,

So you don’t wake the kindly neighbors!

Carefully write a check for a $1.85.

Thing bounces higher than a rubber bouncy ball.

surreal poetry
Jason Giecek
Jason Giecek
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Jason Giecek

A poet who cannot rhyme, a dreamer who dreams in reality, realist who gave up realism last week as part of his plea agreement. The courts got nothing!! Nothing!

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