Hard Times
Hard times on the horizon,
Hush everyone, the deranged clerk
Threw his ‘nope’ at the CEO-
And now the houses ablaze in blue
Are shunted into shards of disdain,
And now young women on a night out
Are hopping on their heels,
Think they look smashing,
Yeah right-
Same old, same old,
There she goes,
Her stranded soul
Amongst cold stars,
Marooned on desert skies,
Chanting God feeds you
Even though he let books,
And burning souls wander around,
Chanting Odysseus and his mates
Gorge on your mind-
Her soul, sure, why not,
Once you met her, she’d got an ASBO
After setting ablaze men, blue,
Scrap, dissension,
Bless her, she couldn’t let go
Of times, creeds, and rites-
Got it now? And her shades, now,
The ungodly shades rhythm or grace
Always shunned- look at them,
Still hooking up with electric blue eyes,
Still hunting down words, while anger
Scars her with cider, flowers, glazes-
Great for mothers only, aren’t we, my days?
Keep clear, then, don’t trust birth, time,
As only waves, only skies
Slake their thirst in her mind’s cafés,
Adrenaline spiking and raped winters
If you ever chance on them-
Such shady guys, and starving to boot-
Thank God hypermnesic stones can help,
So, rage as hard as you want,
But your light’s dying, I’m afraid,
She’s lighting fires on her way out,
And yes, the CEO gave us such nice treats,
Limbs, and free will, so what?
Women will show up as electric shocks,
With their shrieking voices,
Men as sudden blackouts,
With their silence-
‘Course the last word shall be yours,
My darling, to spite you rotten,
And make you choke on fizzies and pies
You fancy a lot-
Good for you, oh and so sorry
My life’s confort food for you starving rotten,
O darling demise
© 2021 Gabriella Garafalo
Born in Italy some decades ago, Gabriella Garofalo fell in love with the English language at six, started writing poems (in Italian) at six and is the author of Lo sguardo di Orfeo; L’inverno di vetro; Di altre stelle polari; Blue Branches, and A Blue Soul.
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