It were a thing
to think about- and well;
though fully far
from easy grasp.
And all on irate elbows
leaning bewildered at the bar
murmured, opinionized and gasped
" Jesus, Mary and Joseph!! Hell!!... "
An armed, imploded ingrate
laid waste a couple/few dozen
still sprouting, yet flowered lives;
a fitful shyness alchemically altered
into premeditated murd'rous rage,
placed before us bleeding
as if on a fucking stage.
So, over shamrocks left
in the fine, thick foam
in his several stouts
unquiet Charlie chewed on if
in life and death danger clear,
(mind you, not mere doubt)
amid all the Fear-frantic noise,
he'd still have the stones, retain the poise
to strike a shark upon the snout.
A natural progression-
easy as I, IV V...
and Charlie, miffed,
obliterated yet still alive,
flattened by an amber fifth,
howls the blue note long and low...
then uncoordinated of muscle,
almost completely limp,
offers through his grizzled muzzle-
" Some pissed off wimp, I know,
could not have done it with a cudgel."
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