Sunday, September 21, 2008

Epic Poem

Candy C. Williams lay quite still in her casket
Like a pretty dead doll in a little girl’s basket.
George was first at the funeral, by her coffin he stood.
His face was sculpted steel, his were hands rotting wood.

A week before Candy was alive, but not well.
Under quite a horrid and sickening spell.
She climbed in the bath dressed in a veil
Staying under the water till she turned bluely pale

George walked in the tomb before she had faded
She might be alive if he could have aided
The fight against death wasn’t much of a tussle
George lacked the strength and much needed muscle

He couldn’t tip the tub and
He couldn’t lift her up.
All that wimp could do
Was scoop up the water in red plastic cups
So there, right in front of him,
A young sweet thing died.
Just another tragic case
Of preventable suicide

George was wracked with guilt
Black tears streamed down his face
His mind was beginning to wilt
Without Candy in her place.


Enter Norma in Scarlet, some could call her a whore,
Tripping over her bra strap as she came through the door.
Not far behind, held taut by the core
Was her Drag King in rags that dripped to the floor.

Molly came in next, her violet eyes mean and riled.
Like the surgeon aborting your perfect brain child
Her soul almost gone, her heart now exiled.
The checkerboards in her brain were perfectly tiled

George could handle it when Norma came too close to tell
Inhaling near him saying, “How I rancid smells.”
But when she mixed his tears for an alcoholic drink
It sent him soaring and skipping off his sanity’s brink.

He lashed out. Slipped–In Cleopatra just wouldn’t cry.
So George began shaking newspapers for a goodbye
He suffocated her honest lies so tight in his fist
Cleopatra’s painted eyes hazed over in a radioactive mist.

Molly pounced on the moment to sing her complaints
Of how she disliked funerals and seeing dead saints,
“I hate seeing my shadow alive in the mirrors,
A creature darting in and out of their fears.”
Norma turned to her and smoked in her ear,
“Molly, your lip liner seems to have smeared”

A change of the channel.

Candy disappeared
The scene was just glass.
George kept watching TV
Sitting on his fat butt.

By: Joanna Tenney

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