Rate this poem:0.0 / 0 votes
Drunk on holy crucifixion wine
Yes, for certain I've been told to go straight to the place below here, you know down there
Can't really say the word 'caust that will make it flesh and we can't have the 208 bones here
Until we all die and nobody is left to inseminate the ova, onward toward utter extinction
Holding back the most important and salient features of the gist of the ditty, here we go son.
Your mama and papa knew how to fornicate their brains out, but they lacked intellectual gifts
From the Divine in heaven or random DNA genetic seclusion from the shallow pool of stiths
Showin' the winding road ahead, too narrow to walk upon, wings spread and a hop and a half
I was airborn, gliding on a wind gust, swearing to God that I must be on heaven's shelf.
I won't lay down and die, I'll have to fall from the stand onto my longknife sword
Firesticks evolved into the bombs of gas atoms, exploding, imploding, to kill a bird
Eating and drinking whatever is at hand when the baby evolves into the intelligent nerd
One that realizes that the wisdom and knowledge is hidden from the thump of the horde.
Poe could never have imagined that casks and telltale hearts would rule the forces I'd bet
He scared everyone in his own time and now books, movies on record or on demand
A box office in the home is good if you don't need to go run a face or an eerie errand
Speakin' of a box, renting a fully loaded, coffin-size one in a corner of my invisible closet.
I've been crawlin' around with the war pigs since 1971, in mud, blood and 3.2 brew
We all knew we didn't sweat 'cause we were too cool for school, sirens scream to screw
Burning up and not leaving even a stitch of ash above the dirt, what dudes do like a stooge
Shined with spit, toes aglow, corporate screwed into the dream's matrix without an edge.
Here's the nails to pound into your hands and feet, to hang you up and make you bleed
Because you are a nice guy that wouldn't harm a mouse or beat a dog you can't feed
Compassion to let it all go and fade to black, no more participation in the cause's effects
That's all, grace to believe advice: Be able to drop a dime on threats and be good at sex.
RICHARD JOSEPH STEPHAN
c. March 31, 2016 @ 11:11 Thursday AM
(written listenin' to CAKE's "Friend Is A Four Letter Word" & HITS on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/WEHF5lM8pDk?list=RDzzKUzRJUzQ0 )
Submitted on April 01, 2016
- 2:18 min read
- 3 Views
|Scheme||XXAA BBXX CDDC XXXX EEXX FFXX XAXX|
|Stanza Lengths||4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4|
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Gaeilge (Irish)
- Українська (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)
Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:
"Drunk on holy crucifixion wine" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2023. Web. 26 Mar. 2023. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/70053/drunk-on-holy-crucifixion-wine>.
Discuss this Richard Stephan poem with the community:
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
You need to be logged in to favorite.