At the Paranoia Poetry Club
They rant, curse and swear,
Wail and gnash their teeth,
Metaphorically tear out hair.
A poured plethora of emotion
As some stand and shout.
Sometimes I wish I knew
What they were on about.
It seems to me that some
Seem to take a great pride
In encouraging their audience
To contemplate suicide.
I just sit there taking
Solace from my glass
Knowing in time that
All things must pass.
It's such a great relief
As homeward you wend
The world hasn't quite yet
Ground to its forecast end,
But, at the Paranoia Poetry Club,
As you listen to what they say
They just seem to have this gift
Of making things seem that way.
