I wonder if you have ever lost a moment's sleep
wondering how unholy your coat of arms is.
How loathsome your sense of entitlement.
I was once your color guard.
Master at arms.
Driver, and part time paramour.
I pasted on fake smiles
Cleaned and pressed my uniform daily.
Opened closed doors for you.
Joylessly brought your trans-continental breakfasts
of chilled tomato juice
and Vichysoisse
Lightly battered
gluten-free tempura foi gras.
White fish pate'
on toasted caraway rye.
The bend in raging rivers
has given you an easy boat ride
thus far.
Crying a river of crocodile tears dripping into
sweet whipped cream custard pie
You've tweaked
every recipe
so even your pie maker
gets ground up in the mixer
Gnarled, and greedy, arthritic
fingers snap together
signaling it's time for your next course
My radar detects the
trickster in you
Thrusting needy pitchforks into
another doll of voodoo.
May I live to see you fall.
From out of a black sky.
Defiantly, with fists clenched
weighted down, sinking
to the sea bottom.
Barnacles scraping your legs
Crabs pinching your outstretched fingers
as you try clawing your way
to an unreachable surface
This, your last curtain call performance
gets a standing ovation
from bottom feeders
hungry for another morsal
of star clustered chum
Buddy Bee Anthony
All copyrights and editing rights reserved as is by this author
Re-edited 07/13/2023 @ 9:51 AM Pacific Time
Re-edited 12/04/2022 @ 7:44 AM Pacific Standard Time