Poem: Guilty

 

5.0.2I’m off parole I’m on the dole

I’m on patrol for deep-fried dough

The initial superficial deal was hastily rejected but a subtle plea bargain was readily accepted

Conciliatory counsel bounced me to a flea market where a meal was haggled over so some would get less and one a bit more

I ended up being brought up abruptly on trumped up charges of sedition and uncommon erudition

My thoughts were accused

The judge was recused voluntarily when it was discovered in discovery

I planned to plead nolo contendre but could not outlast or overcome the auto-correct defect in the extra-judicial prefect of my unconscious keypad reminding me I had no chance

Spitting out no contender is a simple misspelling of mistaken intention

The shrill point made punctiliously by silly fly-boys and crybabies

The bloviating aviators bellowing sails of zeppelins while telling tales of airborne hoagie grinders

If bread could fly there would be no famine and there would be no war so let us commence to planning and attending the blessed wedding nuptials of yeasty flour and lark inspired wing power

I said this plainly with no trace of ill intent or discontent with maladroitness

Alas there’s no defense when your chief offense is to make a pretense

Pretentious am I pretending to intense attachments to all that will die

Said I

hold it right thereMy confession saved me from penitentiaries

My obsession with penitence sent me to the nunnery

I read the holy books and then I got to Shakespeare and read them in reverse

I learned you can repeatedly rehearse what you will say when the climax comes

The litany of facts

The liturgy of passion or whatever stimulates an electrical reaction in the synaptic traces

Fact is nothing works when nothing works

Inventing epigrams and syllogisms and provoking a momentary disruption of the preferred discourse between a girl and her screen or between a horse and his water or a tortoise and his amphibious ambitions will win you nothing when nothing is working perfectly well without your imperfect assistance

The sentence came without punctuation so I would never know

When the end

Fine thank you I said

Through a mouthful of black robing he meant to say you are welcome to stay out of jail or monasteries

Where malleable minds congregate the persuasive must be banished and repelled

Uncaged am I now hit with only a lien against all future worth to my community

Unlike the lion from Zimbabwe or the Kudzu from Botswana or the chicken from Arkansas

Unfazed am I by setbacks to a worry free zone in Arizona

accused and ashamedNow showing a matinee extravaganza of illegal immigrants chemical stimulants concocting simulations of hallucinogenic elation and every other delectation fracked from our fractured manufacturing sector

Persistent anxiety

Unearned piety screams high society so I go slow for fellow felons

Now I’m even more convicted in my conviction

Pleasure must be taken in being guilty as imagined

Before returning to the masquerade

Before the next reprieve

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