let me introduce you to fred he's bedridden at home on meds every minute of the rest of his life his sad pathetic unproductive wife reminds him that he'd really rather be dead o what unhappy strife fred bears towards his dear wife who put him through school helped to raise him from a fool brought him so many hidden tools but the only one he sees is that knife that she uses on him, like he was bread that she uses to try to make everything seem cool but it's not poor bedridden fred hasn't forgot the moods he felt before dear wife came and began to make him melt i love you said she with her eyes full of maniacal glee with books you'll be dealt you'll become rich, buy me pelt and have twenty-three identical belts with your new mind you'll have fought the devils of ignorance, chased and caught the delight of intelligence, and even better, me all fred wants is to be free he used to be so extensively happy now he sees red our dear poor fred cast away stowed away stuck on his bed who passes each day full of play in his dreams who is much less calmer than he seems he's grown sick and tired of being so wired to all of the life's truthful factual gleams he wishes so that he were still mired stuck on the ignorance that has long expired he wishes he had never wed and instead had shred those false wishes that from his wife had beamed and so his heart burning like furious coals fred calls his wife over "hey you ol sow my brain is twitchin my heart is kickin because of your bitchin and my arms are itchin to give your head a smashin blow" and so with a triumphant show this man decrepid and so col' wraps a tube around his wife's throat "i'm finally gonna git rid o that old goat" but in the process, like a monkey in a moat he soon ceases to float without the meds that helped make his juices flow and there's the end of this weary storytellin she's stopped bitchin and he's stopped flippin may you never live this wicked sitsuwayshin
Reason for writing:
No reason at all.
Birth sign: Capricorn
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Jack deCongo.