|Mystery and Crime Poetry posted August 29, 2012||Chapters:||...21 22 -24- 25...|
A story put to rhyming verse.
A chapter in the book Infinite Scribbles In The Sand
As you go on about your day,
with head held high and footsteps sure.
The hair upon your head's turned gray,
Yet still you manage some allure.
Your job is taking most of your time,
The energy level is doubly draining.
Life for you has past it's prime,
The race is slowing and age is gaining.
You looked in the mirror, was it yesterday?
The bright shiny face flashed a smile.
'Not bad!' was the thought that made it's way,
Up through the mind to stay for awhile.
Busier and busier your workdays become,
Plowing your way through the paperwork.
Each week you take home a tidy sum,
To make a toast to it pop the champagne cork.
Haven't had time for mirror inspections,
The eyesight's dimming so wrinkles don't show.
The mornings bring little quick flash reflections,
with the false sense of youth you go with the flow.
I'm not really old, it's really unfair,
That everyone insists I should stop and retire.
Happiness comes when blissfully unaware,
That time has etched deep lines and added a tire.
Movies and dinners, parties and sex partners,
All are many and takes a toll.
Fats and cholesterol artery hardeners,
Glub through the veins closing the hole.
Why do I feel so sluggish today?
I eat well and sleep all night as I oughta.
That's right keep reality of life at bay,
Forget that your blood's pumping like Ricotta.
The wife is nagging again and again,
Which is why you stay out so late at a party.
She's old, way older than you somehow,
It didn't start that way now sip that Bicardi.
Hearing has gone somewhere it has shuffled,
Missing most of the wifes rhetoric.
Thinking that she has mellowed not muffled,
You continue to party like a lunatic.
Party, sleep, work, eat, complain,
In the never ending Peter Pan day.
If the wife finds out that you have no shame,
You will find out cheating don't pay.
Right now the thought is 'I couldn't care less.'
Maybe you should slow down the pace.
The lady beside you is naked and needs a caress,
Oh the hell with the wife , here sit on my face.
With vigor two bodies start arching together,
Wild abandon moved in with a grip.
Not knowing that there was some stormy weather,
Brewing at home as the wife is starting to flip.
Should have got glasses and a hearing aid,
Would have been better than what was to come.
Partying heavy no attention paid,
The good times were over she had a gun.
Her hearing was good, eyesight 20-20,
She could add two and two,
Intuition was uncanny,
Loading the pistol she started to brew.
She knew where he was,
he had been there before.
It's different now because,
She has been keeping score.
Dressing quite flashy and spiking her hair,
She stuffed the cold pistol to hide.
She was icy cold she just didn't care,
She was ready and off she did ride.
The streets were all barren,
Most folks had gone home.
In the motel window starrin'
She sat all alone.
No one should ever have to go this far,
Thoughts stuck to a narrow confine.
She spun the revolver around in her car,
And unloaded one round of that carbine.
Gives him a chance she rationalized,
It will make sort of a fair game.
Now she had to prioritize,
Yes, she would shoot him she was not to blame.
Walking up to the windows,
Staring inside of the room.
Wifey she wanted the door to close,
As the gun blasted out a loud boom.
The first bullet hit him in the scrotum,
He started screaming for help.
The second one drove through his sternum,
hitting the lady under him with a yelp.
My God what was that disruption?
I can't comprehend why I'm hit.
Why is she causing a commotion?
Nothing about this will fit.
I feel the blood draining from me,
As I lay twisted on the floor.
My wife just stands there with a look of glee,
While I wish I could get out the door.
The lady that only minutes ago,
Moaned in wild abandon,
Now lay in pile her privates to show,
Dead, 'cause I picked her at random.
Dear God, can't you make it go faster?
Why is it taking so long?
I know now my life is a disaster,
Right now I just want to be gone.
Slipping into death everlasting,
I give over to the knowledge inside.
I had chosen my life I was casting,
My soul now in Hell will abide.
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Not sure where this came from, but there are more nooks and crannies in the workings of a mind than Thomas' English Muffins. Sometimes a surprise pops up. That surprise was this story.Pays one point and 2 member cents.
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