“A slice of my heart, good Sir?”
By Hector M. Rivera
A slice of my heart, good Sir?
The contents are Sweet and Bloody.
I dig the graves where bodies lay,
from far and wide thieves plunder.
It must appear quite foul to thee
The sword and arrows dangle,
the rotten meat oozes beads
green snot and mucus udders.
Rightly so, the barbs do flow
and hatred fills the air.
The clichés swim and fight to win
they fight to breathe some air.
Devout demons grab their feet
and seek to pull them down.
Bludgeon them, and Bludgeon them
pompous and most foul.
A poet wins when he is hated
how you like me now?