Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Excuse me, sir, your pants are on fire. Yes, i am talking to you, sir. This is quite a mess you have made, you starry-eyed dreamer. Not that it was perfect in the beginning. Nothing is. When my grandfather got old, he made sure to dress well. If he was to die on any given day, he intended to do it in his Sunday best. My grandfather died in a unisex hospital gown. When i was growing up, Mom always made sure i wore clean underwear. It would be shameful to die in ***** ones. Speaking of growing up, i was raised on Reaganomics. It doesn't matter which side of the aisle you stand on these days, because Reagan defeated communism through the clever use of money. When my grandmother was set to pass, she faced the changing seasons with poise and dignity.  She was ready to move on, to reunite with loved ones lost. My grandmother died in a unisex hospital gown. My best friend, Peter, didn't put much stock in appearances. He was funny and sarcastic. We all loved him like a brother.  Peter's mom buried him in brand new Ecko gear.  He died in boxer shorts on the floor of a ramshackle apartment blue in the face from a ****** overdose. Thank god none of these people will ever need healthcare. Mr. President, sir, i am no Republican. i am an American. You do remember us, don't you? How silly of me...of course you don't. You were busy watching your legacy. i would have watched it better, if it had been my name at risk. My name is all i have. When Bill Clinton was president, he lied about getting a ******* But we forgave him. It was just a ******* It's not like it was our privacy or healthcare at stake. Or our economy. Have you dreamed about any of those things, sir? Or just your legacy? Who knows? How well do we ever know anyone? Christmas is right around the corner, and i and others have made you a fine gift, a lovely suit. It's invisible. You probably won't notice. No matter... one day you will have to remove your flaming pants. To try on your new suit. Or, god forbid, to put on a unisex hospital gown. And then you will finally see your legacy.
0
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
Dear Mr. President
Excuse me, sir, your pants are on fire. Yes, i am talking to you, sir. This is quite a mess you have made, you starry-eyed dreamer. Not that it was perfect in the beginning. Nothing is. When my grandfather got old, he made sure to dress well. If he was to die on any given day, he intended to do it in his Sunday best. My grandfather died in a unisex hospital gown. When i was growing up, Mom always made sure i wore clean underwear. It would be shameful to die in ***** ones. Speaking of growing up, i was raised on Reaganomics. It doesn't matter which side of the aisle you stand on these days, because Reagan defeated communism through the clever use of money. When my grandmother was set to pass, she faced the changing seasons with poise and dignity.  She was ready to move on, to reunite with loved ones lost. My grandmother died in a unisex hospital gown. My best friend, Peter, didn't put much stock in appearances. He was funny and sarcastic. We all loved him like a brother.  Peter's mom buried him in brand new Ecko gear.  He died in boxer shorts on the floor of a ramshackle apartment blue in the face from a ****** overdose. Thank god none of these people will ever need healthcare. Mr. President, sir, i am no Republican. i am an American. You do remember us, don't you? How silly of me...of course you don't. You were busy watching your legacy. i would have watched it better, if it had been my name at risk. My name is all i have. When Bill Clinton was president, he lied about getting a ******* But we forgave him. It was just a ******* It's not like it was our privacy or healthcare at stake. Or our economy. Have you dreamed about any of those things, sir? Or just your legacy? Who knows? How well do we ever know anyone? Christmas is right around the corner, and i and others have made you a fine gift, a lovely suit. It's invisible. You probably won't notice. No matter... one day you will have to remove your flaming pants. To try on your new suit. Or, god forbid, to put on a unisex hospital gown. And then you will finally see your legacy.
derek-yohn
Written by
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem