was
on the evening
of the harvest moon
neurotic tensions
whirling
everything just
stirring  
dreams as visions
come without sleep
and i fall deep
into a cesspool of
cerebration
and the grisly truth
that accompanies
thankful that only
the coyotes may hear
the loud cries
of a broken woman

We rolled into bars
like we owned the joints,
everybody had their place,
then we'd fan out
like we were on patrol.
Everybody had each other's six
& we didn't give a ****
about anything.
We'd swarm like hornets
if there was trouble,
for in a moments notice
we could be called out
to ***** real violence.
And we were.
Not that Mickey Mouse
chicken **** kind
at your local nightclub,
but the explosive type
you watched on television
or read about
in the newspaper.

Hollywood didn't have to spend
tens of millions of greenbacks
on a fantasy feature
about apes ruling a planet.
All they had to do
was make a documentary film
about the world's current leadership.
It would have been
much cheaper
& a hell of a lot
more realistic.