Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"piata" poems
Yes, I'm the husband. You need to treat me as such. Like Ward Cleaver. Don't condescend, ridicule, or find fault In little things. Am I to ingest this drivel Till I technocolor burp? I wait for a thaw or a thigh; A small smile would register on the Richter. In my house there are many rooms For a Piata, a David, But Moses has reign, Coming down Sinai. Thou shalt have no false gods before me. I was a believer, Before I did, Before I do. Today I am an agnostic and an atheist. I do not believe in sanctity Or forgiveness. I sow what I have reaped.
0
Mar 23, 2024
Mar 23, 2024 at 12:35 PM UTC
A Smile on the Richter Scale