Jodaeic Creationisms • Snow and sleet of the freezin’ season Knees of the...

Snow and sleet of the freezin’ season
Knees of the weak be beat in the street
Legs and feet in the trees of the creek
Be caught in the weeds for multiple reasons
Thorns! He’s cut up bleedin’
Sheet
Poison spreads from his head to his feet
He needs treatment or he’ll be dead in a week
But then he blacks out…
Falls asleep
sleep
sleep
sleep
sleep
A hospital seat is where he awoke
His head was cut up
And his arm was broken
Nobody knows him
He’s cold and alone
And his thoughts go back to a place called home
But it’s hopeless
His spirit is broken
And he chokes on words that remain unspoken
He’s hopin’
He hopes and he prays
That he won’t fade away by the end of the day
But he’s uncertain:
The hurt and the pain
Collaborative forces that work on his brain
To destroy him
Drive him into the dust
This taste on his lips is the taste of rust
He’s bleeding
Blood from his eyes
And his soul leaks out as he cries
as he cries
This hole in his chest leaves him breathless
The void of his death disrespected neglected
A reflection of truth
He was the best of the best in his youth
But on his deathbed he is useless and broken
The words in his mind go forever unspoken
He tries to speak, but only manages to croak as
He chokes on the blood in his teeth and his throat
He is weak and defeated
And the blood is seeping
With increasing speed
As his breathing is creeping
To a close
It would seem that
It would seem that
It would seem that all hope is depleted

Well when the nurse walked in as shy as a sheep
And spied the old man in his bed, asleep
She knew he was dead, but he looked like a dream
Except for the blood on his eyes and his teeth
He was a regular Gregor, a Winston, a Piggy
To feel for this man would be downright silly
So the nurse left the room in a jiffy
To fetch the mortician who’d have the place spotless and pretty
In an hour flat had the room lookin’ spiffy
Looked at the papers and the man’s name was Jimmy
Tricky
He’s poor and he’s homeless
No one to pay for the grave or a tombstone bonus
No family plot to bury his bones
So he’s off to a morgue for his whole postmortem
A few nights ago he died cold and alone
In a cold hard place where nobody knows ‘im
His fight unheard of
His life unknown
Beautiful bones on a bleached white throne
On that night he died cold and alone
But his hospital room became a place called home to him