April showers were unseasonably cold,
that morning, the
dripping blood of a forfeited soul with selfish motives.
Chronically late Buddinsky laureate had stepped
in, elbowed-up to center stage- words louder than
action- self-anointed arbiter deeming him
'unfit' for class- passive lynching- his
Alienation
unfashionable, not
-literate psycho shrilly blaming Daddy-Bastard, nor
-Jezebel snapping hormonal on Angry Johnny, nor
-'the thunder rolled' or 'earl hadda' die.' *Ismail
Ax*, wrong tattoo, a self-anointed martyr fighting all
Liberty, not just
that the Founders deemed Creator-endowed, yellow
monkey out of sync w/
n-word
ethics, not
pissing on whitey from an ebony perch, not
even eligible for the
Writing Cure, due
soon enough to
graduate to
the out-side world, sealed in artistic irrelevance
