Calamity

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stuck in the lull between beginning and end ( i hate this place)

a thick impasto of bad sluices up my throat

devastating storms, wash my indomitable spirit

now bleach stained

C-A-L-A-M-ITY

the rage of god blows us forward

Stuck in the lower ninth

(when the levees broke)

mind constantly below sea level

Drowning

Though still preventing Catastrophe with my wit

Seems like a bonanza - but no one's looking

Massive and sustained support from the heavens, they say

But no one is listening

While I remain hushed, and sorrowful

You said we were going to Paris, but now we're in war torn Iraq

always raining - PoetryWhere stories live. Discover now