Oiling Her Up

I’m oiling her up,

photo by hungrybison

with the fried chicken grease on my fingers.

An old doo wop record on the turntable,

I like to oil her to the old shit.

I’m getting ready.

The sheep have already been sacrificed,

willingly.

Fear is worshiped,

war has become a celebrity.

The TV squirms with a sickening lust,

The talking anus spews deceit,

with a “southern drawl”.

Fuck, we are primed.

Guns are drawn.

This is imflamitory shit.

No one sleeps in America.

There’s a new vantage point,

it’s a bit ridiculous,

but not entirely new.

We have become like the brown shirts,

of 1933.

Truth is dead,

and in the land of the free,

I eat a bucket of chicken,

drink some beer,

and speak of the assault on our country.

Donned in cloaks of camouflage,

killers.

I’m oiling her up.

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2 Comments

Filed under creative writing, micro stories, poem, poems, Short stories and essays

2 responses to “Oiling Her Up

  1. Richard Carnal

    Brilliant my boy, simply brilliant.

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