Arrogant Malt

Arrogant Malt

dismal poem

Antacids and beer
insults all the time

Brooding brew, I’ll
have none of her stew

Cheating poem woman
seen you down
the street
flaunting him
’cause he’s got the wine

Whine me brew
antacids and stew

Acid grief to stomach
antacids and beer, but

maybe a
good bleed out of
raging sorrow might

do me better
with hot pepper
and death.

I should go now
where fainting people
are unnoticed

Last money for some
Rye whiskey and
ginger ailing — I
like that more than
malted milk

I hope on the way
I’ll pass a lady
with baby carriage, carelessly
walking in front of a truck
who I can push out of the way
as martyr, but

more likely I will
be a sorrow of one
a humble snob
without rhyme.

Oh God
speak now

I am so sorry to be
acid and blood