I Will Buy You A Ranch Out West
© Surazeus
2018 04 04
The flash of street lights on the metal sheen
of black cars gliding in the evening rain
beams the ache of lost love into his heart,
so her face appears on gleaming windshield.
The wail of saxophones still tinge the wind
that flaps his trench coat when he parks the car
and walks past bars with flashing neon signs
that once lured him with promises of love.
Ascending grand stairs past Ionic pillars,
he steps into the hall of marble stones
where politicians and bankers have gathered
to drink red Bordeaux wine and eat roast beef.
The man in the black fedora gave him
the pistol and the suitcase full of cash,
with shiny photo of the senator
who seems to be a problem for the judge.
Slipping through crowd of elegant elite,
dressed in black suits and shimmery evening gowns,
he moves behind the senator who talks
loudly about his great accomplishments.
"The only question of philosophy
I cannot understand in this strange world
is why am I me and not someone else?"
he ponders while he raises pistol high.
"To think I did not exist before birth
and I will not exist after my death
fills me with strange sense of meaningless horror,"
he grins and fires a bullet in his head.
"The way his blood splatters across their faces
reminds me of those surreal abstract paintings
Jackson Pollock splatters across the canvas,"
he ponders as the senator falls dead.
"Though no one else can seem to understand,
I comprehend the meaning of his vision
that disintegrates form to primal chaos,"
he grins and slips away from screaming crowd.
"Instead of painting phony forms of men,
Pollock explores the immaterial soul
that swirls from the vast vortex of creation,"
he glides past police and strides in the rain.
Driving forward into the flow of traffic,
he turns toward apartment where she still lives,
and watches beams of street lights on the glass
that pierce his heart with strange ache of desire.
"I hope she accepts my offer of marriage,"
he smiles, opening the briefcase of cash,
one c-note over every stack of blanks,
and swears as the bomb explodes in his face.
© Surazeus
2018 04 04
The flash of street lights on the metal sheen
of black cars gliding in the evening rain
beams the ache of lost love into his heart,
so her face appears on gleaming windshield.
The wail of saxophones still tinge the wind
that flaps his trench coat when he parks the car
and walks past bars with flashing neon signs
that once lured him with promises of love.
Ascending grand stairs past Ionic pillars,
he steps into the hall of marble stones
where politicians and bankers have gathered
to drink red Bordeaux wine and eat roast beef.
The man in the black fedora gave him
the pistol and the suitcase full of cash,
with shiny photo of the senator
who seems to be a problem for the judge.
Slipping through crowd of elegant elite,
dressed in black suits and shimmery evening gowns,
he moves behind the senator who talks
loudly about his great accomplishments.
"The only question of philosophy
I cannot understand in this strange world
is why am I me and not someone else?"
he ponders while he raises pistol high.
"To think I did not exist before birth
and I will not exist after my death
fills me with strange sense of meaningless horror,"
he grins and fires a bullet in his head.
"The way his blood splatters across their faces
reminds me of those surreal abstract paintings
Jackson Pollock splatters across the canvas,"
he ponders as the senator falls dead.
"Though no one else can seem to understand,
I comprehend the meaning of his vision
that disintegrates form to primal chaos,"
he grins and slips away from screaming crowd.
"Instead of painting phony forms of men,
Pollock explores the immaterial soul
that swirls from the vast vortex of creation,"
he glides past police and strides in the rain.
Driving forward into the flow of traffic,
he turns toward apartment where she still lives,
and watches beams of street lights on the glass
that pierce his heart with strange ache of desire.
"I hope she accepts my offer of marriage,"
he smiles, opening the briefcase of cash,
one c-note over every stack of blanks,
and swears as the bomb explodes in his face.
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