Death Is Insatiable With His Spoiled Blue Eyes Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Death Is Insatiable With His Spoiled Blue Eyes



I wanted to be true to you,
But death took me up in his spoiled blue eyes
And I had to watch, bivouacked,
As your husband put on a corset for you and
You came home-
And I have climbed four mountains in one day with
A feather in my cap,
And I have called my dogs my masters, and become
A better man for it;
And I have eaten an apple- And I too am libertarian,
And not a dirty hippy;
Yet I can appreciate a tattered red white and blue
Underneath the look out tower stashed away by
Some overweight cowboys:
And every citizen should have his guns,
But it does no good. I eat apples and look into the
Skies, but it does no good- I am only slightly above
Average intelligence,
And I am still waiting for the pizza to arrive,
For the literary agent to return with a positive reply,
But it does no good: and what about you,
All the men you’ve flipped,
All the séances you’ve conquered- it really does no
Good- Let the terrible infant suckle there at your hip,
Let the paper airplanes fly:
Death is looking in your window; he has already eaten me,
But he is insatiable with his spoiled blue eyes.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kerry O'Connor 28 September 2009

Wow! Love the image of the spoiled blue eyes.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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