Deadbeat: by Michele Habel-Coffey

Can’t find the pulse
The heart
The beat
Like beating a dead horse
Dead to me
If that don’t beat all
Dickens humble little bastard
Master Copperfield and I
Don’t like your ilk
Your snaky silk
Milking bilking
Lecherous filth
Judgement comes around in time
And there’s some reason in this rhyme
No weekly checks
Just reality
Injustice – that’s still running free
Across the boarders
Crossing me
Uriah Heep
Took one last leap
Dystonic jerk
Silent creeping
Out! the door
Once more
Your colony is certainly penal
Your sins are surely more than venial
Do hope you find a Hell congenial
No atonement
Not redeemable
Feel me?

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