The Man They Couldn't Hang

"They locked up a man who wanted to rule the world, the fools, they locked up the wrong man,"

The man they couldn't hang

laughed a mirthless sound

rope tightening

air and breath escaping

the crushing pain

of inhalation 

emptying  bowel and movement

any excuse for a s**t

and an orgasm

and swinging in the wind

toes dragging

sand fuelled death poems

in the mud

and panic sets in

and broken fingernails burn

and snap/again, again

The man they couldn't hang

stretches weary legs

sounded out a mirthless laugh

"shall we try this s**t again,"

The man they couldn't hang

climbed back towards the scaffold

hanged the noose, loose,

and shouted ;

"Let's try this muther f****r, 

one more time, "

and broken spined

and broken tongued

and laughed and spat

a fucked and broken

sonnet or two

The man they couldn't hang

will die quietly in his sleep,

It is written in 

                      sand

                      and stone

dead shadows in the mist,

rippling in the wind

The man they should not hang

will not be done this day,

                                             anon

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

wow! if ever pressed so .. i hope i would find the resolve and courage to climb up that hanging rope, loose the noose ... and still sing sonnets through my choked and broken throat and tongue ... but hope even more that i never meet that conglomerate hangman .. your poem hit me in the chest sir ..definitely hooked and held me.
E.

[gram linski]

Thanks E. it's a kind of don't let the b******s grind you down, thing, there are a few more poems that belong to the man they couldn't hang, might share them someday,

[Einstein Noodle]

i think you should!

[Edie Blue Starfish]

It reads a little like a super hero vs villain scene. I like it!

[gram linski]

Thanks, Edie, which one is me and what one was I,

[Edie Blue Starfish]

You were the one in tights and the one with the thigh high boots was you.

[gram linski]

Ha ha love the outfit, I own them both, pick a colour girl,

[Edie Blue Starfish]

Black, with turquoise trim.
The boots would be turquoise too i think.

[gram linski]

And a touch of lilac boa for effect, photos available, online, unbeknownst to me,

[Edie Blue Starfish]

Yes. Perfect. :)

[Chris Shaw]

Yet more s**t. Sorry not the poem, but the mention of it. Pleased you got an orgasm in the lines for added enjoyment. This bloke is tops in my book. Nobody is gonna down him. He will get the last laugh. You are deep!!

Chris

[gram linski]

haha and empty and sated, thanks Chris always a pleasure,

[Chris Shaw]

Keep making me smile :)

[Neville]

an intriguing poem crammed with physiological probabilities, should ya find yourself in that situation.. original & unusually compelling.. Neville

[gram linski]

Thanks, Neville, I did and I do, lol,

[Neville]

hang in there ... I got ya back, then wot do ya go and do eh'............ Neville

[gram linski]

Write another fuckhole poem, and you ? lol,

[Neville]

probably read one

[gram linski]

Haha, correct answer, I like a bit of beatnik blues to soothe the aches of nagging day, cheers

[Neville]

glad to be of service..

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Another 'left field' sort of poem filled with brusing images, expletives and even excrement. Always wanted to tell you you write 's**t' but never dared till now lol! Anyway on a serious point this makes the reader use all their wit to unravel its meaning and intent. I guess this could be a metaphor for somone people have tried to bring down but who is not for the 'take down'!

[gram linski]

excrement, you s**t, I got the scatol
ogy
blues, beware the
sweetcorn, they do not
dissipate,
dissolve, and like to rub and
annoy my piles.

[gram linski]

much like you :)

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Ah just shuv em back up ya whinging old sea dog! The only piles ye have is piles oh the stinkin stuff!

[gram linski]

Brewed and matured in scrotal sac, waiting for drugged teen queens to lick in amnesia, a tasty sip,

[John Alexander McFadyen]

And on the Sabbath!

[gram linski]

that is what uncle Ozzy would have wanted, god rest his pickled soul,

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Branston my friend, I recommned it highly.

[gram linski]

Not on your bell end, surely ?

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Only pickle in town worth spreading anywhere!