BruteBitchBastard

              BruteBitchBastard

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

like murdered singing birds”

Lord Alfred turned to singing something worse

Than that monstrosity, that attic room

Abomination.  He became the curse

Of everyone, a she wolf lacking womb,

Becoming bastard, bitch and monster all

Rolled up as one, a hetero excuse

For erstwhile wonder and a beast to crawl

Away and shout out loud like dad’s abuse,

Attack as penitence.  The father, though,

At least retained insanity of hate,

While Alfie squeezed away what lingering glow

He’d known to save his try at being straight.

  He screamed away the lover he had known.

    In this he sounded like a killer’s moan.

Phillip Whidden