Maggots, etc.
By
Michael Russo
Maggots
Birthed in the foulest refuse
Rising from matter decayed
White, transparent
Gathering towards a sea of red
Nibbling on an aged carcass
Gnawing it down to the bone
Growing larger with each morsel ingested
Multiplying to devour and conquer
Eliminating all evidence of their doing
Leaving nothing in their wake,
But a trail from the stain of their slime
Swallowing Poison
What fool would willingly curl their fingers around a glass vial
And sip poison in small increments with each successive sunrise?
A person permanently estranged from sense or sanity?
A hedonist thrilled at the prospect of cheating death?
Or perhaps a tortured soul contemplating the release salvation promises?
What fool would willingly curl their fingers around a vial
And sip poison in small increments with each successive sunrise?
A compulsive gambler attempting to defy the odds of Russian roulette?
An intoxication-seeking masochist tip toeing on a hairline precipice?
No, just the common fool rising out of bed each morning from a restless night’s slumber
Marcus Grievewell
“Conception is life”
“Life is sacred”
“And all men are created in God’s image…”
Marcus Grievewell is dead
Found on frigid subway tiles
His back in full curvature
Knees up to his chest
Ghost faced
Blood iced
Ignored
Stepped over
Screamed at
Shaken on his shoulders
Picked up with latex gloves
Carted away
Buried somewhere, someplace
Unmarked
No trace
Who was he?
What happened?
How long had he been dead there?
God only knows…
“A life is not a choice,”
“But God grants us free will”
“And there are no free lunches.”
Heaven help us
Michael A. Russo is a veteran Long Island public school teacher of 25 years. He is married to his beloved wife Laura and has two remarkable children named Olivia and Jackson. The gritty and realistic works of the 1970s serves as his greatest inspiration. His eclectic poetry reflects the many joys, absurdities, and tragedies of the human condition. He also takes pride in speaking for the silent, silenced, and forgotten.
By
Michael Russo
Maggots
Birthed in the foulest refuse
Rising from matter decayed
White, transparent
Gathering towards a sea of red
Nibbling on an aged carcass
Gnawing it down to the bone
Growing larger with each morsel ingested
Multiplying to devour and conquer
Eliminating all evidence of their doing
Leaving nothing in their wake,
But a trail from the stain of their slime
Swallowing Poison
What fool would willingly curl their fingers around a glass vial
And sip poison in small increments with each successive sunrise?
A person permanently estranged from sense or sanity?
A hedonist thrilled at the prospect of cheating death?
Or perhaps a tortured soul contemplating the release salvation promises?
What fool would willingly curl their fingers around a vial
And sip poison in small increments with each successive sunrise?
A compulsive gambler attempting to defy the odds of Russian roulette?
An intoxication-seeking masochist tip toeing on a hairline precipice?
No, just the common fool rising out of bed each morning from a restless night’s slumber
Marcus Grievewell
“Conception is life”
“Life is sacred”
“And all men are created in God’s image…”
Marcus Grievewell is dead
Found on frigid subway tiles
His back in full curvature
Knees up to his chest
Ghost faced
Blood iced
Ignored
Stepped over
Screamed at
Shaken on his shoulders
Picked up with latex gloves
Carted away
Buried somewhere, someplace
Unmarked
No trace
Who was he?
What happened?
How long had he been dead there?
God only knows…
“A life is not a choice,”
“But God grants us free will”
“And there are no free lunches.”
Heaven help us
Michael A. Russo is a veteran Long Island public school teacher of 25 years. He is married to his beloved wife Laura and has two remarkable children named Olivia and Jackson. The gritty and realistic works of the 1970s serves as his greatest inspiration. His eclectic poetry reflects the many joys, absurdities, and tragedies of the human condition. He also takes pride in speaking for the silent, silenced, and forgotten.
