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Mr. America (Hunting Season) (Free verse) by SupremeDreamer
Hunting season, the animals linger
and I sit beneath the pine tree
receiving judgement while I whistle
a tune morbid and mocking.
Dead rabbits strewn across my lap
daydreaming, head full 'a wonder
about when I can cook them
and discontinue ignoring the music
of the hammer.
My pike decorated, with the head
of my lawyer, the bastard said I was insane.
I never liked the spineless turd anyway;
a slight road bump, and now I have a fool
for a client, but alas, folks always thought me so.
That hammer pounds hard now.. seems the judge
demands that I pay attention, causing me to
throw my blade into his skull, shutting him up
Thank heavens, he was a boring little shit
lecturing me like that.