Commuted Sentences Of Whoa Poem by Ted Sheridan

I feel the need to get down on my knees and repent my sins
God's ear was to the land and I know he heard me
Sneaking around in the dark as I planned to part
My remaining hair with a hollow point shell loaded with despair....
I liberated an old Bible hidden many years from my alter ego
It had been calling for me to release it from the bedroom closet
Where I had tried to bury it along with so many drunken demons
The demons were sleeping as I pulled the 'Word'
From the dark grave where the death sentence
Had not yet been carried out....prevented by a coward's appeals
The jury....consisting of old sweat shirts too large and pants too small
Had been sequestered by the Hanging Judge in a plastic laundry basket
Obese cold blooded killers all of them.....polyester blends
Stained by hard liquor and the thick semen of the demons
Wailing their arms and legs like bat wings at the prospect of a soul cleansing
Meanwhile....I was dangling in the doom and gloom of my final words
Premature and in preparation of any final verdict to execute myself
I spoke these words to a crowded room of wire hangers......
'God, Please forgive me.'

2007 © Ted Sheridan