Hell Is Picturesque And Free (Part 1) Poem by William Cavanagh

It was a bloody scorching Saturday in July
The sun was riding high, suddenly,
The heat changed the texture of the sky
The Greenland shelf had just slipped away!

I looked at my watch and it was half past death!
I had no time for punctuation
And no time to cross the tees and dot the eyes when,
I thought, sometimes it’s better to be unheard and unseen,
But there was no place to run and
Nowhere to hide

Old blue was turning fire engine red
I didn’t look behind me when,
I heard Elton’s, Funeral for a Friend
The past didn’t matter now
The damage had been done

I had no time to think $%^&*
And less time to react
Was this the end to my novel?
If it was, there was no time for notes
One never thinks about notes during a nightmare
You just need it to wake the f$%^ up!