Ted Sheridan Poems

Welcome to the Colosseum
Where pain is pleasure and it is our pleasure to be of service
Lay back on the rack
The waxing poetics are hot and the iced humor is very dry
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We die from within and just like our statues
We dedicate to our eternal memory,
So many trinkets sculpted
From concrete, brass, plaster and wood.
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There is an extremely fat man
who lives in a gargantuan size house
with his attractive but butterball wife
and their two and one third kids
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I choked on the lie that had become me
I choked on the confessional proclaiming
My innocence when partaking in the Body of Christ
It caught in my throat like a log in my eye
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Your dirty T shirt reveals such secrets
Your tits catch me staring cross-eyed
Into the eye of your category five hurricane
My brown eyes and
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If you can’t catch fish
At least you can dig for worms
Or cut some bait
Because just like our dog
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My dear friend, but for clouds in your eyes;

The sun failed to rise. But rise it did today,
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We are the Dead Babies
To whom no voice was ever given
Only taken with force...
We are the Discarded Embryos
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You want I should rhyme and write something lyrical
You want a poem about mending fences
And not constructing them
Preach to someone else my sweet
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Their poems are always about the woods and nature
Each one has an eagle or some kind of a bird mentioned
There are no elves or dwarfs as in real life
Only snow adorned trees and conifer needle covered natural paths
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