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We, the Chosen Leftovers

by Joseph Fulkerson

Wave upon wave of thick ash

and smoldering brick raining down

showering the navel gazers

and nexus glimpsers alike

I see the silhouette of a demigod

looking down with disdain on us peasants.

A pyromaniac’s wet dream,

liquid fire for the heathens

quantum breakup in the cosmos

the axis of evil has a rotating cast of characters

and we are the host country for the yearly festivities.

If you'll please direct your attention to the choir director

with the Sam's Club haircut, we can begin the show.

The preacher grabbed us while the music played

and took us to the back of the sanctuary.

He said with bloodshot eyes, if we didn't stop talking

he was going to bust our asses, plural.

We walked back to our seats

as he walked back to the front

he continued to worship his Lord and Savior,

while we re-evaluated our understanding of organized religion.

We all fall for something

it's a zero sum game we're playing now

no rest for the wicked, but the saints

are having the time of their lives aren't they?

In the end, Saddam Hussein was found cowering in a bunker

Where will you be when the world ends?

The Rapture will occur

and cause everyone’s clothes to fall off

like an aphrodisiac, and we'll be left with the hand-me-downs

meet me in the city square on the day of reckoning

I'll be the one with the trash bag full of clothes

dancing barefoot in the fountain.

Will the circle be unbroken?

The real question is will it become some other

shape in the process, or will it

have any discernable shape at all.

What if predestination is a lie

passed down to us from our ancestors

to keep us from asking too many questions?

we live, we die,

we fuck, we cry

and we struggle for what?

Mediocrity is really spelled C-O-N-F-O-R-M-I-T-Y

we're reading from the holy book: chapter 7,

starting with verse 3. The gospel according to whom?

God gave us this planet

and now he's trying to evict us,

but as tenants we have rights

he has to give us thirty days notice

before he unleashes the Beast

and hastens the apocalypse.

Joseph Fulkerson is an aspiring writer of poetry and haiku. His influences include Charles Bukowski, Kerouac, Hunter S. Thompson and Jack White. He is currently working as an electrician in Owensboro, Kentucky.

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December 2018

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