Chuck and Jed's V-Poems

Friday, February 14, 1997

Friday, the Fourteenth

The sun sets black on the day of love.
The clouds tremble in their terrible triumph.
And yet the Lovers take no heed
For surely a miracle is at hand.
Golden red balloons of Love float down from the darkness.
Valentine's bait is on the hook
And the ignorant fishies are famished.
Ah! How they do froth and blow on the infected, flaccid orbs,
Which have arrived in their hands, alas, slashed and bloody
And still, in their dim desperation, are mistaken for Hope.
Oh! Love! Vile Virus, thou!!
How Valentino does snort and ejaculate as he wields you in his yearly slaughter.
On this Friday, the Fourteenth, Saint Valentine in crimson sequined
cape swoops from the black sun like a carrion bird scooping up the
bloodied hearts of his prey on this darkest of days.
Some may not hear his piercing screech,
Yet He overlooks no one in His universal curse:
Damnation and Despair.
Complete.
Eternal.

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