tagNon-Erotic PoetryA Pound of Flesh

A Pound of Flesh


Sunburnt in my traitor cage
the occupying army made
I cursed the family radio
World War II had listened to.

But in pellucid moments
I liked that pissant cage
where they watched me write my Cantos
waiting for my prison fate

and even in the outdoor loo
my guard of honor noticed,
holding his proboscis,
Pestilentia Manufacta

I scribbled on some arsewipe
squatting in the Pisan sun
making jurisprudence, noses
and perhaps the hangman wait.

Report Story

bygreenmountaineer© 5 comments/ 1498 views/ 0 favorites

Share the love

Report a Bug

1 Pages:1

Please Rate This Submission:

Please Rate This Submission:

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
Please wait
by Anonymous

If the above comment contains any ads, links, or breaks Literotica rules, please report it.

There are no recent comments (5 older comments) - Click here to add a comment to this poem or Show more comments or Read All User Comments (5)

Add a

Post a public comment on this submission (click here to send private anonymous feedback to the author instead).

Post comment as (click to select):

Refresh ImageYou may also listen to a recording of the characters.

Preview comment

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: