Alcoholic Narcissistic Sleazy Low Rent Landlord

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I’m a hunter, brave and bold
Act like I am five years old

Unlike any mature human
What I choose to hunt’s a woman

Sixty years of weakened age
That’s on whom unleash my rage

A plus — she is disabled too
Easier for me to do

All the things which helplessness
Make me shock, awe and impress

I would never face an equal
Rather rage just like a bull

Pound and bang my tantrum in
Knock and yell at childish whim

You don’t listen to my bitchin’?
Then I’ll just mess up the kitchen

So little value has my word
No matter what you have heard

No matter how I laugh and talk
I’m a person does not balk

At taking of her income two
Thirds, and then I — wouldn’t you? —

Kick her out right here and now
Not caring the slightest how

She will make it through the day
Cold and hungry, glad to say

She wouldn’t pander, wouldn’t jump
Hump when I said “Time to hump!”

Wouldn’t pay attention to
Me all damn day long — would you?

Of course you would, at every second
In which your master has beckoned

After I eject her, slate
You for my next vict — ah, roommate

Among us, poets are not paid. The poet/editor of this website, being physically disabled, lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Become a patron of the fine arts at:

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Ana Daksina

About the Author: Ana Daksina

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