the serial killer song


hes a working man
his sleeves rolled up
he puts in nine to five
seven to twenty four
he twists on luck
and turns, say hayte!
its just another working day
practice patience polythene
or canvas for the trees
one dead body another night
to whiff death in the breeze
cologne is the secret mate
he says as you pass by
watching as you went
work hard to keep the smell at bay
hard works the key my friend


5 Responses

  1. A strange and twisting poem, Ms Mist. Eerie because of it’s normality describing the abnormal.

    Thank you Mr. Squires, im an eerie kinda creature :)!

  2. “watching as you went”

    I like that … but not if it was me being referred to. hee hee!

    I’m going to write “serial killer” as an occupation the next time I travel. Wish me luck.

    ~ ROTFL, don’t forget to write about how that goes :D, Thanks!

  3. I agree with Paul – strange twistings and turnings. Soul-less, yet nothing seems missing on the surface: like many out here on earth.

    You heard Maxine, love the feeling, thank you!

  4. Serial killers as never as we would imagine. They seem to always end up being the man next door kind of fella. Quite eerie, indeed. PLL, C.

    Thanks Cordie, I like patterns, and I am a bit of a tourist on the dark side, I had a phase when I studied a lot of cases and methods, it disturbed me, unhappiness can produce such mindless need such cruelty

  5. Interesting post, somehow pleasant and yet disturbing, such a twisting style that captures and turns the eye!

    Well thank you :)!

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