I Love To Read This Gothic Poem Out Loud ...

The Hideous Existence of Barnaby Drudge

by Howard Camner


born with almost no head
no arms
no legs
no god to point a finger at
no fingers to point with
Barnaby Drudge is one for the books

virtually unemployable
dropped in a sawmill
raised by opossums
in his own private corner of Hades
he weaves his webs
hanging upside-down by his twisted soul
paralyzed by law
he is a blatant liar
promising to give his word
Swearing to take a vow
vowing to break his promise

Barnaby Drudge is one for the books
forced to extremes
drawn to headlights
rewriting history in his bedside journal
taking credit for every natural disaster
he crosses his black heart and then the highway
accusing himself of being no one

if he ever gets caught in your headlights
and there's no time to stop
do not be afraid

he'll never see his murderer
he sees only perimeters
he cannot see you

to Barnaby there is no substance
there is no matter
there is nothing
he sees only perimeters

and who could blame him for that?