The Butcher

The Butcher

A Poem by Chris T.

 

I am the butcher of Oxford
The carcasses of Merriam and Webster
bleed out upon my table
Fat slabs of thoughts
waiting for their turn to be
tenderized
hacked at
and carved
into marbled cuts of
raw
words
prepared with a heavy hand of
flavor
to add layers of complexity
and a touch
of bitterness

The discarded bits and chunks
left to otherwise rot on the cutting room
floor for they were marked
unworthy of display or sale
are ground up
and forced into
philosophical casings
A meaty mess made
into easily digestible
discourse

consumer warning
consuming undercooked or raw
thoughts 
may increase
your risk of catching
word-born illness:

Innocent ignorance and permitted conflict inflicts errant tyrants upon the silent and quiet; violent conflict permits the spineless tyrant to inflict ignorance upon the remaining innocence; conflict inflicted upon innocents exists through permitted ignorance; violent tyrants are silenced through errant defiance not by remaining spineless or quiet.


© 2015 Chris T.


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Added on February 12, 2015
Last Updated on February 12, 2015

Author

Chris T.
Chris T.

Pittsburgh, PA



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