As Bad As All That

Coyotes are BAD, he spat 

exiting the room in his grand

conceit of wisdom.

In my world this is how males

converse with mere females.

Deliver the brilliant blast

assume abject

approval, and draw

the discussion to a firm

unyielding end.

The echoes of his favorite 

television channel reverberate

in his passage, that seductive

assumption that I am good

and everyone else

and every other living thing

is undeserving

of consideration

in their struggle for survival.

This is colonialism in the modern

world, insistent upon 

eradicating the pests

until only a green country club

with high gates and tasteful

umbrellas for casual dining


the eye 

— after proper approval

and paying the exorbitant dues —

to perfectly landscaped

rolling hills, cart paths

through lovely tree-lined vistas.

A place where everything evil

has come to rest

in the hearts of the people

determined to stay apart.

Dissidents are dangerous.

The shrinking world

manageable with the right dose

of pesticides and


heart medicine

and blood pressure pills.

They tee off

enjoying the slow death

the planetary gasp

riding the white 

waves to shore

one final time.

Inspired by #OctPoWriMo Day 15 Prompt: If __ were an umbrella, and Conceit, Draw, Blast, Brilliant, Approval.

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

One thought on “As Bad As All That”

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