hatred as folly

cursing clouds eventually came by this way.

they spat on the concrete

with foul sounds running.

it was hell racing past me

into bleak smacks of innocent surface,

as if I was then in observance,

supposed to reactively defend.

instead, I acted like a stoic building,

preoccupied with stature and resolve.

but they knew.

those clouds knew

and there was nothing I could do

about their predicament.

for whatever it was 

that had happened on a infernal basis,

originally started some place else.

well, it was now a disturbance here, 

like a motorcycle gang in passing.

their fumes as backlash continued.

for them, I could have been a dumpster, 

a weathered billboard, a human

with a fuck you umbrella 

launched to their faces.

it meant nothing to them.

they continued on, 

mumbling and downpour cursing. 

some would claim, 

it was just a rainstorm in passing.

but the debris falling had form and flare.

there was nothing gentle about it.

those were the drops of flung madness.

the taste was of a liquid, 

mixed with far flung ire's hot anger, 

in the cool down of fists thrown,

as a form of ventilative release.

this was not, "go water the daisies", 

or "myst the orchids with a freshness of caring".

nope, this was fisticuffs in liquid form.

a bar fight with innocent gravity as the victim.

sure I got hit, now and then.

but hey, I had bystander status

and I was only curious as to the initial cause.

but thermals never tell.

and they also never lie, 

so go figure for yourself.

but if the situation ever first person presents,

think of yourself as having essential bystander status

at a pseudo professional wrestling event.

and you have front row seats

without having to pay.

sure, you may get some of the sweat on you,

but damn, the spectacle of hatred as folly,

that just doesn't happen near by every day . . .