I sat there smoking cigarettes

My memory active with varied vignettes
Of sordid acts and lurid crimes
And how I miss those treasured times
Where right was right, and wrong was wrong
And evil men did not belong

I felt alive to hunt them down
Turn a wicked smile to frown
To bear my wrath on their wicked head
With any luck, they'd soon be dead.

A forty-five, a length of rope
A bathroom towel, a bar of soap.
A length of chain, a baseball bat
Some cooking oil, a red-hot vat.
Gasoline and a cattle prod
A meth junkie... name of Claude
A male gorilla, hopped up on viagra
An explosive cask, sent o'er Niagra
Sugar water and a thousand bees
An unprepared skydive into trees
Battery acid, and crack cocaine
Chopped into two by a passing train
A deserted isle he can't survive
An airtight casket, buried alive
Methylene blue and cyanide
Or transvestite hooker - to hurt their pride.
Or nickelback played in continuous loop
Or buried alive in a pile of poop.
Some hungry hicks at a town fish fry.
No matter the method - t'was time to die.

Gordon Somebody

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poetic-justice-9/