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The Humorless King 
by Rickey Rivers Jr. 

I sit on a bone throne picking your brain.

The court jester sings songs of sin,

of worldly men.

His feet bloody skin.

He slips and falls before me.

The court room laughs.

And I only sentence.

For these prats don't humor the humorless.

And I am here now.

Picking and pricking and prodding,

always in mind

with tentacles and instruments.

You belong to me. 


About Rickey


Rickey Rivers Jr was born and raised in Alabama. He is a writer and cancer survivor. His work has appeared in Dream Noir Magazine, Bonnie's Crew, Nightingale & Sparrow, Crepe & Penn (among other publications). / His third mini collection of 3x3 poems is available now: 

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