Telephone Hell

If a spirit great exists, permeates
with love the sum of all of what life is;
does exude, perpetual wash, said love
in vessels formed to hold oceanic
quantities, this fragment of subjective
and surface humility beseeches
with meekness in spirit deliverance
from women using phones to speak speeches,
within the corral known as listening range;
monstrous women yakking, blaring, as brass
orchestral instruments set to never
harmonize need not use the telephone;
any space will suffice for the torture
of the captive thinker and if no such
spirit exists, the ultimate recourse
must come down to the nearest escape hatch.