one more sip
one more shot
one more hit,
of that pot.

Us Whores…

Leaders stand and preach lies,
as kids cough their way to school.
Above we see darkened sky’s,
why let them corrupt and rule.

Rubbish underfoot polluted air,
rivers run with human waste.
Pollutants in lungs, sticky hair,
if you don’t believe, just taste.

Whales, we all like to call majestic,
seeing them in picture or real life
We poison them with our plastic,
a far cleaner death with a knife.

Cherubs fell from the skies
The day I died
Howling owls flew in circles
Wondering if the roses would
Ever bloom again...
And somewhere, nonchalant, a little boy sang
While the moon watched and waited and wondered
And the sailors all came home.

Cold winter rain assails my home.
I pay it little heed
as through the past I slowly roam
causing my soul to bleed.

For the past is flush with those
who are now behind that final door,
a time when I wore smaller clothes
when I gave no thought to nevermore.

And the rain pounds on and on
while those ghosts float through my mind
as the time approaches dawn
with peace of mind being hard to find.

An expected visitor vying to hold
what's become of vixen lady, once gold
stronghold to emotions eerily grasped
a fool lady, cradling anxietys baby

Punctured armor protecting what's prudent
strength: slowly surfacing after suffocation
visitors back: bearing the blatant truth
vixen ladys companion vanished her youth

It sucked her dry with internal despair,
a well so deep with no water to hold
she longs youths return, in tighter clothes
no companion in sight, worries yet unknown

the power of the mind is so fragile
it can be broken so easily

the power of the mind is so mysterious
The curiousity from others want to get inside

the power of the mind is so distinctive
no mind is the same

the power of the mind is so profound
one only knows of ones' thinking

the power of the mind will lay wickedly underground
as gthe power of the mind
deteriates into non existent form

if yet the human mind, beguiled,
afford, so bemired, an act of immorality
the quest for equitable credence is riled
by the total disregard for mortality

if nature’s mould, uncontrived,
conformed to the waiting womb,
so cavalierly and deviously be deprived
of its existence in the worldly dome

should my existence be regarded as incestuous
allow not the misdeed be mediated
and reconciled to omit the unrighteous
conduct of my conspicuously associated

I awake with borrowed time from snoozed alarms,
Duvet awry and sheet entangled with arms.
Each pillow I throw with contempt at the floor
bitterly wishing that I could have slept more.

Zombie-like I rise from my tomb of a bed
with a nest of a bun askew on my head
and wiping my eyes with the back of my hand
I vault out of bed trying my best to stand.

these bees will always scheme
lilting their little lilly lies
labors to favors of the field
A song they still sing

The flowers forever meddling
each and over all together
all reaching over each other
dancing until the next dance

she, a siren blooming, nestled soft
giggles in cherubs chancely glees
mmmm.....
a paradise ripe for picking

This Town is Still Waiting