Poems

Bubbling just beneath the skin,

Its mean, untamable, inevitable force

Clear a path as it takes its course

Mayhem slaughter destruction and so

Run for shelter, it's about to blow.

Immeasurable darkness revealing your fate

Bloodlust growing, adorning the slate

No sympathy, it's ignoring your please

Salivating furiously as you fall to you knees

Showing no pity the pounding begins

Cashing in pounds of your flesh, for your sins.

The kind of pure heart and pure soul

Caring, sharing, supporting, defending

All for love and unselfish discharge

I wonder what its like to know true love

The kind of pure heart and pure soul

Adoring, fulfilling, accepting, respecting

All for completeness and the need to feel whole

I know what it's like to be all alone

With no one to love and be friends

Ignoring, rejecting, confining, reflecting

On promises broken and dreams with no end

I know what it's like to put it all out

And receive nothing back in return

To give of myself until nothing is left

But self loathing, uncertainty and little concern

I wonder and question, what it's all about

Will I ever be happy and not filled with doubt?

Are people that angry and so self absorbed

They use others and tally their actions rewards

If my life is not mine and my work is for them

Why is it I can't find true love or a friend?

Does everyone only take care of themselves?

Is hunger and sadness destined to stay off of the shelf?

Will the world ever see all the good it can be?

Or will it slowly be taken back by the sea

I would gladly give all, my life, and fall to my knees

If it meant that the human race would be seized

For the earth to take itself back

For the sun and the trees

For the little green bugs

For the giants in seas

For the cold and the clouds

For the birds and the fleas

I would gladly give all of myself

But only it if would please

Santa brings toys

For good girls and good boys

But let's not forget the war in Iraq

Or the hoes on the corner

Trading favors for crack

There are mourners in grief

Babes cry in the streets

No food in their bellies

Or shoes on their feet

Tiny Tim's little crutch

A gift from his dad

For playing with paint

And making him mad

Mom is three sheets to the wind

Let the beatings begin

How could this day, be so filled with sin

Our lives are within the walls of our home

And agony comes in spurts and it's gone

Where is the voice for those with no choice

Those are lost in an instant, because of pro-choice

But it's Christmas Eve, a time of joy

Soldiers wait fearful to be deployed

To the battle fought in the streets for our lives

When Santa brings presents, I bet he cries

I could be fucking driving to a fun place.

I could be fucking working.

I could be fucking writing another chapter in my book.

I could be fucking smoking a fattie right now.

I could be fucking baking cookies.

I could be fucking shopping.

I could be fucking happy as a pig in shit.

I could be fucking beating the living crap out of someone.

I could be fucking painting a christmas house.

I could be fucking updating my website.

I could be fucking doing my hair and putting on makeup.

I could be fucking washing my dog.

I could be fucking feeding the ducks.

I could be fucking drinking till i pass out.

I could be fucking doing bong hits.

I could be fucking watching you while you sleep.

I could be fucking cutting the break lines to your car.

I could be fucking eating a big bowl of ice cream.

I could be fucking .....

But I'm not.