when did compasssion leave you
and get replaced by apathy
and lips touching bottles of alcohol
like they belonged to her mouth
you only wish you could hold the sun of her face
sweat off your worries in her holy
let her know that to be resurrected
you first need to perish
let her feel the sadistic toll of stillborn happiness
let the content promise
be a threat
let her know you will not auction off your heart
for it to be sold again at a profit
let her fall asleep knowing that
you will be there in the morning
but you will watch her all night long
to make sure
she does not leave you hollow like a haunted house
an abandoned building
you've watched too many lonely sunsets
to believe that hills like her are anything more than a shelter
you've heard too many whispers of the wind
to think that the way she touches you will last any longer than storm

Hey Jim, You got that bottle of Jack?
Hit that jukebox
I'm trying to listen to some drinking music
What's your choice?
Muddy Waters or Howlin' Wolf
Some good old time blues
How's Patty been?
She's a doll
I don't know how she putsu up with you
Yeah Jim?
Half a handles gone
I guess I'm starting to feel alright
Should we get another bottle?
You know me Jim
I'm tryna drink all night

Still, Jim, listen to me
You need to get off that ****
You know its no good
It won't make you happy
Trust me I know
Jim, I just want you live a long life
Your my drinking buddy, Jim
Not just a good time friend
So pour out another shot
Nah, pour out two
**** it, hand me the bottle
And let me turn it up
You and me Jim
Getting drunk tonight

"Everything has to mean something or else we'd all be nothing,"
She whispered to herself as she put the scissors down and dried her eyes.

Men, feminine? No.
We will never be your equal.
We, men, are higher.

There's a reason for
the ****. Abuse. Violence.
It is always your fault.

Don't go out at night.
Don't wear provocative skirts.
Don't drink – it's not cute.

How's your low-paid job?
Hearing you shout, ****, *******;
Don't be a ****, *****.

You will fall into.
me, at the club, drunk and dumb
You speak yes, but no.

This isn't my fault.
You consented to my hands,
on slim thighs, smooth *******.

You're in the gutter;
those drugs intoxicate you,
short skirt, slurring words.

Because his Christian father so esteemed
that German protester who dismissed the pope,
His name reached heights few would have ever dreamed
In our days of easy change and godless hope.

A posthumous nation drones: yes we can,
forgetting he was a Baptist preacher
a theologian - perhaps  Republican...
I remember him as a  scriptural teacher

Calling his country back to God. The haters
closed their hearts to the righteous prophetic word
(as today's deck-shuffling race baiters).
Many who play that card haven't heard

Those words from Amos, that thundered sentence.
speaking of more than merely civil rights.
Such lines should spark nation-wide repentance
as long as we still keep him in our sights...