The midnight ink.
Perfectly dabbled upon the printed page
Or written,
I don’t discriminate.

The breath I feel in each turned page,
And the life in my fingertips
As they brush
The timid paper.

My thoughts,
Flowing blissfully by
In harmony
With the black type.

The lamp next to me,
Providing necessary lumination
For my endeavor.
A beacon of hope in the black room.

That is peace.

Never trust a white man,
Never **** a Jew,
Never sign a contract,
Never rent a pew.
Don't enlist in armies;
Nor marry many wives;
Never write for magazines;
Never scratch your hives.
Always put paper on the seat,
Don't believe in wars,
Keep yourself both clean and neat,
Never marry ******.
Never pay a blackmailer,
Never go to law,
Never trust a publisher,
Or you'll sleep on straw.
All your friends will leave you
All your friends will die
So lead a clean and wholesome life
And join them in the sky.

Five seven five you know
Tells you secrets for real
Or a game may be

No more poems, thank you;
I think that I'm done.
My notebook's half empty,
And apathy's won.

Please turn off the music;
My songs are all sung.
I think the night's over,
Although it's still young.

No more words, I beg you;
Just slice off my tongue!
They're just wasted air,
From a withering lung.

I've no more left to say;
Time to blot out the sun.
My notebook's half empty,
And apathy's won.