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  Jan 2020 Shane Michael Stoops
B
The devil stalked my boulevard,
in the days of summer's heat wave and cigar.
The times I forced my heart to beat so hard,
and risked it all, against your guard.

If I love over and over
what is fear but to stay sober?
To draw you closer on closer;
take my weakness and expose her.

You came with a name to keep reciting,
eyes of blue, igniting.
It's saintly to save
but we stay fighting.

Curl my long dress
right between your fists.
Catch my breath,
you breathe risk.

Oh, you did it again
you've done it all over again.
Washed under tides of sin.
What is pure? What is holy?
When there is you, and you only?

Blessedly, I am marred.
I try to forget, so fast, so hard.
Still, all the heavenly hues
become colorless in your muse.
By your mouth, I bruise.
Angel, corrupted, mine to lose.
  Jan 2020 Shane Michael Stoops
B
Sometimes dreams come waking
by the American shore.
Over and over,
escorting wandering souls, more and more.
Over deep ocean, golden rays;
blinding eyes, singing praise.
America the beautiful and America the free.
How free is possibility,
In a nation of changing, pride, urgency?
How much can you bear internally
watching your brothers and sisters wither in desperation.
Oh, beautiful and free and desperate nation.
Nation of red, white, and blue
red blood,
white knuckle,
blue bruised back.
We struggle together, yet unity we lack.
Everyone seems to be rushing up and pushing down
when we are all surely hell-bound
destined far beyond the ground.

We fear failure, we fear love
we fear whoever is watching above.
Because, regardless of who created and thought,
“my artistry will change the world”
was surely not
trying to leave it in ruins.
Simply; we, America, move too fast
we justify the present, suppress the past.
Ignore all the wrongs we've rendered within our own borders,
to our own neighbors.
What can you do wrong, when you have dominion?
And when you are below, what importance is there in your opinion?
There is no morality in a man who has his eyes on the rise,
a man who has never taken labor
in his stride.
America was built on sweat and vigor
though, now, whose finger is on the trigger?
The new America, polished and improved
has the gun cocked in every angle
advertising the glorified dream, the success that you can strangle.
The time that can be abused; yearning for wealth, working to the grave.
Servant to the passing days, when,
wasn't it liberation we once craved?

We're building an empire, disguised as democracy,
where we ****** the spirit of those we promised were equal.
It reeks of hypocrisy.
We're building an empire,
but even once-great Rome fell down in shambles,
and we aim far, far higher.
Higher buildings, higher expectations, higher need to achieve
to beat and beat down on those that only breathe.
We're building up walls to elude the sun, dead,
when you live in darkness, what, honestly, becomes right in your head?
What light shines upon a nation, still unashamed
of prerogative and seldom rights to be obtained
by virtue and strive for those who believed in the American scheme?

Sometimes dreams come crashing
at the American shore
littered its sands
all the years from America forever and America before.
the only poem i've ever read aloud for a school project
  Jan 2020 Shane Michael Stoops
B
I danced for years and years
beneath the Grecian sun.
My feet hurt, yet I felt no fear
when they told me I could be one.
Painted, painted meadows
and life spent too little, too long.
Hair splayed in salty waves
I ever whispered her mother song.
Lemon groves all swept my hands
calling far away.
Climbing up the stairs they hold
to heaven's gate, I pray.
To this day I still dance on
though eyes flash over my shoulder,
awake til the summers dawn.
Never to grow one day older.
  May 2018 Shane Michael Stoops
kaycog
I stare at an empty ceiling
because I gave him mine with the stars
As soon as you're born there’s no time at all
By the age of 15 your a kid no more
You’ll clean up their **** you’ll scrub the floor
You’ll hate your work  always begging NO MORE
You’ll ***** so much never having no fun
You’ll hate your ******* boss and The person you’ve become
You’ll cuss his mother you’ll call her a *****
But your still  broke and forever poor
Every day the same as before
A working class hero is something to be
Just open your ears and listen to me
Your back will hurt and they’ll test your ***
If you don’t go to college you’ll flip burgers for free
They’ll bend you over forget vaseline

Your  boss is a **** - so much **** you’ll  have to  take
A working class hero is something to be
Yes
A working class hero is something to be
They like em young they like them free
Paid in peanuts or even magic beans
Your just a number you’ll always be
**** you’re living the American dream
A working class hero is something to be
You work till your dead with bruises on your knees
They’ll beat you down
Until 63
You’ll never retire
Retirements not free
You’ll spend your life working
There’s never any time for “me”
A working class hero is something to be
strive to be the best you can be
Just like Bill Gates  you’ve gotta aspire and dream  always remember never settle for mediocrity        
                          BECAUSE!!!!
A working class hero is something to be
life is what you make it take it from me
Set to the song working class hero by the Beatles. I came up with this one night filled with boredom on a Sunday, dreading going back to work Monday morning to be just another working class hero.
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