I'm sorry I have been writing poems that don't agree with society
This is just how I feel, sorry to offend thee. I know I shouldn't
Disobey daddy and mommy, I was a bad BAD doggy.
But you see this is the real me.
I'm not able to be something I'm not.*
And if that's terrible than I guess I should rot (in hell)

This moon with a white gold aura,
And I saw it's pretty halo of love.
Don't go out tonight, your gonna
Get hunted by werewolf and stuff!

Here we are! The best of the worst.
When even fun becomes a chore,
Where rich people meet both triumph
And truth which were pre-made in store.

You can look at it right or look at it wrong,
This "winning new era" or what we're told all along,
We started out "regulated" and "anti-gun tries to steal all,"
But in the end you know assault rifles are of "great use"
In the mall. So we're all in the latest greatest time,
All of this madness and work to keep us all in line,
Where vagabonds are great and kings are low,
This time when the "saints" are actually lower than slime.
There shall come a day, I know not when, when this little
"Special" time shall be known as the abomination of men!

For all who read (or any who care)
I may somehow give up writing but no one
Would be aware.
After dozens of failed poems-sitting all alone,
"This is it!" I say and promise I won't write again,
There is much writers block so at least I come
Up with something NEW now and then.
But who cares about that?
Instead, we'll read re-hashed garbage
And praise it like it's priceless.
People make me sick, because they're
A vain sort that bring new meaning to the word
*Foolishness.

What is this bizarre strange artificial magic that

Surrounds us in 3D neon colors man-made

Amidst this dream theory of some sort

Of tasty goods that await me (not bait)

Smashed in between two slabs of meat

That are thick hands which are said hold the

Way to get all we could want or need

This absolute promise that it's all worth it

Being placed before me only just to see

I hold my sandwiched slice of meat

With cheese and pickles high

And shout for joy that it's mine to eat!

Thus now the smell of funky, I'm ******, hyper,
I saw beauty in so many infinitely different hues
(of Purple) I got a kind of wink from you and it truly
Killed off my lonely blues. You say I'm so "******* up,"
Eating, got the munchies for salty, savoury treats, feeling so ****
I'm ****, I swear, now rude, I'm on a level "so low" that you "would
Never go," and being so youthful and free, you must punish me,
But do you know what I have got to say?
*It sure was a whole lot of harmless childlike fun getting this way!