You call me your dog,
your *****, your fool,
hurling words like stones
to shatter my heart.

I wag my tail anyway,
smiling through trembling lips,
fetching scraps of kindness
from the shadow of your hands.

You call me useless,
a beast beyond learning,
but I only want to please you—
to sit, to stay, to love.

Even as you turn away,
your voice cracking the whip,
I crawl through every wound,
bearing the weight of your name
like a leash around my soul.

For to be your dog
is still to be near you,
and I, the fool,
would bleed to feel you call me mine.

Just like Orpheus,
I descended.
Though,
my digression was
for different
reasons.
Yeah, I tried to
rescue you from
your hell.
Bring you out of
the degradation,
the debauchery.

It smelled like
***** and ****.
The swine squealed.
The harpies shrieked.
And,
I looked
too long.
I became you.

Thank God I escaped.
Fate dragged me
out by the scruff
of my neck.
You've made it
your home,
but, I will never
visit your underworld
again.

The tough get going
I go towards it
As much as it *****,
There's no sorry for it

I tread with fear in my eyes
The demons do not hide
They spit at me and ask me "Why"
I have to keep going

Face them head on
They have no power over me
Redirect my mistakes
Even if it took an epiphany

There's no sorry for it
Do not tuck your tail and run
That's what they want
Face them!

Remind them you gave them that power
And you can just as easily take it away
You have more power than you think
You want redemption? That's how you get it

Now step off that porcelain ***
And show me what you've really got!

How come there appears to be no justice in this world?
The ****** get rich and powerful,
The drug dealers get free homes and free food,
The rapists and animal abusers go free,
And somehow, we will let criminals in office,
Yet others spend their lives behind bars.

The rich watch the poor from their golden towers,
Bellies, full and fat.
Laughing as the starved fight over their scraps.
Committing crimes that make the devil blush,
Determining how much or little those “beneath them” get,
And how much.

Artists die young,
Creating pieces that were once sung.
Innovators are drowned out by profit.
Voices once strong, choked by greed
Carving your own path is “illegal”
Self-sustenance is “selfish”
Terminating life is a “right”
And living free is a crime...

America and the people within are hated,
Full of mindless bloodshed to **** the “mutt”
Women are mistreated,
And men never get to see their sons.

Why??

“My God is superior”
As the minor differences lead to war
“Allah,””God,””Gods,”
Can they not see it is all the same?

They all claim they know the answer,
They are all fools
For no one truly knows what’s on the other side
Some have claimed to dance there for a short time.
But, who’s to say what they saw was real?

Belief of something that cannot be proven
A Maker, A puppeteer pulling the strings of fate
Is the entity really there?
Or are the prayers sent to the skies unheard?

If there’s no answers, what is left?

this is it, man
the last stop before hell
the final chapter before knowing the unknown
I prayed this day would never come
and I have feared it more than death itself
but now that it has arrived, I can’t move,
I’m paralyzed, comatose,
almost vegetable-like
too many nights were spent
laughing with diesel-powered killers,
singing with mop-haired lepers
in monotone slate
& dancing with minotaurs around
the open flame of age
it’s all behind me now
my days roll through soft and fuzzy
like peaches in the August heat
a cozy bed, comfy pillows, secure blankets
and yet, I felt safer in more dangerous places
(I always preferred the acid rain dripping from the mossy underpass over the holy water bubbling in the Vatican jacuzzi,
yeah dig?)
but now that I’m surrounded by all this
security, comfort and warmth
I feel less alive, almost finished,
when I’ve got so much more to unleash
like a mad dog, old and vicious and untrained by its master with enough bite
to inflame your wrists with rabies.
it’s been one hell of a picnic, lemme tell ya:
kissing death under the ring of vultures
loving women like a broken bear trap
delivering music like an olive branch
cleansing myself from these filthy poems
it’s time to turn it over to someone else
let them abuse the night
and listen to it scream
me? my nights weep themselves to sleep
and I join in on their sorrow.