It seems frivolous
The frailties of humanity
Wasted potential
Perpetuated by sleep deprivation
And dehydration
Foggy eyed mouth dried
Dumbed down
Overworked
Overstressed
Then in the ground
What a waste
To waste away
In such a dreadful state
With only the hours between now and death
To enliven your dying breath
Perhaps there are better things to do

This is a disclaimer
Despite the fact
That I wish they would attack
To bite your fat ***
In zeal cause you might
Taste like veil
Zombies are not real

This is a disclaimer
Contrary to your belief
And desire to find relief
Angels do not exist
The spirit does not persist
And you waste much energy
In the pursuit of this
Fear of death

This is a disclaimer
Cause it’s lamer
By todays standard
To stand hard
Against the ignorance
And superstition
Than it is to sit around fishing
For fantasies
To comfort ourselves

This is a disclaimer
It would be far vainer
For me to say
That I know it all
I may
I have been wrong
All along
But I highly doubt it

What makes a good soldier
I’ve never been to the battlefield
And if I can I still never will
But I am curious how you define
What honor is

When questioning in the time
Of war is treason
And the battle seasoned
Veterans will blast you in the head

The best qualities I quest for
Will get you shot in the heat of war
And instead of doing what’s right
By being a good human being
You have to degrade yourself
And become a killing machine

Welcome to
The red white
And dark blue
*******
That owns you

The tax kings
Bleeding you
For better dreams
You will never make it to

It’s true
The wealthy rule
I’m not sure
If it’s a secret cabal

But they take it all
Rake in the money
We make them
While taking more

We feed the fed and the IRS
The justice system
Is the department of property protection
Run by big fat white men

I guess I’m ranting again
But I am tired
And getting sleepier by the minute
We got to many dogs
In this fight
And I’m not sure
If we can win it

That is why this poem doesn’t have
A happy ending in it

What moral magistrate
Monster of mediocrity
Makes a model citizen of me
Even if I don’t want to be

All upright and uptight
Humorless jackboot
Goose stepping toadstool
The fascist conservative fool
Who pedals misinformation
Counting on fear and stupidity
To turn strangers into tools

Yep that one eyed sheep
In the blind herd
Who wants to tell me
What I should or shouldn’t do

Why bother
With that proctor
Of indignity
Who counsels
The talented
To remain dormant
In their humility

Doctor of docility
Prescribing conformity
Storming the cities
Bleeding us of our individuality
To make more metal cogs
For the culture machine

waiting at the final bus stop
without a time table
holding a one way ticket

You cut her wings
And there she fell
Condemned to hell
The pain inflamed
She cursed your name
Cause your love was to blame

She cooked and cleaned
She sexed like a slave
She disciplined the children
Till they were well behaved

And all the while
The feathers fell
Withered roots
That once held her aloft
Were sheared completely off

She did your laundry
Took your abuse
She left her dreams behind
While you chased yours

You bled her of her spirit
Cracked the open wounds
And left the poison in it
Till she came to believe
That she never ever even had wings

Then she passed her winglessness on
To her daughters
And her granddaughters

Now generations of wingless women
Have barely even began
To find their feathers
Look up and try to fly again
Thanks to the wicked ways
Of you so called modern men

Some poems that I write, are stupid and are dumb
This poem is not the case, I'll write of what's to come
-
What is coming on this earth, is Devastation Gloom and Pain
Suffering and Anguish, Death and Tears and Bane
-
So read this rhyme and mock, they mocked at Noah too
Until the rain came down, there mocking was then through
-
And so it is today, 'bout the warnings that I write
They are ridiculed and mocked, held in contempt and spite
-
In 2nd Thessalonians, words of comfort Paul did write
These I take to heart, while I fight the Fight
-
Start at chapter one, read verse seven to the end
To very very few, and to me this has been penned
-
Less I could not care, about your mocking and your jest
God's Wrath will be poured out...and I will be at rest

Some people don’t want to be saved
Don’t choose to be slaves
But somehow manage to remain
Tethered to the tired ways
Of their tyrannical societies

I’ve been
Reading
To many horror stories
Grim tales
From here to hell
Of Supernatural killers
From Poe to Barker
A whole dark carnival
Of chaos and clotted
Liquid life
Dripping down the drain
Of my many mental veins
Till my heart is polluted
And my daydreams become diluted
With mayhem, mysteries, and ******

I have been watching too many tv shows
About serial killers becoming
The dangerous beast from which they were running
A red river ripped from the tip of their blades
Dripping wet in all of their gory ways
As they stray in and out of their madness
And their imagery has been infecting me
Poisoning my dreams
Still these are only fantasies
And I can always turn off the tv

But reality is worse
A big brown bag of dirt
Covering my loved ones
Children, Adults
Animals and all

Bombs
Knives
Racism
Wars
Poverty
These things are not dreams
Which I can awaken from
News clipping photographs
Colored or white and black
Once I looked I can’t take it back
They rest inside my cerebellum
And I cannot return again
To my happy ignorance

Now it is there when I sleep
Now it is there when I awake
There is no respite to take
Except in brain damage or death
Now the nightmares are everywhere

Life is killing me softly and slow
to lay down my head on her breast-
and to suckle on her milk till death.

There was a celebration
When we won the war
Never mind the cost
Cause when the big bomb dropped
It wasn’t dropped on us
It wasn’t our families
Or our children burnt by mushroom rage
It wasn’t our fields full of atomic poison

Taking out the enemy
And bringing the boys home again
Was more important
Our streets swam with multi-colored confetti
While other ones bled black pools of sickening rain
Our Soldiers danced and families wept with joy
While others mourned those who would never rise again

The patriotic celebrated
And I wonder would I have been with them then
From a distance it is easy to proclaim
I would have been appalled
At the way we behaved
It’s true what they say
Hindsight is twenty twenty

But these days
When we start new wars
I still say
There’s got to be a better way