If you didn't believe
in gods and ****.
You wouldn't be having
such a fit.

Believers don't think,
they've been told what to know.
They operate solely on
pride and ego.

Meandering about
hating on queers.
This **** ain't new,
they've been at it for years.

If your god promotes hate,
violence, or torture.
Your god ****** *****
and needs more culture.

Put down the cross
and pick up that bowl.
Ima tell you something
you oughta know.

It doesn't matter in
what you believe.
This ******* morality
tucked in your sleeve.

It matters most how
you treat others.
The poor, the different,
the sons, and their mothers.

The answer you seek
isn't that subtle.
It's out in the open
not under some rubble.

You don't need a
******* priest.
To chug some juice
and eat old yeast.

You don't need a
book that's too ****** long.
Or a hymn, or a psalm,
or a baptized thong.

The answer is simple
just don't be a ****.
Treat others fairly
and your game'll be sick.

I want to give up and put down this pen.
To turn back time and begin again

Another chance to compose this rhyme.
Perhaps I'll get it right next time

There's no doubt that I am simply broken.
For me in this life there is no token.

So lay me down and strike down a match.
Let the fire reign and close the hatch.

And perhaps the gods will grant a new life.
One with more love and a lot less strife.

Light me a fire and tell me your sorrow.
I promise my friend I'll be here tomorrow.

Speak of your pain and tell me what ails you.
Speak of your worries and what entails you.

Show me your scars your wounds that haunt you.
My ears are yours, I'm not here to taunt you.

It's not that I care or that I'm empathic.
If my trust you seek your story be tragic.

Suffering takes courage and its courage I trust.
If you want my hand, it's courage or bust.

Why then does it feel like something fated? This thing of ours.
When I don't believe in anything, much less fate. I find myself believing in you.

And yet you're over there. And I'm over here. And that's just the way it is.
Still though. Forgive me I'm compelled. To at the very least, know you.

It's a need. An insatiable desire to an end with a nature that eludes me.
To who's benefit? To who's damnation? Does this meeting serve.

Don't leave me with what could have been without telling me what it is.

I'm not sure what I came here for.
Are the likes and views for keeping score?
Am I here to appease the masses?
To see if they'll toast me and clink their glasses?

Perhaps I'm here just for me.
If I keep writing perhaps I'll see.
That maybe what you said was true.
That I should write for me and not for you.

The fact is, I don't write for us.
My words aren't even worth the fuss.
They're merely the results of a mysterious need.
A task, an urge, a dastardly deed.

I guess the point I'd like to make.
If even only for point making sake.
I'm not writing for likes or even I.
It's just something to do until I die.

Don't blame this **** on me.
I didn't oppress you.
I didn't enslave you.
I don't support them.
I probably don't support you.
I don't want your guns.
I don't care where you're from.
It doesn't matter what you believe.
Have an abortion. Don't have an abortion.
Be whatever gender you think suits you best.
Be a pocket mulching vegan or eat goats raw.
The only thing I ask of you.
Don't be a ****.
See?
Pretty ****** simple.
Right?
Ok now run along.

You might smoke a little *** to ease away the pain.
You might drink a little whiskey just to soothe the brain.
You might snort a little coke to get the party started.
Perhaps you'll take a little pill to forget your dear departed.
Me? I'll take the *** but I don't smoke it cause it's great.
It's there to cloud my thoughts because my heart is full of hate.

I cannot forgive.
Nor can I forget.
You.
For making me feel,
a little less
alone.
No star
could ever replace
the warmth
of you.
I loved that.
About you.

I could tell you you're  pretty and buy you a dinner.
You could tell me I'm funny but wish I was thinner.

We could talk about feelings, closets, and fish.
We'll walk by the fountain and each make a wish.

Your wish came true and I lost twelve stones.
And so I wished, to make a cage of your bones.

I brought the cage home so I could set it aside.
Then I took out my heart and locked it inside.

And there by the moon it sits on my sill.
And there by the moon it resides there still.

I wish I could zoom in on my world.
Reign in the picture so to speak.
You're angry over your coffee not being prepared to your liking.
I'm a tad irritated at those individuals that think capitalism is the unquestionable means of socioeconomics.
You're excited because your new sheets from Amazon arrived.
I'm pretty happy about that baby elephant at the Pittsburgh zoo.
You're worried your daughter will turn into a liberal.
I'm worried about werewolves, solar flares, and running out of toilet paper.
I know it's all a matter of perspective.
I just can't seem too reel it in.

So do you want to buy a ***** pump?

Over the devil I don't know.
I'll keep with the devil I do know.
The devil I know is me.

I met a girl who wasn't there.
She wasn't there yesterday.
She wasn't there again today.

I met a girl who wasn't there.
I said I loved her yesterday.
Then I asked her to go away.

The lady in white asked me
"Is there anyone we can call?"
"No."
"You must have someone."
She said.
"Nope."
"Everyone has someone."
"You're not helping."

I'll start this prose,
with a pleasant verse.
I'll keep it friendly
and try not to curse.

Puppies and satin
and curtains and ****.
**** it I ****** up
so much for my lit.

Well it's said and done,
I'll just continue.
I promise I'll try,
not to offend you.

A baby elephant
was born today.
It came in to life
it's own neat way.

See? It's happy.
I'm doing quite well.
A few more verses.
This'll be swell.

This baby pachyderm.
A chipper young lad.
Perfectly healthy.
No cause to be sad.

This happy baby,
he loved his hay.
Why he could eat
that hay all day.

Until one day.
The hay was bad.
He killed everyone.
Caused he was mad.

The baby elephant.
He tore off limbs.
He ripped heads
Like flowers from stems.

You never saw
such carnage and fear.
This laddie was cross
and he made it clear.

When the swat team came.
They surrounded the zoo.
They never expected
what they had due.

That little baby,
arose in the roof.
It wasn't a stunt,
it wasn't a goof.

Well before that calf
could say what he wanted.
His life became
sunndenly stunted.

They put a few bullets
in his pudgy body.
They

**** this **** is way too long.
It's like the very last verse.
In a very bad song.

I get drunk,
and I think about you.
I get high,
and I think about you.
I get sober,
and I'm still thinking about you.
Seems the only way I'll ever be able to stop thinking about you, is if I get dead.

You ever feel locked outside of yourself?
Detached from yourself, by yourself, for yourself.
Yourself.
It's a funny word.
Sounds like the name of a middle eastern shoe salesman.
I sometimes wonder why I don't have more friends.
Then I remember, me.
I'm the reason.
I keep you all at bay.
All two of you.
Just strolling around the ******* at bay.
It's not for me that you're there.
It's for you.
Take care of yourselves.

Before you go a pondering, on those things that come to pass.
Remember, you're not Alice and this ain't the looking glass.

Now let me tell you something before you go a hittin that lil bottle.
I sure as **** ain't Socrates and you're not Aristotle.

But for you to think that you have discovered something new.
To relish in your narcissistic belief you have a clue?

Well that right there just proves my point, you ain't discovered ****.
Now crawl back up on your mommas lap and get back on that ***.

I had a long day.
The sun met me at the foot of my bed.
The grass was moist.
I didn't burn my toast.
No cat puke to clean up.
My car started.
I sat on my deck and stared at the nothing.
I didn't think about her at all.
Until now.
My steak came out good.
I still had four nips in the cabinet.
Wrote a poem for the moon.
Under the moon.
I had a long day.

The loneliest whale.
No one can understand you.
You've got to calm the **** down.

I know you believe in these things you say.
And that's good.
For you.
I however.
I know these thoughts of yours.
They're fleeting.
In a few months you'll feel,
differently.
Indifferent.

There was smoke in my eyes.
I gathered too much moss.
The sun was in my eyes.
I couldn't hear you over the music.
There was traffic because of an accident.
I overslept.
I've only got two hands.
I didn't know what to say.
Can I try again?
At life.
I promise I won't **** it up,
again.

Where were you,
when they came back for me?
When hope left.
When doubt came back.
While the rain fell hard
and the moon hid.
Where were you?
I waited.
Where were you?

The sound of a ceiling fan not properly installed.
The smell of steel and iron on a hot day.
The taste of salt.
Walking through a cemetery as the sun goes down.
Piano music.
Do you know why I love these things?
None of them remind me of you.