they call it the chamber
cold..gray..made of steel
a thick heavy door..with a submarine latch
it has two seats
i can never figure why
they put people in
just one at a time

the vat underneath the seat holds acid
the cyanide pellets in burlap bags
on fishing line
rolled on a real

the seat has hole's
for a more sickening feel

at the strike of twelve the switch is pulled
the real unwinds
to meet it's destination
in an acid bath
there is no escape
you made your bed
but instead of laying
your sitting


the only sound heard
is throbbing...your heart pushing blood..a mile a minute
not the last thing you ever wanna hear

hold your breath
as long as you  can
its your last chance
to make your stand
the gas rises up from under the chair
your veins protrude from your head
in thirty more seconds your surly dead

you wish you could take back
the wrong you did
as the air rushes out
you cry one last shout

you are now oblivious
your no longer with us
as the phone rings
its the red  phone
the voice on the other end of the line
says take him back
theres been a stay
its to late....the man's last  breath
is now venting through the roof
mixed with gas
and the real truth

no help is on the way


close the chamber
seal it up
it's done it's job
one i would never like to have

i have a good friend
goes by the name of frankie
he likes to eats nuts
he thinks he's really swanky

he live's out in the tree
he always looks for me
i shake his bag a nuts
he comes running from his stump

i known him but a year
and he's eating from my hand
he hasn't bit me yet
but i wouldn't take a bet

if i don't feed him on time
he scratches at the door
it's the funniest thing you ever seen
i'm not kidding you at all

he left me during winter
i did not see him no more
yesterday
hit sixty two
the temp was very warm

i'll let you guess
it's not a test
who's knocking at my door

it's frank again
he brought a friend
there hungry as can be

during the winter it seems
frankie was busy
he found himself a girl

just in case your wondering
frankie is a squirrel

snow is drifting
beneath my feet
the wind is blowing
it cuts like teeth

the wolves are howling
for something to eat
the summer is gone
there's no retreat

i like the warmth
much better than this
the storm it show's
that she is ******

wolves come closer
in a pack
there's no escape
from there attack

build a fire
to keep warm
and help protect you from the storm

the sun goes down
it's getting colder
the pack of wolves
is getting bolder

the gun is loaded
and it's ready
the cold makes it  hard to aim and steady

i'm trapping minks
and lynx and stuff
to make a living
you know it's tough

i don't want to shoot these
wolves so grand
although there trying to make a stand

i mind my business
but there hungry too
and a weeks hard work
of trapping food

i have more heart than some one would
i'm gonna feed
these hungry wolves

i like writing
does it show
the quality of work
well it so..so

i try to write poetry
but i can't
it becomes a rhyme
most of the time

i remind myself of 1950
when all they would write
is ads
and jingles

i will keep tryin
with no regret
to post my feelings
with intent

the stuff in my head...numbers in the thousands
but a two fingered typest
i feel like cryin

put pen to paper
thats not me
i write as i go
wait and see

next time i post
i hope it's a poem
might get some likes
without ever knowin

i have the want
to show you stuff
i just need to get
over this ****

the words are many
the story's are there
that's the trouble
i really do care

thanks for your patients
it will be worth the wait
who knows
i might be a name someday

god only knows
i won't stop tryin
sooner or later
there will be no cryin

are you afraid of the dark at all
did you ever trip...stumble and fall
grasping at walls
you can't see a thing

then you hear it
some kind of noise
sounds like rustling
or creaking walls

you listen intently
to every sound
you think you hear moaning
as you step to the ground

your ears now are throbbing
you can't make it out
could it possibly be
a rat or a mouse

the sweat starts to come
as you grab for the railing
if you lose you balance...your bound to be sailing

i ask you again...are you afraid of the dark
most people lie
they try to be sharp

there it is again
that screeching noise
you silly girl
you stepped on there toy's

the power is out
it doesn't happen to often
and your husband's not here
he's still at the office

what will i do
its sounds like broken glass
i must find the closet
i must find it fast

you turn the ****
and open so quiet
it creaks a bit
but not like a riot

you open the safe...and feel much better
the glock that he bought ...is loaded and ready

the steps that you here
coming down the hall
there not your husbands
shouldn't be there at all

you see a big shadow
of someone thats tall
with that glock in your hand
you don't feel small

stop right there you shout to him
he turns to run as you lift the gun

he's running now he drops the knife
he certainly messed
with the very wrong wife

i ask again ...afraid of the dark
protect yourself
with intimidation

if the sun refused ...to shine
i would still be loving you
when mountains..crumble to the sea
there will still be you...and me