. . . like a
small **** on the road.
You see, from the eyes of a man who has nothing but himself
to be fooled by the world
and hopes for a better day
or year,
I thought I was different
like I could change the ways
of the world through my own
visions but none of them
seems to work at all.
You give a *** from the streets
a crumpled bill and
next thing you know
he'll blow it all with
what he never had
for a long time
but I believe I would've done
the same because no Jesus
without a penny or dime
would waste such generosity
in this world and I
only believe in monks
who can discipline themselves
but monks are useless.
I have tried several approach
to make a difference
but nothing ever works
and sometimes I dream
with my eyes open in
broad day light that in
the dream I have the loudest
voice in the world
but even so, all ears are plugged,
all eyes are shut and
all hearts are pale.
You either die poetic
or amongst the ones
who have unturning eyes
but still you end up
in a box.
No small amount of
light could ever penetrate
the dark unless
the light is the focus,
and I just made that up
whatever that could mean
to anyone.
You can never be a
successful writer
without good advertising
and marketing nowadays
and with this awful
writing style I have,
I don't count like
those microscopic
sea creatures.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
. . . like a
small **** on the road.
You see, from the eyes of a man who has nothing but himself
to be fooled by the world
and hopes for a better day
or year,
I thought I was different
like I could change the ways
of the world through my own
visions but none of them
seems to work at all.
You give a *** from the streets
a crumpled bill and
next thing you know
he'll blow it all with
what he never had
for a long time
but I believe I would've done
the same because no Jesus
without a penny or dime
would waste such generosity
in this world and I
only believe in monks
who can discipline themselves
but monks are useless.
I have tried several approach
to make a difference
but nothing ever works
and sometimes I dream
with my eyes open in
broad day light that in
the dream I have the loudest
voice in the world
but even so, all ears are plugged,
all eyes are shut and
all hearts are pale.
You either die poetic
or amongst the ones
who have unturning eyes
but still you end up
in a box.
No small amount of
light could ever penetrate
the dark unless
the light is the focus,
and I just made that up
whatever that could mean
to anyone.
You can never be a
successful writer
without good advertising
and marketing nowadays
and with this awful
writing style I have,
I don't count like
those microscopic
sea creatures.
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