Who will place two coins on my eyes
Down the river  Styx
My shade must glide

Two coins for the boatman
Ferry me away
To the throne of beautiful Persephone
Snatched from light of day

Two coins I cry
Two coins for my eyes
Through dark waters I float
To where my body must lie

Two coins for Charon
Always silent looks away
Never seeing a face
Or the light of day
Two coins


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base.  All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3),
Tammy M Darby

The resistance spread
A growing firestorm
Fed by corporate greed
Turned their back
To plights of the people
Unknowingly planted a seed

Dollars and death
It is part of the risk
Aghast
When the populous began to resist

You will not accept
It is my right
When personal liberties
Are stolen
Stand up
Fight

Martin Luther had a dream
It seems that is all it was
As drones spy on the citizens of this country
Unknown children
Are killed from skies above

So slowly the resistance grows
The government has become rife with fear
In a panic they know
We cannot be controlled
By the power these vultures hold so dear

As rumblings become louder
The number of disallusioned multiply
Shaping destiny with their own hands

Patriots by the millions  
Wait for the anticipated hour
It is freedom we demand
With sweat and blood
Lay our lives down
The resistance
It has begun


This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M Darby

Smoke me like a cigarette.
Let me fill your lungs.
Let me be the rush,
that makes your blood flow fast.

Smoke me like a cigarette.
Let me help you relax.
Let me ease your tired body,
so you forget about the past.

Smoke me like a cigarette.
Let me quell your fears.
Let me help you back to sleep,
when the nightmares come again.

Smoke me like a cigarette.
Let me clear your drunken mind.
Let me be your sober voice,
protecting you from yourself.

Smoke me like a cigarette.
Let me take the gun away.
Let me help you realize,
that its not time to go away.

That's where he's been hanging around lately.
I hear their coffee is decent.
Half and half, a spoonful of sugar, and a dash of shameful regret.
He orders his eggs over easy with a side of fresh apologies.
The scratchy booth seat squeaks merciless obscenities at him
as he shifts uncomfortably
because of his aching back and aching conscience.
If I were to pass by him at a diner, I doubt I would even recognize him.
Guilt tends to deform the appearance, and derange the soul.