There are times I lie awake in the middle of the night.
Where my thoughts conduct a symphony of my past.
As I shed a tear of fear for what is coming next.
I hope for the best as I say to express.
To express I must confess that I am afraid.
Afraid you ask?
Afraid that my thoughts may manifest into a monster that is consumed to the dark side I call myself.
Monster tis am I.
A monster I must be for who could ever love this fiend?
A fiend who tries to do right, but is ****** to follow a never ending cycle.
I am defective.
For what shall we call this monster?
Eight letters make a name.
A name that labels the identity of all who know me.
The identity of me is an imposter to the name that came.
I am not all bad you see, for I recycle, and I may not be homicidal.
The worst of me is when I lie awake at night, and my mind turns into a wind up clock of thoughts.
Thoughts that can tear a simple man apart.
The more I am awake the more I find something wrong on the inside.
When I am left in the dark too long, the darkness becomes my friend.
And I'll tell you friend the only thing that will stop the monster I think I am.
Is when the Sun comes up through my window and radiates on my pores.
To remind me once more, that no matter what I think to be. That I am still good inside my core.

poppies and chamomile bloomed roads,
covered in warm dust... such a pity
that these are the only ones left
to be pointing towards the eternal city,

where marble and stone still stand
on places gods used to walk bare-footed,
where belief was more than just demand,
until cassocks have had ancient ways sooted.

A place where manner was turned into art
And polymaths emerged from genius creation,
where Latin blood spills from heart to mart
In a continuous state of vibrant elation.

where green is the colour of oils and lust
and the sun can burn to a lemon flavour,
and the sand on the front of the boot is black
and the wine is more than a bitter-sweet savour...

There, where a walk through square paved markets
is bursting with hand-made stories,
where scratching through history's pride
would always end in timeless glory...

Lucifer oh Lucifer
you've let me down to-day
as my fire isn't glowing
in its usual heating way

the wood won't catch
alight to make a flame
inside the firebox
activity is rather lame

Lucifer oh Lucifer
where's that tinder glow
that should be on
an orange coal show

something has gone amiss
with the torch's flare
the sound of sparks crackling
are truly rare

One quarter Dumplets
One quarter aware
One quarter lazy fools
One quarter don't care
A huge percentage of voters
Pay little attention to facts.
We know that because we see
They ignore the way Trump acts.

They have a list of lies they say
To excuse their lack of civic pride.
That includes that **** in Washington
Inviting the enemy to come inside
And collect vital intelligence
Denied to the average voting man.
And that's how the current clown car
And this disgusting circus began.

This should lead to World War III
And/or our nation's destruction.
Our current batch of Republicans
Failed to follow instructions.
Either way the average person
Will need to search through the garbage
To make some kind of living from
What is left after the carnage.

There will be no school or clinics
To take your kids or your ailments to.
If you let them change the constitution
There won't be a thing that you can do.
And the only outcome that will be certain
After we are mashed into the dirt
Is that no one who caused the problems
Will suffer even a minute of hurt.