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Aug 2016
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Someone said, “Hey Stephan,
what’s up with all this love
It seems in every poem
that’s what you’re thinking of

Why are you always dreaming,
why is it you can’t see
That love is just a legend,
a made up fallacy

The world is filled with evil,
don’t you watch the news
CNN or NBC
or others you can choose

Clinton is a liar,
Trump is just a creep
They’ll both destroy the nation
for fortunes that they reap

Murders by the thousands,
death is in the streets
I can’t believe you haven’t seen
within the many tweets

Our water is polluted,
we’re choking on the air
They even have new bathrooms
for every one to share

Prices through the ceiling,
paychecks in the ground
Protesters are screaming,
you can hear them all around

There’s war in other countries
Servers have been hacked
Innocent bystanders
Caught in the attack

Drugs are running rampant,
****** is king
Coming through the border,
such a nasty thing

Little kids are crying,
not enough to eat
Living in the squalor,
sleeping in the street

So tell me, will you Stephan,
what’s up with what you write
Every poem filled with love,
morning, noon and night"

I looked at him a moment
and with all honesty
I said to him, "I’m sorry sir,
were you talking to me?

I was lost writing this poem
for one I do adore
I didn’t hear you talking,
could you please say it once more?"


**He just walked away shaking his head
Stephan
Written by
Stephan  Camp Johnson Crossing NW
(Camp Johnson Crossing NW)   
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