They say God is the most important being,
But don't they realize
He's the one
That sends us to Hell?
And don't people understand
That by teaching someone to shoot,
They become vulnerable?
Maybe we should be
More versed in Shakespeare
Than in the Bible.
I wouldn't have so many bullet holes
In my back.
Listening to these depressing songs.
It's ironically giving me the will to be strong,
And I don't mind if they're being played for long.
They're making the oceans of my heart rift,
Letting my soul drift in the cold water.
Staring up into the sun,
Ironically it seems fun.
Dipping in my own sorrow,
Urging me to press play,
Again and again,
Making me feel a little bit insane.
I'm enjoying dwelling in my inexplicable pain,
Making me realize,
One can be happy by just being sad.
On top of my labour
In the farmyard
I often proffer you
Milk, cheese, manure and hide
To render grand
Then how come
With a knife?
I like fishing, but dislike boats.
I'm sick of washing, but still wear clothes.
My brother-in-law hates the way I live my life.
My sister keeps the peace, the good little wife.
Mum, I haven't spoken to for many, many, weeks.
Another life, another town, it's solitude she seeks.
My common-law husband is wheelchair bound,
You can't jump puddles with legs that are round.
We own some land, the bank owns the house,
If we miss a payment, they kick us out.
You can't pitch a tent on the corner of the block,
Reading the small print--they own the lot...
Sailing and laundry, painful relations,
Mid-life crisis and petty celebrations.
Watching a loved one severe his spine,
Angry with friends, 'cause they're walking fine.
Another rejection or funds cancellation,
Penning a poem to vent my frustration.
Seeing the darkness in plain black and white,
A smile on my lips--This is my life...
I am a nymphomaniac.
I'm not really but it got your attention.
I bet I nearly gave all reading a cardiac.
I have to make bold statements now, as I have a condition called,
"Black Glasses" and no one makes passes at ladies in glasses.