Life with them is as though
We are playing the Hokey Pokey.

You put your whole self in
But they stop playing after an arm,
A leg, or simply, perhaps, a pinky.

They think they are the gateway
To all happiness.  They deeply believe this!
Without their presence there can be nothing.

It's like waiting for Santa Clause to arrive
In the parade or at the party.

Until they grace us with their appearance
Nothing can begin.

Empathic failure does not exist in them.
They are an unfinished puzzle and one
That can never finish,

Although they feel perfect while still in box.
Life with them is like some crazy dance
Which they lead but we will never learn.

Inspired by Bulletcookie and William J Donovan

Laborers and bees
Swarm in simple ignorance
Dancing in sun-dreams.
The owner's laugh
Among giant oak shades
Is very bitter.  He sniffs,
"A day off, is barely paid."
Striped to their waists,
Glistening in bright rays
They float like lovers in a bath
Wanting nothing but wages.

We do not have to agree.  
We truly can still remain friends.
Yet, if we really care for others,
We'll help to lift the fog
Which holds good minds down.
Corrupt is bad but corrupt and crazy
Is simply straight up insanity!
People, you are on the wrong street.
You seem to be on Insanity Street!
Take a walk down Reality Lane

Sweetly you I remember
And with deep gratitude
Sweet, sweet, and true
You and your tune
Indebted memory
Trembling am I each time
Like the quiver of a bow
Memory, and I have come
To know that I
Must keep myself
In this precious refrain
Until impulses pass
To hold you once again
Though try as I might I,
Memories to constrain
I am unable to keep myself
From sweet remembering
You, again and again.

Moaning, aching, memory
Exquisitely painful to touch.
Why do I reach for that place?
Cease, hear my command
O, ears open! Tormented mind!
Comfort I seek but do not find
Each time.

The echo of the lie
Carries on through time

Lie upon lie in time
- Stain

The filthy froth
The couplet wrought
- staining

Froth the filthy foam

Grief on grief
It is heaped
- stained

Grief, O, grief carried on

SkyWlkR88, I only asked a question about your use of "red."  I didn't feel that you should have deleted it so completely.  Never let anyone intimidate you.  Poetry can bend the rules.  You can use any word in any way you wish.  I was just curious and not being critical.