Where are the children today?
They were playing in the fields just yesterday.
‘Where are they now?’ you say,
it seems they have gone somewhere else to play.
A deafening silence fills the air,
the soundtrack to a parent’s nightmare.
Maybe this is just a dream,
you didn’t even hear them scream.
The wind wails, pushing the swing,
maybe it’s trying to tell you something.
No little ones can be seen today
as the sky turns grey from the smell of decay.
Could it be everything you ever feared?
Perhaps they have just disappeared.
Maybe they’ll return for a story before bed
or maybe their clothes are stained with red.
The sun is rising but the birds don’t sing,
the absence of children is a peculiar thing.
So, where are the children today?
Maybe they have gone somewhere else to stay.
Can't fight the good fight on the streets,
cannot make a difference with fists alone.
Doesn't matter much to elevate it with a gun,
only to end the same as it always was?
Won't stop the damage just because you feel it...
...only action, becomes an insurance against the wave.
tincture your eyes
This might be the breaking
point for me. I look out the
window at the trees. The leaves
are falling, bringing back the
memories in my mind.
I'm dreaming of my room, with
the candle on the dresser. A
poster of a woman, hanging over
my bed. Warm sheets to cover me
up, soft lips to tell me goodnight.
All I can do is be afraid
of you. Still, there's a little
hope in me. It's growing like
a fucking tree.
This might be the breaking
point for me. I look for the
evidence with no success. The
days are passing, bringing back
the case inside my mind.
I'm hoping for a break through,
with the child coming home
again. A piece of a child's shirt,
lying on the forest floor. Blood
stains it from two to three days
All I can do is keep looking
everywhere. There might still be
hope for this. It might
grow like a tree.
We found their bodies in a
cabin in the woods. We
assume he ended
your daughter's life, before
ending his own.
All you can do is give yourselves
time to grieve. There might still
be pain in years. You'll chop it
down like a tree.
Cowardly tiptoeing to the back door,
Ready to make her suffer more.
Inside the house, prepared for attack,
Meticulously sneaking in total pitch-black.
In her bedroom, see her asleep;
Not even worried that this is dirty and cheap.
Akin to his knife, always in dread-
Lest he never see her dead.
I may be forgotten by history.
Win or lose both sides will despise me.
In battle, I will fight valiantly,
but in the end, I will die alone.
My weapons rust as time continues on.
Of my fallen friends, I'll sing a song.
In this endless battle, I will stay strong,
knowing I have no chance of winning.
Flattery has long since then been replaced.
To lie is no longer a disgrace.
Is there any honor in such a place
where the thieves and the murders thrive?
Becoming the best is that which I sought
But time in jail was all my efforts bought.
Escaping once held captive my thoughts,
But still in jail is where I do rot.
My lockpick is gone, my crossbow is too.
But one day again, I will debut.
Though I'm old, frail, and a bit out of tune,
The life of my work will never undo.
The young lads do earnestly aspire.
The old do after time retire.
Crime will decrease, or at times run higher.
No matter what, you can't douse our fire.
The law hates. Thieves destroy competition.
Old methods are gone despite petition.
Will they put an end to our life's mission?
Not as long as good and evil endure.
Amongst the crowd, is a wolf hiding
Sympathize and sooner it will be biting,
Take a chance and you will lose it
Be extracareful my friend before you will be hit.
Standing straigth with its full magneficience
Is a criminal hiding its presence.
In the beginning, everything was normal.
He picked me up, wearing a suit and bow tie,
We drove through town in his red car.
His dark blue eyes reminding me of the night sky
When the light shown into them making stars.
I think I am in love. We keep driving.
Down the interstate ramp, going at least ninety.
Into the night we fly, town after town.
Finally, he takes an exit into a small town.
He took me to a motel, threw me on the bed.
Cut my arms open, and did the same
To what lay under my flower dress.
He stuffed me like a doll, with pieces of himself.
We stained the sheets with cum and blood.
"I'll take care of you forever," he said.
My head goes soft. I know what's coming.
He flips me to my stomach, hand around my throat,
I feel his body pressed against mine.
I claw at his arm, trying to get him to let go.
His grip tightens, my breath is nearly gone.
All goes black. As I awake I notice a red light.
And motion. He's taking me somewhere.
The motion stops, the red lights turn off.
The trunk opens, I look up into his face.
I try to speak, to ask why, but no sound comes out.
He lifts my body from the trunk, crazy in his eyes.
He whispers, "We're the same, no control."
My head lolls back, too exhausted to hold it up.
He sets me in a bed of pine needles and mud.
I watch him walk away, close my eyes.
I hear the footsteps return, and open my eyes.
I am squinting into the barrel of a gun.
I feel the life drain from my body.
My soul is floating, my mind drifting into the black.
I relax into the earth.
He waits until my breathing slows to a stop.
I have lain here for days,
The sun quickening the rotting of my flesh.
My ribcage holds dirt and weeds,
My limbs are dead and dried.
No one has come to listen to my story,
But I know without a doubt, someone will come.
They will hear me. They will help me.
They will search for answers.
I know, someday justice will be served.
I will be found.
And so will he.
I drank her in with my lonesome stare
"Give me that good lovin'
darling it don't take work
to turn on your oven..."
First she feigned indifference
then she sighed with deference
and I coaxed her in like a trout in spring.
Honey I'm looking for the hot button to push
some women will holler,
men like me will shush
cause the hot button just needs the right touch
celebrate good lovin' with me, don't fuss...
Politics are all about the hot button.
Men with the long arms ain't seen nothin'.
Law man bows to the law maker.
Hot button respects your journalistic prayer.
Some men see what some men hide,
but you can keep hiding if the law will abide.
Even when the law man says no-no
lawmaker's got a hearse:
'nother ho, 'nother ho...
Hot button's the only thing you'll see in print.
What your momma's momma says is what will glint.
The bird is the word, I'll say in vain,
but top dollar pays what's at the nose of the vane.
I've wanted to push the hot button all night long
classic poems galore, but mine are all wrong.
I guess I'll go back to where I was born,
chew a dog bone, scraps, with my baby teeth worn.
In the junkyard, I see yesterday's hot buttons
emaciated bells and whistles just struttin'
They've lost their minds and luster, no thanks
"These are the gals you see walking the planks."
Every day more hot buttons walk in line,
heaven is just a misery for these topics of history
but I polish them with chrome
I get desperate, what can I say.
I'll never leave a hot button to rot with dismay.
Just give me another hour, good lovin' can dream.
I'll bring a hot button to you, good Lord! It'll gleam.