Each Tuesday morning the garbage is out
Black and blue bins left there like bruises
As if cars fight the curb all Monday night
And it's always the curb who loses

Folksy blokes, like ya struttin’ ya thang
If you’ve come out of da Grand Ole Opry
But, won’t stay around for any old music sang
If it’s causing their head, to go all floppy
While rugged mountain men riding in some country rodeo
Can just step right up, to a Appalachia recording studio
Put down several tracks and become a world wide pop star
They sing about hillbilly ways, while cogging or flatfooting from afar
Talking ‘bout wild hogs, gators, foxes & how so much more
Taste so great, using leftovers as bait & making real men roar
Old fables told through pictures and patterns on knitted quilt
Even showing the feuding days of the Hatfields versus McCoys
From both sides of Tug Fork stream, with many unemployed  
Although Asa and Devil Anse, said, ‘they hadn’t much guilt’
All because of a judge and 5000 acres of unusable swamp land
Once owned, by a close kissin’ cousin named, Perry Cline
Who didn’t even get any blood on his hand
They started a war, that could’ve been stopped
By a bottle or two, of good ole mountain moon-shine
Both clans almost wiped out, if last man standing had accidentally dropped.

When it comes to my neighbor, I usually have a fit.
He irritates the hell out of me and he's a chicken ****.
He has wild parties that last until 3 A.M.
I'm sick of having to put up with him.
When I went to his house one night,
I made the mistake of challenging him to a fight.
When he showed up for the fight, the wimp brought along four other guys.
He talks tough but when it comes to being a chicken ****, he takes the prize.
Showing up with four other men made him feel empowered.
I got my *** handed to me but unlike him, I'm not a coward.
All five of them beat the crap out of me and they made me eat their fists.
Now I have to gum my food because my teeth are gone and sorely missed.
But at least I was able to land one very hard punch.
I hit my neighbor in the belly and he lost his lunch.
It didn't take long to realize something that I'm not ashamed to admit.
I got the living hell beat out of me but at least I'm not a chicken ****.

“Do you really think we’ll make it to the end without giving up?”
asked the mind.
“I’m really exhausted but she sure is a fighter!”
said the body.
“We will not give up and we will keep on fighting no matter what!”
exclaimed the heart.

War.
The cycle is always the same.
Two parties claim that the other is to blame
and soldiers without names, who think they’ll gain fame,
are slain.
The reasons differ, but peace
is sure to be one.
Tell me, please,
how you can say you fight for peace,
when humans are falling to their knees
without cease,
and dying?
And all I can do is write a poem.
All I can do is leave traces of graphite on wood pulp.
A poem will not change the facts.
or make up for empathy we lack,
or bring the dead back.
We must make friends out of foes
to slow the blood flow
before all that we know is
War.

Sometimes you are called too big for people.
Because the heart is too big
The dreams are too big
The expectations are too big

But I’ve learned what that means
Is that other people are too small for you
Maybe you burn too bright.

Maybe you DO feel too much

But in a dark world what people need is light
Shining hopes and glowing dreams
The glory of a valiant character

Maybe they will be brittle and broken and old
But at least you will have had them
Those pulsating memories of adrenaline and beauty
Effort is no foolish thing

You may put it into only certain things,
But the reason people like me burn out so quickly is because
We put so much into everything
That eventually we can’t put anything into everything but the thought of death

See, we glowing, shining, beautiful, people
We are the ones who see the glory in effort
The intelligence, the courage

We know that failing is only a small possibility
If you are already in motion

We shiny people are also the darkest people
But effort is beautiful and strong
And effort isn’t you
You don't get to be effort
Effort is me.

Her name is Chun Li and she first appeared in Street Fighter II.
Don't make this woman angry or she'll beat the hell out of you.
Many people make a comment that embarrasses her and her face turns red.
They tell her that she's supposed to wear her bra on her chest instead of her head.
Chun Li studied Martial Arts for several years and she sure does know how to fight.
And if you have any drugs, she'll steal them because she likes to get higher than a kite.