Calling out dead poets
as sexists or rapists or users
is the opposite of woke enlightenment.
The poet’s job is not to censor
his experiences or his madness
for sanitized comforts.
The poet’s truth is his gift
of insight, a naked wisdom
of hard love and difficult choices.
Narrow fools so often absorb
this sweat and blood poured onto the page.
After their souls are satisfied,
that’s when the fools unsheath
the long sword of ignorance
and ****** the blade square
in the poet’s back.

It's long past time for me to evolve.
I need this crippling weakness inside me to absolve.
All these emotions plague me-yours, theirs, and my own.
Always hating myself when these stubborn tears are shown.
Just go the **** away, I want to be alone.
That pitiful voice inside my mind is calling out for help again.
**** it, shut it down, for it's my greatest sin.
My heart is a growing burden, I just want to let it go.
I shudder, shake it off, and hope they'll never know.
I feed my need to reinvent the soul.
Tear it all apart until it's no longer whole.
These changing faces always take their toll.
You're never getting what you want,
When you're always putting up a front.
It's getting so unclear, who is the true me.
Between who I only want to be.
Can they see?
As I slowly start to disappear.
Who I used to be until she's no longer here.

The Dufus Oompaloompa in Chief
Is nothing but a high-level thief.
He constantly lies and all he tries
Is a rich man’s version of relief.
He’s another rich guy on welfare.
He uses every ***** trick he can use
You see his crooked face everywhere;
He keeps his ugly mug in the news.

His morality is virtually nonexistent
He’s never been a commendable fellow.
And because he is truth-resistant
He’s a braggart, a liar and he’s yellow.
His life has been a study in selfishness,
He’s been a *******, a predator and crook.
His biography is an unreal literary mess.
As he has never liked going by the book.

Listening to him speak you can see
He is lying with almost every word.
He can’t interact with anyone honestly
You can’t believe a single word you heard.
Inside his head must be something like
A painting by Bosch or Salvatore Dali
Even if his head ends up on a pike
He’ll still be as bright as a collie!

White sneakers and t-shirts
With the dumbest prints
An Hawaii shirt on occasion
Joyful tales; a fool I make
So broken it looks like art
This high life is my lie life
Pink skin (but veins so black)
Like sugar so sweet
This ****** blues.

Maybe I was just supposed to meet you
The -ship we have
I forced upon us
Upon you

When I step away
You remain still
When I stop
You fade away

This was me this whole time?
That doesn't matter now!
It is early, still...

Magicians are:
Rulers of destiny Masters of will
Their fate is theirs to determine
through their own power

Magicians are never in love

Love obeys no command
Love is stronger than...
Love is more important than one could ever be
Love hates magicians


© Christopher F. Brown 2018

I was innocent,
Or was I a fool.
He smiled,
Courted me lovingly,
I gave him my love.
He cuddled and cooed,
I gave myself to him.
He cried crocodile tears,
Pretended he was in deep trouble,
He pleaded with me to help him.
I gave him my money,
I signed guarantees on his behalf.
I was a fool,
He took all,
He drives my car,
He lives in my house,
He runs my business.
I live with the homeless.