You are the almost-silent
of my coffee-stained summer.
You are the clear and tender
plucking of guitar strings
on a lazy afternoon;

With sunlight streaming through
the painted window,
just bright enough to fill the room
but gentle enough to fall asleep to;

with the smell of everything we love—
caffeine and chocolate and banana muffins—
seemingly coursing through our veins
with every breath we take;

with the daydream of
what-could-be lingering
in the haze, in the silence
it sits,
it waits.

I proceed to the only thing
I know how to do
at this hour of day:
I stare at the cars passing by,
all the while wishing
I was staring at you instead.

can i laugh?
oh how i wish to just laugh
it is like poison you see
no
it is like a drug
it makes me...
idle
blank
i hate it
this is going to destroy me

They listen to the ruses
Use them as excuses
For staying home and getting fat
They ***** because they’re poor
And never open the door
More than to let in the cat.

It’s a quiet existence
If you offer no resistance
When they take your rights away.
The feds commit crimes
But you get to work on time
And limp along with half your pay.

It’s a scary kind of game.
You say you know who to blame
Because you choose to ignore the facts.
You continue half blind;
You have made up your mind
No matter how the one you chose acts.

Regardless how we shout
You vote the other guy out
And leave the crooks to do their worst.
If you actually research
And quit quoting your church
You can make the right choice first.

Instead you and I suffer
And freedom stutters
Because of those who know little.
Then those who study
Get ******* by somebody
Who punishes right left and middle.

Because we are no longer
The wise, the good, the stronger
But the biggest bullies on the block.
We had things headed right
Then, in the middle of the night
You lazies hit liberty in the head with a rock.

to do today
or leave till tomorrow -
a simple thought
that only requires
my procrastination.

a sigh of tiredness
hoping that it could
only be done
on a day that's
not today.

a wish of regret,
coming on the last minute
of when something
could have been done
before.

a mere idea
to be deepened over time
after quite a while
when i did it
not today.

having so many
questions, questions, and more
that will be
answered
never.

then
i think to myself,
i can do it today
[ but i can also do it
not today. ]

This is the tale, too often told
Of the idiots and the bums
And why those silly fools applaud
Whenever the apocalypse comes.
When things get good for common folk
Those in power get extremely worried.
They fear people will discover where lies
All the freedoms the rich people buried.

They were aware, while the populace isn’t
Of the changes they made in the laws;
That the elite put in place corruption
Where opportunity so recently was.
The poorly-named Conservatives
Quietly  un-conserved the truth
In order to tie the hands of men
And proselytize our gullible youth.

They vilified and imprisoned those
Among the un-bribed journalists
And went right on stealing from us
And having their illicit trysts.
Those who knew they could not rule
Unless they made villains of heroes
Bought their way to power with
Wiith numbers and many zeroes.

The populace was fed huge lies
About how horribly poor we all were,
Implying we were no better off
Than cavemen wearing only fur.
They taught the stupid among us
All of the idiots and the bums,
That they had the only answers,
That they could reverse the sums.

The idiots are easy to understand
They are looking for some answers.
The bums sit back and let it happen
And never get their stuff together.
The bums decide everything is fine
Until they lose their jobs and houses
And then the *** and idiot both;
What to do? He whines and grouses.

Meanwhile even more of the wealth
That it would take to fix our land
Rotated even more back and forth
Between the same few hands.
This is what happens every time,
This is the cycle that repeats here
Defeating progress and smashing hope
Year after Conservative year.