Life’s a very busy thing
And rushes by so fast,
And since inertia rules this world
It cannot help but last.  

Transactions plonk the daylight hours,
And revels blot the dark.
There is a grimy window near
That looks on a glum park.

In the garden of your dreams
I’ll meet you there
Close your eyes and dream.
I’ll be waiting .

Shell ✨🐚

The sky amidst
I think of those I miss
Even a day could change
Things we never thought age

I think of us
Sitting on the bus
I will change for us
Why am I holding a dry husk

Of the people I fought for
Some not anymore
Some are ropes
I pull no hopes

I would go back
My mind playbacks
I walk on empty shells
My heart aches as hell

You people are here
But can you hear
My thoughts that linger
Maybe you no longer tingle

The rain still patters
I am in fetters
The sky hangs amiss
I wonder about those I miss

Such a crying shame
That my frail body
Could so concisely
Imitate my brain

I forgot to learn your tongue
Before we sank into bed
I will learn your song well
By touching it instead

Cotton has a plantation,
It’s home in central Texas.
It might be your cremation.
Don’t drive up in your Lexus.

In the barn he persecutes.
Devices of mad torture.
Chainsaws, meat hook executes,
Diced and spilt into quarters.

The Bloodbath we fascinate,
Victims face he has gotten.
Oh my, he does dominate.
****** face here’s some Cotten.

Mine eyes heavy
Twins aching in the skull
Indeed pretty
Yet of exhaustion they are full

We call them heroes, send them to fight
armed with plastic armor, much extolled valor.
They are isolated inside the veil of gratitude,
Drafted in a terrible war they never asked for.

We call them heroes, our robust knights
who will slay the beast, shield us from its fury.
We try to forget the open secret that they were,
in fact, robbed of a choice, ****** into glory.

We call them heroes without ever knowing
the face behind their masks and elastic bands.
These worrisome times will come to pass;
meanwhile, we stay inside and wash our hands.