****
Chump
Garbage Dump

Grump
Frump
Sewer Pump

Plump
Stump
Malignant Lump

Thump
****
****** up our country

there is a price to
authenticity that
most people
are not prepared
to pay

the cost
(at least in part)
is:
indifference,
isolation,
rejection, failure,
anxiety, madness,
etc.

it's vicious
strangers and
deadly lovers--
all of them
with spinning
flowers for
eyes as they
dig in: the
elbow, the
heel, the
knife

becoming who
you are demands
that you sacrifice
every inch of
what you
thought you
were to the
eternal flames

it means you're
gonna be hard
on yourself--harder
than anybody else
has ever been
on you

it means you're
gonna think
about killing
yourself
sometimes--you
may even come
close--

and,
make no
mistake, it
will be the
death of you
someday,
but
it will be
the best death
you could've
offered yourself

you will look
back upon
your life with
a cutting
smile and
piercing eyes
knowing that
you stayed
fighting

through every
cheap shot,
backstab, and
bad call

every
knockdown,
defeat, and
sabotage

you kept
coming, no
matter what
life threw at
you:
poverty,
shame,
guilt,
loss,
exile

these things
mean nothing
in the face
of true
becoming

and what
is becoming
if not
annihilation
and that
which remains
after its
totality?

Young lives are being slaughtered by knives
law and order seems to have no power
to contain the gangs creating such strife
brutality grows not by weeks but the hour
these crimes getting rapidly out of control
with no logic to the mounting toll!

The gangs culture has been allowed to expand
cities towns and villages none are immune
in the present climate they are in command
too often on the roadside flowers are strewn
lawlessness spreads as people are oppressed
helpless we stand as a society transgressed!

A bleak future violence escalates and discipline
is now lost allowing worrying complacency in
surely it extends far deeper into our culture
where nobody can see that hovering vulture!

Now nobody is safe from the threat of violence
as corruption destroys human tolerance!


#TheFoureyedPoet.

There's a tolling depth to me,
A rebounding chasm
Space a hopeful quantity
Tuned instruments ignore

Where broken column qualities
Lie naked in the unkempt stubble
Undisturbed, those civilised peaks
Mountains for heavens bored smooth by soft hands

Champing teeth abound the wind,
Old sounds of dun legs taking flight
And leaving the knotted trees
That died in the clotted soil

Be warned, beasts have left this barren
Sharp corners have been smoothed for
Once this land was deep and green
And gushed with florid indecencies

Now its depth tolls
With the charter of the wind
Scattering what few collected rocks remain
As bricks for walls built far beyond.

I'm running out
and drying up
you've left me no more tears to cry
love

gone is our time
my soul a stone
stuck beneath waves
of emotional toll

so please
get out
let me dream of something more
pleasant

I can't do this forever
and sooner or later
it's you or me
who will be dust