The dub reggae's loud as she relaxes
The drug-smoke hits our brain synapses
King Tubby* spreads my mind around the room
As we listen to the bass line boom

These are the times to be remembered
2017,  the first of November
As chilled out as it is possible to be
Yet, still be conscious, yet still breathe

Yes, nights like these are the good times
I scribble my words and try to think of rhymes
There are no words that need to be said
Between us, lying on this bed

The love is there, a living thing
With the bass-line's boom and the snare drum's sting
Yes nights like these should be remembered
2017, the first of November

I do not wish to succumb to the social defeat of drugging myself just so I can handle the horrors of mundanne repetitveness. I fear that in deadening myself with mood altering drugs I run the risk of loosing my awareness and accepting the ******* people try to insist is simpley how it has to be, or loosing my empathy and just accepting lifes atrocities. It is not wrong to feel the highs of love and the lows of sorrow they are ying and yang. Without these feeling one becomes a zombie, a parrot, or a parody of real life.

I have my grocery list in my hand,
a pack of razor blades
a gallon of bleach
a bottle of *****
an egg
I have my grocery list in my hand,
but I am listless.

Sometimes I crack a smile
when my dog wakes me up with his kisses
Sometimes I make eggs
for him, of course,
I would never waste them on myself
With this list, I'm gone
I make my dog eggs and me a bath
For me, bleach, *****, razor
soon to be listless no more
I open the bottle and welcome the burn

She never thought she would end up doused in gasoline and set aflame.
She never thought she would end.
She never thought.

but everything she never thought,
  is all she can think about.

Is it fear, or is it surprise
When you find yourself staring into mortality's eyes ?
All invincibility has gone
Repercussions to every action
Sheer terror! No, not me! Not yet!
None of my ambitions​ met
I have never had wealth, rubies or pearls​
Never made my mark upon the world
I really don't care about power or money
Just let me get out what's inside of me
It's not that I am scared of death
Just ashamed of what I haven't done yet
When you peer over the edge of the cliff
And find you're looking into the abyss
Do you see your fears dispelled
Or do you find yourself repelled
By your ruined hopes, dreams even your name
A walking Holocaust of shame
" I could have been, I should have done ?"
If you do, your not alone. I too am one.

If Wars were Subject
to Copyright

If wars were subject to a copyright -
Then candidates would have to pay a fee
Each time they appeal to the glorious past
When standing for the election, the proceeds
To fall like ****** manna on the dead
Who can never cash the checks anyway

If wars were subject to a copyright -
Then Hollywood movies should pay their dues
Whenever a bold-scripted commando,
Body-waxed muscles glistening with makeup,
Advances up Hamburger-Helper Hill
With a patriotic song on his lipstick

If wars were subject to a copyright –
The generals’ memoirs, the admirals’, too,
Would pay to lighten the blighted young lives
Of soul-fragmented lads whose pain and blood
Gave the air-conditioned another star
And unctuous applause at the officers’ club

If wars were subject to a copyright -
The President would have to pay his bill
Each time he banged the lectern for a war,
The glorious dux bellorum dux-ing
From the rear, while a squadron of pigs fly
Above, powered by pixie-dust and dreams

On Friday, I went to see the Doctor again
To tell her about my depression, my pain
She gave me some new pills, Prozac
Said " If they don't work, come back"

I really hope that they sort me out
I don't want to wait another hour and in 5 minutes be out
With just a prescription in my hand
And that's it, no other plans.