I’ve got 1200 poems, all shapes and sizes
Some in verse, others in reprises
I mostly rhyme, 99 percent of the time
I beat up the world and then I whine
A poet’s lament, I ***** about this and that
I post some online, try to start a chat
Sometimes I write them just for fun
Proud of myself when I finish another one
I’m all in, heart, soul and mind
Writing down every word I can find
I try not to go too far, I don’t know when to stop
I just keep going until my pen says drop

What kind of man does what men do
Cheat and steal, then lie to me and you
What kind of man starts a war with his pen
Knowing it will cause the death of many men

What kind of man can change the world we’re in
What kind of man can change other men
Where is the man that can lead us to love
Where are the men guided from above

What man has done for his fellow man
That only true men will do what they can
What kind of man stands tall against men
What kind of man can save us from sin

I’m in a cynical mood
Time to write something rude
I don’t care what you think
It doesn’t matter, I won’t blink
For all of you who think you know it
Maybe it’s time for the cynical poet

Ice cold beer, red hot lovin’
Talk some trash, do some pushing and shoving
Cold beer keeps the wit so smart
Play the game like it was an art

Red hot lovin’ is the prize
Strong intent between the sighs
One more smile and you’ll be mine
One more kiss in the clear moonshine

One more sip I’m feeling high
One more wink; another try
Can’t wait much longer to be with you
Can’t wait for it to be true

Red hot lovin’, you’re mine at last
Sunrise don’t you climb too fast
Red hot lovin’ in the night
Red hot lovin’ burning bright

Birthdays and gravity, the cause of it all
The older I get the more often I fall
Too old to have nice long hair
Too heavy in the middle to fly through the air

Birthdays and gravity, you are slowing me down
Old and heavy, I’m stuck to the ground
Too many candles and too much cake
Birthdays and gravity, that’s all it takes

Poets write poems
They think and think
Pickup their pens, it’s over