"assassinations" poems
Fire Hazard
A crime against humanity,
this life is pure and utter insanity,
waking up to restrictions of gravity.
I find myself committing to humility,
a step forward from brutality.
A ******* high trip of no pure quality.
Stop.
In honor of desperate assassinations,
Throw away any glimpse of foundation,
spiraling into a sess pool of hallucinations.
Cloudy minds smear wind shield wipers,
across grimy fixations.
Drop.
Clear all hesitations
of this imperfect reality
there’s no cure for the mental stability,
of human nature
that we so seldom take as a sign of fertility.
Wake up to noise that bleeds ears like
sewers so fatally.
Roll.
Ignorant mortals,
try not to sound so angry.
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 8:43 PM UTC
Peak temperature water levels fake diagnoses white psychopaths starving hunger jingoism violence [systems that deprive us] guns entitlement shots fired accidents grief/mourning choking hazard corporate mascots corporate favoritism corporate bailouts corporate people ideology without monitor nationalism patriotism conservatives patriarchy murder-rape-suicide victim silence lack of conviction religious ********** false history infant mortality job insecurity invisible hands trickle down economics union busters corporate police brutal police evil police secret police debt bankruptcy foreclosure homelessness lost confused prisoner criminal banker war preparations propaganda ballots commercials advertisements campaigns money power puppets figureheads armies genocides **** bomb gas fire no survival violence wealthy lawyers assassinations heart complications death sleep.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 1:40 PM UTC
I buck the system my ***** like forget the system ***** , This world is so Corrupted, The government just wanna take away are feelings, & make us into killing machines..just like the Nazis
(Fuck America)..Uhh
(They lie to us*2,..MK Ultra,
(Its mind control*2)..mind control
This **** is getting way outta control..)*2
Uhh, The **** been going on , I been In my zone,
I been sad for so very long..
I been writing all alone, I been stuck in my room, broken mirrors, & Monarch butterflies all around me, The voices in my head won't leave me alone mane, tryna distract me from my Fathers truth homie, I'm having Dreams of demons tryna take hold of my soul..(I won't let em get to me thou..)..Ayo, I'm getting so sick & tired dawg..Im feeling very depress, homicidal & suicidal, like Tommy Wright the 3rd but forget killing myself dawg.. I'm just about to buss out the AK & go Rambo & make these ******* die dawg..They are gonna feel the wrath of Young Ston Poet.. The ****** Disciple , that I felt for so very long..Man its eating up my insides..Uhh
I buck the system my ***** **** The system my nigga,..I'm bringing pandemonium..
**** The CIA ***** , America isn't protecting us , They ain't doing nothing but putting us on a string..Uhh, So Forget America mane..Im blowing **** up like the Two brothers did at the Boston Marathon dawg..Real Talk man..Uhh,...I just don't give a **** any more,about nothing..Yeah
America **** them..Yeah
America is just filled with puppets man.. Sinning Machines, humanoids,clones..shit, people thats just here for devilish purposes, like assassinations, & prostitution..
**** all of that sick **** man, **** being a robot for the white man, **** mind control..Imma stand against the **** shit..This is Only For The Real..This is Only For The Righteous.. Uhh
They lie to us, Its mind control.. MK Ultra..Uhh
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
“some say love is a burning thing. that it makes a fiery ring.”
so kiss her.
or don’t.
and always regret.
always bike home thinking.
always think of love.
she’s in a parking lot somewhere drinking cheap wine,
balancing on the bumper.
he’s on the river somewhere drinking cheap beer,
balancing boulders.
a dog sprints by and forgets all heartache.
he is happy.
the town and the people and the job and the dreams.
the nothings
and the everythings.
and the little life this is.
to slipstream years gone by.
one fire in the sky, or another in the hills
just west of town.
something said about the smoke.
we take a weekend to spool through the story of your folks.
film cans or video cassettes,
or home re-sets. rewind.
words and faces scrawled in a tome of note.
spoken little memories,
little mysteries.
stories to tell no one.
stories to tell those who will listen.
the boys with dirtbike brothers.
the brothers with drunken fathers.
the fathers with dead wives.
the wives with ancient mothers.
the mothers and their children.
and the children living well enough.
living calm, then free.
far away, then close.
an empire.
of highways and histories.
of songs and the souls they swing.
of old money/new money,
betrayal on the horizon.
blacktop jamborees and assassinations.
driveways and nicely neighborhood lit-upon lawns.
well-trimmed trees.
a never-ending tree of lovers,
grasped and gasping for the sky.
listen and wait.
for the sun to kiss the moon goodbye.
[a family and their dog.]
this chrysalis.
this coincidence that is us, on one good gust.
from heart to hand to sons and daughters.
synchronized to die and revive and imbibe along the ride.
a tableau of animalia.
feasting and sleeping and awoken
by the wide little world all around.
“we are fires in the night. let us bathe you in our light.”
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
Freedoms Shot Down by Bullets of fear
The Fascist Faces Arise in the Crowd
As The Elections of Politicians draws near
The Neo Nazis and KKK Proclaim out loud
The Boasting and Bashing of Religion and Race
Stares America Right in the Face.....
Will you Stand and arise to Fight of Note?
Then Get off Your ***** and.....
GET OUT AND VOTE!!!!!!!
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
.
Reading the poetry of the dumb *****
Trying to cram a boy
Into the steel trap vacancy
Of their meaningless lives
While I probe into the lines
Hoping to find a remnant
Of something human
/////
// //
||
the gentle power
( creation )
The saint in celestial wisdom
Gazes into the pulsations of grace and humility
That linger amid
The countless assassinations
That are the mark of the world's depravity
•
dumb **** life !
The loveless pretensions !
( no one is really here at all )
)(
Just a bunch of kids
Getting ready to be *****
//
By others
And by themselves !
//
The stream that flows by the cabin door
)(
The pure maiden !
//
Alive in the healing magic of her art !
)(
The tenderest memories !
)(
And we ALL are there
::
The young boys and girls !
The sacred words !
The wealth amid the poverty
)(
We DO understand !
////
Along the broken dream streets
We stumble
Some
Trying to escape madness into the
Hearts of each other
Most trying to find solace
In the exicitment of pain
And the herd mentality
Of terminal indifference
•••
Child !
Be ready to choose
Even l am mortal
And will be here for only a little while more !
|||
So
Don't get slimed by a dumb ****
And their promises of numbness
As a form of peace !
We are the warriors
;;
The stream flows by the cabin door
See the pure maiden !
Find the love that is true
You are ALWAYS welcome there
.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 2:55 PM UTC
History's greatest psychic,
Micheal de Nostrademus prophesied.
He wrote and wrote.
Words on calamity
of terrifying magnanimity.
War leader after another,
battles and assassinations after the previous one.
Morality in all decisions was part of his plans.
Blood, death, waste and famine are quite familiar in our age
but in the end our century will be peaceful.
"Peace prosecuted by death
shall be achieved.
In one night,
green that have
been long dead
will grow green again.
After the war,
there would be a re-newed rain
and a Golden Age,
and a peace that would last
a 1000 Years.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
i was brought up to
read books and play the
violin
i am from the heart of the
world you
know
a place among thieves
a place among business aspirations
a place among the pines
actually like a
postcard however
someday a clan of
gory
icy
determined
men came into town
men who took up
residence
between pines and a business park
buildings were built by the
men of the clan:
golden paint
giant offices
porsches
lambos
maybachs
gory
icy
determined
men had come into town
yelling in strange terms:
brate
hajde
jebi se
unexpected assassinations
executions of local mobsters
****** threats on judges
jebi se!
brate hajde
old methods
new turf
a war began
clan against mob
murderer against murderer
man against man
this place where i
lived
this place among
pines
turned into a war zone
year 2019
corners packed with hordes
willing to die
armed with
machetes
pump actions
rocket launchers
tanks
this place where i
lived
this place among
pines
turned into a war zone
year 2019
Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 4:55 PM UTC
Deceptive prying
Lying
Hovering accusations
Twisted assassinations
Burnt offerings
of Misinformation
Dangling
Entangling
Enticing forgiveness
Betrayal unfolded
Put to bed scolded
Love
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 4:20 AM UTC
Flobots - Handlebars
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3M104iSE3CI
I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No handlebars, no handlebars
I can ride my bike with no handlebars
No handlebars, no handlebars
[Verse One]
Look at me, look at me
Hands in the air like it's good to be
Alive, and I'm a famous rapper
Even when the paths are all crooked-y
I can show you how to dosey-doe
I can show you how to scratch a record
I can take apart the remote control
And I can almost put it back together
I can tie a knot in a cherry stem
I can tell you about Leif Ericson
I know all the words to "De Colores"
And I'm proud to be an American
Me and my friends saw a platypus
Me and my friend made a comic book
And guess how long it took
I can do anything that I want, cause look
[Hook One]
I can keep rhythm with no metronome
No metronome, no metronome
And I can see your face on the telephone
On the telephone, on the telephone
[Verse Two]
Look at me, look at me
Just called to say that it's good to be
Alive, in such a small world
I'm all curled up with a book to read
I can make money, open up a thrift store
I can make a living off a magazine
I can design an engine
64 miles to a gallon of gasoline
I can make new antibiotics
I can make computers survive aquatic, conditions
I know how to run the business
And I can make YOU wanna buy a product
Movers shakers and producers
Me and my friends understand the future
I see the strings that control the systems
I can do anything with no assistance, cause
[Hook Two]
I can lead a nation with a microphone
With a microphone, with a microphone
And I can split the atoms of a molecule
Of a molecule, of a molecule
{musical trumpet interlude}
[Verse Three]
Look at me, look at me
Driving and I won't stop!
And it feels so good
To be alive and on top!
My reach, is global, my tower, secure
My cause, is noble, my power, is pure
I can hand out a million vaccinations
Or let 'em all die in exasperation
Have all healed from their lacerations
Or have 'em all killed by assassinations
I can make anybody go to prison
Just because I don't like 'em~!
And I can do anything with no permission
I have it all under my command because
[Hook Three]
I can guide a missile by satellite
By satellite, by satellite
And I can hit a target through a telescope
Through a telescope, through a telescope
And I can end the planet in a holocaust
In a holocaust, in a holocaust
In a holocaust, in a holocaust, in a holocausssssssssssst!
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 1:07 AM UTC
We are the refused...
Barefoot in the marketplace
Born in the backseat
With minds erased
To hide dirt in the backstreets
And mud on the school steps
The fool in the textbook
Paints us inept
Tainted
******
Illicit natives
Miserable Misfits
Nothing the magistrates can't handle
OH!!!
They wish!
Suppress our melodies
But never break our lips
We are the misused...
Our eyes do penetrate
Every false-flag they perpetuate
Even though barbiturates
Are placed beneath our pillows
The shame billows
The shame follows
Rodents to the edge of the borough
Where men create addicts
There
Publicans turn
Badges burn
Magistrates press their shirts and hatch their eagles
Discernment is not taught
Nor is it learned
We are the obtuse...
Blacked out and abused!
Sold for pulpits and ocean views
Magistrates hate us
Their eagles circle to berate us
"Intolerant"
"Outdated"
"Unpatriotic"
"Ill-fated"
But by grace we persevere
By faith we adhere
To a higher truth
A purer view
Our strongholds are not stick
and stone
Chrome nor drone
But
Christ alone
Our strength and hope
Out hope for home
NOT polls and popes
NOT guns and votes
NOT Magistrates and lazy legislations
NOT eagles which feed on
Desensitized demonstrations
Police brutality and assassinations
Nomadic nations
Sporadic speculations
We
The Refused
We
The Misused
We
The Obtuse
Will NOT cosign evil
Will NOT massage magistrates
Will NOT elevate eagles
We will NOT
We must NOT
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
In my youth,
They called it an Idiot Box,
But at six and eleven,
The real news arrived.
Africa, Vietnam,
Assassinations;
Mr. Ed and Mr. Sullivan shared our dessert.
The IB gave bedlam meaning.
Now,
We're patients in the asylum,
Spotting wardrobe malfunctions,
Commenting on roses,
Losing airwave evangelists
For commandments
Flung from the Tower of Babel.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
when he says your name you swear it's like nothing you've ever heard before
you taste his on your lips before you realise that you know it
and you feel the metallic taste of iron and blood mixing together
pooling underneath your ribcage
as the others call you a soldier
(but since when has killing for nothing meant the same thing
as fighting for something)
clarity is not in your vocabulary
neither is love
or hope
but you feel them threading through your veins like they were always there
you've forgotten how it feels to remember
your life is a series of ones and zeros but he
he is more than you will ever know
you're not sure why he loves you
{ you are ice and metal and a **** streak
over two dozen assassinations in the past fifty years }
but he swears,
words pressed into the small of your back,
that he does
and you believe him
you're not sure when it was the last time you felt something other than
the electricity or the thawing ice
(his hand in yours brings tears to your eyes
you don't really know why)
you sometimes wonder how he does it
how he loves you
how he can stand to see you every morning
one night, you ask him
and he tells you, quiet, that it helps make up for all the mornings
he woke up without you
(you're pretty sure you're dreaming, but when your hand finds his
it feels real)
you still feel the heartbeats of the targets
you still see them when you go to sleep
the tick marks have become a part of you and they are
inked into your skin like they belong there
they pulled out your lungs while you were still breathing
electric hands scooping you hollow
but he would carve out his own to give them to you
if he had the chance
and you aren't really sure if that scares you or not
when you wake up, screams bleeding from your teeth,
sweat dripping down your back
he whispers memories into your fingertips
and somehow
everything seems like it could be okay
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 7:55 AM UTC
I performed adverse observations,
polyphonic annihilation's
of linguistic situations
Intrepid assassinations of language.
Only to sit and ponder.
Amid wonder.
Where did the words all go
Strewn About like...
Carcasses of coccophony
Stumbled upon by the devotion to Reverence,
Or is it reference, to the Quotes and misquotes
Of misaligned Estutes,Resigned to Following
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
I went to a European restaurant recently
and it may have been in Europe too
It wasn't a bad meal
And the waiter presented me with a bill crowded with euros
Or maybe pounds
I looked at it
Then said to him
"How about paying me the bill you owe me?"
He gawked at me.
"How about paying me the bill for serving as your pressure valve. Do you know how many insurrections, how many assassinations we prevented by taking in your frustrated and disaffected?"
He continued to gawk at me.
So I continued.
"No, really. Do you know how much you owe us for saving you from the Kaiser, from ****** from Mussolini, from who knows how many more crazies?"
He gawked, not knowing whether to call the gendarmes or reach into his billfold.
I continued.
"How about the bill you owe us for showing some restraint? You know we could have hanged every **** and Fascist officer over colonel at least? But we didn't. Instead we turned them into Siemens executives and Fiat general managers."
He still gawked, poised to jump for a phone or maybe just shout real loud.
So I continued.
"How about the bill for making your mediocre artists into rich men and women? You know it's us who turned Abba into stars. It's we who built the Scorpions' mansions."
He finally said something.
"Scorpions don't live in mansions. They live in nests."
I got up and left, then paused outside,
rested the left sole of my Ferragamo shoes on a Ferro Concrete wall
And waited to get arrested by cops without guns
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
Haven't heard From you in weeks…
Brain can't think,
Guess I just don't know what to say.
Waiting on moment, from waiting on word…
I performed adverse observations,
polyphonic annihilation's
of linguistic situations
Intrepid assassinations of language.
Only to sit and ponder.
And wonder.
Where did the words all go
Strewn About like...
Carcasses of coccophony
Stumbled upon by the devotion to Reverence,
Or is it reference, to the Quotes and misquotes
Of misaligned Estutes,Resigned to Following
"Sometimes ya just gotta wonder"..... JMF 11/6/14
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 4:40 AM UTC
*kån skal syngje meg
i daudsvevna slynge... meg;
nor eg på Helvegen gor
og dei spøra eg trår er kalda, så kaldara -
and with approximate accenting
on vowels or stressed elongation,
angstrom - or o or u or neither with ø.*
O but the fickle mind!
Gemini readied for both
body and soul?
i hardly think so...
and each animal his own
character, each his own
albeit well encompassed
in fascist automaton replica
undecipherable for us
to practice, or if to wield
to yield all but failure in the finite
as then too almost cat replica cat
cloned... but then
such character assassinations to
tell them apart, not even invoking eugenics
is dismissive altogether to begin with.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 5:46 PM UTC
listen
i know you mean well
your
executive decisions
touching base with
the team, to take a deep dive
to analyze risks and best practices
simply
a sexless donkey mask
decoded to mean;
“i haven’t the slightest idea,
what you mean”
we’re all primates here
no need for practical lyrical
assassinations
i know
you never think;
***** in your court,
you’ve got cycles,
or getting down and *****
is your gig
but here’s the thing Alice -
you’ve gotta go down the
rabbit hole
more than metaphorically
gotta use that big skull
lugging around that 50 pound
brain of yours
you know
connect the dots
ducks in a row
on the same page
that kinda ****
and for
due diligence
i’d like to say -
leaders do more than
point
i love monkeys
but they do more than
that
pretending to know
what the **** you throw
smells like
is
worse than eating
the ****
you shat
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 4:28 AM UTC
does my bladder
and dope my head
and poetry my spirit
love is my blood
I recall being
young and naive playing
downstairs wih Cindy
discovering
How girls and boys have
all different plumbing
how girls are slightly
ticklish
and giggle
how boys are supposed to
make things happen
How the encyclopedia had
weird words, National Geographic
posed Dark naked bodies
in front of us,
and feeling things in
lower regions ( we in the basement,
remember)
had no answer in the dictionary.
I remember positing with Cindy
the many things in common to the Lincoln
and Kennedy assassinations.
And hiding our pants pulled down under a cover
as my mom brought us dinner.
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
There are things to worry
See in a hurry or a blurry
Move or push in a scurry
Yes even thoughts to bury
But a false premise builder
Often strikes match flash light
Whoa oh how bright oh bright
Let shine and blind bewilder
Imbedding their charges against others to come
Looking at the world in black or white smothers to some
Whispering character assassinations
Then twist and turn and speaking bass drum
Punches, scream oh no accept reply
Dive swim down deep pressure diving
Breaststroke splash splash accusation conniving
Slow blow mean demean, all to be sight unseen
Hide hide, what you?
Hey say, are often the hiders themselves
A skew, how shrew, the essence, yes the crux
Full one side story oh there is never
Force grab oh don’t push neither left nor right lever
Oh middle lever free is never to be oh unfree decree
Everyone forever on the mend
Though never even a soft only a hardened bend
Why oh why, why not to me now unfriend?
Try I to comprehend!
I trip tripness darkness spread
So must free flow words here this letterhead
Mind fever drugging underflow
No not no not yes knot oh complete knot tightening blow
Cheers, punch gut to me inner character assassination
My heart covered by trepidation
Fast forward roundabout rewind harsh lamentation
One sided black or white, out of spite and protection might
Middle ground oh of constant unbound
Oh why middle never to be truly found
To the mirror is the appearer
And yes all humanity can be vanity
So seek sanity says *** to kettle
Oh what, is there nothing to settle?
As member of humanity I am
Realize hurt I may have caused
Though not mal-intended
Yes not so intended to those befriended
Though deep down result is same
I neither disclaim my blame nor take crooked aim
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 10:17 PM UTC
Sitting here
in meditation.
wondering about
my own identification.
Dreaming about
my summer vacation.
Reminiscing about
a past infatuation.
Do we need
outer space exploration.
We thank the Armed Forces
for their dedication.
And seem to forget
the needy in desperation.
We need to help our own
show some dedication.
Or at least help them
change their life situation.
I know you can see
their frustration.
As billions go
to other nations.
Bet yet we forget our own
As I sit here
and continue in meditation.
I take myself
to a higher elevation.
But that's
your interpretation.
Only from
your observation.
As our children are suffering
from starvation.
There shouldn't be
any complication.
And yet so
many denominations.
we shouldn't put
any limitations.
from a country of
so much innovation.
But why does our government
seek world **********
But yet they forget their own
We only see
their chosen presentations.
They show us only
certain altercations.
Then media thrives
on all the accusations.
Why all we read about
is their incarcerations.
Which cause
hate and assassinations.
From all there exaggerations.
Which causes
uncivilized demonstrations.
All the breakdown
in communications.
And the medias
absurd manipulations.
That tries to keep divided
our great civilization.
But when it really matters
there is great hesitation.
But yet we forget our own
In the book it says
lead us not into temptation.
But they create
such a fascination.
And push
our very own expectations.
With there
sneaky modifications.
Of certain
well know corporations.
And provide
certain gratifications.
Without everyone's
consideration.
Or passing
the right legislation.
We our their
experimentation.
But yet get no
appreciation.
Which goes back
many generations.
But yet we forget our own
We have forgotten
our own foundation
That love
is what made creation.
And its disappeared
from our population.
All we see is
hate and annihilation.
But they don't show us
the right information.
The kind with
pure human consideration.
The kind
which causes admiration.
With out the feeling
of obligation.
Its time to begin
a new celebration.
And stop
all the hate and separation.
And show all love
with true aspirations.
LIVE
LOVE
HOPE
BUT NEVER FORGET OUT OWN.
Written By Richard B Shick
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 12:29 AM UTC
I have a subtle secret,
I remembered it,
while I stood watching the wild animals,
they're called the just past children,
my goodness how they dance,
youth romancing wildly,
to the crashing, thrashing,trashing beat.
My secret is a little curio,
I too once was one of those creatures,
just before the present day.
Time caught me on her current,
I can't come out to play today.
Olden joints are aching as burning flames and rigid rocks,
long left behind those bobby socks.
I had none anyway.
Punk rock and new romantics hovered in my day,
I had painted nails and spiky hair,
dog collar sported,
but ne'er a vicar,
but never a dog, I didn't bite.
The old crone gives assassinations of their personalities,
making judgement of their music taste and on their motion,
The truth is only mine to speak,
I was one of them,
seems just like last week,
I'm jealous of their fiery youth,
which rolled into my yesterdays,
their style generation x, y and z,
ultimately just like mine,
Guys in make-up,
some dressed in lace,
ears hung with chandeliers.
Baggy in black, which slogans that match,
feet that jump, lashing and kicking,
raging while kissing.
Memoirs of my forgotten worth,
once crazy musical youth.
(C) Livvi
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
A pressing matters
Ink
Bleeds through the
Thin
Newspaper pages
We read the times
To see
Things we cannot fully
Under-
Stand.
Bullets, they **** off
The page
And into our homes.
Bombs, assassinations, whispering
Drones.
Are we lucky to be
So distant
Or will this create a
Disadvantage?
The streets they are
Cold today,
Perhaps soon to be filled
With righteous panic.
When the clock strikes war
Who
Do you think will be
More prepared?
The violent survive,
So
What of the fair?
A man of war
Holds
Their gun
Like a nuclear warhead
Like an AK
Like a sabre
Like a rock
Like a stick
Like two hands
To protect
What they think
To be
Theirs.
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC
We were there,
but we weren’t
We took part,
and we didn’t
There was war,
with all affected
There was death,
and some objected
There was music,
we got lost in
Assassinations,
left us frozen
Alienation,
drove us inward
Graduation,
for beginners
Half a century,
now forgotten
Ten short years,
in time begotten
Raged a storm,
of hope and wonder
Alive today,
—a distant thunder
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC
My gig is in hotspots
That’s what I do
I’m a journalist
I report the truth
But maintaining relationships is oh so difficult
Especially when there are landmines, IED’S
Bullets, missiles, kidnapping and assassinations
You gotta wonder, why me?
What’s with the danger?
There’s no good grief
But I’ve got editors and readers who want the truth
So here I am in Hong Kong, or Myanmar, spending my youth
I could have a girl back home
Instead I got an interpreter I love
Who wants to come to America — and deserves to as he protects me
But I love it, it sure beats the city desk
Every day is an adventure
Or a nightmare
Getting a haircut is tough
The food often *****
No end in sight for this life
Unless the world disappears
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 3:41 PM UTC