"instate" poems
The snow piles up and is then washed away
like the change in an alcoholic's wallet,
appearing too briefly to instate a memory,
whilst the world remains unchanged, come morn.
Last year I smiled with tears in my eyes
as the snow fell and I waited for the bus.
I could feel the onset of a great transition;
but I had to lose my mind, before I found myself.
It has been a long year of beer bottled ash
and months spent catching up on lost sleep.
The pills came to take a weight from me,
until I gained the strength to carry the rest.
Songs have appeared with omniscient timing
to carry my breath through the bulrushes
of the river that never seemed to reach a source.
I am still looking for the ocean blue, the view
that will take me from these seasonal lows,
to a place where I can thaw out and live.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
They flip out if One "owes" them a Thousand Dollars
but they don't do **** about
our $11,959,000,000,000 deficit
(or about 75% of the GDP)
except raise the debt ceiling
and shut down day-to-day processes
thus letting functionality grind to a halt
so they can still afford to pay themselves
their precious and exorbitant salaries,
whilst every-fucking-thing else
deteriorates by the minute
and is foreclosed upon.
**I think that we as a Nation should instate
that Politicians are unable to pay themselves
until we have a surplus of money
with which to reward them
for their keen, honest, wise and diligent* (get this: ) *Public Service;
*rather than allowing them to serve themselves
well above the supposed "Land of the Free"
they supposedly represent
supposedly so selflessly.*
The System is ****** for us, as citizens;
though it works exactly as designed
for those holding the marionette strings.**
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
hough aiming forward we are losing ground
hearts may be filled with hope but our hard fate
is to be weighed and valued pound by pound
as the remainders of a great estate
the counters' duty it is to collate
what goes to storage and what to the worm
what will be buried to build up the berm
and what parts of the fortune they might keep
those who are watching are the very firm
our place is taken and we have to sleep
so much of what is said is to confound
the ones whose task it is to count and rate
the complete measure within proper bound
they aren't allowed to lie nor to inflate
the tiny parcels into something great
but must agree the winner is the germ
that strikes the mighty hard as they might squirm
and into every corner seems to creep
it's certain victory we can't affirm
our place is taken and we have to sleep
we wanted to astonish and astound
win the reward of gold and silver plate
have banknotes piled up in a giant mound
cart off bright jewels in a well-made crate
these are not the conditions we instate
we find ourselves most rotten and infirm
unable now to generate a therm
nor over lowest bar ever to leap
our weakness any fool now could confirm
our place is taken and we have to sleep
prince you may rule us for a certain term
since none of us has power to reaffirm
just what we were nor what we had to keep
within our power nor underneath each derm
our place is taken and we have to sleep
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 5:20 AM UTC
More.
War.
It's all I've ever known.
Out here struggling on my own.
Each day is a fight to survive.
Each hour passing with this gift of life.
Tears.
Appear.
Falling to my shirt.
Uncover my face to expose the hurt.
Done begging for your approval.
I'm here to instate your removal.
You.
Threw.
Everything you had at me.
Both figurative and literally.
Now I'll try to say this pleasantly.
Get the hell out, I'll count to three.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
Fearing the faith,
Scared of most love.
They bring understanding,
But are rejected as foes.
They try not to grimace,
To whine or complain,
As it uncovers the stitches of sin.
And if, indeed, they begin to slack off,
They must sew their weaknesses shut.
And though pain undesired,
It shall, with force,
Be used in an instant,
To rip, flay, and humble their souls.
And although they instate it,
Its effects won't fade,
As it gives way to a horrible gloom.
Though too long without a touch,
From Mother Pain,
And their Beings will twist,
Becoming as sickly and vile,
As the **** that around them decays.
So as can be seen, alarm is unneeded,
They wish to bring us no harm.
But only to help us,
To harvest the fruits,
Of our labors, we've since, forgotten.
Even still, we're blind to their kindness,
We see them as unworthy pests.
And as their presence is no longer welcome,
They disappear on the winds breath.
Regrets we had many, and go back we could not,
And we all went downward, again.
As we fell into the graves,
We had dug for ourselves,
We thought, "Maybe they meant well?"
Alas, mattered not, as we all found out,
As we fell to the depths of our own filth.
And as we burned, the Imps could not help,
But to pity our fate.
And after a sigh, and a shake of the head,
They got on with the rest of their existence.
And as the winds and tides of time
Washed over the empty, barren land of thought,
Nothing was left, no one to remember.
And in a blink, we were less than the dusts.
Nov 17, 2010
Nov 17, 2010 at 7:57 AM UTC