I am here to spread the gospel.
Yes I do declare I am a diligent disciple.

I have come to gaggle the good news,
to proselytize the perpetuity of heavenly wisdom.

I have come here to speak on behalf of poets everywhere:
young and old, alive and dead,
of all nationalities, ethnicities, genders, ****** orientations,
of every human being loitering upon this lush and teeming rock--
I have come to spread your word!

We, the poets,
beg you to hear our words
and put them in your mouth.

Store them in a cheek;
chew thoughtfully, and don't floss,
so we may linger between your teeth--

ready to eject with your spit we shall speak for you
and you shall speak for us.

We lie dead in the dirt until you breath life into us.

We sit poised on your tongue waiting for you to lash
into the air piercing thought bubbles with your voice.

We are instruments lying collecting dust in their cases,
ready to be grasped within calloused hands
and clasped between ruddy lips.

I have come here to tell you how to become a disciple as I:

Lovers, bring us to share!
Speak to your hearts from within worn and jaundiced pages;
we are merely ink stains until you make sense of it all.

Until you speak us into life
Until you soak us into your soul
Until you weave us into the very fibers of your being.

Fighters, bring us to bear!
Shout to your foes from atop grainy soapboxes
embedded within the grassy earth;
let your commanding footing propel you into the heavens!

Feel the wind carry your voice across the open plain and
SPEAK! BELLOW! SHOUT! BATTLE CRY!

They shall know the fear in their bones
and the goose flesh under their rattling armor
like death prickling the hairs on the back of their neck
until they become trodden in the earth like footstools--
until you walk across them head held high and victorious.

Pedestrians! Love if you dare!
Whisper these words under your breath,
holding doors and blessing sneezes,
smiling lovingly and making eye contact purposefully.

Take the joy in stranger's company or in solitude;
we will linger like pleasant specters,
like a lover's ghost:
waiting for you to follow me into eternity.

Yes, I do declare to be a diligent disciple,
and I roam through dusky towns with no pack on my back
nor a shelter over my matted head;

shouting through barren city streets into the desperate night,
roaming these dusty corridors praying a stranger opens their front door
and turns on the porch light
and lets me in for supper and a place to rest my weary head.

Though I'll soon be on my way again in the morrow,
my prayer,
the one of every aching poet in the midnight haze,

is that I'll linger.

I am you and you are me
We are them and they are we.
We’re all one, if they’d just see
We’re joined in our humanity.
We are mostly similarity;
Human souls in multiplicity.
It’s how we’ll succeed eventually.
We’re branches of the same tree.

We’re only different in our names
For the most part, we’re the same.
Some of life gets lost to flame
And some is lost in poker games
But worry not who is to blame
Some veterans are still lame
And represent or common shame.
We’re only different in our names

Yet some of our leaders pretend
That is somehow a fitting end.
They stand on soapboxes again
And wish we were back when
They were not exposed as men
Who steal the eggs from the hens;
Blame the fox coming into the pen
And hide behind the lies of friends.

Still some of us hope for better
And even try to move together
Urging us be good to one another
And follow our laws by the letter.
But if I were any kind of better
I’d  take a test of the weather
And see we must tie a stout tether
Tp those who think themselves our betters.

I am you and you are me
We are them and they are we.
We’re all one, if we’d just see
We’re joined in our humanity.
We are mostly similarity;
Human souls in multiplicity.
It’s how we’ll succeed eventually.
We’re branches of the same tree.

Silence starves while the blind ******,
The deaf stand around soggy soapboxes
As the mute cry out, standing tall and proud-
Sinking into the ground.

TV screen dreams scream to the consumer,
Better teeth! Perfect skin! A remedy for your horrors!
Watch us die in 4k, crisp and clean color,
Lovely scenes to sate your inner ******.

They gorge on god, swell with his alcoholic blood
Like corpses found plump,
Faced down and washed up on the mud.
Pick and ****, the devil hidden inside of deities
Point your finger in the mirror,
And blame him for these monstrosities.

Satan, an obscenity
Cleanse our sins, vicariously
Watch the needy help the needy help the needy
Help the world fill the fat bellies of the greedy,
With their ripe pockets and freudian slip kisses;
Their black hole secrets and ****** ridden lips.
Fuscous pus oozing from blistering skin,
Eagerly spreading the disease that sleeps-
Dormant within.

-SLuR

There are thank yous to be given
To the people who have bestowed to me a voice
A chance
An opportunity to get my work out there to the public's ear

The people who give that to everyone wanting to display and demonstration raw self-expression with passion
The people who they themselves are artists as well
Writers, musicians, brilliant and enlivened

They bequeath to us platforms, podiums
Spotlight center stage soapboxes

Microphones waiting to have words of insight cascade into them
And amps bracing themselves to have those words erupt out of them
Onto an expecting and interested crowd

The smell of coffee
The smell of cigarettes
The taste of Burgundy
On my nervous breath

On the air
On the mic
I'm there
And I thank you all

For the chances you grant all of us
We who want to show the world what we can do and who we are
There needs to be more people like you, caring and ardent

With the utmost sincerity I give you my deepest gratitude

Here's to you

Born into a world that boldly states it wants you dead.
Freaks atop soapboxes pay top-dollar for your head.
Resolution falters and your ego falls apart.
Human beings living in denial of their hearts.

*** is just a hobby to those hedonistic swine,
Twisted metamorphosis of evils intertwined.
More and more consumption just to fill the gaping void.
Lie upon your deathbed and recall what you've enjoyed;

Not the plastic figurines that sat upon your shelves,
Not the animated films you've watched since you were twelve,
Not pretentious critics or the artists they adore,
Selling out your soul, becoming satisfaction's *****?

Living like a rat will never justify the pain.
Running through the maze, the patterns etched into your brain.
Jump through hoops and maybe you'll receive another treat.
After all, the struggle makes your carcass taste so sweet.