Freedom Riders were Civil Rights Activist who were on the move
Supreme Court ruling in what they had to prove
Segregation that should be cut out
The added response would be a loud shout
Interstate buses were used in making their point
This was an outgoing mission and the Freedom Riders were not going to accept a disappoint
Freedom Riders in their voices on the road
This was a challenge to the Supreme Court
Greyhound Bus Lines was the Freedom Riders mode
This is was determination and the Freedom Riders will be undersold
The message was “We won’t be silent, and do as we are told”
The Freedom Riders journeyed on with no time to tire
Their voices were full of fire
The motto being their desire
There certainly was no time to retire
Freedom Riders carried on
Greyhound Buses were bombed in getting the Freedom Riders attention
But that wasn’t going to stop their platform stand
Civil Rights for all needed to be carried out throughout the land
We will not stop because our Greyhound bus has been destroyed
This just makes us strong and totally annoyed
The movement is a multitude strong
Civil Rights was finally confide
But let’s move Civil Rights today
We cannot let anyone stand in our way
What Washington objects is not ok
Civil Rights must remain active and focused
All nationalities belong
This is a call for Justice, and the world is letting it be known
Freedom Riders being the floor plan had shown
This is everyone’s time to let it be known
Voices have, and will continue to be, “We Shall Overcome”.

I mailed you a letter because you said
the art of writing is dead but I know
how to twist words into sculptures still small
enough to fit in the post box. I hope
you read what I wrote. I opened my heart
and sent you a poem. Someday when you’re old
you will show your grand kids the written art
some hopeless romantic girl undersold,
prefaced with ‘it isn't anything great but
maybe it will lead you to understand.’
I never claimed to be the best but my
head is full of cosmos and volcanoes
begging to explode black holes on paper as
relics pressed between pages like a dried rose.

(Marching)
As the steps of the world start to march towards they destiny...
I stand and watch. Hoping each one of em make it.

Lets go

I've been in a slumber for a while now, without speaking too loud, saying a whole lot of nothing while trying to convince an ignorant crowd.

I'm one person, but always attempt to give more
feed the hungry minds, give knowledge to the morally poor
change a woman's heart from broken to completely full
she'd probably block me out.
"All men are full of bull"*
I can't convince a person who has constantly remained hurtin
The deep thrones of life
keep slowly insertin
as I pulled mine out and kept on pushing on
my mother's optimistic views kept me and my dreams holdin on

Don't let em change ya
manipulate and try to derange ya
takes chances on a risk
stay distant from familiar strangers
put ya soul in a box
I put mines next to my rhymes
you can have all my pride
I keep what's most valuable deep inside
the gutters where I reside
it's cool cause I like being alone
I let my demons out
while my angels write all my songs
talk bout my rights, but they all remember ya wrongs
will god do society a favor?
when i'm deceased and finally gone?
King's respect the throne
a prince barely can see it
growth should be inevitable
but to some they barely reach it
hard is only a word, struggle only a moment
goals don't come cheap, the unmotivated undersold it

Family don't mean friends
and friends don't mean forever
focus on your design
only you can make it better
slaying all the giants
killin all the evil
watch out for snakes in the grass
never give food to a weasel
follow what is your faith
don't let these suckers stop you to believe
they love it when you fail
they hate it when you achieve
Just promise you'll keep marching on
and allow your heart to guide ya lead.

(KING!)

DJT:
I want to buy Greenland.
Hey, this is fun!
I will turn the island into
State fifty-one.
They say ice is melting.
Bah! That’s okay.
When you mine and drill on the land,
Ice gets in the way.

I am going to buy Greenland.
You just wait and see.
I dare anybody
To say "NO!" to me.
I can’t wait to get my
Hands on all that gold,
Oil, copper, lead, and zinc.
I WON’T be undersold.

I plan to buy Greenland
With all its wolves and seals
And polar bears and penguins.
I’m so good at deals.
Polar bears will make terrific
Rugs. I don't care!
What? You say there are no penguins?
I will bring some there.

So I want to buy Greenland.
Is THAT unorthodox?
It should be so easy;
You know money talks.
Tell me: how could there be
Objections to my plan?
The whole world loves me;
I’m their favorite man.

I am buying Greenland.
I'm sure you've heard reports.
I'll construct my tower AND
I'll build some big resorts.
Greenlanders will love being
Part of my domain.
If anybody loses here,
Their loss will be my gain.

I can’t wait to buy Greenland.
This is not a ruse.
I’ll give them an offer--
One they can’t refuse.
If the Danes say "No," I'll
Do what I've done before:
I'll just have to start another
Blasted tariff war.

I want to buy Greenland,
Greenland,
Greenland….

-by Bob (8-24-19)

the bitter and undersold other-edge of perfection
where it turns around twice and settles down among
stuffed turtles and hedgehogs and buries its nose in its tail
only to spring up at the noise of passing traffic or
loud voices next door or
a sigh
overtakes the perfect first face of it
the one you seek your whole life and that
comes for an instant before fading to gray
and you scold yourself for the growing thought that
it looked better from a distance

Encased in a brittle shell

The blood runs awfully cold.

It powers the perishing heart

Once deemed as prized gold.


Scythe slowly etches the frame

Soul no longer can withhold.

The only thought that runs wild

Is the fear of being undersold.

And here. 
Among wights. 
Missing all tickets unsold. 
Calling all who lived and felt. 

It is colder. 
And the wounds are raising. 
And again with revenue as to portray. 
"It is gone." She says. 
And I dream. 

Of that razor to steal my heart. 
And who steals my blood daily. 

Though not as to compost. 
Poisoning flowers. 
Oxidizing. 
And fermenting her soil. 

Soon again. 
I will drink. 
My ears warm. 
The morn brings leashed air. 
A chuckle at present. 

Of the last. 
Of past words misunderstood. 

Once of four. 
And once of five. 
And yeah, we speak in high tones. 
In vague terms. 

Of times arrived. 
Departing flights forgotten. 

Many moments undersold. 

Still I taste. 
A forced kiss. 

Too loved to unleash. 
And so I wonder who said, "Who?"

Oh bother. 

Speech of idiots. 
Words ******. 

I deny all salves. 
All soothing. 
All encompassing. 
Sweet chestnut colored love. 

Curves to hold and suffer subsurface. 
Sans scars. 

Food tomorrow. 
After today, food tomorrow. 

I recall her taste. 

As recalled, I remember. 

The violence. 
And pride.
After the meal. 
The tears and the urination. 

After theft. 

I swam. 
With those who denied. 

And those who gave. 
Who took?

She sat. 
And I swam. 

And they spoke. 
The water. 

I emerge on new skin. 

Skin of those before. 
Of dreams wondered. 
Dreams failed. 

I pursued and entered. 

A feast. 

A drink. 

Soft pelts.

A bed and works of excuse. 

Drowned in water. 

Drowned in love. 

My sweet ancient temple. 
The skies of false truth. 

And the ******* of an angel. 

The miss of one married. 
Scarred. 

Loud speeches. 

Parades across the globe. 

And hopes of love. 

Goodnight sweet muse.

And here. 
Among wights. 
Missing all tickets not sold. 
Calling all who lived and felt. 

It is colder and the wounds are raising. 
And again with revenue not as to portray. 
"It is gone." She says. 
And I dream. 

Of that razor which left with my heart. 
And who steals my blood daily. 

Though not is in compost. 
Poisoning flowers. 
Oxidizing. 
And fermenting the soil. 

Soon again. 
I will drink. 
My ears warm. 
The morn bring air leashed. 
 A chuckle at present. 

Of the last. 
Of past words misunderstood. 

Once of four. 
And once of five. 
And yeah, we speak in high tones. 
In vague terms. 

Of times arrived. 
Departing flights forgotten. 

Many moments undersold. 

Still I taste. 
A forced kiss. 

Too loved to unleash. 
And so I wonder who said, "Who?"

Oh bother. 

Speech of idiots. 
Words ******. 

And I deny all salves. 
All soothing. 
All encompassing. 
Sweet chestnut colored love. 

Curves to hold and suffer subsurface. 
Sans scars. 

Food tomorrow. 
After today, food tomorrow. 

I recall her taste. 

As recalled I remember. 

The violence. 
And pride.
After the meal. 
The tears and the urination. 
After the theft. 

I swam. 
With those who denied. 

And those who gave. 
Who took?

She sat. 
And I swam 

And they spoke. 
The water. 
I emerge on new skin. 

Skin of those before. 
Of dreams wondered. 
Dreams failed. 

I pursued and entered. 

A feast. 

A drink. 

Soft pelts.

A bed and works of excuse. 

Drowned in water. 

Drowned in love. 
Temporal. 

My sweet ancient temple. 
The sky's of false truth. 

And the ******* of an angel. 

The miss of one married. 
Scarred. 

Loud speeches. 

Parades across the globe. 

And hopes of love. 

Goodnight sweet prince.

As the basking warmth of the sun
Comes cascading through the blinds
It finds itself cast on still, rested souls
Serene and calm, no rest disturbed

Cwtch, a word from a wondrous place
An intimate moment, two’s safest space
To hold, and be held
Seldom seen, but always shared

She rolled over and pulled me close
Her hand on my chest, my heart rate rose
This feeling was always undersold
So hard to find, or so I’m told
That same warming sun
Now shimmering through her hair
That cute messy bun
No makeup, I do not care

Now she wakes and opens her eyes
A greyish blue
With a sparkling hue
They look back into mine
Transfixed, I smile
I say something nice
It’s probably too much
But I don’t think twice

The hours roll by
No need to move
I wait for my moment
Overthinking it through
Reciprocated in kind
Why did I wait so long?
Missing every **** sign
But now there’s no wrong
Two souls entwined

Not urgent, not laboured
Just passion savoured
Nothing fancy, nothing forced
Ain’t lost in the sauce
Soft and sweet
Enjoyed to the end
At some point I must go
Another day
Another time
We’ll be back there again
Cwtching till the light
Comes back through the blinds

Definite verse finds no praise lately. False ears hold no sacred witness. But still we roll in the tide of the desolate wake. I hear no faltering cry as I shout loudly. In moments of terror we weep not for the rising cost of hope, but for the bankrupt morality clause. Pardon my french as I numb your tongue and find refuge in that wood splintered obtuse you call a brain. Desolation row and no forwarding address. Headed for a mass media dust bowl. Void and decrepit of all wise decisions. Backward motions row us forth as we sway like drunken sailors. Fuzzy caress and all it takes to drive the siren from the shore. Brace for impact and disengage, you'll find it where you need. All the whispers all the laughs and grim shadows that find home on the crooked eye backs. Disparage the weak resign to decay. Lumbering thoughts fall like blacksmith's tools on thy anvil so proper. Smith Corona how I love you so! To touch and caress every thought that may linger what I cannot say. Harnessed envy sent in multitudes of pallor. Wolves in the brush but no sheep to claim. Why do I codger these old fools? They know not of what mercy I won't give or refrain. Too tempestuous to act on delay. Winds that blow and carry the pain, of a once lost country is now naked and affraid. Topple tumble overhead, make sense of nothing as we all break bread. No confidence seen or undersold, used car tactics taught in the foxhole. Battered eyes give view to a sun that severed shared it's rays. To meet upon the avalanche that widows whom it takes. Sands through the hands of the grasping branch both further and away. Deep breath formulate lowered light intake. Habit forming monkey claws delivered to your face. Always running in reverse of the dead man's relay race. Clear a path at the temple stairs so I can blindly find my way. To take a bath and puff some grass and haven't any need to complain.

no one knows of heaven
the quest for proof is moot
our existential dread cements Risk’s value
overshadowed by Reward,
undersold by humanity,
we trudge along
waiting for anyone but ourselves,
any thing but our own,
to try and prove paradise
but I’ve seen it
it’s here on earth
and it rests behind your eyelids

I don't know how to hope
All I do is cope with jokes
One of a kind? Just a joke.
An ace of naught
Sanctimonious? I am not.
Pride builds foundations out of nations
Built to fall
Better to be undersold
Than to perceive yourself as a flush
While dreams get rushed
Into a joker's hand
The deck is laid out
While the house prepares to win, full house