Why Don't I Work

I procrastinate.

I run away.

I refuse to let me think.

Why don't I work?

I fired that clerk

who brought me to the brink.

In destruction,

in perdition

my schooling ship did sink.

I lost my goal

and stared like foal

at failure and I blinked.


My whole crew was

within my head;

my ship was one-man-manned.

I sailed her forth

to college north

and found no gleaming sand.

In this arctic waste

myself i've faced

against me I've made my stand.

This divided crew

does search for truth

and lonesome ships rebranded.

Destruction Ergo Destruction

When your mind's a mess
you try to find a space
where you can save some face
and rectify post-haste

from all the crap they do
that makes you so confused
and it's not at all conducive
to your unfound muse, but

now you are the one that's
pulling that fucking crap
and there' no where in hat
of your magical rabbit

you can find at all where
you can't find your mind there
so you win o'er some mare
and stick your tongue in there where

you can pull out some shit
like fuckin' type class-B Hep.
but when they do the blood test
you get the 'sults and have wept

'cuz your whole life's done
you've gone and had your fun
and when you're twenty some
shit older, have a son

who grows up knowin', dude,
what you're goin' through
which brings about in you
a change in your mood

but you can't figure out
what he is on about
so you bring a bout out
and you start to shout

and pull away from him
whi is your only friend
and so you try to sim-
ulate upon a whim

a better life for y'all
where all your strife, you can handle,
and so your life just falls
short of all you want, and are.

Why Dont I Work?

I procrastinate.
I run away.
I refuse to let me think.
Why don't I work?
I fired that clerk
who brought me to the brink.
In destruction;
in perdition,
my schooling ship did sink.
I lost my goal
and stared like foal
at failure and I blinked.

My whole crew was
within my head;
my ship was one-man manned.
I sailed her forth
to college north
and found no gleaming sand.
In this arctic waste
myself I've faced
against myself I've made my stand.
This divided crew
does search for truth
and lonesome ships remanded.

To Find Love

The wherewithall
in this land of fate
gives nothing towards
a sauntering gait
until the steps of what you do
lead you to a different you.

So, go forth now,
and sow your loving.
Leave it not in ancient covens.
for all the work and anything
go forth along for soul to sing.

Please, this trail though long...
just hike until your death you'll find
a love lost lest
you move your body toward it.
Your one true love... you'll find it.
It's love itself.

Writing Down My Dreams

In my head,

a flow of ideas

of fabulously fictional escapes,


and so I said,

"well, paper, here's

a run through for the fates."


And once I started,

I could not stop it

and wrote out Morphean lies.


I wrote bitches, cold hearted,

who went out and fought it.

Now, their bodies are lieing piled.


So, gruesome and gory,

but broken, distorted, her

feelings bursting at the seams


for a story, see,

of truths distorted, sure

just writing down my dreams.

Physics

An incompetant teacher of a high school class
should not be offended when his students usurp;
he should accept the decline from teacher to bystander
with the humility of a just slander.

To laugh at your students for not understanding your words
is unforgivable when not one understands your thoughts.
You say something once, ridiculing those who don't understand.
You say something once, trying to move on.
You say something once, and no one understands.
You move on to a different topic with the foundations unset,
and your wonderful explanations are lost to the class
as you ridicule your students and move too fast.
The building you're building of knowledge is falling
My attempt at education are only a stalling
of what comes to place when you fail your students.
You lose you job, there should be no alternative.

Emo Limerick

When even the platypi sing I cry

and as the bells tolling I sigh.

Never truly getting better,

damn this f*ing weather.

Living. Dieing. Lie.

Caesar

The pride of Julius,

a working class hero,

is the pride of Pompey,

a dealer of death.



He's a highborn noble,

a killer of kindred

killed by kindred

in protection of Rome.



Crassus and Pompey

both saw the danger

but neither much cared

so neither was spared.



He reached his goal,

killing five-thousand foreigners

and returned to claim Rome

from popular Pompey.



But with Crassus long gone

he saw nothing wrong

with controlling the whole world

so the senate is his;



but his friends saw what's wrong

and made Caesar be gone.

For his numerous crimes

he was stabbed twenty-three times.

Green Hearts Crying

As big business crumbles,

the world's in a bumble.

The banks dropped a fumble;

the large ones die.



"Only Millions," he said

while only billions are dead

and only hundreds are fed.

The large ones die.



But as the cut-throats kill,

kill all in their way,

the Socialists share fills

and the large one dies.



"Only Millions," he said.

Only billions are dead.

only hundreds are fed.

The large ones die.

Here I Come

Overpopulation on our big, blue orb

is causing the inflation of the third world;

and as the scroll of our lives becomes unfurled,

so in our house our burned corpses are curled.



The humans of our planet,

selfish and seething,

have no desire to help it,

underserving of breathing.



Planning a massive neroism of Earth,

I will destroy its 24 grand mile girth.

Know these thoughts and emotions aren't unbridled mirth

but have been growing and festering since my long ago birth.



The humans of our planet,

selfish and seething,

have no desire to help it,

undeserving of breathing.



And so it is my

solemn duty to choose

the final moment when our species will lose,

because in orphans' shoes

to walk we've refused

and within just a few years our resources we'll lose.

Thanks

Keeping up with all we do,

the world expanding forth and through

the grey and gay of night time life

gives going forward some surprise



Now I shall never let ye see

the sadness that's inside of me

but if thou asketh, "The pain is where?"

I point to my chest and declare, "It's there"



The fact that ye saw, and ye asked,

will make me gasp, and happily bask

in the friendship that we have for free

and so, soon happy I will be.



I thank ye just for seeing me;

I thank ye just for being thee.

Ghosts

The imaginate images impose themselves

they burned the eyes of the one who cried

and as the sleep pushed back in mind

from poltergeists the boy would shy.

The imaginate images impose themselves

upon the waking world as well

and as the sleep pushed back in mind

he attempts to fix the lives he felled.

The imaginate images impose themselves

to the point where they take shape

and as the sleep pushed back in mind

his mother's death tortured soul has faced.

Schoolyard Talk

Cross associations of adulthood

they hold their own with each other.

Jokes and comments as a means

of destroying another's influence.

When your whole manhood depends

on the acceptance of others

then even the belief and hope of flight

will flee and as you crawl within yourself,

you'll see that nothing good will come

of schoolyard talk.

A Breaking Family

A dead-beat dad of a family of four

left without feeding for days or for more,

but when those hungry days were numb'ring on score

that undeserving father became Ba'al of lore.

The quantities of food that the family was missing

gave that mother and brothers a trouble of fussing.

So mom got a job as a cook or at busing

and taught her son to fight fists not fight cussing.

Now this little boy, at most five years in age

was exhibiting psychosis in his skull breaking rage

but, since the grocery was a wrestling cage

his using a stick may have been acting sage.

Though Richard wasn't old enough for to learn

the cases that causes his father to scorn

them like a priest does a reader of porn,

he was to fight and had replaced him by morn.

Kidnapping

Falling, falling;

a baby is bawling.

The mother is crawling.

What's going on?

We are all pushing,

forcing, depressing

as we continue

she continues distressing

'Never-mind her,'

says a man so sure.

'Nothing is wrong.'

But, the bubbling is gone.

'I'll take you away,

away to be free.

I know you will not

say “thank you” to me.'

What do we do,

that isn't for love?

What is for falling?

Only a shove.

Antagonization

I try to try.

I want to succeed;

and still I fail

I don't reach a need

Life, sleep, or grades?

I can reach none.

Will I be left

when I am done?

Friends? They all left me.

Sleep? How could I?

Grades? They do not show

how hard I try.

Nothing that I do

at all seems to work

like the inside of my mind

is an overworked clerk.

I try to try.

I want to succeed;

but still I fail.

I don't reach a need

Life, sleep, or grades?

I can reach none.

Will I still be left,

when I am done?

I cannot convince

my mind to agree.

It's as if what I do

is not what it sees.

The black on this screen

shows my strong disappointment

in a world more accepting

of gladiatorial enjoyment

Do What's Right

Who can ever say what it is to be right?

I've never had a large group of friends agree

but a lot of their opinions, relegated and biased,

are souvenirs of their parents' denial

of legitimacy of other's opinions or

not believing their badness precludes some

sort of problem within a system

thats forces people's hands to sinful profiteering,

Those who say that the lazy are evil

are the ones thought evil by the jobless poor.

A persons proceedings through life and love

is often simply signifying lackluster luck.

They say they're hardworking,

they say they had friends,

but often they were looking while someone's life ends.

A high paying job simply shows you cheat systems

like a hacker at a home computer hacking your house.

The black hats make money

the gray hats have fun.

The white hats are black hats that life living has shunned

They start again, avoiding the system,

and make less money than ever working for their victims.

Why I Started Writing

To begin a song for time

I must first begin

my life for each of these

youths I call my kin.

I cannot repress for long

the thoughts within my skull,

and so time's song shall now be

longer and more full.

Do not harm these children, please,

as you henceforth have;

through whatev'r's done to me

I hope for them to save.

In these two children, while not mine

I have taken pride

their antics I do not condone

which I refuse to hide.

Three and five, these children are.

For their lives are hard

there's not much more that they can take.

I must be their bard.