Waiting at the RMV

Sitting on a wooden bench,

I watch prime-time TV,

except that this degraded wretch

does not try to please.

There is no humorous slop

to pass my time away

all I watch is advert crap

and pray to God for days away.

This waiting in this waiting-room

is not what I'd call fun

the plain white walls and wooden trim

would weary anyone.

I wait for what? You clearly ask,

for that is what I say you do;

I wait so that my friends can bask

in glory of the car I drew

and draw, like horses pull a covered wagon

except instead of cloth-draped pine

I've a metal coated engine

which doth sputter, cough and whine

Last Will in Testament

This world in which we live is cold and dead,

thus leaving nothing for me to embrace.

And all to which I've held has likewise fled

away from me and, too, the human race.

I feel a pull away instead of toward

removing me from that in which I've care

and so there's some I've lost of my accord

and no thing that I saw served better fate.

The Word, the world and all upon it serve

and aid in generating a clean void

where some feel all life equally deserves

but I feel that all is equally devoid.

Just as we throw away a dead mouse corpse

the same should fare a human one's of course.

School

What is the point of a

hospital for people

where the people are less sick

than the guards?

There isn't one, you see,

but it's a strain on the people

to see those who seem different

out of bars.

So the sick and the twisted

get their jobs doling shots

to the people who are stressed

by their breaths,

and I'd like to give the people,

who are doling out the shots,

something stronger just to bring them

to their deaths.

If you didn't gather

this poem's about teachers

and the trials that they put their

children through.

Because of all this stress

the kids resent their teachers

and the death count you just counted

I saw grew.