The Happiness Inside

The grand ol' liar
The fit young thief
The rich fat lawyer
You don't want to be.
But if you try to see
What blind eyes do,
Then you will realize keys
To everlasting youth.
For all these people,
They make great money...
But if you examine
Their happiness inside...
I think you will find
A great surprise!

Ecstasy

Eloquence
in a dance
Leads into
Proper
Removal from
All thought processes.
For ecstasy
Controls
What the mind
Subdues.

Untitled

Periodically examine
The life you live
Keep rechecking
The hysterectomy of society
The vasectomy of truth
The euthanization of youth
The reevaluation of piousy.

Periodically examine
The deeds you do
Keep rechecking
The exhumation of ignorance
The resurrection of lies
The recreation of death
The excavation of infertility

Periodically examine
Who you are
Keep rechecking
The ______ of YOU.

One More Step

Take another step
One more to the door.
Step over the threshold
Never know what lies before
In a world as ours
With cynicism and hate
Criminals and rape
No one knows what happens
When you step through the door.

Price of Lust

Correct your mistakes
Or follow the leader,
Dont dismiss the case.
If you keep her,
I'm your star witness.
He's the jury
You're the prosecutor
And the defendant.
Why do you feel
The need to kill?
Why does it hurt
To take this pill?
Why do we need
Crack and speed?
Who knows but us,
The price of lust?

Destiny

Rose petals
Leave glistening
Trails in
The dust
Floating over
Our heads.
But we
Dont believe
In destiny?

SICK!

Don't touch me!
I'm contagious!
It's a disease...
NO LIES
A cancer
Of great magnitude
Like an earthquake
That shakes your soul
A sickness
That takes control
Of mind and body
And soul again.
Uncontrolled we fall in.
Death is fearless...
...You are pain.

Beauty

If beauty is only skin deep
And in the eye of the beholder,
What's to stop us
From becoming older?
If reality sets in
And the mirror breaks
We'll know right then,
That's all it takes.

Drug

The Junk In Your
LUNGS
The Holes In Your
BRAIN
The Fiend In Your
SOUL
The Yearning For A
FIX
Is the true meaning
Of a dead man walking.

Cursed

These words are a curse
They just flow through my hand
Like electricity
I'm charged with knowledge
In charge of writing.
Charge the royal gates!
Ask "Who's in charge?"
I am.
The Royal Gates of Poetry
I hold a key
Into the hearts of many
But without a lock
The key is useless.
These words are a curse
They go in circles...
I can't breathe
I'm suffocating.

"I'm Sorry"

Sitting on the front porch
Old man in a rocking chair
Staring at the flat horizon
Waiting for the reaper's harvest.
He smokes gently from a pipe
While contemplating life.
Trying to remember good
And forget all his sins.
Silently begging for forgiveness
Sadness etched in his expression
The pain shows through
His weathered face.
He stands up slowly
Arthritis wreaking havoc,
He breathes in slowly
And gently sighs,
"I'm Sorry"