Bane of the modern poet

One day people will know me
They will know too well my name
as they know red means danger
I will have that fame.

Words are a funny thing-
to smith them is the craft to create
As easy as writing what you thought then said?
Poets beautify not satiate.

That's why we're rarely known for our craft
a few followers for the best as they breath
but modern poets need no audience to philosophize- instead
we wait for any reaction to what they've read
and when tragedy or time makes moves to take us-
Well that's when I'll be famous:
After I'm dead.

The futility of depression

Everyone will notice when a hero dies
but would they notice the storm clouds in the florists eyes?
It takes a keen eye to notice despair in chocolatiers
but oh how well the sweetest things lie.

How blissful the life of the dove, beaming as he flies-
before he dies.

a college town

If I had to describe to the naive passerby
what it's like to live in a community of college kids
freshly emancipated from their dorms:
I'd tell them to picture wild dogs fighting for some fetid meat.

They'll nip the legs to acknowledge the others existence
but none really care for him except himself
and herself
for the bitches are worse than the Cur.

I would say, "never have you seen such vicious self indulgence
as the me purifies from he, him or her."

Do not mistake me though these beasts are quick to blame.
"He dumped her for all the wrong reasons..."
"Her outfit's just a shame..."
"Has she no decency? My shorts cover up my slit."
"Bitch..."

Now I know why people make money to gate themselves in-
But if you happen to be passing by-
I just thought I'd tell you about the dogs within.

Let's screw

I want your legs to wrap 'round my back
Your sentient skin to walk and ripple
upon my flesh like the living creek on its bed
I want your ferocity to surround and melt onto me as I melt into you-

To put it in terms that are easy-vulgarity:
Baby, let's screw.

Hindsight

My anxiety surprises me: I'm every way but apathy
and I toil as I boil in my blood with secret savagery.
You might wonder what a blunder in my mind might shine like
but at times it's fire but a pyre in endless haunted night.

I envision emerald cities where the people know no cruelty
and what I see is jaded people who demand it like a feast.
If your hungry why don't you eat you can take your pound of flesh from me
just let me light your soul on fire so your heart opens and you see-

That venomous, vindictive viral viciousness vexes the venerable mind
it's better to sweetly sip serenity and sooth oneself from slime
that gets in you young yeoman: yes! you youthful midgets on giants-
Rich with things and wants but poor in inner silence.

Even the smartest person's dumb sometimes to things that aren't smart
there's nothing that can't be fixed but let's get a start-
Because you people who say you love
and value equality and fairness
are in your own way hateful and blind to sharing-

A view that's not yours a laugh that's foreign too-
I hate to say: nothing because I don't hate: I speak the truth.

I'm running out of steam so I will leave you with this:
To truly love the world you must forget yourself 'cause moments like that are bliss.

Summer Sucks

I miss the winter months: so slow-
Their beauty overwhelms the mood-
And fits the sunshine into frost
that coats the land like in a globe.

The heat is stress and fiery light-
Whence in an oven: await the night.
But stars shine brightest amidst the snow
Why summer months delight: I'll never know.

If only winter could be our break
And we'd leave summer to work and toil-
These wretched months like stove-top coils-

Give me simple soundless frost
And freeze those moments so no heaven's lost.

The curse of power

And the seasons, they go round and round
as we find ourselves in the sub-conscious dream world of reality-
the haze mixes with our impaired vision vexed by sleep deprivation
and hard work; trying to make ends meet in ends.

Dead ends like one episode leading into another
in the never ending drama we call Pointless Emancipation-
because are we ever truly free?

I grasp at straws to have the kind of wealth and power
that will allow me to make my own destiny-
To not have to play pretend in the grown up world
where people dress in proverbial winter jackets and full gear
Because they're afraid of being naked in the 110° weather.

They wish to dream while they're awake
and they want me to dream too but I won't do it.
I have my mind and I have youth.

Why should I have to dress in a mask because my optimism terrifies them?
I'll do it though.
It's a shame but I will because this is their world.
The fakers, the liars and the average.
The most wealthy and powerful live some of the most mundane lives-
concentrated on accumulating more
Because man can't get along and share.
Because one has to be better and make more for healing people.
God never asks for money
and if you don't believe in that, neither do mothers to do their job.

I miss the world where we could be accepted for our awkwardness and weirdness
Where we could build things and create things from nothing
where we worked together to make great things because, for no other reason, than we couldn't do it alone.
When we were kids, that is:
We didn't need validation and stipulations and remuneration.
The difference between now and then?
We wear a mask.
We wear a mask because deep inside,
We're all still that little kid:
We just think that change is necessary so we make rules that our child selves would hate.

That's how we know we're better than them:
Because our child selves would call us tools for making those rules.
For those who think we need them,
well don't we have them without complications?
Do not kill, do unto others..., forgive, etc.
Are not those the only rules we need?
Or are we all still too afraid of the child in the mirror?