Speaking for me is thankless
drudgery like all other things
they tell you to be the best
empty at the bottom of a pit
with no pen parcel parchment
paper that would be no help
any way to quench the thirst
crippling your soul in time
eternally you too will suffer
hoping justice soon comes
though I bet the other way
which is sad to say seeing
all we’ve done is shreds.
OR
Rhythm makes everything
beautiful flowers everywhere
smelling fully all worth it
to have pain in your hands
over the fire in cask of love
shaping and forming a solid
plan to ask your feeling
in the face of fearful folly
loving what I tell you though
you’ve heard it once again
sounding like raindrops
on tin musicality percussion
glowing with joy in the world.
SO
Falseful and farcical forces
flashing ludicrous dichotomy
in stacks of paper blood
oozing over everything else
like a spark of inspiration
roiling under the sheets
coaxing love to fullest out
spreading the red farther
than ever in past distant
memories of war-torn sex
gospels being preached
to the penitent reticent
masses of foolish farts.
