Poem: Gas

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.


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.


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.

Poem: Gas

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