I want to live!
But only four more years
after that, I don't care
I must be alive!
Yet only to see his death
before that, oh, I care!
Poems
Give it to them good
The case-hardened hearts
turned cadaverous
Hit them where it hurts
The ones who voted
for smug avarice
Sock it to them hard
The cold-blooded souls
dead to neediness
Kick them where it aches
The ones who caved in
to harsh greediness
Sit tight and pour the wine
Long aged inside the cask
Hold on and taste the grapes
Sour setbacks put to task
Stay put and raise the glass
Half full before fast downed
Stand up and make a toast
To love so finely found
If they take my social security check away
I'm going to explode like a microwave potato
Then I'll be as a new French revolutionary
volunteering to become a guillotine operator
Cyanide or piano wire, we give the bad men choice
either way we care not, and our eyes shall not go moist
the vile men pick wrong paths, their zeniths curl to frowns
and in the end they'll never win because we shan't back down
The world 'tis our oyster, we're holding fast at sixty-five
enjoying foods plus better moods whilst processing alive
We're aging like a cheddar, deeper flavors stronger tastes
we're wisdom 'pon the rear-view mirror savoring less haste
Yes, the world's still our oyster, no longer pearly insides fake
until we lay us down to sleep a better necklace we shall make
Our world was an oyster
A succulent mollusk
In a seafood buffet
Of wayfaring solace
Our world was an oyster
A crustacean gumbo
In a shellfish mélange
Of moot mumbo jumbo
Voldemort and Sauron, off fiction's page and in the flesh,
their murderous affairs here putting treasons to the test!
Now as non-fiction goes 'tis this our very humans' best?
No, these vile villains perish poorly same as all the rest!
If I drop dead tomorrow, I'm hereby laying claim
to releasing of regret, to the dropping of all blame
I'm swearing now 'pon oath, of a newly deceased man
I'm glad of every outcome and happy as the clam
I'm making personal amends, trying with my might
to settle over goodness, be what's justifiably right
I'm going to my makers, for me atoms creating all
protons electrons grateful, solar flaring's ten foot tall!
How does a wordsmith rise to the top
where's the magic that each of them got
What say societies in choosing rhyme kings
why are some real, remain others in dreams
Who can tell me if my sonnets will soar
when a poem goes beyond infamous door
