And in the end the retooling Lilly twins,
resting in peace at a Yoga retreat center,
sunning naked at the wet, soaking pool,
manifest well days short playing chess!
Poems
I'm fucked up, an idiot, from way back, hardwired in,
I tried evolving, attempted to be a goodhearted truth!
But of the loves I've killed, of all the dumbs I've been,
abandoning Eang shall be the last thing I'll never do
What ever you do, where ever you go
Why ever you rove, whom ever you love
Remember to be most true to yourself
Remember to thank your loadstar above
What ever you want, where ever you land
When ever you're lost, how ever you roam
Hold on to the place your heart tells you to
Stay and let love make you right at home
Do not wish them all dead
Do not spit on their graves
Let your mind drift far out
Past the sand and the waves
Do not give them one thought
Do not drown in their bile
Let your mind find that place
Where the calm fair winds smile
Do not wish them bad luck
Do not swim with the swarm
Let you mind rest in peace
In the eye of the storm
Poetries need not be flowery, an ode doth not need to rhyme
yet sometimes both of may happen, regardless of intentions
The goal of a good poet 'tis saying something of importance
yet what's a priority to one writer may not be to any readers
And whilst a foul urge prods me to jibe all sentence endings
a better execution might be to just let the right word fall out!
They put hordes of nonbelievers to death
Those who would question the goodness of god
Those who would dare say the world was not flat
Those who might prove all church doctrines as flawed
They put a thug in the oval office
Those with no power who followed like sheep
Those with no sense who would send the crook back
Those who might buy the lies he could not keep
They were here long before science arrived
They existed and are flourishing still
Those who still pray in the name of false gods
Those who still drool for the thrill of the kill
It was his period of productivity
A time of spontaneous creativity
His poems and minstrelsies hitting hard and keenly
His words the epitome of expressivity
This is the thorn of all artistic endeavor
To be remembered for works written while alive
To bare all and shed light on the darkest of lies
His anthology cast with a flaming high-five
Monsignor, our people are talking in the streets,
saying Copernicus has placed the sun at center!
Nonsense my son! Our good Lord hath revealed,
you and I are at the exact center of the universe
yet master, they're claiming a new sort of proof
one that may be seen with number of the math
Hearsay! No, we shan't dispute the word of God
as spoken by His words, and His word 'tis final!
But brother, how can we be sure of God's word?
Blasphemy boy! Our lord speaks directly to me!
The caesar shoved another bloody slice of mutton
into a chubby mouth already stuffed to the rafters,
as the champion inserted two silver, jaded stiletto
into the vanquished orbs of a foe slating hereafter
His thumb still pointed down, dripping the grease
he brought it up quickly and swiped it 'pon fleece
"You've served me well gladiator yet I need more!"
"And until satisfaction naught bread for the poor!"
We've let the coyote back in the coop
he's at hens again, licking their poop
The fox's now rabid, more than afore
we gave him a key; he busted a door!
For four years we saw, full of a terror
as wolfman bit, eviscerating bearers
We screamed warnings, to deaf ears
so, no chicken, and farm 'tis at tears!
Well, they're gooks, is all I'm sayin'
nuttin bad there, just weird prayin',
with the slanty eyes the yella skin
I ain't racist, and I ain't never been
but the way they talk all gibberish
oh, the stinky rice, like smelly fish
no I don't mind seeing 'em around,
I don't care for chink-chink sound
