| Cynic, Interrupted
Oh, pardon me~ Excuse my interruption Of your pessimistic party, But it�s time for a little didactication. I guess someone forgot to tell me I had to go all �obliteration�&�putrification� At your cynic�s jubilee of free Poe, popcorn, & pontification. I could not help the ha-ha and the he-he At your seriousness, at your alliteration Of �dark & dreary�. Oh, what mortification! I only meant to allude to the brighter Side of poetry, to a life that is lighter. |
| George and Patty.
George the bureaucrat Has a funny little tattoo, Patty the Pirate, all in black and blue. Georgie, Georgie, who have you become? You used to be a player of Drinks, drugs, and dildos. �You can drink as much as you pleases As long as you drink purple Jesus.� Georgie, Georgie, who have you become? You gave chase to your dreams of violent cacophonies, Purple, blue, black leather left on the floor As you ran, ran so far away From us, hiding in a new sullen sphere of safety. Georgie, Georgie, who have you become? George the bureaucrat Isn�t what he used to be. Now he is Lawyer, House, BMW, Husband, and Forever, Patty the Pirate. |
| In Vain
If I had a petal for every tear That was shed out of the eyes of a child who lived in fear, I could build them a garden so fine Where they could learn to shimmer and shine. I�d take her away from the horrors of her life To a place with no strife. Where the skies are always clear Above, and she would know I hold her dear. In my arms she would know words lik �safe�and�joyful� Forgetting the meanings to �black-blue� and �hurtful�. She would grow up, laughing eyes a-blazed, Not being under grey, granite-glazed. I stood there watching, As his drink went sloshing. We trembled, we cried, we ran to old Mrs. Brine�s shack, To no avail---they just sent us back. I tried to save her, again and again I couldn�t block five, six, nine or ten. I couldn�t even encompass her pain, The attempts were just in vain. Now gone, dust in frigid wind My precious, delicate, fragile Cind. She who will always haunt my dreams Listening, quietly to my screams. |
| Jane
She was a square peg In a world of round holes; Never in a million years Would she have thought to draw outside the line - Her life was lived through rose-colored giggles. He knocked on wood & blew her house down, His love was like gorilla warfare, Battered Boyfriend Battalion, a five-minute man - He smashed her pink-tinted table. Then he did the million-man march Out the back door, Dust in the wind, But he was nice enough to leave bread in the box - She lives in a cherry-coated castle. She became a total clich�, Single�White Female�Mother; Striptease to make a buck and pay the bills, Roaming and ranging from one shantytown to the next� She left the life of blushing barbies for eternity. |