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Dispatch → Factbook → Miscellaneous
Poems Part III
Ladies and gentlemen... POEMS PART III, by Schiltzberg. This is the extension of my original factbooks Poems and Poems Part II. As a reminder, these are just a few poems I came up with in my free time. Please do not take them too seriously, and if you like them, please give me an up-arrow. Most importantly, enjoy! :)All poems written by Luke Schiltz, unless otherwise noted. Copyright 2016. All rights reserved.
Want more poems? Check out my good friend 
Anollasia's poetry here!
I'm Never Gonna Cut My Hair
I'll never cut my hair when it's down to my shoulders.
I'll never cut my hair, even when I get older.
You can look at me funny, baby, I don't care.
I'm never gonna cut my hair.
I'll grow my hair till it's down to my nips.
I'll never cut it when it's down to my hips.
You can look at me, honey; you can gawk and stare,
But I'm never gonna cut my hair.
I'm gonna let my hair get down to my knees,
And I'll never cut it, no matter who sees.
I might start looking just like a bear,
But I'm never gonna cut my hair.
I'm gonna grow it out till it's down to my feet.
Samson's looking like a little cheat.
It's gonna get all wet on the toilet seat.
It's gonna be so long; it's gonna look so neat.
You can look at me funny, baby, I don't care.
You can look at me, honey; you can gawk and stare.
I might start looking just like a bear,
But I'm never gonna cut my hair.
There are two kinds of people that are in this land,
And they reflect each other like a right and left hand.
There's a right and a left, an up and a down,
Those that laugh, those that hiss, those that smile, those that frown,
Those that see, those that speak, those that are blind or are mute,
Those disgusting and ugly, those handsome and cute,
Those that are right, and the others are wrong,
Those that don't know the words to the song,
Those that are stupid, those that are smart,
Those that are blank, and those spilling with art,
Those that can run, those that are lame,
Some that don't know of the land which they came.
Those from the left, those from the right
With no middle ground apparent in sight.
Those that are tall, those that are little,
No in between, no medium, no middle.
I swear I saw a priest broken,
Robes ripped, tunic stolen,
Face swollen, broken toes,
Blood dripping from his nose.
The church was burning, alter sacked,
Empty tabernacle cracked.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I swear I heard a baby crying,
A poor man in the alley dying,
A woman begging to let her be,
A guilty saying, "It wasn't me."
I heard the sounds of bombs blasting,
The stomachs of the people fasting.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I swear I heard unanswered prayers
Of godless men who speak in swears.
I heard the woesome, pitied sighs
Of those who speak only in lies.
I heard a tear drop with a sniff
Into a martyr's handkerchief.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I swear I felt the fires blaze,
And the hairs on the back of a neck raise.
I felt the drips of 10,000 tears
Of righteous men who faced their fears.
I felt the force of a bomb explode,
As moral compasses did erode.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I swear I tasted smoke of the battlefield
Fired from a man behind a shield
Who killed a man to change the tide
And purge all that have God on their side.
I tasted the bitterness in his heart
That was divided into many parts.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I swear I felt the water pouring.
I swear I heard the thunder roaring.
I swear I smelled the smoke burning.
I swear I saw their bodies turning.
I swear I tasted vanity
For those who just sought sanity.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I never saw sulphur and fire
Rain down on those of bad desire.
I never heard an answered plea
Of someone begging on his knee.
I never felt a warm invite
From those who didn't want a fight.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I swear I only heard silence
From those who sought to end the violence.
I heard only a web of lies
From those supposed to prophesize.
I heard not a drop of blood
From those who could have stopped the flood.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I swear I saw them wearing masks
Who were trusted with the greatest tasks.
I saw them turning a blind eye,
As others were being left to die.
I couldn't see, because my eyes could not
Make sense of this big, twisted knot.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I smelled corruption in the air,
But no one else seemed to be aware.
I sensed the emptiness of their souls,
Which were all filled with gaping holes.
I sniffed them out from where they'd been,
But they didn't know it was a sin.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I swear I saw a smoke cloud
Cover the Earth like a shroud.
I saw the air smogged by pollution,
Children polluted by prostitution.
I saw a man with a needle plugged
Get shriveled like a salted slug.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I felt a chill go down my spine,
As I tasted their beer and smelled their wine.
By their alcoholism, I was soaked.
By their gluttony, I was choked.
I smelled their smoke and suffocated,
As they aborted life, which they'd confiscated.
It must have been some awful scheme.
It must have been a bad dream.
I must be suffering from some delusion.
This must be some horrible illusion.
I must be plagued by some spirit.
These things can't be true, or so I fear it.
These things I heard, and saw, and knew,
Make them a lie! They can't be true.
I swear it's just some awful scheme.
Please, let it be a bad dream.
In the street, Mercutio
Walked with the gloomy Romeo.
Romeo pulled me aside.
He said he wasn't satisfied
With this girl he's been thinking of.
I think he just wanted a little bit of your love.
Little red riding hood,
On the porch of her grandmother's stood.
She said, "Grandmama, your teeth are oh, so swift."
The wolf said, "Better to eat you with,"
As he wore her grandma's velvet glove.
Little red just needed a little bit of your love.
Hanzel and Grettle, they were trapped
By a witch whose lips were chapped,
But they were smart and left a breadcrumb trail.
Then, before it all went stale,
The witch into the oven they did shove,
All the time, aided by a little bit of your love.
Goldilocks tried out some chairs,
And beds, and food of the three bears,
And she thought that in their house she'd stay.
But the bears came back one day,
And Goldilocks jumped out of the window above,
But she landed softly, thanks to a bit of your love.
Judas cried out, "Mercy me!"
As he laced a rope up the hanging tree,
And the spirit begged him to repent.
But the hanging branch was bent,
And thirty pieces of silver fell down to the mud,
Where they were swallowed by the earth and a bit of your love.
Rumpelstiltskin wove his gold
For a woman who was foretold
That he'd take her child, if again he came.
But this woman guessed his name,
And he had his gold still, but the thing he was lacking of
Was that Rumpelstiltskin was still looking for a bit of your love.
Cinderella sang her song,
And made her chores take half as long,
And then she tried on that white, magic sash.
All the dirt and all the ash
Floated off of her as calmly as a dove.
Her fairy godmother must have had a little bit of your love.
I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
I got out of my ship;
It's been a long trip,
But for now, I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
I'll be here all day,
But that's okay,
And for now, I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
It's a Sunday afternoon,
And I'll be back soon,
But for now, I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
The Earth's flying by;
I can see it in the sky,
But for now, I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
No pollution or cars,
Just man and the stars,
But for now, I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
No one to love or to fear;
I'm the only one here,
But for now, I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
The Sun, it does shine
On the world that's mine,
But for now, I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
I'm walking on the Moon.
My suitcase is packed;
It's almost time to go back,
But for now, I'm walking on the Moon.
It's Hard Times (Trying to Raise My Little Girl)
I've got a job; it's not very bad.
It's awfully hard, but it's the best I've ever had.
I've got to raise my little girl and be a good dad;
I've gotta be there when she's happy and be there when she's sad.
Well, it's hard times trying to raise my little girl
In this big, mean, cruel world.
I've gotta teach my little girl how to work, how to pray,
How to act around people, what to do, what to say
For when I'm no longer there for her one day,
And it makes me feel sorry and I hurt in every way,
Cuz it's hard times trying to raise my little girl
In this big, mean, cruel world.
When I see my little girl standing out in the rain,
I'll hand her my umbrella when she's calling out my name,
And every boy that's ever seen her wants to take her on home;
Even Francis and his bishops want to take her back to Rome,
And it's hard times trying to raise my little girl
In this big, mean, cruel world.
I've had a thought, and it gave me quite a fright
To think that some little boy dreams of my baby at night.
Well, you'd better get my shotgun and lock it up tight,
Because I might give up my girl, but not without a fight,
And it's hard times trying to raise my little girl
In this big, mean, cruel world.
It makes me feel jealous when I see the whole town
Looking at my pretty daughter with her eyes golden-brown.
I teach her to be modest and keep those eyes down,
But it makes me feel ugly when I see that big frown.
Well, it's hard times trying to raise my little girl
In this big, mean, cruel world.
If you want my little girl, you'd better open your ears;
I don't want to know your nonsense and don't care about your tears.
You'd better count all your blessings and number your fears,
Cuz if you want to touch my daughter, you've got to work for seven years,
And it's hard times trying to raise my little girl
In this big, mean, cruel world.
I don't want her to sniffle, I don't want her to cry,
I don't want her to falter, I don't want her to die,
I don't want her to go on asking me why,
But I just can't bear it to let her go by,
Cuz it's hard times trying to raise my little girl
In this big, mean, cruel world.
Well, here's my little girl, and she is my own.
I've loved her so much, which my deeds have shown,
And I've taught her everything that I ever have known,
And my sweet, pretty baby, she sure has grown.
Well, it's hard times trying to raise my little girl
In this big, mean, cruel world.
You don't know if it will work,
Because you're running kind of late,
And the skank with the shirt
Wants to take you on a date.
You drop a hundred dollar bill
When you're waltzing down the street,
And all of Nashville
Will be clawing at your feet.
Well, you'd better go scratch,
And you'd better scratch fast,
Because before you strike a match,
You're gonna find yourself in last.
You've been crossing all your T's
And you've been dotting all your I's.
But no matter who sees,
You're not all that wise.
They've seen you cussing like a sailor
When you've had coffee breath;
They've heard you pleading with the jailer
When you've been on the brink of death.
They've heard you shouting, "You go!"
When you're losing your voice;
They've seen you bashing death row
When you're voting pro-choice.
Well, you'd better start thinking,
And you'd better start now,
Because your ship's been sinking,
And you don't know how.
"Keep dry," you're saying
When I'm standing in the rain.
Like a child, I'm playing,
Playing chicken with a train.
And the train, it's hopping;
It's rolling down the track,
And there ain't no stopping.
No time to turn back.
You'd say a quick prayer,
Except the time is all passed,
But the train doesn't care,
And mows you over like grass.
What was on God's mind
When he made the bad things,
When he crafted mankind
And all that it brings?
Was he really that numb?
Was he that naive?
Was he really that dumb?
Did he really believe?
You think you're more smart
Than the people your age,
But where's it in your heart?
You're not some sage.
You're getting problematic
When you're drinking from you're kegs,
And you're hiding in the attic,
Dreaming of Lincoln's legs.
Well, you'd better start cutting;
Start cutting through the fog,
Cuz by the time you get rutting,
You're be coughing like a dog.
They're coming out to do ya,
So start running for your life,
Because they'll cut right through ya
With a rusty pocketknife.
Don't be a lad
That writes down notes,
Because your dog's gone mad,
And he's ripping out throats.
I got a fruit roll from a fat kid
For my middle fingers and a toe,
And I regretted what I did
And woke up in a Tahoe.
It's time for you to pay,
The skank's looking for her pants,
When suddenly you say,
"Hey, look at those ants!"
Well, you'd better just leave,
So get up and leave town,
And now before you dry heave,
You had better sit down.
With your velvet eyes,
And perfect size,
And legs of steel
That just can't feel,
And your arms of money
That are filled with honey,
How in the world could I kneel for you?
With your beautiful speckles
That compliment your freckles,
And the moon that shines
On your stomach of wines
That turns and spins
In the way a man sins,
How could I be a man of pine for you?
Oh, my sweet little Hannah girl
Around all of which, the oceans do whirl,
How can you satisfy my wayfaring lust?
Do you love me to the heart?
Hannah girl, shall we part?
With the priest of Eden
In the season of seedin'
In the month of August,
And the judges all just,
And your brother forgotten,
And all your flowers gone rotten,
Should I go to Saturn or bust for you?
With your splashing flipper
That found your lost slipper,
And your sheet-covered face,
And your magnified grace
That sparkles like candles
And your holy ground, removed sandals,
Why would anyone carry mace for you?
Oh, my sweet little Hannah girl
Around all of which, the oceans do whirl,
How can you peel away my tarnishing crust?
Do you love me to the heart?
Hannah girl, shall we part?
With your silky brow
That remind us of how
Your beautiful teeth
Are sharpened like a sheathe,
And covered by the rye,
And the cover of pie,
Who would walk underneath of you?
With your feet like razors,
And your eyes like lasers,
And your velvet-colored dress
That is stifled by the press,
And your underwhelming smile,
And ears that beguile,
How could anyone impress you?
Oh, my sweet little Hannah girl
Around all of which, the oceans do whirl,
How can you scrape away my ironing rust?
Do you love me to the heart?
Hannah girl, shall we part?
With Jesus in his prime
Walking down your spine,
And all of his shame,
When he forgot his own name,
As he said to you "Miss,
Don't betray me with a kiss,"
How could anybody blame you?
With Moses on the mount,
As he forgot how to count,
And your swallows of what's right,
And your yodels in the night,
And the baby that's crying
To the slave owner that's buying,
How could anyone bear the sight of you?
Oh, my sweet little Hannah girl
Around all of which, the oceans do whirl,
How can you piece together my shattered bust?
Do you love me to the heart?
Hannah girl, shall we part?
Jesus was a cowboy
And he rode up on a horse,
Smoking a camel cigarette
And legalizing divorce.
He preached about equality
And stopped us all from sinnin'.
Then, he put on his cowboy hat
And rode off with a string of women.
Jesus rode on a big, white horse
On a Friday afternoon.
He laced his lasso, spurred his boots,
And hopped off by the old saloon.
The barman asked him, "Where you from?"
And our savior went on to say,
"I was born on the Mississippi waters
In the heart of the USA."
Jesus blessed the alcohol
And sanctified a bun.
Then, he lit a cigarette
On the holster of his gun.
Jesus found a deck of cards,
And he threw it all away
With a half-dressed lady by his side,
Somewhere in the USA.
Jesus was a cowboy
And he rode up on a horse,
Smoking a camel cigarette
And legalizing divorce.
He preached about equality
And stopped us all from sinnin'.
Then, he put on his cowboy hat
And rode off with a string of women.
Jesus woke up the next morn
On that same familiar barstool
With a Colt revolver in his hand
And challenged to a duel.
Jesus took the challenger
And he shot that old man down.
Then, he said, "Let the dead bury the dead,"
So they left him on the ground.
Jesus played another game,
And he drew the jack of hearts.
He said, "A man with just one wife
Is a man of missing parts."
The savior looked up at his friends,
And he told them with a grin,
"Amen, amen, I say to you,
Polygamy is no sin."
Jesus was a cowboy
And he rode up on a horse,
Smoking a camel cigarette
And legalizing divorce.
He preached about equality
And stopped us all from sinnin'.
Then, he put on his cowboy hat
And rode off with a string of women.
Jesus was a cowboy;
He was a bouncing ball of spunk.
He turned the water into wine,
And his disciples all got drunk.
He told them, "You take forty wives,
And one-hundred kids they'll give.
Then, take them all to Utah state,
Cuz that's where they aught to live."
Jesus turned with a drunken smile to the woman he was with,
And he told her, "Follow the holy word
That I have to Joseph Smith.
That book is even awesomer
Than what Ecclesiastes does tell,
So let's go ahead and party now,
Before we all go burn in hell."
Jesus was a cowboy
And he rode up on a horse,
Smoking a camel cigarette
And legalizing divorce.
He preached about equality
And stopped us all from sinnin'.
Then, he put on his cowboy hat
And rode off with a string of women.
You've Gotta Work It Out Some Way
I learned and sang their songs,
And listened to every word they gave.
I corrected their rights from wrong,
But David's spinning in his grave.
I gave them all I knew,
And memorized it in my head,
But the great Solomon too
Is spinning in his worm-filled bed.
Like the sound of a loud barking
Of a dog that's on the loose,
The Lord has left his marking
In the shape of a hanging noose.
Like the elements withstanding
By a prisoner on the run,
The Lord has made his branding
In the shape of a smoking gun.
Get passed people from your head;
Ban them from your dreams.
Let the dead bury the dead;
They mean nothing, so it seems.
The old man Noah must have been black,
Because he didn't know how to swim,
But he worked for the shirt on his back,
And look what became of him!
No one seemed to be a freak
When they were drowning at rock bottom,
But then as soon as they reach their peak,
They change their name to Sodom.
I'm not God, but if I were
This is what I'd say,
"You're your own cure;
You've gotta work it out some way.
If you claim to be mature,
You're on your own; go on your way.
For your problems, you're your cure;
You've gotta work it out some way."
Ask and words will be spoken
After you threaten with a rock.
Request and the door will be opened
After you force open the lock.
He's the teacher's pet,
And every joke's butt.
He lost a bet,
And has a monk haircut.
That can't be a fashion!
Is that a new style?
You've got to imagine
I've got the cops on speed dial.
His awkwardness shows
Yet again. What a shame!
And nobody knows
This awkward kid's name.
Tried to be nice, instead,
But I just will stare
At the top of his head,
Up at the monk hair.
He must be a punk
That's hooked up on coke
To shave like a monk.
It's some cruel joke.
The wind blowing hard, like a runaway train.
John Wilkes Booth sat outside in the pouring rain,
Thinking of the things which he had done.
Nothing to prove him guilty, but a smoking gun.
Bright and early morning, April 26,
John Wilkes Booth found himself in quite a fix.
Hiding out with David Herold at the Garrett farm,
He remembered a cold Abe fall into Crazy Mary's arms.
Outside, a united nation together wept and mourned,
While John Wilkes Booth's young heart was ripped and torn.
When news of soldiers came about and reached his bloody bed,
John and David hid outside, out in the tobacco shed.
The soldiers came up to the door and pounded on the gate.
"Come out" they said, "dear, Johnny! Don't make us have to wait!"
David Herold surrenders, and they bound him of his might,
But John Wilkes Booth declared he wouldn't go down without a fight.
John Wilkes Booth yelled and kicked open the door.
Then, guns a-blazed, he misfired, then loaded for more,
When a soldier's bullet hit him and pierced him by the head.
Sergeant Corbitt walked around and declared that John was dead.
John Wilkes Booth lay dead upon his face upon the ground,
Not a sympathizing face anywhere to be found.
This man's death did not make up for that hefty cost
Of his, whose life was in the hands of John, and likewise had been lost.
When your stomach's as big as your dick is long,
You know that you've done something terribly wrong.
When your food starts toppling off over your plate,
You know you'd better go lose some weight.
When you drop a pen, and it can't be found,
You know you've gotta lose a pound.
You'll know that you're fat and you cannot mask it,
When you need more than six pall bearers to carry your casket.
When you see that you're fat and you know that it's true,
I'll put Leviticus 3 on your tombstone for you,
And I'll set it up good just as soon as they've found
A big enough hole to put you in the ground.
Someone will say something to remember you by,
But they'll forget all the words and just breakdown and cry,
Cuz they've seen you and lived in your house and all that,
But all they remember is that you were fat.
They'd stand there just blankly forgetting the words,
And all that they see is you eating cheese curds.
And right about now, you've got Fr. Peck,
Steve Knox, and Joe Linster breathing down your neck,
Just when your poor mama will step up and say
How she remembers it well, just like yesterday,
When she witnessed you taking your very first bite,
Like a stoner's first pill, like a boxer's first fight.
And way up in heaven, you'll feel ashamed,
And wish you'd died all alone, unborn and unnamed.
You'll spend your whole death just trying to forget
Your whole wasted life that you fully regret.
You wish you could get back the strength that you lack,
But your scrawny days are gone and you can't get them back.
You didn't have to be cool or wear a funny hat,
You were already our mascot for just being fat,
And to look at your belt line and gawk at your hip
Proves there's no such thing as one potato chip.
If shape was a crime, they'd throw you in jail,
Cuz you float like an elephant, flop like a whale.
I can't even remember what's really real.
I can't choose what's fake and what I really feel.
Upon the cracked pavement I dreadfully kneel.
Nothing's left for me, so I've got to steal.
I can't even remember what happened first.
I've been given sour wine when I cried out "I thirst."
I can't even decide which one was worst,
And I can't even remember what happened there first.
I can't even make sense of the words that I think.
I've been given a heavy chalice, out of which I drink.
My life flashes before my eyes each time I blink,
And I can't even escape from this big rotten stink.
I just cannot seem to follow it through,
And I'm beaten with a rake when I think that I do.
I've got my hands behind my back and my feet chained too,
And nothing to my name but a torn up shoe.
Give me your money, baby,
Give me your purse.
Give me your life, it can't get much worse.
You can lay down and die, but hell ain't much better than this.
You can take me heaven or you can spare me your pleasant kiss.
I've lived on the streets,
I've lived in a home.
I've been to London,
Baby, I've been to Rome.
Every place I go, I can't find no happiness.
You can take me to heaven, or you can spare me your pleasant kiss.
I've heard the stories,
Baby, I read the Torah.
Have you ever heard the story
Of Sodom and Gomorrah?
They were sinners now, honey, but they can do anything they wish.
You can take me to heaven, or you can spare me your pleasant kiss.
I've seen the movies,
And I've read all the books.
I've seen the angels
And their jealous looks.
You can tell by the air that something's just gone amiss.
You can take me to heaven, or you can spare me your pleasant kiss.
You can say what you want
Or you can walk away,
But it really won't matter
What you do or you say,
Because you can do what you want babe, but my question you can't dismiss.
So will you take me to heaven or will you spare me your pleasant kiss?
Mrs. Drumtra's my hero,
Don't you challenge her worth.
Thank the Lord and Emperor Nero,
To them I credit her birth.
All she's said you've ever heard
Came from a burning hedge.
That's why you'll never hear a word
When it's time to say the pledge.
Mrs. Drumtra taught me to see
And the scales fell from my eyes.
She breathed the Spirit into me
And taught me to compromise.
She posts the homework at 4:33
And she's never ate a steak.
She knows how this world aught to be
And beats me with a rake.
She's talking about Mrs. Saylors again.
Oh, why do we even care?
But she's the savior sent from heaven,
So question her not we dare.
You'd better not break out your phone
In the middle of her class,
Because if she finds out, you'll get stoned
With a pencil up your ass.
Mrs. Drumtra taught me to see
And the scales fell from my eyes.
She breathed the Spirit into me
And taught me to compromise.
She posts the homework at 4:33
And she's never ate a steak.
She knows how this world aught to be
And beats me with a rake.
She wrote "Harambe: The Musical"
And "The Tales of Frog and Toad,"
Then she put them in a crucible,
And the whole thing did explode.
John the Baptist came up to me,
And he told me with a grin,
"Bartholomew and Timothy
Are drunk on too much gin."
Larry King, Joseph Smith
And Mrs. Saylors back in town,
With Mrs. Drumtra on the inner fifth,
Where Jack the Ripper took her down.
Jesus was God; why did we kill him?
Mrs. Drumtra knows it all.
The hands go up and the lights go dim,
And she confused Peter with Paul.
Our lord and savior, Mrs. Drumtra,
Do what you've got to do,
And some time around Hanukkah,
I'll say a prayer for you.
Mrs. Drumtra taught me to see
And the scales fell from my eyes.
She breathed the Spirit into me
And taught me to compromise.
She posts the homework at 4:33
And she's never ate a steak.
She knows how this world aught to be
And beats me with a rake.
Get out of here,
There ain't nothing good near.
You should run now for your life
If your conscience is clear.
Get out of here,
Be careful where you steer.
Be careful what you're doing now,
Don't play with your fear.
Don't go down to the cemetery,
If you do so, be wary.
Their empty sockets stare at you,
And you forgot that you carry
Your Bible in your pocket, and they're clawing from their graves.
The wind blows through their bodies,
Like a wild dog raves.
They've got bells around their wrists, and they cry out to be saved.
Get out of here,
There ain't nothing good near.
You should run now for your life,
If your conscience is clear.
Get out of here,
Be careful where you steer.
Be careful what you're doing now,
Don't play with your fear.
You're at that broken down school, and you're standing in the hall.
You yell, but no one answers and there's no one to call.
Blood's dripping through the doorway across the sink by the stall,
And that cobweb in the corner's driving you up the wall.
You try to find and investigate, but do so in vain,
And that spider's by the window on that cracked windowpane.
He says, "Get out of here, you rotten man. Go take up your cane
And walk down to that hospital and tell them you're insane."
When you can't see through your fingers,
Cuz the fog's too thick,
And you can't see through your windows,
Cuz they're covered up with brick,
And you can't see through your eyes,
Because they're covered in ticks,
And you can't see through your ears,
Because they're all full of sticks,
And you can't see through your nose,
Cuz you're about to get sick,
And you can't see through your mouth,
Because you're careful who you lick,
And you can't see through your asshole,
Cuz you don't know how to flick,
And you can't see through your toenails,
Cuz they're covered by your dick,
Then that is when you realize
You should have said, "No,"
When they asked you if you knew
The name of the show,
And you'll think that you're blind,
But you just won't know
That it's all a big hoax,
And it's all bull crow.
There was a pretty, little lady
Who liked Zooropa.
She liked Bono and the Edge,
And she was from Europa.
This pretty, little lady,
My, she was so funny;
I asked her from a sandwich,
And she handed me money.
Her opinions were correct,
And she never did fail,
But when she did, she cut her ear off,
And she sent it in the mail.
Now, the funniest thing,
And the thing that most shocked her
Was when I broke to her the news
That Frankenstein was the doctor.
One day, I woke up,
Heated off a coffee cup,
Went in to comb my hair,
But my comb wasn't there!
I checked beneath the floorboards,
Rummaged through my pile of swords,
Looked across my neighbor's lawn,
But my comb, it was gone!
I looked through my clothes rack,
I peaked through every crack,
I checked the hole in the chair,
But my comb wasn't there!
I searched through all the files,
I looked above the ceiling tiles,
I checked in the applesauce,
But my comb, it was lost!
So, reader of this poem,
If you come across my comb,
Send me that my comb's been found,
And bring it back here safe and sound.
Got Those Letterhead Blues Part I
Don't you go around feeling sad, hon,
And don't take it as a chore,
But there is nothing you could have said or done
That could have hurt me very much more.
Don't go making yourself feel bad now,
Because there's nothing you could have said.
I don't know quite why or even how, girl,
You could have reached inside of my head.
When an image comes a-blazing and a-blaring through your mind,
Know that you're a-special, not like any other kind
Of human, so now honey, now that off are all the bets,
I'd like to have you know that I don't have any regrets.
Though we'll never be the same as we once were one day,
I just cannot stand to see my pretty lady slip away,
So I think it's time we think about the time to make amends,
So that we can go on living here, living as friends.
I feel it too, all lonesome and blue,
Buckets of rain pouring down on my shoe.
It will sweep us away, like a river to begin anew.
It's the tears of the angels that are falling on top of you.
I can't hardly write, I can't even sing,
I know that it hurt, but you did the right thing.
I'll always remember the way you carried me under your wing.
Who ever knows what kind of day that tomorrow will bring?
Don't feel poorly, don't feel bad,
You're the most beautiful that I've ever had.
In all of our days together, we were so glad,
Now when I'm thinking of you, I can't help but be sad.
I marvel at your desperate ways.
I think about them almost every day.
All I wanted was your fruit roll,
And all this time I've given my heart and soul.
I assumed your eyes were tamed,
But you looked right at me. You aught to be ashamed.
I thought that my ears had gone blind,
But it was just your words that tangled up my mind.
You've been far away so long, my mind's gone blank,
And I've forgotten what to say.
When I see your almighty flaps, it strains my brain,
And makes me wish I was gay.
You're as durable as a sheet of glass,
But when you break, you're a heap of shards.
I guess I could have changed it all,
But maybe it was just written in the cards.
You've got my blood all boiled blue
With all the terrible things you do.
Even if you lived in a shoe,
George Harrison would never smoke a joint with you.
Historians can only remember politics
With their nameless ways and lame rhetoric.
Musicians, poets, infidels, Jews, creative men,
That woman with the hood, they've forgotten.
That scavenger's on the run looking for someone to blame.
His eyes are rabid, but his lips are tame.
Why must man follow his corrupt ways?
Where his conscience sways, he'll never stay.
How can food and drink fulfill our need,
While from ourselves, our souls all bleed?
"Why does food that's stolen have such great taste?"
That's what God said to Eve before he laid them both to waste.
Some people claim that Jesus is their boss,
But he can't save them either because they nailed him to a cross.
Businessmen fold up their suits and ties,
And take their notes to rehearse their lies.
A rich man's got gold around his neck, all about which he boasts;
It's the idol of his god that will scare away his ghosts.
Our leaders stare into their mirrors and are told they are handsome,
While they've locked Jesus in the closet and they're holding him for ransom.
They beg all their people to bow down to their shoes,
Then they drive down a stake and burn those that refuse.
The deadliest crimes and the worst superstitions
Aren't nearly as bad as politicians' ambitions.
Ballad of Buffalo Bill and Calamity Jane
Buffalo Bill and Calamity Jane
Waved flags at a train to turn back,
But the postman didn't see them,
And kept on barreling down the track.
Calamity Jane, she swore with a frown,
Saying, "My God, the world's full of dicks."
Bill responded, "Sweet lady, calm down,
All they'll ever remember is politics."
She looked down at the tracks,
And thought that Bill had gone insane,
Or so goes the tale of Buffalo Bill
And the lady Calamity Jane.
Jane skillfully reloaded her pistol.
Bill's eyes had gone astray.
Jane knew and said, "You look me in my face, my friend,"
And he said, "I guess you know that I'm not gay."
Then, her heart fluttered and flirted,
As she fixed her sight on his big eyes.
He just smiled and said, "Dear lady,
I don't ever compromise,"
And her arms went around his neck
And they made out on the the track of the train,
Or so goes the tale of Buffalo Bill
And the lady Calamity Jane.
Bill had bought Michelin tires,
But his brakes had given out,
And his wagon crashed into a tree,
Which caused him to cry and pout.
Meanwhile, Jane was lost on King Street,
Under a crescent moon.
Five young men were found dead there;
It must have been a bad afternoon.
Bill and Jane both tried to find out what happened,
But both did so in vain,
Or so goes the tale of Buffalo Bill
And the lady Calamity Jane.
Word broke out that evening
That there was to be a duel
Between a showman and a painter
Who had been labeled as a fool.
Bill put on his armor;
He wished to look like a villain,
But in the shadow of his lady,
He felt more like Jakob Dylan.
Then, the painter was shot in the back,
And he fell to the ground in pain,
Or so goes the tale of Buffalo Bill
And the lady Calamity Jane.
Then, in came the painter's nephew.
He wished the showman harm,
When he came across Bill there
With Jane in his T. Rex arms.
Then, when the lovers parted,
The painter's nephew scandalously lied,
And he separately told both Bill and Jane
That their loved one had just died.
Bill and Jane both killed themselves,
Not knowing the other's death had been feigned,
Or so goes the tale of Buffalo Bill
And the lady Calamity Jane.
I hear they've sold out stock from the factory.
Prince Charming markets clippers.
Delilah flocks right to him,
And shows him the missing slipper.
All the Sons of Benjamin are hiding
In the vent behind the curtain.
Himmler's put on his gas mask,
But Zeus escaped for certain.
No one else could find him,
But he'll turn up some other day
Somewhere past the staircase to heaven,
Down the road to Lovers' Way.
"Frankenstein was the doctor,"
Cried Elijah in a great shriek.
Then, the Prince of Orange threw eggs at him,
And condemned him as a freak.
On the mountain stood Martin Luther
With his companion, named Peter Giles.
Dock Ellis picked up his throwing knives,
While a boy named Roger smiles.
No note for help was found,
Except in that bottle on the bay,
And down the staircase meant for heaven,
But leaning more toward Lovers' Way.
Mr. Sandman opened the door,
When he was greeted by Juliet
And a boy named Stuart Little
That she'd adopted as her pet.
Mr. Sandman foully flirted,
But the pleasure was all hers.
She had promptly plucked his stockings
And filled his mustache up with burs.
But no amount of money
Would this man amount to pay
To show her the staircase to heaven,
And save her from the Lovers' Way.
Joe DiMaggio's on his overlook,
And he stares in his mirror number fifty-six.
St. Joseph's on the shoreline;
He can't stop calling people dicks.
Then, in walks Charlie Manson,
Who went out on a broken limb.
He slapped Joseph on the bottom,
And told DiMaggio he's better than him.
"Come here, you rotten bastard,"
Is what you could have heard them say,
As they chased him down the staircase to heaven
Across the road to Lovers' Way.
Lee Harvey Oswald wore his costume
Of the archangel Raphael,
But no one could recognize him,
And mistook it for show and tell.
Only the Jack of Hearts could see him;
He said, "Get out of here quick, my friend,"
But LBJ intercepted them both,
And they faced a bitter end.
And the shadow from the Tower of Babel
Turned it night time in the day,
As they crossed the staircase to heaven,
Not too far from Lovers' Way.
King Henry VIII of England
Awoke one day with a playful roar.
Then, he struck down some sonless lady
Who he had never seen before.
Then, Thomas Hobbes' eyes were blinded,
Because he'd gazed on Henry's back,
And Henry went on glorifying himself,
And getting hopped up on some crack.
And the only words of caution
Came from his elderly Aunt May;
"Don't stray from the staircase to heaven,
Or you'll get lost on Lovers' Way."
David Letterman gave a monologue
Praising his idol the Taliban.
Then, the crowd went on to heckle him,
And he was slapped with a frying pan.
Pa Ingalls tuned his fiddle,
And Lewis Carroll played the jazz,
As Obama laid down the framework
That got them all out of Alcatraz.
Then, they went on rejoiced,
Because they didn't know that even they
Had just missed the staircase to heaven,
And were heading down Lovers' Way.
On the sea by the Lusitania,
Rode the Bishop of Canterbury
With his best friend the Duke of York there,
And their time was awfully merry,
But Guy Montag was their captain,
And in Celsius he'd read all the maps,
So Karl Marx had to come and save them
Before all of their ships collapsed.
Then, by some miracle, he saved them,
And they were all okay.
They had swayed toward the staircase to heaven,
But were on the border with Lovers' Way.
The great King Solomon was baffled.
He had found a burning question;
It seems his old friend Captain Ahab
Had lost all his cell reception.
Solomon asked all how to fix it,
But no one ever seemed to know,
Just except for Mother Goose,
And maybe Edgar Allan Poe.
Then, Stephen Hawking told him
That all he had to do was pray.
Then, he skipped up the staircase to heaven
With his back turned to Lovers' Way.
Kim Il-sung and Gary Larson
Both were in love with Penelope,
But the lady had a fetish
For Yul Brynner and Muhammad Ali.
They both tried to impress her,
But she was just too blind to see.
Then, she fell in love with her suitor,
Who was their rival Robert E. Lee.
They all had tried to woo her,
But her heart had gone astray,
And they all fell off the staircase to heaven
Into the pit that is Lovers' Way.
And so, my dear one, when you're reading
The contents of this note,
Please take account of every word
And every line I wrote.
This is of the utmost importance:
Don't tell of anything you've heard,
Because you never know who's listening
Or who might hear your responding word.
And when the stars fall down,
You just might hear the angels say,
"Did you follow the staircase to heaven,
Or did you wander down Lovers' Way?"
While it is, it's standing,
Standing for the ride,
And while it rides, it's laughing;
It's laughing out of pride,
And out of pride, it's dressing;
It's dressing in some shirts,
And shirts fit on too tightly,
And tightness is what hurts.
When it hurts, it's painful,
And the pain, it comes in rounds.
It rounds about to listen,
To listen to the sounds.
The sounds of people sleeping,
And while it sleeps, it snores,
And while it snores, it's raining,
And when it rains, it pours.
While it wants, it's needing,
And when it needs, it steals,
And when it steals, it's busted,
And when it busts, it heals,
And when it heals, it's young,
And when it's young, it's teething,
And while it's teething, it's living,
And while it lives, it's breathing,
And while it breathes, it's talking,
And when it talks, it's telling,
And when it tells, it's speaking,
And when it speaks, it's yelling,
And while it yells, it's working,
And while it works, it chores,
And while it chores, it's raining,
And when it rains, it pours.
While it's there, it's moving,
And while it moves, it twirls,
And while it twirls, it's spinning,
And while it spins, it curls,
And while it curls, it's single,
And while it's single it's one,
And while it's one, it's over,
And when it's over, it's done,
And when it's done, it's happy,
And when it's happy, it's good,
And when it's good, it's open,
And when it's open, it's understood,
And when it's understood, it's reading,
And when it reads, it bores,
And when it bores, it's raining,
And when it rains, it pours.
I can see the lies in his eyes.
I can hear the fears in his ears.
I can feel the hole in his soul.
I can taste the dung on his tongue.
I can smell the toes in his nose.
(Author's Note: Don't judge me.)
I just want to let myself surround you.
I just want to put my arms around you.
I want to put my lips on your lips.
I want to put my hips on your hips.
I want to love you and feel no shame,
Just two of us in the world and nobody left to blame.
You're my priority; you're my true love.
I value you more than the heaven above.
I want to love you and don't care what they think,
And we can do what we want, we can talk and drink,
And we'll love one another in whatever we do.
I'd spend eternity in hell to spend just one lifetime with you.
Genesis 2:18 is the greatest understatement of all time,
And I'd give all I have and my last bottom dime
To want what I want, to see what I see,
To love who I love, to be who I be.
They say it's sinful for me to just be with you,
But that's better than being holy and lonesome and blue.
Being a philosopher is no goal of mine,
But just some ideas are coming up in my mind.
If God's love for man is truly for real,
Then to be in love with a woman cannot be to steal,
And if that isn't true, then I'm not sure how I feel
To give thanks to this god while I pray and I kneel.
That traitor from Sprint who lost the flint
Was in a splint when he robbed the Mint.
He's got nothing to gain, says he can't complain.
He's got a tobacco stain on his walking cane.
He says he'd be slain if he felt a pain
For each drop of rain that went down his drain.
Then, he stood in the rapers' hood;
It wouldn't end good, but he thought that it would.
He met the Pope. Then, like a dope,
He dropped the soap and lost all hope.
He lost his tan to a frying pan,
Then ate his raisin bran, like a rotten man.
He says he can be Dirty Dan,
And from his can, condemns his clan.
One day, he'd stand, but then get banned
For taking land and eating sand.
He did break when he did take
That bit of wake down on the lake.
Then, he stole a dirty bowl
From a kid named Cole who had a mole.
He'd forget all his regret
When he'd get wet with his latest pet.
He'd never know it, but then he'd show it
To the local poet, before he'd blow it.
Once, like a liar, he'd hooked a wire
From a forest fire to a dirty tire.
He went on to sneeze to scare the bees,
And from their knees, they felt the breeze.
When he'd took a little look
At the naughty cook from that nasty book,
He had to send an arm to lend,
And the song he'd penned came to an end.
Well, last I checked, my pa was fond
Of his one copy of Blonde on Blonde.
I figured that I'd take his tape
Down with my lady to go and vape.
When I got down, I chugged my cup,
And then got high, which brought me up.
I took a breath, then left a choke,
As both my lungs filled up with smoke.
I closed my eyes to count to four,
But couldn't take it for much more.
Before I even got to ten,
I says, "I won't do this again."
Then, she rubbed me on the thigh.
I realized that she was high.
I realized that I was too,
And I couldn't figure what to do.
So, there, across her bed, we laid,
And all the time, the record played.
Twas the first time I'd given her a whirl,
But tonight she was my rainy day lady, my sad-eyed girl.
Some great vision I was seeing,
As she rummaged through my being.
The two were one and the one was whole,
As she sold my heart and broke my soul.
Then, violently, we fell asleep,
So silently, without a peep.
We lay like the dead deep in the ground,
Or on the street waiting to be found.
Then, the doorbell rang and we lost our wit.
We realized that we were lit.
I knew that I really had to split,
Or else her parents would throw a fit.
Then the horror came onto me,
When behind the door were the words "St. Charles PD,"
And that some neighbor had heard some sound,
And so they sought to search around.
I knew we were in quite a bind,
But the drugs messed with my mind,
So I struck the lady on the head,
And she fell to the floor stone cold dead.
About that time, they picked the lock,
And they saw the girl and gasped in shock,
But I'd already some place to hide,
While they considered how she'd died.
I'd been hiding in the wall,
And they didn't suspect me at all.
Then, in the morning, I escaped,
But I remembered I'd forgotten dad's tape!!
I was halfway across the pond
Before I remembered Blonde on Blonde,
And I was filled with so much fright,
Because I'd had it on that night.
Investigators came and found
My father's record on the ground,
Right where I'd left it behind the chair,
On the floor, just lying there.
The punishment was serious.
My father was most furious.
He cast his punches with his fists,
But the pigs put handcuffs on my wrists.
And though you know I have no grudge,
Tell it to the county judge.
The girl I'd killed had been his daughter,
And I was condemned for womanslaughter.
Now, all I've got is commissary
Out of the ass of Dirty Larry.
All they say about drugs is true.
Do what I say, not as I do.
There was a fella who they held at large
For ditching his post without discharge.
He had a way to sweet talk with fluid words so fine,
But he was scared out of his wits of the front line.
The troops were confused when they received no demand,
And were all men for themselves under no one's command,
And then they were shot down in a hurry.
They'd ask him for a Pepsi, but he'd give them cocaine,
Fifty acres, and a mule, then he'd leave them in the rain.
He'd fly the white flag almost every day,
And when he didn't he flew the national flag the opposite way.
Then, if he didn't run, he'd offer up all his stuff,
Even the clothes off his back, but it was never enough,
And then he'd run away in a hurry.
This man's side won the war by the gun,
And back home he'd run when the fighting was done,
But it was well known that with great skill
He'd forsaken his post and allowed his men to be killed.
The general called him in and said, "Why ya not dead?"
And when he replied, "I don't know," he said, "Off with his head,"
And they hung him on the gallows.
I miss you and your knee-high socks.
I miss the way you look at me.
I miss the way you call my name,
And try to tickle and tease me.
I miss that look inside your eyes
When I can tell you really care.
I want to hold your hand and kiss you silly,
And I would if I wasn't scared.
I miss the way you wave to me
With that smile on your face.
I miss your little round glasses
And the way you punch me on the shoulder.
I miss you so much that I'm overwhelmed,
And I don't know what to say.
I know you're just across town,
But you feel so far away.
I'm a business man, I mean business, girl.
I mean, I miss you all times of the day,
Except when it's just me and you,
And that is when I am really happy.
I miss the sweaters that you wear
And all the funny things you say.
I miss telling you about my day
And telling you all of my stories,
Even though most of them aren't even true,
But that's just the right side of my brain talking to you.
I miss you and your dirty jokes,
And how you're cute when you think I'm too good for you,
And when you call me cute, but I'm too scared say you are too.
Well, you're cute, you're cute, you're cute, you're cute,
And I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
I miss walking to class with you.
I can never do it enough.
I really miss you when you're gone,
And I'm terrible at putting it into words.
I can't describe my feelings for you,
And this language won't allow me to.
Too many restrictions and too few words.
Just come inside my brain and see what I think of you.
Come down all ye children.
Now, don't make me have to yell.
Sit down there by my feet
And a short story I will tell.
At the bottom of the deepest oceans
Lie the sharks' and the whales' bones.
Now, I'll tell you all the fable
Of a man named Jeremy Jones.
Now, Jeremy was a strange man,
And some things you won't understand,
But patiently sit and listen;
This I give as my command.
Jones came out the wrong hole,
And he fell out on his head.
The doctor meant to heal him with anesthetic,
But he gave him brown acid instead.
Well, from that point, the poor boy
Had no one on his side;
He was born without a father,
And during his birth, his mama died.
As a boy, he invented Starbucks,
And he was a friend to many,
But he sold his stock too early,
And he never made a penny.
He'd lived out on the streets now,
And no one knew his name,
Except the angels and the patrons
And his parents in their graves.
Then one day, he met a man
Who was a left-brained English teacher
Who brought him in as if his own son,
And he doubled as his preacher.
One day, there was a rumor
That circled the whole town
That Jeremy Jones was a father,
And the English teacher frowned.
You see, the teacher was so gullible
That he thought he was a sleuth,
And he threw Jeremy on the street again,
Even though it was not the truth.
About then, Jeremy became disrupted
By the acid from when he was born,
And his lifestyle began to change
From the sinless life that he had sworn.
Jeremy's tastes were altered,
And even though his skin was white,
He defied it by blasting music
By ghetto rappers in the night.
Well, Jeremy became a rebel,
And he started drinking hard.
He attacked a local campground,
While he wore a leotard.
He threw tobacco leaves on the campers' fires
And he wished to do them harm.
He chased them down and stole the chickens
From their humble family farms.
It's been seven years since his last birthday,
And they haven't seen him in that long,
But if he came around, he'd kill ya
Slower than I sing thing song.
See now, the lesson of this story,
All of my able-bodied friends,
Is don't you die like Jeremy Jones,
No matter where your story ends.
I write notes in a notebook
That has high-tech micro perforation,
And I'm not sure how I feel about that.
It's like decking out your closet
Completely full of diamond-plated hooks
To simply hang you hat.
It's like pushy people promptly placing
Cookie cutters to kink the kill with little luscious lacing
To simply skin a scat.
It's like eating every eggplant
And getting grounded grains of gravy
To try not to be fat.
They've got a bagger who's awful skinny.
His name was James, but they called him Jimmy.
They stole the only girl that he's kissed
And told him she was a terrorist.
He questioned them and said, "What for?"
They threw orangutan sh*t at him and sent him to war.
You can't never take nothing as it is.
It might be a bucket of orangutan jizz.
You think you've found something that's unique.
It's just an orangutan with a strained oblique.
You're fascinated by his words,
But it's just him sh*tting and the chirping of birds.
I've got a girl, she's cute as hell.
I recognized her by her smell.
I'd see her from the window inside,
And that damned orangutan trying to hide.
That rotten ape wouldn't let her be,
So I tranquilized it from a tree.
Some dumb ass English teacher said
She wanted Miss Embellowski dead.
I'll take the shot and shoot her too,
And join the force to end the orangutan flu.
You think I joke; you think I kid.
You shoulda seen the things I did.
For everyone peeling off a Goodwill sticker,
There's a bastard in an alley with a banjo picker,
And some feller kneeling down on his own,
Like an orangutan, praying to the alter for his phone.
There are some people; you can't satisfy em.
Somebody's gotta crucify em.
Some of these people've got sh*t in their head.
You've gotta feed em poisoned bread.
They don't know how to read a map.
All an orangutan can do is fap.
So all you bastards and all you bitches,
Go kill yourselves! My finger twitches.
Hannah, happy birthday!
I hope you'd be happy anyway;
You've got plenty of reasons to be.
Your beauty can't be accounted for;
It's like nothing I've ever seen before.
You've got smiles for as far as I can see.
When you're gone, there's an abyss,
A never ending emptiness
That's pouring from the bottom of my soul.
Something about you's tragic,
As you trick me with your magic
And you fill up that big, open, gaping hole.
I like to walk with you between classes
With your round socks and knee-high glasses,
And I appreciate all that you stand for.
I like the way you do your hair,
I like the way in which you care,
And I only seem to like you more and more.
When you're here, I secretly want to kiss you,
And when you're gone, I always miss you,
But sometimes I just don't know what to say.
I want you to know how much you're worth
To me on this, your date of birth,
And I hope you have a happy birthday.
One rotten bastard whose name was Romeo
Killed his wife's father's nephew and he didn't even know.
Then, he danced all around and paraded while the lady stripped.
Then, she asked him for five bucks and his heart laterally ripped.
There was a funny colored fella who typed in my calculator,
"Go get all of your toys and meet me at the elevator."
He was wearing a priest's tunic, but his tan line did show.
He said he didn't believe in nothing, not even Yoko.
Jesus is hanging on the cross and for a drink does he implore.
The soldiers gave him hard liquor and he was begging them for more.
Everybody's loony now and standing on the fence.
He's got the heels of Curt Schilling, but the socks of Hunter Pence.
Everybody's naked and it's starting to kick in.
They were laying on each other and forgot all how to sin.
Catfish Hunter and Lou Gehrig, they're both dying from the disease,
And Stephen Hawking's calming them with his damning philosophies.
Every time I'm watching TV I'm with with all this damned rhetoric.
I can't tell what's really real from what metaphoric.
I think I've got the answer, but first I've gotta find out how
Everybody's got a stomach, but there's four inside a cow.
There was a teacher on the sidelines, he musta just been brokenhearted.
He walked in looking like Houdini, but walked out mentally retarded.
Every second of every day he wore a whoopie cushion on his ass,
And he blamed it every time a gust of wind would pass.
Bloodhounds Clawing at Your Door
Bloodhounds clawing at your door.
You feel like you've been here in a dream before,
And you've done something bad.
You did something really bad,
And you don't know what you had
Done or what it was
All you can remember is the buzz
Of the shotgun in your hand,
When your brain gave the command.
You look down at the gun,
And you're not sure what you've done,
Except you know that you're the one,
And the body's lying on the floor.
Bloodhounds clawing at your door.
Don't wanna be a pure boy.
Don't wanna do it no more.
Don't wanna be a pure boy.
Can't see why or what for.
My lips are chapped and bleeding.
My face is covered in mud.
You try to see right through me,
But my soul's as dark as blood.
Don't wanna be a pure boy.
I want to be like a house of mirrors;
The person staring back is exactly the same,
Except warped by all their fears.
Don't wanna be a pure boy.
Don't wanna have a soul.
Just watch my life spinning
Down this toilet bowl.
Don't wanna be a pure boy.
I'm like a glass sheet;
You can see right through me
Until I'm stuck inside your feet.
Don't wanna be a pure boy.
Can't take it another day.
Can't stand to be a pure boy
And watch my life waste away.
Come all you Cub fans; so long have you been waiting.
Now no more collapsing, choking, or hating.
No more heartbreak; your losing is done.
After 108 years, the Cubbies have won.
All of you Sox fans, it's time to retire
That horrible joke about the Ottoman Empire.
All of you Cardinal fans can't give us hate
For last winning it all back in 1908.
After so long, we have grabbed by the throat
This wretched idea of a damned billy goat.
Now, the Curse of the Billy Goat is only folklore,
And the name of Steve Bartman shall be forgotten once more.
Harry and Ernie and Ronnie Santo,
And Steve Goodman too, because he aught to know,
Go put on your Cubs hat and shirt of striped pin,
Because Ben, Kris, and Tony have brought us a win.
One dark night in bleak December,
The night grew cold by the dying ember,
And yes, it's true that it was dark,
Except the glowing of one spark
That danced its way around the room.
It must have felt more like a tomb.
Now please stop reading, and here is why:
I just need to clarify
That I'm not Edgar Poe and don't want to be
A drunk dead in the gutter indecently,
Just because I wrote a story that was at night.
This is my story to write.
Every horror story is repeated,
And you can guess the ending before you're seated
At the table to read the first letter.
It's like how every burnout wears the same sweater,
Every slut wears the same dress,
And every only child makes the same mess.
So follow me, and I'm your leader.
If you weren't a follower, you wouldn't be a reader,
Such harshness I don't intend,
And I promise that I won't offend,
But there is content very gory
In the tale of this story.
Now, I won't beat around the bush;
I'm going to go ahead and push
A scary thought behind your frown
Of a terrible demonic clown
That would cause many a fright
On that dark December night.
The clown was chilly by the fire,
And thought it fitting to retire,
And lay there almost in a nap,
When suddenly, he heard a tap.
The clown looked back behind his chair,
And heard a creaking in the stair.
Just then, a little boy had just come down
Into the presence of the demonic clown.
The boy saw and was terrified
By the clown, and was torn up inside.
The clown got up from where he'd laid
And told the boy not to be afraid.
Out of fear, the boy grabbed his knife
And took the demonic clown's life.
He'd wedged the knife under the clown's throat,
And it had punctured through his throat,
And blood spilled out of the clown's neck;
There was no pulse to check.
Just before the bleeding ceased,
The boy began to start a feast,
And he ate and went to town
On the body of the demonic clown.
He left the clown dead as a stone,
All of the flesh cleared from his bone.
Now, I warned you it was gory,
This surprising, chilling story.
If you're surprised, don't be ashamed;
You just judged a story by its name.
You didn't know that sometimes we hide
The plot of what's really inside.
We've got a woman, a devil, or maybe a witch;
Her lust for power's more than an itch.
She's got a grasp on all her platform's lies,
But her trigger fingers still twitch.
No, things still aren't what they seem.
Somebody, wake me from this dream.
Corruption was her maiden name
Before she married into the game
Of scandal, power, lust, and greed.
They don't ever look the same,
But you can smell them in the air.
Please, wake me from this nightmare.
On the other side, we've got a capitalist
With gold in his pockets and dollars in his fists.
He stands on the souls of 10,000 skulls,
A perverted, racist, clown of a fascist.
Either hit me with some harder booze
Or wake me from this frightful snooze.
His past experiences unrelated,
He preys on the uneducated.
Money is his game, and he owns it all,
But his gold is all serrated.
Please, wake me from this lie
Before I kill myself or die.
The aforementioned witch, she is a crook;
She reads her truths straight from the book,
Except the book doesn't exist,
As of last time I gave a look,
And her promises are all folklore.
Please, save me from my snores.
She'll make sure the condemned get their fair portion
Of life, and yet she still allows abortion,
Just like the lying scum she is,
Like a hypocrite blown out of proportion,
And the pits of hell are deep.
Please, wake me from my sleep.
I've never heard a tale so tall
As when the capitalist said he'd build a wall.
It's as if he's trying to start a war.
To ban Muslim travelers would be a fall
From all the rights on which this country was created.
How long must I suffer from being sedated?
The Second Amendment she denies,
And the First one he'll surely compromise
For the safety of the American people.
I can't decide which heap of lies
To vote for, since neither deserves such power.
Please, wake me at this final hour.
Some will do as they please
And say depression is a disease.
Well, it must be contagious,
Because it's getting outrageous.
Now, it seems like the Trump
Has beaten the Frump,
So expect a raid
From the redneck parade.
God had better wake up in heaven
From 2,000 years of Day Seven.
How long must we wait
For a potential Day Eight?
A boy and a girl had opposite morality,
And they were exactly opposite, except in personality.
Then, the girl got stoned, and it all fell apart,
And the boy was left weeping, empty, with a broken heart.
There's another pretty couple; oh, I'm so jealous.
Well, aren't they cute? Oh, aren't they zealous?
Can you call that passion? That's nowhere near it;
They forgot to touch base with the Holy Spirit.
Of Hillary Clinton, let me warn
You that people like her should have never been born.
Judas did wrong, but at least he felt strife;
In fact, he felt so much guilt that he took his own life.
You see, people like Clinton, they lie and they cheat.
They feel no remorse and have snakes at their feet.
They've got lives at their hands, but their hearts stand as still
As the motionless bodies of the people they kill.
We used to be happy and full of bliss.
I remember it well, your pleasant kiss,
But things just aren't the same;
You don't know my own name,
Ever since you started taking the shortcut again.
Remember that bench by the river where we sat?
Surely, you still must remember that.
We were both so happy on that September day,
But now it has seemed like that feeling is so far away,
Ever since you started taking the shortcut again.
In the G wing by the door, you won't meet me anymore,
And in the F wing by the stair, you no longer meet me there,
And in the E wing by the hall, you won't wait for me at all,
And I'm waiting in the B wing all alone. You won't even answer on your phone,
Ever since you started taking the shortcut again.
Ever since you started taking the shortcut again,
Something has come over me and I don't know what,
But it makes me want to keep taking the longer cut,
And I'll wait for you until I don't know when,
If you would only take the long cut with me again.
Maybe she's digging me, maybe she's not,
But all I can tell is that she is hot.
It may be coincidence, but maybe it wasn't.
Maybe she likes me, maybe she doesn't.
She may want to slap me, she may want to hug me.
She may think I handsome, she may think I'm ugly.
She may think I'm smart, she may think I'm stupid.
She may channel Tybalt, she may channel Cupid.
She may think I'm charming, she may think I'm sweet.
She may think I'm filthy as dogs on the street.
She may think I'm sunshine, she may think I'm snow.
These maybes and what ifs I may never know.
Maybe she's digging me, maybe she's not,
But all I can tell is that she is hot.
It may be coincidence, but maybe it wasn't.
Maybe she likes me, maybe she doesn't.
Look out, man. You get away from here.
Don't talk to no women. Don't give em your beer.
Don't fall in love no matter what it is you do.
You'd understand what I'm sayin' if you saw what I've been through.
Love's a bad curse that rains down from the heavens.
Well, you'd better say your prayers and count your lucky sevens.
Don't wanna be a little raven. Don't wanna be like Noah's first dove.
Don't wanna sing this song. Don't wanna sing this song called "love."
Love don't make you happy. It'll just bring you pain.
The negatives of what you lose are worth more than what you gain.
Adam looks at Eve. He says, "Now honey, what have you done?"
Sally Hemings' on the phone. Tommy Jeffer's gonna get his gun.
Judas is walking down the alley. From his chalice he sips.
He's got a rope around his neck, a kiss fresh on his lips.
Don't wanna be a little raven. Don't wanna be like Noah's first dove.
Don't wanna sing this song. Don't wanna sing this song called "love."
Hollis Brown's got his rifle. He can't take it no more.
Sweet Virginia's asking Edgar, "Why we gotta be poor?"
Uriah's dead as Goliath, but King David's got more in store.
Yoko's cryin' over Johnny, and he's lyin' dead on the floor.
Lot's standin' in the doorway. He ain't got no hope.
He wished his daughter'd stayed single, like the Roman Pope.
Don't wanna be a little raven. Don't wanna be like Noah's first dove.
Don't wanna sing this song. Don't wanna sing this song called "love."
Jacob takes one look at Leah, and he knows he's been mastered.
Abraham ain't satisfied, cuz his first son is a bastard.
Romeo's poisoned. Juliet's stone cold dead.
Wonder how Rosaline's feelin' when she's lyin' there safe in bed.
Magdalena's current boyfriend's got his hands on her chin.
Seven demons on her soul. That's one for each deadly sin.
Don't wanna be a little raven. Don't wanna be like Noah's first dove.
Don't wanna sing this song. Don't wanna sing this song called "love."
There was a badass who had a good ass.
None of the pretty women ever gave him no sass
Unless he'd touch their arms with a wet hand.
Then, they'd throw him against the lockers, say, "He's the meanest in the land."
He got a Note 7 for his birthday.
He'd buy a dog at half price and then he'd give it away.
He'd hang himself from the ceiling until he's choking.
Then, he'd cut himself down, say, "It's safer than smoking."
One time, he rode a motorcycle stark nude.
Some people said he was a woman, but I promise, he's a dude.
He flunked creative writing eight times.
One time, he thought that he could make it, but forgot about the rhymes.
He said to his councilor he's taking eight AP classes.
Then, she took one look at him over the top of her glasses.
She said, "Take this card of mine for the suicide hotline.
Just call them if you've gotta, but you'll probably be fine."
And he is every time his favorite show's on,
But he can't recognize the people when they've got their clothes on,
So he'll run down to the bar and get drunk,
So he can jump into the river, maybe take a little dunk.
He saw a lady standing on a bridge, asked her, "What's up?"
She said, "I'm gonna kill myself." He said, "Piss in a cup,"
And she did, and then he drank it, and he gave her a kiss.
He said, "You think your life is bad? Well, I drank your piss!"
And then they ran right down and got married.
They would have had a lot of kids, except they all miscarried.
One day, he squeezed her so hard that she died and suffocated.
They said they'd lock him up for murder, but his guilt was confiscated.
He got a letter from a dead man and didn't know why.
He got a text from a patient, some Alzheimer's guy.
He could run around the world at light speed for Christ's sake,
But nobody believed him. Haters still say it's fake.
Really quick, he got stupid, even quicker, got poor.
Then, he went to rob his neighbor, so he knocked on the door,
But the cops were waiting for him, and they smelled it on his breath.
They either locked him up for life, or they condemned him to death.
Nobody really knows what fate did to this man.
Some say the last time he was seen was in a peach in Japan,
But nobody knows for sure just where he might go,
And if he's never seen again, then we'll probably never know.
That place where we'd been walking, we ain't walked there in a while.
No more walking down that dusty road in Bob and Suze style.
Now, those days have left us, like the heavens from above,
And the only ones left walking are those ghosts of our love.
I see them now laughing, walking, smiles on their faces,
Never caring, but for the other and its nervous midday graces.
Now, the evening sun upon the river gleams on steel beams,
And they're gone, but in our memory, the subconscious, and our dreams.
You went through the pains of childbirth for me, and you did it through.
You went through pain for me, and so did I for you.
If I was on the Earth without my love, don't know what I'd do.
All I know is that you love me and I love you.
Why must a hobo be so very weird
To grow greasy hair, a goatee, and a beard?
Why must a hobo not brush his own teeth,
As if there's anything except filth underneath?
Why must a hobo be so very rude
To refuse to attend unless you give him free food?
Why for a hobo does it not seem crazy
That he sits around idle and lonesome and lazy?
Why must a hobo not have a job
Or be neat enough to not dress like a slob?
And so the story has been told
Of when a young man meets one very old.
One man's eyes are still full of youth,
While the other's eyes are full of truth.
One who is a fledgling driver
Meets one who is barely a survivor.
One whose life is almost through
Meets one whose life is ever new.
The young one, spunky and ever witty,
Looks upon the lame old man with pity.
In everything, the younger one is stronger,
And everything the old man does takes longer.
The boy is sad and so alone
To not have a girl to call his own,
But he will have the rest of his life
To maintain his search and find a wife.
While the young one's love is yet to be found,
The old one's love is in the ground.
He hates his own life and loathes his presence
To be alone through his wife's absence.
Now, it's strange and plain to see
These two go through life differently,
And they play life as a game,
And go about it quite the same.
They're very different, so it might
Be, but there's the same goal in sight.
Both would live to die and die to live
And give to take and take to give.
Cold November day, bees a-buzzin'.
I'm in love with my first cousin.
I've seen a lot of ladies, but I'm not impressed.
Now's a little time for a little incest.
I snuck in with her on Tuesday night.
I had her, and she didn't put up a fight.
Now, she had me up to the test.
Now's a little time for a little incest.
Wednesday morning, didn't get no rest.
She had her elbows up on my chest.
I had my hands up on her breast.
Just a little time for a little incest.
In order to not get locked up forever,
We had to conceal our little endeavor.
We just crossed our fingers and hoped for the best.
Just a little time for a little incest.
When I was a boy, my daddy did more than annoy
Me, and every day the pain I felt when daddy beat me with his belt,
And I would feel all of the stress at my favorite game of chess.
When I was young, I loved a lass. She always treated me like trash,
But I was too in love to see that she blatantly cheated on me.
The deck was light, missing a joker, every time she won at poker.
Some years ago, I had a friend. He said he'd stick with me until the end,
But I knew I had been boned when he stole all that I owned,
And then he blamed it all on my in the game Monopoly.
Well, yet another factbook gets maxed out... I'm getting sick of this factbook nonsense. If you would like to continue to follow me on my poetic journey, the continuation of my works can be found on 
this thread. Thank you.
