PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

winter starts uneasiness in my mind

I am little more than confessor

We are the sonso ‘bitches of design

Mother Earth, we don’t impress her



split the mesmerized ring

don’t make me think about it

We are all on some collective fling

most of us in this palace don’t give a spit



the slums of the World now that is some reward

no sunflower heads turn back

For my nature Men sent profane odor skyward

And the media shows only that we can hack



look beneath the surface

tough may be ready to kill

Devil and angel alike curse us

because we will have our own free will



houses are such hovels

and evil is not all that bad

throw down more dirt from the shovel

happy just left, next arrival is sad



I seek a church now where is God

God is whatever is good

glad is good, spoil the child and spare the rod

I just can’t reach no homies from the hood



slay its sordid life

triangulated, lovers lose

Give me one good woman to be my wife

strangulated children can’t choose



danger to society comes

silence may also be deliberate reticence

hear all of the beating war drums

done because of our own lack of peaceful resistance



They are poor

I am poor

We are poor

All and all we don’t seem to be too happy about it

but then nothing else was expected