PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Yaphet the prophet kept his teaches old locket in his pocket 

made of cotton, running through water like a faucet

contempt with the logic he was the only being...seeing as life kept him shadowed

he told his girl to get low, 

he wasnt just  anyone, he wasnt just everyone...

he was the one...only if you could see the confidence in his eyes

he strived to be th best..and accepted nothing less...

cashed checks and put the away right away..

cause in life..even though you have money today...

you might not need it now...honestly..with a frown

Yaphet looked around annnt this cold...empty desert he liked to call

onizuka ... destroyed by bombs...worst than the ones over bagdad...

he had no dad no mom...just his wife.. which wasnt a bad thing..

she was his only queen his only attention..

so when there was a change he notice..

yaphet would hurt the wings on a butterfly...

but on this pale night....he stabbed his wife..and she did die..

Yaphet came home early from hunting rifle still in head..as he seen men

leaving his hunt...the first word thunk...what the fuck...His wife was having a double affair,...

unaware of this bullshit he had no control of his emotion...he questioned and questioned but got no answers...

this was real not fake..he seent it with his eye...now his gun wanted the price...

and his gun never lied...that day yaphet the prophet disappeared..and there was one less

fear....I hear he still travels by eel...through the sea...