“Take it All” Said the Capitalist, the Poet, and the Believer

I have become diseased.
A build up of abuse,
Has taken my body and mind,
So far away I fear they’re lost.

All I have left are coals,
They heat this shell at night,
They keep me writing, breathing,
They burn hotter and brighter, rarely.

All of my passion travels the skies.
I can only touch pieces of it,
When it flows past me in rivulets.
I wish I could hold it, all at once.

Did you think I was new to this game?
I am no amateur, I am years ahead.
Childish creatures, fly away,
I will devastate you, surprise surprise.

Be like the night and crumble,
Crumble, with my smile, sunrise.
I hate people, I am misanthrope.
Equality is a fainting prostitute.

A gray shadow wanders,
Down the streets at night,
To rest upon a tree, to ponder,
Why are his eyes black holes?

I allow these pains into my life.
I am the gate, the one, the door.
Let yourself inside, find out who I am.
Just don’t expect to feel the same.

Thief, rogue, destitute, die.
I am hate, hate you so much.
Take my hard earned work, cherish it.
You could never have touched my accomplishments.

Put me on a stand,
I am your whipping post.
I want it that way, my choice.
Mock me like the birds in the trees.

Silence is my wall, my language.
When I feel this coldness, loveless.
Letters can do the talking, communicate,
My feelings, words are pitiful ghosts.

Have what you want, I have my God.
Take what you want, I have my God.
Say what you want, I have my God.
Hate what you want, I have my God.

You only have my paycheck.

Bad Father

The lights convulsed above her.
The street light hummed in the silence.
She was nothing more than a silhouette,
In the neighborhood, dogs barked.

Her heart held no guilt, only freedom.
Her bag held her sins, and her cigarettes.
She wore a pale veil of calm.
Her fire red snarl gleamed against her skin.

Daddy wouldn’t yell.
Daddy wouldn’t swing.
Daddy was finally paying,
She dabbed at the stain on her lavender dress.

Like a tree his arms were inanimate.
He could no longer break the silence.
Only a distant echo of his last words,
Hung in the cold night air.

Fingernails scratching upon the walls.
Like a cockroach he scuttled.
Across the floor as he crawled.
Little, lying, wicked roach.

The clock’s hands were tied.
The windows stayed sealed.
The walls covered their eyes.
The door stayed fastened shut.

In that little shed where he would lock her.
She dragged him with the strength of vengeance.
Nonchalance became her blue eyes.
Her breath froze in the air as the door shut.

The key in her bag would hide.
The heels she wore kept her tall.
When the bus arrived she approached.
Two quarters, and she was away.