Wednesday, March 3, 2010

With No One to Blame

Oh man, what a bitch it is 
to have no one to blame.
No room to complain
when the last minute 
revelation hits and you stop, 
ya just quit and sit, try 
to forget. The pitcher is empty. 
Not a drop, not a lick, nothing 
to slide down your gullet 
to moisten the road thru 15ft 
of murky tests and scholastic 
achievements. Red tape 
bureaucracy counting, 
segregating, keeping hard 
copy. Regardless the governmental 
systems' built-in deficiencies
there's no one to blame when 
the pitcher is empty and you 
were the last to pour a glass. 

Monday, March 1, 2010

In Gales, Brutal Gales

O' ye brutalizer of sensibility,
ye maker and taker of hearts.
How's a day when winds don't blow?
No breeze to carry away sensitivity.
No screams in the air mourning
the end of now as now is known.

O' ye sensitive brutalizer, 
ye heartmaker and breaker.
Where goes your days, gales?
No sails to collect thy godly breath?
No songs on silver chords lighting 
the end of now as now is known.