Closets Along The Way


He lived his life running

Hiding in closets along the way

Never living his life

Cheating those around him of theirs

Jumping from Closet to Closet

Desperate to hide his anguish

Pushing his pain on those around him

Cracking the door now and then

Tasting glimpses of freedom

 

 

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Plasticine Liars


Birth, Death

And Infinity

What’s it all

About Alfie

Hiding Ina tree

Trying to stand Tall

Everyone’s just a Bird

Dancing Thin Wires

Their words they tweet

The Plasticine Liars

Need to Give a Hoot

And Not Pollute

The Indian Is Crying

From All Their Lying

Fate is Being Kind

For I am going Blind

 

 

Baby Killer


There were no parades

When Joe came home

They spit on him instead

Baby Killer! Baby Killer!

Shouts Ringing in his ears

Not one pat on the back for Joe

No thank yous for a job well done

Why couldn’t he tune in, turn on, tune out

Burn his card and run away to Canada

A bomb disguised as a child took out his company

He lost his left ear, and gained a purple heart

War bruised his heart to the point of a violet hue

 

 

Chaos Under The Big Top


Chaos ensued under the big top

The Brotherhood of Clowns at war

Pies loaded with shards of glass

Tossed haphazardly in every direction

Not a care for who or what dripped blood

In the end none of matter anyway

Everyone was still there to see The King

The True Master of IT all in The Center Ringpennywise_in_suit_by_shift2d-d90vrva

Whiny Bitch Boi


Oh, Whiny Bitch Boi

Stroking Keys Incessentally

A Keyboard Warrior on the prowl

An Oddity in your Own Right

A Johnsonless Johnson

Perhaps that is what feeds

Your Need to Over strike the keys

To some you bring boredom

To others you bring laughter

Sitting in your own foul stench

Stroking away endlessly

Your keyboard needs chastity

Oh, Dear  Whiny Bitch Boi

 

Lover’s Day


The sweet stench

from red roses

Given as a last

thought from

a lost thought

Perfumes the air

with stale sex

Lingering from

days gone by

Should have brought

a twin pack of douche

and a box of band aids

Let’s clear the air

and cover this hole

on this Lover’s DCheatsay

Yesterday’s Castaway


Well that Bitch has her nerve

Not Politically Correct at all

The Dumb Whore believes in herself

We’ll just have to fix that

What a laugh we’ll have

She thought she was family

Yesterday’s castaway is what she is

There’s no room for a broken domme

In a Chauvinistic Petrie  Dish