Grumpy n bugged he dumped his bugs in the flood...
A low rate of heart beats pumping the blood
He stepped in something like mud
The carpet got stained…from lumps n some crud
Grumpy n bugged he dumped his bugs in the flood
Autumn was here, guess what taught him this year?
Fears fought the tears and his ears bled from noice
Voices heard but hardly ever spoken to this boy
made a choice to be wize so he left the TV untouched
a mere tempting but devious lust thrown in the trash
his phone turned to ash, after a bash to the wall
a paper said rape but he’d outlast it this fall
he passed the masses in the mall looking for gifts
eventhough christmas was shit he’d give it a sniff
a spliff and some beers then an hour to think
this coward is limp, linking the powers from drinks
to the power to think on behalf of his ink
he wrote it in blood, right by the carpet with mud
a heart was the target of scuds…words with meaning
seemingly empty but with the reason to live
a reason to give, to please the adhesive of a post-it
he wrote it for the ghosts that he had always hosted
ten toes by the shore, his pen wrote rose then it died
a wish for summer plunged it the ocean hosting the sky
the ink blended with the salt and ran to the bottom
birds sung of freedom but got ransacked this autumn
and he sung for peace and got anthrax not stardom
things happend something startled his depression
parted his congestion, it was a target of opression
a lesson in love to the female gender bent his mind
warped his views, all news was suddenly of a good kind
the instant love was bubbling and it looked fine
he cooked, had wine and she dined with him
one of the finest of women was now winning this heart
and a high rate of heart beats was pumping the blood
he stepped in the grass not minding the mud
his smile lasted miles from one cheek to the other
he got what he searched from not seeking a lover
now she came to him, by the winds from the sea
blown out from the dust not willing to flee
she was there for his needs like he was for hears
contradicted his deamons and believed in this purge
a search came to an end without even looking
he knew it from the start but doubted what took him…
"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."
---Albert Einstein
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