hello, my pretties, it's time to reload
stop by my website then hit the road
You Betcha it's time for us all to hold steady
so take off your safeties and fire when ready
you see on my map the Surveyor's markings?
i was the surveyor and those spots the targets
so commit it to memory- the map can't stay-
if i leave it up there they'll just take me away.
if they accuse me of anything just keep it 'hush hush'
and if it happens to slip out i'll just swim to Russia
You Betcha i can see the Commies from my porch
got ammo to kill the Polar Bears and a giant Crude Oil torch
nobody better stand between us and our freedoms
just put a gun to their head if they try to impede them
aim for the ones that seem to have their own voice,
speak from the heart and offer voters a choice.
they're never going to catch me, i'm gonna be President
You Betcha the Right is about to set a new precedent
the first quitting governor to be elected after sitting
they don't suspect a thing- the Left is totally unwitting
blinded by a silly desire to help the needy
the poor, the disenfranchised and even the seedy
they want to help everyone but we already know
we have the guns so we'll land the blows.
is it the kind that comes
when one plants words
as seeds on the paper
so that they may sprout
and- as the eye of the reader
passes by- bloom into
beautiful, pleasantly fragrant
flowers of adjectives, verbs,
nouns & pronouns?
or the kind that comes
when one speaks of Love
with such regret and loathing-
so passionately- the hatred
for emotion bleeds from
the paper onto the reader's
hands leaving them stained
blood red feeling as if
they never did enough
for their own Loves?
or the desperate kind
which fumbles around
blindly for truth but so
often ends in confusion
and as frantic feeling around
the room leads the writer
astray, the reader is
left equally lost and
or maybe it's the kind
which flows so smoothly
the reader is lost in it
by the second line and
by the end is wishing
it wasn't over yet
knowing the words
couldn't fit together
any more perfectly
believing- or hoping-
that maybe, just maybe
it ended accidentally...
Find my most recent poetry at:
or find me on Facebook: http://tinyurl.com/5vcv5ue