The Violence Within

Increased efforts put in,
to try and hold the beast within;
locked away, a mask to persuade,
but there are those that see beyond the facade

The cracks begin to show,
crumbling like and aged brick wall,
evil, fights to break free,
and the good begins to fall

Failure to look within,
failure to admit the flaws,
you're now a danger to us all
Damaged goods, on its way to the junkyard

Using up the resources,
animals heaped in a bloody pile,
all so you can collect your mobile;
a phone, that gives the impression,
you have a brain- the size of a gnat

So go ahead and walk on by,
I'm not fooled by that fake ass smile;
inside lurks the beast;
an ordinary citizen, evil, waiting to be unleashed..

Music in the Soul

Music in the soul, never dies
it's an unquenchable fire -
the sword that is ever unsheathed,
against the foes of life

Music in the soul, never fades
it's an unyielding flame -
a passion that feeds the mind,
and never tires, nor leaves us behind,
to suffer the 'slings and arrows' of misfortune and shame


Your rights, deemed a loss,
by the Idealist, carrying the albatross;
we sense your fear and hate -
this society in so much debate,
about who they are, yet fail to see their shortcomings

Your rights are of no importance,
when the earth is raped at every chance,
just so you can ingest the cow that once mooed
Vittles, with no nutritional value on which to chew -
just a prison for your appetite

A bullet to the head; a sliced throat,
so you can stuff your face after the show
A mother, in grief, over the next baby she lost,
so you can drink her milk at low cost,
because your boss pays next to nothing

Stuff your garage and your face,
but don't rage about the societal race,
that you feel you're left behind in;
you deserve no rights, my friend,
because you cause the suffering of nature,
in this place you call earth

As long as you demand the hedonistic ways,
nature and her animal friends must pay;
and the suffering of one group, to indulge the next,
is no way to call something equal or fair
You, who deserve no rights, in this prison, I call hell


You mock and laugh at what you fear;
what you don't understand,
takes a sarcastic tongue-lashing,
like the slave's whip scars
You joke about the seriousness of life,
because you fear death
You know your time is short;
you know you've wasted your life,
on games, food, toys, and tv,
but you can't help but continue in your ignorance,
because you fear those who climb higher
So, you're left with only one option:
cut down the ones that take creative aim

We live for ourselves, the earth, and trees;
we live for freedom; for the animal that bleeds
we live for doing the least harm;
we try as we must, to limit our steps,
that cause destruction to earth and her nests

So, fear all you like, and mock us in our plight,
but when we are gone, you will see,
how quickly darkness, will end your sight
for all your prayers won't help you ONE BIT, to sleep at night

Take Note...

Take note, from ancestral ways,
to love the earth, and animals that graze
Morality dictates to care for those,
the least of these - innocence, treated like cargo

If you're so moral and decent,
good, as you suppose,
then why do you dine on blood and terror?
Why do you chew on the light bearer?

A frail animal, bursting with light,
until the psychopath, subdued their fight
Encased in an iron shell -
wasting and rotting, in a madman's hell

Wanna know, what your purpose is?
Take note from indigenous ways,
stop the slaughter of innocent babes
by corporations, on blood getting paid

Take the moral high ground,
with your large brain, so you claim
It should be used, to limit their pain
That's your purpose, in this blinking life

To end the innocent animal's strife!!

It's Not A Wonderful Life

Tax evaded; you've strayed,
where they'll scope you out,
like a spy on steroids,
until you pay up - as if you haven't enough

The cycle of life repeats,
as time eats his children for monthly bills -
This is not a spontaneous existence;
it's circular drudgery, as the last man,
marches to the beat of a psychopathic drum

The lone survivor; the descendant of creativity,
stands ready to jump ship to the next planet;
there, a home awaits among oblivion,
where time will no longer crave souls

Merry Go Round

We played on the merry-go-round as kids,
but as adults, never left the apparatus
The comings and goings of another year,
boasts the side effects of a dizzying life -
a symptom she's in the process of curing

Published at the Poet Community