No One Is Silver, And That One Is Definitely Not Gold

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I hear I’m such trash,
I hear I’m a crazy,
I hear I’m an idiot,
But I hear it all,
From a bigot who’s lazy.

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It’s time to cut ties,
With all the lies,
Snip it off,
At the root,
Give their ass the boot.

Playing both sides,
Walking a fine fine line,
Always promising to be there,
Pretending to care,
Until it’s time,
To face reality,
Then their face,
You’ll never see.

Going nowhere fast,
And wanting to drag you down,
With their sorry ass,
Keep your focus forward,
No need for glances back,
Those kinds of minds,
Aren’t strong enough to attack.

Facts are facts,
And truth is truth,
It’s not your imagination,
Though they’ll tell you otherwise,
To cover up those lies,
Listen to your inner man,
When you feel him prod you on,
To a different destination.

Hear their silence,
No peace in its presence,
The meaning is demeaning,
Or sometimes malicious.

In proximity,
But just out of reach,
Assuming you’ll save the day,
You’re kept around,
For when desperate times,
Call for desperate measures,
Then in a flash,
Your name is preached,
And they’re stuck like a leech.

Together and caught off guard,
In a battle with bloodshed,
You’d be the one dead,
They’d never give cover,
If you had a bead on your head.

Weak links,
Who fall apart under pressure,
I see them like poor abused dogs,
Beaten and caged,
But deathly afraid,
Thinking without bowing down,
They will starve and drown,
In truth,
They’re even worse off,
Because something they lack,
Is courage to bite back.

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I hear I’m such trash,
I hear I’m a crazy,
I hear I’m an idiot,
But I hear it all,
From a bigot who’s lazy.

**********

Hey Little Kitty-Kats

In this classic case,
Of being in the wrong place,
At the wrong time,
They picked up their pace,
When the Strange One,
Opened up his jowls,
And let out a heinous howl.

Being so much smaller though,
The cats were too slow,
And the stray wolf,
In need of a pack,
Turned them,
And now there’s no turning back.

Basic house cats,
They were out on a stroll,
For some Halloween laughs,
And sad to say,
That was the last time,
They’d have a normal-cat day.

It was a fun time,
People watching,
And clawing jack-o’-lanterns,
Until they were unrecognizable,
Until a dog walked by,
Who was quite sizable.

Weird vibes emanated from him,
But they paid no mind,
Until it was too late,
Now running was out of the question,
They were out of time.

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That was last year,
And now it’s been a whole ‘nother year,
Halloween,
Has come ’round again,
It’s been accepted all around,
Although it still feels foreign.

Now they’re wolves,
The Strange One,
Couldn’t find a pack,
His magical abilities,
Made others of his kind stay away,
As though he were overrun with fleas.

Due to lack of fans,
The Strange One took matters,
Into his own hands,
He made his own pack,
Out of house cats.

There’s no way out,
For him now,
Though he’s happy to have a pack,
There’s one thing that,
He cannot stand,
And this is when they meow.

All the other wolves,
Howl and bark,
Sometimes in the daylight,
But mostly when it’s dark,
His mostly talk,
When the sun is up,
And each time they meow,
He wishes they’d just shut up.

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Strangely enough,
The pack is content,
You’d think they’d be upset,
But they’ve got a silver lining,
Because to them,
Their master is in debt,
They’re spoiled rotten,
And they’ll never let what he did to them,
Be forgotten.

What In The HELL?

One day,

Out of the blue,

Two tiny marks were noticed,

Upon a thumb,

“Where the fuck,

Did these come from”!?

Was the thought,

Until the mind,

Was practically numb.

Little brownish red dots,

That looked a lot like tiny birthmarks,

Why were they,

Never noticed before?

They couldn’t be recent

But they weren’t remembered,

As being there,

Just a year or two before.

Into the head came a notion,

Was this proof of past lives?

Once someone had said,

The fear of certain fanged brutes,

Was likely due to being bitten,

While alive,

In another lifetime,

And this is why,

The feeling of panic,

While in their presence,

Never subsided,

No matter how much,

Time had elapsed.

In theory,

Fang marks,

Are only made,

By things infected by dark,

But are they really polluted?

Because after all,

They had ancestors once,

On Noah’s Ark.

There was strong suspicion that they might,

Be from a snake bite,

There was,

After all,

The infliction of a phobia,

But was that all paranoia?

Or was that fear founded by an incident,

And therefore legitimate?

Though there are tons of creatures,

Sporting fangs,

Not all result,

In the night terrors,

For instance,

It’s known a house cat,

Would not do that,

But who’s to say,

They weren’t wandering in the jungle,

And met head on,

By a lion?

But oh yes,

That jungle beast’s mouth,

Would be too big to leave these marks,

That little kitty though,

Righto! – that one’s a maybe……………

At one point in the past,

Could there have been a Mer,

Who played in ponds,

And swam in seas?

So many creepy critters,

Occupy these places,

And many are with,

Tiny fanged faces,

Yes this one is actually,

A real possibility……………

Very well,

I’ll admit there is no way here,

To be totally and absolutely sure,

Just the same,

These marks are pointing favorably,

Toward this being right,

It’s so strange they seemed to surface,

Pretty much overnight,

Even so I think it’s clear,

These marks were put,

On a former version of a self,

By the object of their deepest fear.