An Outsider’s Jingle

R-rated,

Seemingly always hated,

But never be a mirror image,

Of anyone but yourself.

 

Haunted,

By a feeling,

Of never being truly wanted,

Will keep your brain a-reeling.

 

Take a break,

A break from life,

For awhile,

Leave the world behind,

Learn again to smile,

Go re-find your mind.

 

It was said by Cinderella,

We all need some sort of shelter,

Well go figure out what could be yours,

Go, go far away,

Get to doing it,

Leave behind this world,

That’s trying to make you,

From yourself stray.

 

Don’t come back,

‘Til you’re back on track,

‘Til all your problems,

Have been sacked,

And you’re safe,

From going Snap.

 

You’ll be recharged,

But still,

Don’t be expecting miracles,

Remember,

Don’t dilute your personality,

Just for others who are critical,

And insist on causing for you,

Troubles by the barrelful.

 

You are R-rated,

Seemingly always hated,

Haunted,

Because you feel never really wanted,

But don’t let these assholes make you feel daunted,

Be yourself,

Yes fucking flaunt it.

 

 

 

 

 

Jake, The Omnipresent Pheasant

Though knowledge of Him is not common,

Yes He is something of a phenomenon,

He is believed in by those,

Whose lives He has touched,

And to them,

His amazing deeds mean much.

 

He is often in the Amazon Rainforest,

Perched upon a branch,

At the very top of an old kapok tree,

From there,

There is nothing His eyes cannot see.

 

There are two sides to Him,

He changes faces on a whim,

Depending upon,

What He sees from that limb.

 

His good side is sweet,

This Him is one of the bestest creatures you could meet,

But rub Him on His bad side,

And you will surely meet,

Death by His beak,

No never again,

Will you rise to your feet.

 

When bored on His branch,

He will gallivant around,

Going from place to place,

He once found a bad guy and gave chase,

Ending his life,

Then helped out a homeless vagrant to save face.

 

Flying above you,

Wherever you are,

There is a Bird,

You don’t know it,

He’s invisible,

And has made sure He isn’t heard,

He likes to scope things out,

There’s always someone who can be watched,

Just in case it chances to be you,

You’d be wise to not do anything absurd,

But maybe if harm befalls you,

You’ll get lucky and be rescued by this Bird.

 

Ha! There’s been an accident,

Along Highway 95,

Help has not even had time yet to arrive,

But here comes judgement,

In the form of a Bird,

The one whose drunken fault it was,

He makes sure to leave him maimed without a word,

The innocent has died,

Secretly He sprinkles them with Living Dust,

To make sure they actually survive.

 

Jake could be compared to Karma,

The effects of your life affecting you,

No good deed is too virtuous,

No means of ridding evil too immoral,

If He sees something that needs fixing,

He will be there,

It shall be done,

No never has He not been victorious.

 

 

 

 

 

Short But Sweet: A Night Owl’s Point Of View

Lovers of the graveyard shift,

People whose light,

Is at night,

Nine-to-fivers,

Call us not right.

 

We can sleep the day away,

And wake in the late afternoon,

We don’t rise with the sun,

But instead are more in tune,

With the moon.

 

Morning birds call us peculiar,

Because our way of life,

To them is unfamiliar,

But let me tell you,

Navigating the world,

Without all their traffic,

Makes our life,

Go so much smoother.

 

Many of us are introverts,

When we try to mix with others,

It most times just ends in hurt,

We are not though,

Drawn to all things infernal,

Just because we happen,

To be nocturnal.

 

We are a group of rebels,

Such special little devils,

Our perspective of life,

Is sharp as a knife,

We are smart,

And we are fun,

If you consider yourself normal,

It’s from your kind we run.

 

 

 

 

New England Pony/Southern Horse: A Barn Conversation

“Where is the cold?

And where is the fluffy, powdery snow?

I’m only a pony,

So maybe I don’t know,

But it seems to me,

It’s been warm and sunny,

For long enough,

That something is funny”.

 

“Just what in the hell is snow?

I mean,

Not to sound like an ass,

But all I’ve ever seen,

Is this here green grass,

I’m only a horse,

And I’d not accuse you of lying,

Of course,

But snow is something,

That does not sound believable,

And so I just don’t know”.

 

“It falls silently,

Not making a sound,

And covers the ground,

For miles and miles around,

When a lot comes at once,

It’s at times up to my chest,

The whole field is slippery,

If I’m lucky and get out of my stall,

I must hope not to fall,

And that’s at best,

As I may not get out that day at all,

I may be stuck inside,

Bored all day,

Staring at the wall”.

 

“Are you telling me that There,

White powder falls in place of rain?

And instead of making bothersome noises,

Like splashing on the ground,

Or pounding on the roof,

The only sounds are silence,

And this fluffy, powdery substance,

Is cold and there to stay”?

 

“Absolutely,

Though it’s not around forever,

Just when I get to thinking,

That it is leaving never,

Warmer days begin,

Then for awhile there is rain and mud,

But after a few weeks of that crud,

The weather’s just like Here,

There’s hot and humid air,

And green grass that beats yours,

Is again everywhere”.

 

“I’m having trouble,

Conjuring in my mind a picture,

Of such a weather mixture,

Excuse me if I snicker,

It’s not that I don’t take your word,

But this sounds absurd,

And in truth it leaves me puzzled”.

 

“It’s really no big deal,

I merely wondered where it was,

I love that there’s no snow,

I just didn’t know,

This year-round summertime,

Could truly be for real”.

 

“Even though,

We’ve gone our separate ways,

I vividly remember,

Our conversation that day,

Now I’m living in a place,

That gets cold like She described,

And what do you know,

There really is a thing called snow,

The first time I experienced it,

It caught me by surprise,

I could not believe my eyes,

That pony had not lied”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Cupcake Is Born

Early one Saturday morning,

An old London Lady,

Was deciding what to make,

“I know”, said she,

“I think I will bake,

I’ll bake me a big batch of cupcakes”!

 

So she got busy,

And worked herself into a tizzy,

Fast she wanted them done,

Because she had,

An errand to run.

 

After they were cooled,

She got out things to make them pretty,

As she liked eye-appealing food.

 

Little did she know,

The sprinkles would set one free,

One sprinkle had magic ability,

That made that cupcake,

Able to flee.

 

Out into London’s streets he wandered,

Where exactly he was headed,

He hadn’t really pondered.

 

He rounded one last bend,

Ending up in the West End,

Near the Covent Garden,

On a street called Drury Lane.

 

Outside of an enormous structure,

Was a sign for a bakery,

And on the stairs,

Leading in there,

Sat the famous Gingerbread Man,

Petting a cat with a loud purr.

 

Standing up to shake hands,

And greet the Cupcake,

He said “Hello, I’m the Gingerbread Man,

Who are you?

You look fresh-baked”.

 

“I’m Clyde The Cupcake,

And yes,

You are correct,

I am a fresh bake”,

Replied the runaway Cupcake.

 

As conversation kept on,

The hours flew past,

And soon the night was over,

They had talked until dawn.

 

That was some time ago,

Still they are the best of friends,

They remain close,

Enjoying the fine shopping in that area,

And going to the theatre,

But working for the Muffin Man,

Is what delights them most.

 

Among their most loyal clientele,

Is that old London Lady,

That Clyde knows well,

She now buys their treats,

Because she’s scared to bake,

Ever since her sprinkles,

Put her Cupcake,

Under a spell.

 

 

Grandpa Joe’s Successor

I am The Ghost Of The Railroad Tracks,

All of you travelers,

Had better watch your backs.

 

I’m fairly new to the Haunting profession,

And though I did well with my lessons,

Something meant for fun,

Could turn as deadly as a loaded gun.

 

So you can better understand,

First here’s some history,

About little ol’ me.

 

Not all Ghosts are manifestations,

Of the departed dead,

Showing up as apparitions,

Full of ill intentions.

 

I was born as one,

The same as you were born as human,

I have a Ghost Ma,

And a Ghost Pa,

Plus one annoying sister,

Who bats her eyes,

And says ‘ooh la la’.

 

My family lives,

On The Wrong Side Of The Tracks,

Dead center through there runs,

The Railroad Tracks themselves,

Opposite us and to the South,

Lies The Left Side Of The Tracks.

 

Us Wrong Siders,

We are mostly good folk,

Although those Left Siders,

Will tell you we’re a joke.

 

All of us live in The Village,

The one just North of Town,

That seems to humanity,

Empty and run-down,

But to us,

It’s a true home-town.

 

We grow up similar to people,

Except we are invisible,

I guarantee before I told you that,

None of you,

Even knew,

We are there,

Though we are,

Among you everywhere.

 

I am now an adult Ghost,

Ma and Pa threw a party for me,

They’ve always been,

First-rate hosts,

Everybody to me made a toast,

And now in Haunting the Tracks I’m engrossed.

 

Some of us get easy jobs,

Such as Haunting Things That We Ourselves Don’t Do,

Human activities,

Such as eating and sleeping and bathing,

They are of a great interest to us,

So Haunting them does not take,

Much brainwork for creativity.

 

Somehow I got,

The gig for the Railroad Tracks,

And not to express negativity,

But this post has been empty,

Since Grandpa Joe died,

And that has been a long while,

I have some big shoes to fill,

Which will take substantial skill,

That man was a brilliant Haunter,

He was very sly and wily.

 

I’d like very much to take after Grandpa,

He had some top-notch tricks up his sleeve,

Sure to leave the Railroad’s passengers,

Either scared or peeved,

So far,

I believe,

I’ve come up with some things,

That would have him pleased.

 

In times past,

Never a train passed,

That Grandpa didn’t leave,

Someone feeling aghast,

Oh Hell yes,

He gave them a fear,

That was sure to last.

 

“AAAAAHHHHHHH” came the scream,

It was terrifically loud,

And woke the sleeping passenger beside her,

From his dreams,

That was caused by me,

It was my first solo Haunting,

She was drinking coffee,

Fighting off the hail to slumber,

So I sidled up beside her,

And blew bubbles in her coffee,

While my hand yanked down quickly on her ear.

 

I’ve got plans tonight,

For the Five O’clock Train,

I will make one traveler’s eyes see freezing rain,

Just while he goes the mile,

Through the center of our Village,

For all others,

The sky shall remain bright and sunny,

Then when he goes crazy,

They’ll all bet their money,

The One did not experience,

Something legendary.

 

I wonder how mean it would be,

To jump inside the front car,

And fast grab some young’un,

Tell the child “Shush I’m a friend”,

Then dart to the end,

Oh the laugh I would get,

When the parent would run,

After the little angel,

They sure would not understand,

That it’s just tradition,

And no harm was meant to be done,

It’s really all in fun.

 

I’d like to one day master,

Materializing as an apparition,

Then stand on these Tracks,

While the Train’s a-comin’,

Looking like a young man tempting fate,

Then when the conductor startles,

And activates his brake,

A fool of him I will make,

I will disappear,

As he’s looking witless,

Stuttering and trembling with fear.

 

If I could produce a rain of rocks,

Seeming to fall from above,

Then go from side to side,

Crossing over the roof,

Like in a juggler’s pattern,

I’d really love,

To see them all freak out,

Whining and yelling,

Scared out of their minds,

But by the time they go telling,

Of their Supernatural Adventure,

I’d have snapped up their proof,

That there’s really a spook.

 

You don’t have to believe in me,

The Ghost Of The Railroad Tracks,

But if you choose to travel by rail,

Don’t take this route,

Because I will not fail,

And Lord only knows,

If you will make it out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today

It started out just fine,

But it takes just one motherfucker,

Crossing just one line,

I roll my eyes,

And happen to look up at the sky.

 

Oh my!

Look what’s rolling in,

Out there on the horizon,

I wish,

For once,

To be the clouds,

Instead of the one they shroud.

 

Clouds,

You may as well stay,

Your presence,

Mirrors my mood today.

 

Are you laughing,

As you rain on my parade?

Do you find it funny,

To fill my day with gloom,

Making sure that in my life,

No flowers are able to bloom?

 

You are welcome,

To bring with you a storm,

Just kindly make it strong,

Strong enough for the winds and waters,

To wash gone,

All that’s wrong.

 

Clouds,

I see you’re forecast to stick around,

I hope that’s not also the prediction,

For my current vexation.

 

Clouds,

Instead of being a mirror,

It would be more satisfactory,

For you to be a wall,

That I could hide behind,

Until my way is clearer.

 

They say too much sun can burn you,

Maybe that’s the silver lining here,

Good things can have their own ill effects,

But when the sun’s shining so bright,

Bringing all that cheer,

It’s easy to get blinded,

Then once the downside hits,

Which rest assured it surely will,

Life will start to go downhill,

And there you are,

Life’s no more the Ritz.

 

Clouds,

You make me have a thicker skin,

You make me tough as nails,

So keep it coming assholes,

This bitch will prevail!

Really???

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

Be sure not to come,

Around me no more.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

That one is such,

A fucking whore.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

Turn around and head,

Back out that door.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

Go lose yourself,

Down by the seashore.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

You just caused me,

An additional chore.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

Keep it up,

And you’ll go poor.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

You should know,

All that’s only folklore.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

There was lots more there,

Than just a core.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

That one’s full,

Of blood and gore.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

Tomorrow you’ll be,

Fucking sore.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

Now all night,

I’ll hear you snore.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

She can’t even cook,

She uses Knorr.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

Now there’ll be,

A huge uproar.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

I fucking said,

I needed four.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

Not everyone enjoys,

Halloween and Horror.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

Get your ass ,

Back to the store.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

No I don’t want them here,

They’re a bore.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

They’re nasty when,

You don’t free-pour.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

I’d say it’s time,

I even the score.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

Go hide that shit,

Inside a drawer.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

I said hind,

Not fore.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

That’s just ugly,

What you wore.

 

What the fuck?

What did you do that for?

I ought to hit you,

With an oar.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Fat White Cat

It’s the mid 1800’s,

And we’re packed to go,

We leave in a moment,

Because on finding gold,

My family’s Mister is hell-bent.

 

We’re to travel in a covered wagon,

From here in Oklahoma,

All the way to California,

Pulled by hyper horses,

That scare me so much,

They may as well be evil forces.

 

After dinner has been ate,

I curl up in my bed,

A pile of hand-sewn quilts on the wagon floor,

Only one day and already,

I’m missing the old homestead.

 

Through heavy-lidded eyes I see,

A tiny light appear in the corner,

That seems to be,

Calling to me,

So silently I get up,

And pad over there,

And when in front of it I sit,

I’m pulled right into it!

 

I shake my head,

Left and right,

Taking in all these,

Unfamiliar sights.

 

Everything is bright and noisy,

I see signs saying I’m still in Oklahoma City,

People hustle and bustle about,

And nearby I hear shouts,

Then an enormous metal carriage zooms past,

Right through some puddles,

With a mighty splash.

 

After a few blinks of my surprised green eyes,

I began to walk down the sidewalk,

Noting with shock,

It was not a board walk,

And the street was not of dirt,

But of an ugly blackish substance,

That was warm and hard as rock.

 

Wide-eyed I take in,

All the crazy sights,

Like window signs with neon lights,

And Ladies and Gentlemen dressed almost alike,

There are too the little hand-held devices,

Taking up all of everyone’s attention,

And those monster-like metal carriages,

Which to my surprise,

All had two or four glowing eyes.

 

People to my front,

And more to my back,

A fat lazy old man on a bench who grunts,

Here and there someone walks their dog in the park,

One of those has a most annoying bark.

 

I start unknowingly going slower,

And all these beings pass me by,

Eventually I stop and sigh,

Then my eyes wander to the shops,

Point-blank in front of me is an expensive-looking restaurant,

Not akin to any I had ever seen,

And as it looked like it would serve,

Anything one could want,

My mouth began to water,

And I began to lick my chops.

 

Staring hard through the windows,

I wondered at the menu,

Of such an interesting venue,

And then just as I was hoping,

Swiftly the front door swung open,

And as one came out,

I snuck in.

 

Inside I was greeted by a woman,

Dressed in what looked just like,

My Mister’s Lady’s underwear,

She had an unfamiliar but becoming,

Style to her hair,

And I had to try hard not to stare.

 

She called me Pretty Kitty,

Then I was left to my own devices,

When she was called over to a table,

To deal with some fussy diner’s crisis.

 

Jumping up on a barstool,

And then onto the bar itself,

I began to explore,

I walked from one end to the other,

And by the far end I saw a door,

On it a colorful poster,

Saying “MAY 2018 BE YOUR YEAR!”

 

Back down to the floor I leaped,

Too stupefied to utter a peep,

What in the hell happened,

Back there in that wagon,

It’s in my reality,

Not yet year 1900,

Yet it seems I’ve been thundered,

Into the future,

All the way to year 2018.

 

************

Oh the things I’ve seen,

Things that Here,

Are of the past,

Things that There,

Have not yet been,

I can’t wait to tour this place some more,

And see what else the future holds,

Then go back to Then,

And see the faces when,

The untold tales I tell unfold.

 

So I set out for more adventure,

To gather more stories,

For to tell my Mister.

************

 

Still in a daze I walk,

The large perimeter of that restaurant,

Searing into my memory,

The styles of each thing,

From the carpeted floor,

To the young boy’s socks,

Then over to the door to wait,

For it to open up once more,

Then I can be out on another jaunt.

 

It’s winding down out here now,

People dispersing to their abodes for sleep,

Soon it’ll be calm enough,

To even hear a cat’s meow,

And I must decide,

If sleep is what I need,

As I’ve no clue how,

This crazy trip will go,

And when or where or why or how,

I’ll be pulled back through,

That lighted hole.

 

Curiosity wins out,

As being on borrowed time,

I must get out and about to scout,

For more of the future wonders,

Yes I must commit them to my memory,

So when I’m pulled back,

I’ll be able to tell about,

All the things we lack.

 

I cross the strange black road,

And wide-eyed I stroll along,

Until I find another busy establishment,

Full of the metal carriages,

All lined up in rows,

Some in front of a small building,

Others under a roof-like thing,

Each near a tall rectangle-shaped something,

Connected to it by a thick black hose.

 

Up to the building I wander,

Prepared to observe for awhile,

Determined to learn something worthwhile,

Then another carriage enters the area,

Some sort of insane music playing,

So loud I startled and my heart jumped a mile.

 

After my heart stopped racing,

Between the carriages I started pacing,

Next to the noisy one,

A woman got out of one shiny and red,

I followed her into the building,

Where inside she spoke to another,

That looked like he could be her brother,

And I learned a lot from the things they said.

 

I hid behind the counter,

Where the woman’s brother worked,

There I heard that here and now,

They get around in cars,

And know not of wagons or carriages,

These ‘cars’ under the roof-like thing,

That black hose fills them with something called gasoline,

A liquid which makes them go,

And the music that was heard,

Comes not from people within,

But from a something called a radio.

 

Well this is all very interesting,

All these futuristic things I’m learning of,

These modern people,

Sure have some peculiar ways,

It seems the world has come quite a ways,

Since my days,

I head once more,

To the door,

And when one left,

I followed once more.

 

I decided it would sure be fun,

To follow the noisy one,

The back of it was long and flat,

With sides all around,

And a bench-like object,

Behind a window,

Looking right into,

Where the driver sat.

 

In two leaps I was on the top of the shiny red one,

One more had me in the back of the noisy one,

The man inside felt me land,

I guess my weight,

Made the car shake,

I thought for a minute,

He would get out and make me run,

But after just an eye roll and a shrug,

I was not shooed away,

Like an annoying bug,

He then turned and stuck a thin metal gadget,

Into the side of a round thingamajig,

This in turn,

Started the rig.

 

From my seat atop the bench,

I could see he pulled back on a lever,

And when that made us begin to roll backwards,

I was impressed,

I thought that was pretty clever!

Then as we drove on farther,

I pieced two and two together,

I realized that round thingamajig was used like reins,

It told the wheels which way to turn,

After being told which way to propel motion by the lever.

 

Along the road we drove at high speeds,

The fastest scary hyper horse they did exceed,

To get to the other side of the city,

Took less than one half hour,

For this alone,

Going back to my century will be a pity.

 

After two right turns,

We pulled into another lot,

A building took up almost the entire spot,

Except for the narrow path,

That wound around to the back,

Where we stopped then,

Next to a towering sign and a box-shaped thing.

 

As we slowed,

The driver pushed some buttons,

And instantly two windows opened,

The one beside his head,

And to my delight,

The other one was mine,

I was being invited inside!

 

Forward a tiny step,

Then I sniffed the seat’s back,

And the man’s shoulder,

It smelled of a Rover,

He of sweat and clover,

I was enthralled and with a bound,

I landed beside him without a sound.

 

Unexpectedly to me,

A female voice came through the box,

Asking for the man’s order,

As if it were a restaurant,

He asked for things I’d never heard of first,

Then some water for to quench his thirst,

Last like as an afterthought,

He asked for just some chicken in a dish.

 

Then forward we rolled,

In ten feet we rounded a corner,

Then in front of a window,

Again we slowed.

 

By this time I was completely captivated,

With all these things to which,

I had become acquainted,

It was wondrous to me though,

When money was exchanged,

And food came through that window.

 

The smells wafting out,

Were so different from other kitchens I had smelt,

This was a very different sort of restaurant,

And I could not wait to see,

What the food was all about.

 

It turns out the chicken was for me,

It was quite tasty too,

I ate it very fast,

I thought the man must have been thinking ‘MOO’,

But when I looked up at him,

I was greeted with a grin,

And he himself had food,

Dripping from his chin.

 

“Gimmie a burger and fries,

And no one dies”,

Said the man with a laugh,

And though I had never heard,

Of such foods before,

They had a scrumptious scent,

And now I was content,

So I lay down on the seat and purred.

 

I must have dropped off for a catnap,

For the next thing I knew,

I was lightly shaken,

And being called on to awaken,

Then the man picked me up,

And I saw we were at a large homestead,

With a lavish house,

In the corner of a field,

And when we reached its door,

We were greeted by a bouncing barking pup.

 

Once inside I noticed right away,

Many, many things,

Different from my day,

So I began to tour the place,

As the man was served hot coffee,

By a woman introduced as his fiancé.

 

My favorite room had fluffy flooring,

One wall with large fancy glass doors,

Looking onto an extravagant porch,

The furniture was cushiony,

And in front of each piece,

Was a pretty glass-topped table,

On which to set one’s things,

Each wall had a big flat rectangle,

With sounds and pictures coming through,

I sprung up onto the narrowest piece of furniture,

Shortly after noticing,

Along with being heavily padded,

It rocked back and forth soothingly,

And as I settled in for a rest,

I noticed the thing that was best,

The air was cool,

Though the outside was boiling and summery.

 

I dreamed that night,

Of my Mister and his Lady,

I had traveled back in time,

And was on my way to find our fortune,

No matter what I said,

They thought I was touched in the head,

I never left my bed,

They said.

 

When I woke it was a new day,

I made friends with the dog,

And learned of things like doggie doors and indoor plumbing,

I tried new foods like grilled beef with my cream,

This current type of life was better,

Than anything I could have ever dreamed.

 

************

In the end I got the best of both worlds,

In the blink of an eye,

I would again abruptly time travel,

And be in the other century,

I suppose time in each,

Must have run differently,

Which was convenient for me,

Because when I was in one,

My other family never realized it,

So they had no need to miss me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inspirations From Lig-Mik-Bed

The unsuccessful outcast,

The little piece of shit,

One of few labeled a piece of trash,

In a world chock-full of unrealized garbage.

 

You know,

The one who takes the fall,

Wishing only to blend in with the wall,

While being labeled a culprit,

Forced to take that fall,

For others’ bullshit.

 

The black sheep if you will,

Taking unrelenting taunting,

It seems it’s always something,

Family, friend, enemy,

It’s all the same,

I believe frenemy,

Is the proper name.

 

Of absolute unimportance,

Just a stupid maverick,

The face of whom,

Makes them sick.

 

The rebel the renegade the prodigal one,

Tries to keep under everyone’s radar,

Yet each action is noticed,

And just another reason,

To be the subject for everyone’s  fun.

 

The topic of lies told,

And when these falsehoods unfold,

It’s the disgraced one who’s forced to be bold,

To go out of their way,

To save their own ass,

Then is accused,

Of having no class.

 

Fuck these assholes,

The ones afore referred to,

As unrealized garbage,

They front behind a façade,

When they go off on their tirade,

Not giving a fuck,

That they are causing undue strife,

In another’s life.

 

And to these assholes,

The ones afore referred to,

As unrealized garbage,

If you are one,

Try to understand,

You’ve been seen through,

And the ‘trash’ wants no more to do with you.

 

Yes this one you have labeled,

As weird and not normal,

Has cut you off,

So let’s not be fake,

And think of more lies to make,

Don’t put on a show,

Just shut the fuck up and go,

You’ve been dismissed,

A backbone has grown,

And it’s now known,

You’ve always been foe.