Volcanic

Draped in ivory linen and embellished in petals of roses

Silent, voiceless, seems my beauty imposes

A secret taboo to lay your eyes upon me

Desecrate what is holy, you must see,

Possessed, you are ruthless and belligerent

My hidden pleasure, you’re so different

And I want no more and no less

Just want you to caress

Call me cynical

Because I’m rather clinical

Fatigued of the poet’s ridiculous romance

And the entertainer’s interpretation in song and dance

Nothing exceptional or rare

No unique flair

Six strings tie lovers to one another’s heart

Love songs in which their affections impart

Silly and naive these romantics find a way

Yet always their destinies become far astray

Only to meet once again on the same path

Of love and peace, no such thing as wrath

If all poets are probably pessimists

Then readers remain repititious

And those who don’t do diddly,

become but a barren brain

The monsters under my bed, they speak

Of a future in the world, so bleak

Perhaps it was but a twisted dream

To demolish my meager self esteem

Restless, I cannot sleep now

To seek the truth, I vow

But only time holds an inevitable fate

In which I’m obligated to wait

His music is my grave where I rot.

All my human affairs are forgot.

Lifeless, a corpse to hark his tunes,

More distant than Jupiter’s many moons.

In my desired afterlife I hold so dear,

I hear the echo of each note, so clear.

Admire each note he plays

Sets the entire room ablaze

To play with such passion

Unlike any other fashion

It’s almost frightening

Each note, quick as lightening

Yet he keeps such composure

His tunes, the perfect exposure

Upper class women drivin’ in SUVs

Gonna buy ritzy, overpriced groceries,

For their anarexic daughters who won’t even eat.

There’s kids out there, do no wrong, still get beat.

Big men with money have everything, yet hungry for power.

Witnesses don’t talk, in the corner they cower.

You’re learning how to walk

But always knew how to run,

Never had to guts to talk

You have accepted none.

But maybe just this one time

You could deign to my pace

Always thought you were sublime

But I’m abandoning this race.

He’s the hunter who leaves no tracks

Under the matted autumn leaves

Subtle changes in the way he walks

Signals he’s going in for the kill

Neat and tidy, a perfect execution

He walks away with his prize

Under his white beastly fangs

Everything is a race

But I can’t keep a steady pace.

Uphill downhill, it’s all the same,

It’s my lack of motivation, I blame.

Fake smiles, fake friends

Sometimes I think it never ends

All the thoughts of war and hate

I can’t refuse to participate

Why we do the things we do

If only we understood and knew

But would we stop then?

And if not, when?

More thatn half of want’s good is gone

In this battle evil has won

I know this truth, we refuse to face

We deny that this is indeed the case

Digging our grave at the age of three

We know in our heart we’ll never be free

To dance with no music

And rhyme with no beat,

Seems this kind of win

Is the greatest defeat.