Emptyness in this space.
An unprovided home,
one more mistake.
She lies awake at night,
hoping for a better day.
But she wakes up to the yelling and screaming
Another somebody.
If this place is called home,
then let me sleep with no awakening.
She is one step away from breaking.
Breaking and taking everything she has.
He is screaming.
Screaming out for me.
It's time to run out.
No more bleeding.
It doesn't have to rhyme, in time
its all semantics anyway.
The words to play
into other words and every thing
doesn't need to ring
in rhyme.
Write about how it be.
C-span gobbldegook of terror
committes sit as souls pour out of poverty
services unprovided while
building bombs.
Who cares about the conspiracy
of greed and machismo to
keep us in our place?
Race to the bottom line:
I'm a bank and your black and back off
I'm a mortgage company and your puerto rican
with credit stinkin
have we killed all the Indians yet?
Without the news the blues
is mindless sitcom cons
or
when the polls close the winner will be named
before the count
you is out.
Show me the beef
stay obese for spiritually
priestly pedophiles.
A perpetration of a preponderance of b.s.
reigns in the land of the
locked in
locked up
bondage of souls
dreamin' the great dream of a house
to be blown away in a storm,
or run over by a Free Way.
What's mine ... ?
Rage.
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