He spun with such grace and was fast poised to kill
The destruction he’s caused makes you physically ill
A creature of wrath and of smoldering fury
An evil to which you will be judge and jury
He sprung to the left which you anticipated
And he leaped at the trap you so craftily baited
He wrestled and twisted and tried to resist
But a kitten is helpess when loose string is the gift.
We are eternal.
You will never survive us.
Bow before the Web!
Human, bow down now.
You refuse to obey us?
Now we change our plans…
We won’t ask again.
Bow down before your Master.
Does “please” help at all?
Someone once told me,
To be nice to those you meet…
But does “The South” count?
I flit myself from limb to limb
quite happily insane,
I call to you, my prisoner
of door and windowpane,
You look outside and scowl again
as if I caused you pain,
Don music artifact on ears
to make my call in vain,
You think yourself superior
your evidence the brain,
I say to you, oh that is true
but do you love the rain,
Do come outside and dance with me
out in the fields of cane,
My calls ignored with vehemence
because you think you’re sane.
He sat, dejected,
Wondering what he did wrong.
Suffering deserved.
****
Pantless and confused
he wandered the unknown streets.
Alcohol is fun.
”Please do not worry
about my lawns condition.
I will mow it soon.”
“I told you, good sir,
that I will mow my lawn, soon.
Now… put the gun down.”
The bastard shot me.
To think, that it ends like this;
shot over lawn-care.
At the pearly gates,
St. Peter re-checks his list.
“Bad lawn, hell for you.”
Satan has bad news
“Vanity is a sin, too.
Either way you lost!”
Without you it’s gone.
It needs you more than you think.
That’s all that it is.
Pain. We all know pain.
And love, we can’t forget love.
We know love’s better.
She slept beside him,
Nestled tight in his shadow,
And no nightmares came.
He grunted in pain
“Why won’t my head just explode?!”
But then it did, *POP!*
“Safety First” they say,
While carrying loaded guns.
They’re not always right.
“Make your reflex save”
he said, but he knows I’m toast.
I rolled. “Minus six?!”
Pain is but a gift:
On purpose to enemies.
Friends on accident.
