Aye in time we hear yer callin',
Yer mucket words o' the mairn fallin'.
Ah see yer schemes, laid gipet an cal,
Yer feverish plots ah see em ahl.

So Aff ma hinkin an aff my ma back min,
Av geet yer bags ye sees av packed em.
Awa we ye poison flooer,
Tae rubbled ruin, yer cairn nae moor.


Yes in time we hear your calling,
Your soiled words of morning falling.
All your schemes, laid childish and cold,
Your feverish plots i see them all.

So leave my thoughts and leave my back man,
I have your bags, you see ive packed them.
Away with you you poison flower,
To rubbled ruin, your mountain no more.

Put my name on the deed to a Rolls Royce. See a live elephant, before they all go extinct. Spend a year in New Orleans, with no one else's help. Win an Oscar. Own a Super Bowl Ring. 

Train my husky to walk my Boston terrier. Finally quit cigarettes. Never quit spliffs. Go hiking, every day. Drink less coffee. Get a better job. Get an even better job. Take less bathroom breaks. 

Fall for someone that helps me up. Have a talk with Fiona Apple. Write the screenplay we'd always refused. Ask relevant questions. Give accurate answers. Win a Peabody. Own a football stadium. 

Write the news my now doesn't know yet. Drink bourbon in Kentucky. Learn how to program. Make the best-sellers list. Fill dad with pride. Do laundry this week. 

Go see a chiropractor. Stay off the junk, would ya? Smell less-like I just smoked. Pay back your lenders. Keep close, your real friends. Let someone publish my work. Win a Pulitzer. 

Be punctual. Write something you'll want to read. Clean my room. Lower the volume of my voice (but not really). Earn my P.h.D. Adequately meld the personal and the real, the universally and the delusionally relevant. 

Make them pay me to do what I love. Spend it all on you. Get a bigger ferret cage. Live a greener lifestyle. Trash fewer K-Cups.  Let people be themselves, without worrying if they're sneaking around. Hug Tom Brady. Thank him. Explain what he means. 

Reconcile with the town of Webster. Pay the city of Brookline for those parking fines. Spend time in all 351. Read Infinite Jest, and all of Ulysses. Identify when a work is "Joycean." Interpret it, as such. 

Act. Tell a good joke. Become a falconer. Hug a chimpanzee. Dismantle a hate group. Put them all in their places. Cry easily. Stay happy. 

Revisit Paris. Discover Ireland. Stay awake. Talk to another wolf. Record the perfect song. Compile the perfect playlist. Want to go to work. Enjoy New York City. Maybe live there. 

Inspire society to care about poetry.  Re-certify my black belt. Center my self. Listen to it. Take photos that stop you. Draw pictures worth buying. Keep the gun in your waistband, in the small of your back, and never, ever, pull that **** out. Mean something, when you flash metal. 

Learn photoshop. Laugh at the all-encompassing parody. Love first. Haunt your dreams with a good story. Make you truly regret it. See the ****-good in everyone. Know the past, own the present, visualize the future. Catch a fist, dodge bullets.

though the mills of God grind slowly
yet they grind exceeding small
though with patience
he stands waiting
with exactness grinds he all.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


for the wicked there's comeuppance
yes, for plagiarist and troll
it may not be in present tense
but evil has its toll

for the greedy human tyrant
for the fat politico
the rich are as a vagrant
trudging through the snow

******, Pol ***, Stalin
Napoleon's Waterloo
in disgrace and fallen
into hell's external stew

the world is a millstone
it grinds fine, or so it's said
born here crying and alone
finally we're dead

don't envy the deceiver
or those who perpetrate
they'll be the receiver
meet poetic Fate

God has a sense of humor
those who blot society
may end up with a tumor
in the end will not be free

those who think they're "first"?
pity the poor fools
they're actually cursed
to be the *devil's tools

there's no skating through this life
they will all be doomed
the scepter is a poison knife
the coffer is a TOMB.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/23/2015

Let the blood pool beneath me
Let it burn me for my sins
All that I could ever be
Destroyed by dispositions

So tear the vengeance from my flesh
And sear me to the bone
Let me rot as I regress
Burning within my home

Peel my skin off of my morrow
Yank nail from fingers until
My pain echoes into tomorrow
And lay my body still

For all the sins that I have done
Excused not by pain endured
So much better for everyone
If I were simply killed

She used to be so shy and innocent. She was anything I ever wanted in a girl. I would think to myself, how can such a beautiful girl be so stunning, yet withhold such a charming personality? She was truly a gift from God, and I treated her like one. But slowly, yet surely, that image proved to be a striptease. She was an angel growing devil horns. No one could stop her. Her inner beauty shifted from love to lust. Her outer beauty became ****** rather than angelic. She changed for the worse, and all I could do was watch her reshape into a salacious figure. What is there to do now, move on? Move on from someone who provided the positive emotion to my life? Maybe I could wake up with a positive attitude and embrace the single life. But how do I embrace the single life when I desire a companionship? I don't want to embrace a life I don't aspire. No, what I seek is revenge.  Don't settle for loss. Don't take what she handed you. Take what she owes you and turn it into vengeance. Swear by the devil's word and make her swallow your retribution. Take the upper hand and chain it to her deathbed. Show her who the real winner is. Wait, but don't latch the chains on too tight. Give her enough slack to contemplate. Enough slack to realize her mistakes. Give her enough time to re-consider. Enough time to consider change. Show her the past, and how it used to be. The past led by an angelic child. The past where another child fell in love with her presence. The past where their humble beginning was destined to lead to a promising future. A future where they settled for intimacy rather than detachment, and a tie rather than a loss.

I am the devil hear me cry. I am the devil you wish me to die?
I am the devil I cannot lie.
I don't get goodbyes, no one misses me, no tears in their eyes.
I don't get to wonder why. Cause I'm the devil the prince of lies.
In shadows I make my home, my tomb is a bed of iron and stone. Watch me rise to my throne. I am more then blood. More then bone.
I am the devil, hell is my home. I live where demons roam, I make my bed with fire and ice. One or the other either will suffice.
And you can feel all my rage, flames that consume every age. I am the devil I make it so. The world will watch me grow. Like a flower in winter I only sleep now, I dream of days when the sun would shine. You with yours and me with mine.