Methinks thou hast a malady
For thou art loth to baffle me:
The litany of thy complaints
Would vex the patience of the saints.
For thou, thou bitcheth, hard and long;
Thy cavils issueth quite strong;
And all thou sayest, far or near
Would try the wiles of Shakespeare
People ask me what I look like
And so I tell her, or him:
“If I told you, there’d be no point
In having a pseudonym.”
But I guess that hints are harmless
I’m a cross between these three
Shown below. So scan these photos
Close your eyes, Imagine me!
The problem with the philosophy of “Live and Let Live”?
People do not want to do either
Somewhere near where you might be
A woman lives with misery
An illness traps her in head
And she can’t get away
She keeps no blog and can’t express
The depth of her unhappiness
A room, a TV, and a bed –
Another hopeless day
He walked out of a convenience store
And into a hail of bullets
Red splattered on the pavement
Almost the same color
As the can of Coca-Cola
Still gripped in his hand
I met, last night, a Pandarus
Upon my local way;
He offered something dissolute –
Or someone, should I say.
I didn’t bite, but wondered:
Is this in our DNA?
That people still sell people
Everywhere, and every day?
So impressed are we by the works of our hands
So proud are we of the works of our minds
That we’re surprised by the devastation wrought
By the works of our hearts