PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Their color's red, these homies color is blue if you can't deal pitch-black is the color on queue.
Keeping it real, even if you deal you're done with when a cap of hot lead busts into you.
In the day and night of the gun they do it just for fun you can't hide as you try to escape with nowhere to run.
Bullet ruins young life in senseless drive-by; "It's our right"! Say's the NRA's after all's said and done.

As creation goes the anticipation grows, "We'll bring them back with spliced strands of DNA"!
Miracles of the macabre a modern medical persuasion as if God would give life an instant replay.
On line see the goose-stepping bloodsuckers, moneymakers, some movers and shakers.
The spinners are spinning all the views spun by cheap charlatans, frauds, and fakers.

Coming to an operating room near you soon a grafting procedure from the clone zone.
If I had a choice I would choose stronger armor something other than flesh and bone.
Make me from hi-tech composites resistant to rust with an impenetrable exterior unable to know what I feel.
With hardened heart pumping one that instead of breaking does the thumping tempered in an unnatural anneal.

You true believers, afflicted at the digital altars bow down bequeathing all to the barons of the new technologies.
Hands poised at keyboards addicted eyes glued to the monitors needing a quick data fix from the new mythologies.
Watch out now know your place and do not take a byte out of the hand that feeds you.
Next time that hand may be the same hand that mixes up the brew that re-breeds you.

G-gnome projects on the brink of another discovery manipulating a drink from the fountain of youth.
Boots up your mind now do not decline; get another megahertz buzz from the brain numbing booth.
They tell you who to love and tempt your senses repeatedly with tireless wireless eye candy.
Where are all the poets of the past, one hundred years past the century of Yankee Doodle dandy?

While the sciences keep second-guessing, as the terrorists plan on civilization regressing.
We are messing with things we should not be messing seems progress is a curse and not a blessing.
The race has a pace that goes faster every day the road warriors will make you road kill if you get in the way.
Outer space offers no haven there will be an eye in the sky with laser bombs trained in deadly diabolical array.

When I was dead an unknown poet finally read, at the posthumous recital of the inbred.
Will the bard puzzle over the words he said; "Why was he done in, with a cap of hot lead"?
Will any of us still be around to play, anyone that can still think, read, speak or, give birth?
some prophets say, wayback in the day that divination will be fulfilled the meek shall inherit the earth.