PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It's coffee in the morning

And liquor by night

Blessed on the weekends

By dark horse heathens

Try as they might,

It's ghost faced children

And their goat-headed dads

Unwinding pool side

Splitting hairs with mom

Fighting boredom,

It's yards all filled with crap

You bought from the dollar store's scrap

To convince the neighbors

That you're red white and Bluetooth

Even on the inside,

It's the season of growing up

I've had it up to here with 

Should of, would of, could of

Keeping calm on the crust

I'm deep dish though, so I'm rising up

It's an always oxidizing rust

Set on our bones that eats

Our jaws until ossification comes

To teach us (and keep us) good company

With no more moving mouths,

It's half past puking 

When good poison sets in

Or is it half past trashed

When the alcohol reaches critical mass,

I see no difference in the two

It's always case-and-point with you,

That hand-meets-leather way-of-lash

Kind of thinking that plasters me

To your master class abuse

It's the face of god

In your good morning sunshine

Happy to see you cereal bowl

That really brings you down

It's something we shouldn't say

That proves political correctness

Is a powerful point of view,

Because civilization champions feelings 

in the absence of awful truth

It's the last drop of maxwell

The last gasp of gasoline

Before the sputtering starts,

The spelling of this whole mess hurts my heart

And I've misspelled it poorly I believe