PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Thanks for inspiring me.

Thanks for the fire in me

That cooks me up like some shitty chef

When he looks me up in his book

And decides to hook me up with rotted soul spices.

Thanks for those lines that shook me up

And took me up... up... up to the lows in your vices.

Crook me up now

And rob every sob that I make.

Steal all the anger I burn.

But leave me an ember of talent:

A shred of some stanzas to learn

So that come December I'll keep my body temperature balanced

With a sip from this lyrical chalice.

And yes, we're empirical data.

Mass collected and grouped into cynical strata.

The proof of Heaven's experimentation

With flawed creations.

But what does it matta?

We're fighting-bitches and love it.

Rat-a-tat-tata.

Eat this lead fucker and shove it.

Or else I'm forced to scale the emptiest ladder,

Take my paragraph bladder

And piss on these pages from above it.

But even then, what becomes of it?