Demons Poem by Milton Wayne

Nothing is new under the sun they say.
Walking around the land Forgotten Angels drifting way.
You don't want to help me that's ok.
Let me dress like this, say I love you and wear red lingerie.
Steal a chain, paint my car,and let my pants hang.
They never came alone but always came in different ways.
" Who wants to be a millionaire "?
Fist rise high in the clouds.
The Deacons are the cops.
The First Lady is a nurse.
The treasury is an accountant.
While the pastor is a hustler and gambler.
The musicians are innocent victims using their voices and hands to cry the pain away.
The congregation are crackheads, prostitutions, and alcoholics.
Thirsty at the alter but the black hole sunk the souls asleep.
Sinking with unspoken wisdom but silence has became the founder of knowledge.
Yah!
No guides.
No worries.
Repeat the cycle.
Buy clothes.
Buy shoes.
Grab a lunch and head to work.
Missing pages from the manual.
No worries.
Where's the nails and hammer?
I can build this vision under water.
You don't love me that's ok.
Whisper in the mayors ears take away the seed.
No household.
No peace.
Sign here.
Gain control.
Sign here.
Lose your soul.
You made me mad that's ok.
Handcuffs to the skull and take your breath away.
No hope.
No justice.
Just another day.
Come to my places.
Ok.
No panties.
No bra.
Vows no longer remote in the conscious just tongues twisted hope for morning sunrise.
Do you love me?
No commitment.
Do you care for me?
No loyalty.
Hold me here.
Kiss me there.
Congratulations your having twins!
One for body.
One for the soulmate.

By: M.W. Styner, Jr.