All they have are the I's, the my's, but never the why's
They let lies drip like flies from their sewn button eyes
They stitch hate and pleat fate through cloth alibis
Take their fill from your till of crushed cotton dyes
...
Hey fellow writers of things
From poetry to prose
To all the betwixt and in between~
...
Thank you for coming to see me today
For listening to what I have to say
I have the most wonderful news
...
Here atop my throne of eyes
Do I ponder the taste of lyes
And here alone in tongueless abode
...
I want, and therefore I need
Instant gratification begets moralities for greed
We trade justice for just us and a handful of feed
Stuff coffers, but not ours, with these misguided seeds
...
Coincidence of coin and cents
A pity for pittance?
A penny or a penance?
People with more dollars than sense
...
Look Judge, here's what you do:
Take our cellphones, search our shoes
Send us into those cold back rooms
...
A barnacled nail
Fantastical tale
Of green briny whales
And lightly rimed sails
...
Mothers on the ground, collapsing, withering
As the snakes in politics keep on slithering
I'm not one for religion
...
Comedian, Artist, Writer)
The Stringed Ones
All they have are the I's, the my's, but never the why's
They let lies drip like flies from their sewn button eyes
They stitch hate and pleat fate through cloth alibis
Take their fill from your till of crushed cotton dyes
Take a bit
Then some more
From your gold threaded core
Grab a kit
Cut a slit
Then squeeze out your roar
For those who wish to take heed of this lore
All I can say is
Beware the puppet lined shore