Hemophobe
Written April 10th, 2001


Heart goes pump, pump, pump.
My world rocks, thump, thump, thump.

Drifting away as the nurse gives a shout.
Draining away as they wheel me out.

Floating away brings me thoughts of home.
Brings me to heel as the needle hits bone.

Who knew pain could be obfuscated by Creativity?
Awhile back it began, an unknown proclivity.

'A little pressure.' He says, lifting hands so brown.
Agony shoots up, as a tear courses down.

Sitting there rigid, awash in pain.
A sneeze that blew corks, originally to blame.

Eddies Revenge
Written June 12th, 2001


Eddie took a roll of the dice.
Lost everything, just wanted his own little slice.

Frantic for the look on her face.
Knowing his loss is her disgrace.

You've got to look out for number one.
Family won't digress, Ed left full in the shun.

Why couldn't I have heard?
A whisper in my ear, absolutely absurd.

I couldn't have an addiction,
But truth from prediction.
Now a life sagging in dereliction.
Who could have thought I had this affliction?

Heard her beg again...
Silence answers her, and anger turns within.

Everything gone.
Drinking now predictable as the dawn.

My boy's new home,
Is my failure clearly shown.

Accounts cleaned out, wallet empty of cash
Daily I cry, completely unabashed.

No more.

My arms lift my savior, so surreal.
Tears flow as I fill my mouth with steel.

Message Conveyed
Written June 12th, 2001


Today a dog was put down.

Today a messenger was given a pin-prick.
A sentence was given, the first one to stick.

A van driven, a timer set, unable to be undone.
The count read 168, and we felt every one.
Bloody rags, torn lives, pain just begun.

There was no turning back.
Diesel and fertilizer used to attack.

Ragged-raw, dangling nerves.
He had the power to subvert.

Don't pump him full.
Make his message null.

Crazed in Life, but a martyr in death.
Eyes glazed over, sucking his last breath.

Oakie from Kenokie.
Militia crouched in the Smokies.

Just the tip of the berg
Terror in the Heartland, and we rush to protect the herd.

Collective Consciousness cannot accept,
Militant threads, posing a threat.

Bloody scenes we shant forget,
But in a month, will we repent?

We promise to forget you.
And your message too.

Signed with a bang.
For that, you'll hang.

Make sure it's a good sup,
Because your 15 minutes is up.

No more time to play.
Suck on that, McVeigh.

Hindu
Written April 2001


To the only hindu god I ever knew,
those who remember those times are few.

The places and dates of our maturity,
are sacred to us, the times of our Purity.

Those times we stuggled, loved and regret
shouldn't be forgotten by those who owe a debt.

Desire of ghosts affect those who remain,
speaking of those times, we cannot explain.

Telling the stories of when we belonged
Living in a story, it never seem wrong.

No one despised us. Well maybe just Hem.
Even with their faults, we still loved them.

The adventures we had, the games we played,
of losing the past, we always are afraid.

The Past we shared has created a bond,
and made us aware of images how fond.

Those times and dates on which we reflect
to anyone else are just calendar specks.

Keep your memories buried deep in your head,
relive them always, because they're gone when you're dead.

Tiger's Claw
Written April 2001


Born to be granite, I now lay here lame.
Too scared of what would happen to complain.
Afraid for my eyes, I keep out of her way.
As she flashes her nails, I look away.

That voice in my head asks "Why do you cry?"
But all paths lead to Maintaining the Lie.

Body full of gouges, maybe even a burn
one for each time that I didn't learn.
But siblings, they fight, isn't that ok?
Then why does his face show such dismay?

Eyes full of passion, face full of truth
The problem she has, he explains the root.

Come on, my daughter can do no wrong!
but such belief in his words and scratches by the throng.

Neither will I see, or otherwise face the truth
that my son, to live, fights claw and tooth.

Padding the Lie.
Painting the Clown.

My son, his face, an unending frown.

A Monster built on my own design,
Brought up with love and trust so maligned.

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Page last updated: May 22, 2003