4-20a

A flat-line fury of funk
Can y’all dig it?
A real low-down jive
My ticket punched
Sick of posers singing
Tired of liars talking
The silent stepping over
Cracking the casing
On knees to on knees
The shuttling of sycophants
The rock and the roll
Society is sick
A splattering of labels
Above his heart
Around her purse
Sucking on sour keys
The shoe inspectors sleep
Dreaming of glory
Of going off the rails
Dying out of debt
Smiles shape to form heroes
Pulling bodies to safety
From the wreckage of the mind
Anything but having to see
The person across from us
Pinned to the present
A collection of the past
This figure from the future
Getting off at the same stop
But I am last off the train



oh and i'll add this one i thought up soon after...



4-20b

I write poems
Because I’m
Lazy