Sick is the conscriptor

Sick is the conscriptor
With all of his lies

Talc is his hive
Sap is his mouth

Justice finds him at the early day
His way is to give it back

Rewrite the world

Rewrite the world
Fill it with chagrin
Sound its crown with gold
Write its sound in light

But damn that was the original plan
The deity in our trust tried
So why does the can of worries
Tell us that it lied

But alas the angels all above
Say meager is the rise
Wait a few good takes
And you wont believe your eyes

None of my friends

They walk in your day
They say hello hellay
They wonder if you'll be their friend
You admit they are very much a spin
But you spend a day or so with their name
They love your little feat
But in the end
They were not your friend

Business

They say its a delight
To have all their might
Guns share their word

St. Harbor

There once was a Jew from St. Harbor
Who always had an enthusiasm for the arbor
He rented a gun
And laughed at the sun
Now he swims with the Starver

Repercussions

This is now available.
The past 3-4 months of poetry on this blog.

https://www.createspace.com/4018094

Joy versus Fun

I lost a bet
I paid the rent
I stole the show
I reached a bow

But I lost the war
I said the store
Was meek and fragile

And yet the day was happy
And the teeth always had a fight

The tenth was an eleventh
And the wind was never blight

But the day was lost
The aim a sandy firmament of the shore

For the light was at dawn
And I had lost the war

But the day is not done
And the terror refrains from the shadows

The world is a friend
And the winner will always pay his rent.