Printed from WriteWords -


by  tinalouise

Posted: Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Word Count: 166

I take,
I feed.
Your hate anger and greed,
Just fodder for my rhymes,
Nourishing the scribe,
Taking your diatribe,
Feeling your vibe,
Enriching my words with your insides.

Your emotions, alien devotions,
Twisted thoughts, addictions to potions,
Angst, suicidal thoughts and guns…
Just ammunition and potential PUNS.

Be my breakfast, dinner and lunch,
Give me something with a bit of crunch.

Thank you for the mere word ‘LAME’,
You fit so nicely into my game.
You are the prey who imagines he’s king,
The uninspired who knows,
Of his soul,
His goal,
His true life’s worth,
You simply tickle the nerves of my mirth.

One day you’ll be all burned out,
Wrung out,
And strung out.

And when your hot head hatred,
Grows colder,
And you have,
A chip-LESS shoulder...
...then I will take thee,
Drained of life’s bull.

When you are hollow and empty...
...I will find you FULL.

The true bright you,
Before my eyes,
Out of disguise,
And truly wise.