99 The Assassination of Dark Poetry

by Anthony Brooks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Diary of a leader

 

 

  Day one please forgive me

  I touched a boy in the wrong place

  He asked me for retribution

  And now I seek an elder’s embrace

  Day two I apologize for what I did

  I shot a man to claim his will

  I would become a wealthy beast

  But I forgot to clean the kill

  Day three I touched again now a girl

  She would not go away

  She said she would tell mommy

  I had to make sure she did not say

  Day four went by not a hitch

  I slip on my robe to go to school

  I stand in front of all that sin

  To them I am the word of fools

  Day five I really did it now

  I promised him I would not do

  I slaughtered dreams and acted the fool

  As they bow before me I sit so cruel

  Day six I created all the world

  I relax now let me choose my lull

  I must fight the temptation of the young

  But they look good because I had none

  Day seven must fly for I feel it rise

  My feeling like the Lord that I worship

  He tells me to spread his good word

  But I am too busy destroying his lip

  I must now burn this diary in case

  I get arrested and they seek on the hate

  As I burn this book of all my sin

  I must preach to the fools that follow him

  For I must get back to work my friend

  I am a pasture in my church......

  In the name of the father.....son.....and the Holy Ghost.....(grin)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  The truth of our president (2004)

 

 

  If God had a voicemail how would you leave your comment?

  Tell him verbs of truth, or lie like the president

  "We are winning at this pointless war"

  "Don’t fear your neighbor, unless a towel hangs on their door"

  "Let me frisk your child for that bomb"

  "As I do I will finger them, like I did to Saddam"

  "Let us liberate another to fight for me"

  "Just like we did when we fought against Russian thieves"

  "Oh yeah that did not work out as planned"

  "We funded Al-Qaida, to fight for the dammed"

  "Now look at them blowing up over our religion"

  "Taking my words of hate and secretion"

  "But my people I promise a resolution"

  "Like when Jesus died on the cross of restitution"

  "Let me dangle this carrot in front of you"

  "Hopefully my lies and deceit pull off as true"

  "And when it comes to vote for another clown"

  "Just think that all the fucked up things are brown"

  "Oops did I say that into the mic that’s on"

  "Let me throw up like pop did on the lap of Mayazawa"

  "Maybe they won’t noticed what I said of abusing my power"

  "So please vote again for me"

  "I know 2 terms is the max but let it be"

  So if you called the Lord in his den

  I hope you tell the truth and not like HIM.

 

 

  Revolution of dead poetry

 

 

  Offensive tones

  Offensive notes

  Poets complain

  Poets go broke

  Who cares who likes this?

  Who cares who agrees?

  Who cares if you’re upset?

  I happily smile free

  You’re too involved

  In this pointless game

  Of writing love notes

  And ever complain

  I shoot my own

  With your ball point clone

  No one will even care

  What you write when you are gone

  The cyclical life

  Will bring your pen back

  Give enough time

  You will write the same slack

  And I will complain

  Again and again

  That your lonely pen

  With its constant frown

  Will look for acceptance

  As you rub each other down

  So cry to one another

  About these words

  And pat one another

  Where you lay your swords

  And smile as you kill

  And praise while you drill

  And write how you miss

  Your feelings in the abyss

  Poetry died out along with God

  Religion is a fable

  And so is your nod

  Do yourself a favor

  And solve your solution

  Do yourself a favor

  Join the revolution

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Christ killed religion

 

 

  Some call me the Anti-Christ

  But I got more sides

  Than number seven on the dice

  The careless lord and savior

  Created idiot man

  With a complex behavior

  Started making, all these rules

  In God’s name we pray

  If you don’t your the fool

  You can’t be gay

  Only white males in my church

  If you’re not we will slay

  For God our father

  Will strike you down

  For thinking this wine couldn't have been water

  We take this good book from him

  Lay down "our" laws

  And repute away your sin

  For being colored

  Is wrong

  Can’t you tell the man on the cross has pale skin?

  Again you sin, Again you sin,

  Again you sin now kneel and pray to "him"

  So I started thinking

  If the fairy tale man God gave me brain

  And if I use it

  And I abuse it

  Why the fuck cant I say what I want since I am his kid

  Stupid cowards can’t you see

  That God has a good mind

  And you raped his philosophy

  Stupid mankind took the words of our Lord

  And turned it into your chi

  You backstabber

  Took his religion and made it your own

  To mold your kind to flea

  From the illusion

  That free will is a one way ticket to hell

  So take your man made book of stupid spells

  And conjure up an elixir for the death of religion

  And YOU killed it, you stupid cowards

  Mankind

  Man - Kind?

  You lost God's w
ords in translation

  I guess you can’t speak his lingo of frustration

  Stop burning crosses of "your" religion doomed

  Wake up and prepare the tomb

  For religion is dead.....thanks to you

  Stupid cowards......

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Silly poets

 

  Thanks for destroying poetry

  It was fun while it lasted

  Your constant whining, relentless plea

  You poets are all alike, filled with hatred

  Mad at the world, denouncing lost loves

  Heart breaking? Release the white doves

  Let me play the violin so you may win an Oscar

  For making me cry as I read your disaster

  Let me guess, your lost love got married?

  Spar with yourself and write it in your deed

  “I will not write about the same old creed”

  But thanks again for destroying poetry

  Seems like you know how to relive history

  Here’s a tissue box so you can cry at something

  It’s filled with lotion so your little ego won’t sting

  Do us a favor and write about the world

  Live in someone else’s shoes and not your own

  You might find that the picture you are painting

  Can be seen by more and not those with hatred

  Silly poets, words are for artists

  Like that little rabbit you won’t get your feet wet

  So run in circles until you get your dictionary

  Look up idiosyncrasy and see what it means, really

  And when you have wasted your time

  Looking up the meaning for most people rhymes

  You may then get the feeling

  Of what it feels like to sit through your readings

  Silly poets, even if you do hate me

  I don’t really care because you know I speak the truth you see

  One day when you have decided to grow big and tall

  You will preach the same to the ones who wish your work to fall

  Sesame Street makes more sense than you

  Ask Big Bird for a feather to write down a clue

  And while you’re at it ask him what rhymes with “Roses are Blue” ……. Silly poets

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  The knock of improbability

 

 

  Sitting peacefully, I lay motionless on the deck of my ship

  I hear the birds chirping low and the waves put me to sleep

  They rock me back and forth as my mother in past did

  I feel her presence as the birds fly overhead, they are my herd

 

  As the border of sleep and reality sets in

  I hear a distant knocking on the ship’s deck

  My eyes drift slowly open but nothing is seen

  The birds overhead motion me back to sleep

 

  The birds chirp turns into dogs bark as I drift into dream

  I see my childhood pet, my best friend play in the leaves

  She looks up at me and opens her mouth

  What comes out is not bark but a knocking on the ship’s deck

 

  I escape from my dream my eyes open wide

  This time I heard it closer though coming from behind

  I look around to see if anything is there

  But alas the birds are the only things that stare

 

  As I fall back into the realm of pretend

  The same knocking though from hell is louder in my ear

  My eyes open wider as the light escaped with fear

  The knock is gone away but my heart beats up so near

 

  I can’t sleep no for when I try that knock comes from her

  Is it the ship or worse yet does that knock come from here?

  I point to my mind though a game has been played

  I point to my soul