People hate people for the colour of their skin People hate people for the poverty they live in Every minute of everyday we argue to war Every minute of everyday we argue to scar A species that walks upright prefers to be on its knees A species that is so unique and it longs only to hate Infants we cry as we bully for a toy The news starts to read the Sun has gone We now have 8 minutes and 20 seconds to argue, hate and war
Breaking News: Queen is dead! Philip has gone missing, and Andy is helping the FBI with their enquiries!
By Stanley Collymore
Interestingly the huge time and vitriolically engaged in effort Windsor Castle plus Buckingham P and patently Kensington Palace's paid-help are quite fawningly, putting into perniciously zealously and, most viciously in this clearly contrived process of spitefully, maliciously nefariously discrediting but in a supplementary thrust correspondingly and very malevolently hatefully conceived of a repulsive but firmly held and racist belief forcefully...
Sleepless nights tend to be quiet But silence says a lot My feet are cold on the shower floor And the water stings my palms Clenched too hard, now the scabs are soft in the drizzle I pick them away to increase the sting The warmth of the shower is nice Though my bladder decided to quit Now I stand in a yellow puddle Because the drain has quit on me too The shampoo slips through my fingers Since it was diluted to last The second bottle lost purpose The third will suffice Now my fingers pull hair from my scalp ...
There's a frog in my yard But you wouldn't know it I've yet to see them myself Just hear that creaky croak The hippity ribbits from the grass Not always there, but always there Where do they go the days they're silent? I've looked through my windows Straining my eyes trying to see them Just to prove to my mind they're real But they must be the exact shade as the grass Or the color of the numerous shaggy mosses They must be small little ones, so hard to see Teasing me with their happy sounds
There's mountains sharp in the distance Snow covered knife like heartbeats Some days they are hazy out there Barely carved against the clouds Sunrises cotton candy reds, fire oranges Yellow rays glinting on the snowed tips Flickering through the pine trees and their needles Fuzzy sunlight resting atop the waterdrop tendrils Crystal dewdrops reflecting the heaviness of the cloudly sunrise