Def This

My gate is a familiar reflection of your slouching posture
and your inability to function or get an erection
so you cower powerless as you internally bleed
Then set out to pasture you graze on the blades of grass
covered with weeds and a youth you'll never re-capture
a truth you will never discover
so you slip into a selective coma oblivious to scripture
as we approach the rapture
pretending you never heard of the hereafter
or the afterlife
you sleepwalk the day
and chase the little bits of light in the darkness away
from your coveting eye
watching my daughter like a stalker
As you kneel down at the alter
a faithless Shepard
finger crosser
Go nowhere, do nothing, be no one
So you post your lazy thoughtless shit here
and disappear in the glare of the envious Sun
to the following page where scribes cut away like knives every day
and with each new reply in the wandering eye
my words like yours slowly die
Hoping for a connection
with someone who can breath life into that half past dead erection
but with no conviction, no compassion or compromise,
with replies like "I feel ya on this" or "this is one great scribe"
It's like genocide to these filled up pages of mine
until I end up on page nine fifteen where I dissipate like steam,
vaporize like a waking dream
and yet those words, vanished and gone
were cut and pasted from my soul and still linger on
wasted them on another over populated dot com
Here for a minute then long gone john doe, jane dick
with a peacock quill or a an empty bic hoping the big fish would take a bite
knowing deep down inside no matter how tight you write, scribe, and slash out proses and haikus
They're wasted on me and wasted on you too
Even if you are the shit and your shit sparkles with verve and wit, and your wit bristles with energy, kinetic intensity, crackles with life and is burning with synergy
Will you ever see me grace the stage of the Def Jam and gaze
over the crowd and spit out this page
thinking out loud in a rage
Like a sawed off loud mouth
Pump action twelve gage
How can I trust you with the venomous stems
Because anyone who knows you
Knows your a product of them
And they are a product of it
And "it" basically doesn't give a shit
How I feel about my gift
I feel it in my heart when the tides shift
Portraits are painted with words when I drift
and disappear
Like every other poet in here
Who seek the beauty in the truth divine
We seek the pain between the lines
In a world of liars and snakes that feed
from an empty well of pain and greed
Wasted moments of my life just die
without a cry or a wake
As I pray the Lord my poems to take
Like perfectly good food on a plate
now gone to waste
and nothing left in my mouth but the taste
of another lost dream
Swallowed by the masses say farewell
to this poetry king
And so I make sure I am not misunderstood
Picture this,
My hand grabbing my crotch
with my fist
when I look you in the eye
completely remiss and shout
DEF THIS
AND GOODBYE