And here it is, another page of my poetry! These aren't angst-driven, though ... they were a couple I had to do for a creative writing portfolio and am proud of mostly because I wrote them in about 5 minutes.





Anti-Heroes

My heroes are villains,
The ones we revile.
They're the ones with the gumption
To commit crime with a smile.
Like Lady Macbeth, or even
Cruel Fate;
Maleficent, the Wicked Witch--
The ones we berate
For being themselves,
Holding nothing back.
Bonnie and Clyde, that daring duo,
And pirates with names like One-Eyed Jack
Are the ones I admire,
Though for an odd reason.
Like the ones who defy,
Risk life, commit treason,
These men and women--
Power-hungry and greedy--
Are the ones true to themselves,
Although they are needy
For attention--from others, the law
Wherever they can get it.
I've learned in my life, by observing and writing,
That the "heroes", in life, when they let it
Be ruled by conforming, are the ones who are unhappy,
The ones dissatisfied--
I'd rather be a villain
Than a hero with an unjustified
Sense of why I'm a hero.






Pretty Boy

Dillinger went down in a hail of bullets--
Public Enemy Number One was gone.
Hoover, in frustration, raised his
Imagined nemesis above the rest:
He had a pretty face, and even
The bulls admitted he was a
"Nice fella",
And regretted having to bring him in.
Big Carl gave him advice,
Lulu Ash gave him love,
Jeff City gave him maturity,
And through it all he carried
In his heart
The everlasting picture
Of Ruby and Dempsey--
His patient, loving wife and
Loyal, happy son.
Beulah Baird loved him,
And hated Ruby for having his heart....
Folks 'round his hometown called him
"Robin Hood, cause he was good to
People that was good to him."
In the end, though, his
Pretty face couldn't save him from
J. Edgar and his Bureau,
And from bulls determined
To bring him down.
Twenty thousand people came to his
Funeral--even more than came to the
Governor's--to see the pretty face.