MORE HUGGY POETRY

THE FOLLOWING POEM WOKE  ME UP OUT OF A SOUND SLEEP WITH A BURNING RAGE IN MY CHEST I GRABBED MY PEN AND THE FOLLOWIGN IS WHAT CAME OUT....

RANTINGS AND RAVINGS ABOUT AMERICA AND SOCIETY

You rounded up my people and made slaves of my brothers.

We used to have taxation without representation; now we get taxed on everything America represents.

Freedom? It doesn't exist; it's an illusion. Hell, even the rat thinks he's free, when you open the cage door for him to run the maze. Remember that the next time you open the door to the cage you call home.

Justice? What justice is there in a man that murders his wife and child, and can get parole in ten years?

You said give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free. Yeah, they're free, all right. Free to live in homeless shelters.

What happened to the streets of gold? Our parents dug them up and forgot to repair the roads. And those amber waves of grain got paved over for a shopping mall. God shed his grace on thee? Yeah, he's shedding something, folks, but I really don't think it's his grace.

In 1776, we declared "All men are created equal." In 1993, we now know that all men ARE created equal; it's their paychecks that aren't. Will it take until 1996, 220 years later, to ink in those two little words "AND WOMEN"?

So while the House of Senility and the House of Misrepresentation sit in regress, passing laws for society, lets talk about society.

Noah Webster said "Society is a community of people living together for a common aim." Yeah, our aim is to kill one another.

Society, you allow our women to be beat and our children to be abused. That's not MY aim, or anyone else I know.

And where are society's Pro-Lifers, so I know who to give my baby to when I can't raise it? After all, all life is precious regardless of the age. That's why all the foster homes are empty, right?

Society conveniently forgets that America was founded on the freedom of choice, and as I said before, freedom doesn't exist when every choice you make is taxed.

Now, I know what you are saying, this is America, and I have the freedom to read this. That is, until society, and a woman named Tipper, thinks there should be a warning label on this. But I beat them to it.

WARNING! THIS POEM MAY MAKE YOU THINK!

I ADDED THE LAST LINE OF THIS POEM A YEAR LATER AFTER I WROTE IT DONT ASK ME WHY I JUST DID

We sit here on our crosses, our sanctuary.

Society condemns us as the cause of its problems.

While we state society caused us.

We bear the scars of welfare, the welts of poor education, the bruises of domestic violence, and the mental illness of gang love.

We are the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to be me.

Yet there is no statue or liberty, only freedom to run the night.

We bear the stains of the future while carrying the sins of the past.

We are your children.

I WAS AT THE LOCAL COFFEE HOUSE I USED TO FREQUENT (ITS CHANGED TO MUCH AND IM TO BUSY TO HANG OUT THERE ANYMORE) AND I NOTICED ALMOST EVERYONE WAS WEARING A CROSS  AND THATS WHERE THIS POEM CAME OUT OF

We all have crosses.

Some we wear around our necks for protection,

like shields against incoming missles of society.

Or the ones we burn in people's yards, trying to consume in the flames the hatred they have in their hearts.

Some we wear like nooses, hanging ourselves on our religion.

We have crosses we bear and crosses we share,

all sizes and shapes, models and makes.

Friends,family, job, and love.

We all have crosses.

footnote I wanted to work this into the poem but couldn't : Knives,daggers, and swords are just crosses to be used as weapons.

MOST FOLKS DONT GET THE NEXT POEM IF YOU DONT WELL WRITE ME AND ILL EXPLAIN IT COURSE IF I HAVE TO EXPLAIN IT THEN DOES IT LOSE ITS MEANING?

A tree isnt always green.

And the sky isn't always blue.

Sometimes the tree is orange or gray.

And carousals on the moon with plumed horses spin endlessly.

And Oscar lives in my garbage can.

And Bigbird chirps outside my window.

And my invisable friend Harvey drives his pyramid shaped car to see me.

We reject your beliefs.

Don't beat my creativity out of me.

I'm a individual, not a mindless mass.

King Friday where's Lady Elaine?

The Mummy is coming to get me.

A knock on my door.

"Mr. Smith your food is here."

"And if you eat it all instead of throwing it, we will put you back in your own room."

"Instead of this one wiht the padded walls."

A knock on my door.

"Jimmy, its time for school."