You grow up

I will admit that “caterwauling” is an ugly word,
But, no matter how joyful the noise,
It’s the only word which fits any sound
That ****** deafening come sunrise on a Sunday morning.
Once again, in song and speech, they were down there,
Loud enough to call all the souls of the just to Glory;
Indeed, the whooping and hollering
Was enough to lead one to suspect
That, just perhaps, they had followed the exhortations of the pastor
And thrown all the wild women, cards and drink
Into the river after all.
It’s not like they do this every **** weekend or anything,
I grumbled (loudly enough to ensure your transition
From the limbo of semi-awake to the real thing,
Part and parcel of ‘til death do we part, in my way of thinking)
But you simply wrapped an arm
A little more tightly around my waist,
Sighing Each to his own, Baby.
Can’t you just celebrate the joys of sleeping in?
I smiled to myself (my back to you, after all)
Ruminating a bit upon the business of revelation
Being a damnably funny thing,
Though I grumped and growled a bit as a matter of principle
How the good book made it a point to mention
That He was not averse to an occasional day off.

Though some might like to wield a sword, a pen will have to do.
A row of x’s marks the spots where the ogre may be vulnerable.
We must with surgical precision find those areas and mark them
For eventual good riddance to, or at least containment.

The Chinese have a torture named “Death by a Thousand Cuts”
We must revise that to become “Death by a Million Votes”
Death to evilness and discord, to ego and self worship.
Death to everything that’s wrong in hopes to make it right.

For every X that’s penned in blue, another’s penned in red
The future hangs suspended in the pen with the most ink.
You cannot blame the other side, mere soldiers in a war.
Delusions are an easy sell to those with too much money.

If one is right, one must be wrong in this perverse equation.
The middle ground turned battlefield with multicolor bodies
Rotting on soil stained with blood both red and blue
As the exhausting siege creeps to its conclusion.

What color will the banners be when we wake up tomorrow.
Who will weep with happiness and who shed tears of sorrow.
Who  will try to analyze the reasons for the outcome
For those of us who have to live beneath those waving banners.

ljm

By Arcassin Burnham

At one point in time , I was apart of you.
I replaced my soul with a pile of wool.
Covered all over me, no you were a distant memory.
I wish i could stare down at that lake again and wonder.

I was a,
Teenage **** up, a social pariah,
I was a,
Force to be reckoned, and sensual liar,
I was a,
Little boy to you when you were a woman,
I had no,
Time to be around a girl calling me her man,
See I had,
So much nervousness, I could barely breathe,
There was too,
Much in this world to endure for me,
I ain't no,
Scared little kitten, I'm too much of a Liger,
There is no,
Time nowadays to change the past , inspire.

Sticks and stones will break our bones,
But those words are surely killing us.

Words of repression, hate and scorn,
Roiling words that slash and burn.

Throw a stone, wield a stick,
Don't use those words that rile the sick;
The haughty right that smile then sneer,
That march with torches, emitting no light;
Saluting with an arm out tight.

Sticks and stones will break our bones,
But words are surely killing us.

We were hopeful fools
To think that your broken could heal mine
To want eachother to be our reason for life
To explore the ruins of our souls
And try to turn ashes into treasure
We were infatuated with the geography of our scars
How truly delirious we were
To try and make them a gallery of art
There are wounds inside of us
Far more painful than anything that ever bleeds
We have shadows that cling to our skins
Like a rotten stench
Yet here we sit
Like flies
King of the dump
Scuttling in search of happy endings

By Arcassin Burnham

Spare the details , scratching with these nails,
One look at me and your body will be mangled while being
impaled,
I'm not a ****** or a murderer , I just love to create art,
Where ever my pencil will take me and I'll I feast on the fact
that I'll let you relish in that,
I'm emotionless to pain even when it's brought by the bat,
Experience hatred for a world where men will slaughter other
men,
Where evil thrives and the man upstairs won't come down
to defend,
The idea of killing my boss in the past , it'll had made me
laugh , how can I pretend?
Where is my purpose in this life when that purpose is
clipped from under me?
As far as I'm concerned , there's more books to burn
of a past that no one knows,
I'd rather isolate myself while watching the *******
world set a blaze in a perfect cemetery.

by Arcassin Burnham

Started with a few hardships,
You were my only friend to depend on,
Midnights , where we would call in the a.m,
You said I was the only one that made It right,

Started with a few love notes,
That we would pass in class after periods,
We would kiss, where they could not find us,
You said I was the only one that made you cry in a good way.

You weren't there , so don't you say,
Don't you say you were,
You never cared,
Don't you say you loved me like the past didn't happen
Then and there , and now we're here.

Started with a few arguments,
everyone you knew had a hand in it too,
Always , breaking up was hard to do,
You said I made you drift apart from everything good,
You said , you just needed time apart,
But you didn't love me from the start.

You weren't there , so don't you say,
Don't you say you were,
You never cared,
Don't you say you loved me like the past didn't happen
Then and there , and now we're here.
Ended with a few lies too,
Your brother told you I had cheated with another.