Meter Cheater

My poems are like a puzzle where you have to crack the code,

And sometimes just aren’t clear like all the greatest song and ode.

But if it is impossible to learn from them or glean,

Then maybe it is you who never knows what things all mean.

 An Apple One Day 

Hospitals are needed where there's pain and aches and strife.

So maybe there will be one in each choice of afterlife.

And who could be the people that in hell would have that curse?

Well maybe all the doctors who made everyone feel worse.

 Thank you God

Of course you’re glad to not be like the people who aren’t you.

But they might also see your life and be quite happy too.

 

Poem
 
I don’t pray to Dayle
I just say hey to Dayle
 
 
Poem
 
I forgive my enemies for all the things they do
I forgive my enemies because I am one too

I forgive my enemies who all do stuff from hell
I forgive my enemies because I’m one as well.

 My Poems are not the Ten Commandments

There’s something different from my poems that ten commandments do,

And it is not because of only how they talk to you.

Ten commandments tell the rules of do not lie and steal,

Nothing in my poems is that no matter how you feel.

But there is yet another way that all my writing’s not

The writing in the bible and the thing that Moses got.

It has to do with holiness and levels of what’s great

And what is so important that it needs a tablet slate.

I’m pretty sure no matter who will find these poems so nice

That for a bible page at all my work will not suffice.

And that is why the church all thinks there won’t a sequel be

But I still like to read my poems to those who humor me.

 Anxiety Order

Would you rather all your fears to never then come true,

Or have the bad things happen but be peaceful with no clue.

I will take the peacefulness but also not the pain,

Or maybe just a mix of it that’s normal, safe, and sane.

 Rowdy Mobs in Quiet Books

In English textbooks they will say the trends of different times.

And literary movements where agreement was in rhymes.

Explaining the philosophy of every major school,

And noting all the major artists, whether wise or fool.

And sometimes it is stupider and sometimes it is smart

But don’t you want your own opinion of this life and art?

 Racism Pox

To judge a person without cause is quite an ugly sin.

A bad disease that no one wants is “racist pox” on skin

 Hinges

There’s nothing really stupider than turning Jesus down

And not accepting all his love that saves each dying town.

In fact, the price you pay for never trusting in his name,

is quite an awful punishment that somehow is the same.

So what you get when you ignore the greatest of all news,

Is simply that you didn’t choose the thing you didn’t choose.

  

 Soul Line

My blood is not the blood of Christ

Whose life was pure when he got iced.

I’m just a person, not a God.

Who lives each day on threatened sod.

And yet I truly do descend 

From those who Jesus will defend

On Judgement Day and say we’re clean

And on our own mind didn’t lean.

The spirit came and touched us all

And saved us from the early fall,

And all disciples told the next

Who at one time had been so hexed

But then were saved and born again

With freedom from a life of sin.

So something great was passed along

In breath or word or church or song

And while I’m not so innocent

And sometimes curse or angry vent,

God says that I am still his child

So killing me is nothing mild.

Tell them you called me "Zitty Bitch."

Well that’s the name when you got fame

Because I stank and overdrank

the coffee, coke, and stuff from folk

who judged me when I’d always sin

and often fail and fall and wail

and all my work was too berserk

and people said I should be dead

and then the smell of course was hell

for everyone who took my fun

‘cause I’m a waste and never chaste.

And yet so cold and prudish old,

With darkened heart and lousy art,

Well if you love to float above

And sneer at me so hatefully

Then what you might enjoy one night

Is judgement day where you can say

To God and the humanity

Who chose to see Christ on a tree

Is that you find his work unkind

And ugly too, not good like you

And tell him where you’ll go that’s fair

the place with fire that you desire.

 Fruit Snack Poem 2

I give my neighbors fruit snacks
When they knock upon my door
And that is why it’s sticky
Cause they always want some more