Ripper Street Date

Talked to the girl, you want yourself dead.

you should have been brief, short and sweet,

it’s so hard to talk with a stomach full of lead.

A too gentle night where lamp light bled

into the streets, quick stop staring at your feet,

talk to the girl. She think’s your dead

or worse bored with a long night still ahead.

Getting the girl from bar stood to diner booth a great feat,

but it’s so hard to talk with a stomach full of bread.

You’re a bore now, she is blatantly fed

up with the lame stories, it was wrong for you to meet

her, just stop talking to the girl, she’d rather  be dead.

She’s going home to complaint to her girlfriends instead

of wasting her time with just some guy, a deadbeat.

“Your place or mine?” Is that what she just said?

You got the girl and she’s headed  to the bed.

A bad date now  shirts thrown around your cheap suite.

You kissed the girl and you’re a little dead,

still speechless, coming with a stomach full of lead. 

Aptostichus stephencolberti

The Rev. Sir Dr. Steven T. Mos Def Colbert D.F.A, Heavyweight Champion of
the WorldHe is America,and so can you.
The Greatest Gift of Allcame, not by stork,but by eagle to the capitol.
The last of 11Jimmy, Eddie ,Mary ,Billy, Margo, Tommy, Jay, Lulu, Paul, Peter,Steven.

He mourns two 9/11's,a patriots loss and a loss patriarchal.Loves Papa Bear O'Reilly,but hates every other bear.

The Favorite Son of South Carolina,Scarred by flight,Read Tolkien,in a new quiet,empty Charleston homewith fewer playmates, and less time to play.

The boy with one working earborn from a lovely lady
went on to be knighted by queens.

He keeps gold on his shelfin his Emmy and Peabody.In Air Colbert and treadmills.

The American Dream
in a cone.

The powdered history of the world

Lies beneath your feet.

The Pacific

Crashes before your eyes.

With two legs

You conquered land.

With two lungs

Water conquers you.

                                          

The growing ignorance of our smallness

Becomes evident to you.

The blatant oneness of the Earth

Is lost on mankind.

With two legs

We marched ahead.

With two lungs

We grew tired.

                                            

The soot filled air

Encroaches, surrounds the globe.

The particulates of our waste

Accumulates on broken promises.

With two legs

Man walked away.

With two lungs

Man coughed blood.

                                             

The warning, beacons of the end

Burned for blind eyes.

The Animals of the world

Fled from impending doom.

With two legs

Man conquered the world.

With two legs

Man himself itself. 

Sorry Angel

You, the Son of the Morning

Below the Sun

Who fell like Icarus

Who went against the forewarning

Below the Father

Who fell with a chorus

Without the Sun

Wings melted in fire and mourning 

46 - 50

46. Margret Michelle never sat down with pen,

Hell-bend on making southern witnesses.

Her father was always the better author,

But her tired in his old age,

A priest unable to raise an angry fist

To his congregation.

Given the chance to make his stupid daughter

Rich, and filthier, he took it with a death mask sigh.

The Mitchell family will never go hungry again,

But they will never see Margret as a heroin.

47. Just be silent,

Let vanilla tea, warm pasties,

And your stress waft over you.

Let the owls coo, and dragons slumber.

Let your mind be calm, under an asunder sky.

48. Letterman jackets creates tension in the bustling hallways of Dutchtown.

A Civil war battle field reclaimed by the farmers from the old country,

Stolen by state government to make room for paler more patriotic children.

The history of the school stays with its students, a huge chip is latched on bony shoulders

As the students walk through metal detectors. You never know who you can’t trust.

Children are the future, but America still fear what we don’t know.

49. I wish I had the stable addiction of my father,

Half a pack and a shot of moonshine helps the sould.

I wish I had the attitude of my mother,

Arguing with a legal dwarf ends up in a Middle Earth battle royale.

I wish I had my sister’s apathy,

The world could burn around her and she would use our searing childhood home to light a cigarette.

I wish I had my brother’s drive

20 hours to Connecticut, and the give-a-fuck to get out of Georgia.

50!!!

            Is God an Atheist?

            Yahweh takes no leap

Of faith to his work.

Allah doesn’t have

To wade through dirt to know the end.

Brahma fights in

No crusade,

Commands no army,

Splinters no wood for crosses.

Odin was never said to be infallible.

God doesn’t keep the Sabbath holy.

He grew fat on his throne

On the seventh day.

God didn’t kill himself so

Other would kill in his name.

God is arrogant, manipulative, petty.

He needs to re-read Jonah.

He should hate himself.

God should be an atheist.

41 - 45

41. Being the son of a poor teacher,

Meant I had to teach math too many times.

I never want to sleep molten laminate,

Or experience  the sheer of a butcher paper cutter.

I don’t want to see anymore red pen ink,

No more bleeding pages, I have scribbled

On too many lines. 

42. Your body is a machine, imperfect. Your adrenal gland is too large. Your appendix too close to exploding for divine design. Your eyes to likely to erode. You carry around six molar hydrochloric acid in a mucus sac. You run on inefficient chemical processes, and your brain is too big for evolution to continue in good spirits. When you die, you run the risk of your rib-cage exploding from the pent up gasses, the noxious rage of your now late body. You will return to soil, you will return to your mother.

43.That damn bird.

Stuck in it melancholy

In the weeping willow.

Its wilted limps hang

Close to my window,

Unintentional up close look

At the sounds of nature. Its red

Is too bright, and its children barren,

Hungry.

44. Its late.

 The night young,

and the pack tired.

The caravan needs to

 leave before sunrise or

the Donner pass will swallow us.

We’re in late autumn.

The snow fresh,

And the storm continuing.

The horses need to rest,

But we need to get to Dakota before.

The Donner Party will have to eat again.

Frozen, splintered wheels of carts

Now fuel dying fires.

We need to cut our losses,

And the throat of a horse

To keep through the night.

Unless we want to eat

like the Donner party.

45. I was in Seattle,

Guiding my kindergarten muse

Into a bathroom to repent in slurs.

She only tried to find herself

In the ten story fall.

Adderall knows her better than I do now.

Little Any, such a prideful girl, so prudish.

I knew her in middle school.

That is a bond few admit to share,

But we know too much about each other

To want to ruin each other’s image.

She only wanted to be wonderful,

In a world so cruel.

She know I can’t live for the both of us.

36 - 40

36.  Chess is a hard game to master,

A misplaced bishop on plated wood

Ends in nothing less than a disaster.

Night air of failure, the morning after,

The knight cackles on steed, so misunderstood,

My faltering  under stress, blessed disaster.

37. Three years ago, in May Emilee (For the love of her God remember the two e’s) Ann Burroughs first kissed me, so unpracticed, on that cracked tennis court. She wept the night I ended the strife, September 28^th will forever be a holiday of freedom and self-loathing.

She is now obsessive compulsive, trying to count how often the devil speaks to her in multiples of seven. I talk to her when I can relive myself of apathy, but her struggle makes me feel less tangible. She is a second hand author who can barely knit her way back into sanity, why couldn’t I love her?

38. [Published Before]

39. Oh brother,

How you have sent me

to the edge of insanity

on the John Deere boot strapped

West end of Georgia college life.

You sent me away to an academy to learn

How to be a better you.

I only learned to hate Italian major.

Such a foreign told for such a pasty boy.

Your judgment still hand in my head

To the rhyme of your potent

Tsk, tsk, tsk

A waltz of verdicts.

40. Thunderbolt had been dead for a few hours,

But our modest back yard told us nothing,

Until we pulled into its jagged drive.

I just a fence to greet the husky, but he greeted no one.

My eyes now shut to the image of my mutt,

Old, loud, and now in a trash bag.

I still have the callouses on my palms

From where I dug that grave.

I made you a sharpie plywood grave marker,

And asked in Donnie Darko’s voice,

Why did you want to be alone in the end?