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the days of oi festRate this Poem
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Created on 6-7-07
Dirty and dark
I am not any of them
Nothing they sing or dance or speak
As always, awkward and misguided home
To restart for the sixteenth time this year
Waking anew to the life I have chosen
Putting the same trust out on the line
Tyranny runs amuck my new life
Spitting upon a higher ground
Coming back to the same old vices
A fire to burn with my booze in both hands
There is no room for tears in the eyes
Of a new heard of cattle to never be rounded
Sitting outside the tight woven circle
Waning to waste, the most precious gift of all
I am not any of them
Nothing they sing or dance or speak
As always, awkward and misguided home
To restart for the sixteenth time this year
Waking anew to the life I have chosen
Putting the same trust out on the line
Tyranny runs amuck my new life
Spitting upon a higher ground
Coming back to the same old vices
A fire to burn with my booze in both hands
There is no room for tears in the eyes
Of a new heard of cattle to never be rounded
Sitting outside the tight woven circle
Waning to waste, the most precious gift of all
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