Hauteville House revision

"So long as there shall exist hell on Earth from keeping mankind a destiny that is divine; so long as the degradation of man by the exploitation of his labor, the ruin of woman by inequality, starvation and the atrophy of childhood by physical and spiritual means restricted; so long as social class is standard, so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth there should be a need for persons of intelligence to become people of action. Words like this cannot become useless." -Danny Derakhshan

The Sun

A Star is born.
It grows.
Brighter. And Brighter.
Hot enough to grow life.
Human civilization begins.
Our pointless lives.
Our Sun.
Tears itself down.
Dies.
Our pointless lives.
Deteriorate.
And End.

A Star is born.

I can write

I can write all day and day
Or night for day.
I try not to write all the time
I'd rather sleep.

I think about the times gone
And wonder.
If postmodern is pop
And I'm aware.
Does that make the world?

I write that it goes further
But what if, what.
If it all means nothing
We are categorizable.

Its beautiful I write now
But ugliness
Goes a lot further
Cause that is truth.

I can write if I choose.
My magic is in its reading.
The writing is not mirrors
And smoke.

Its mystic.
And long in the heart.
Time is so relevant
When all we have is
Words that last
Forever.

Annoyed

How come my brain is annoyed. Why can't I answer that question with a snazzy remark? I type and type until my mind is numb. I wish i didn't have so many problems, but i have none.

I poem, I rhyme all the time. My life is a fall from the greatest with so many pains and troubles and no one to hear me when I ask for what i want and the only way I can get it is by myself with no help from you or you or me or you.