Fading into the sunset,
Taking bets your regrets
Will be the things you’ll reminisce
On death’s bed door
♡Anastasia Z. Cunningham
Don’t compromise yourself
You’re not loosing Your battles
Just because you haven’t seen your victories arise
Things take time
And time sometimes seems to drip like your first apartments leaky faucet
A slow continuous thud that you have yet to fix, or really even notice
But soon it will be gushing
And your goals will no longer be within arms leangth
But at your fingertips
And you’ll wonder why you ever questioned yourself to begin with
I am not an army of one-
You don’t get that lucky.
I’m what they call overkill,
And you’ve got a hell of a bill.
I could stand all alone,
But punk, you are unlucky.
From here on out it’s all uphill-
I love it when you call me shrill.
I’ll chew you up like acetone-
Know the thing about Kentucky?
We’re pure undistilled and iron will
And motherfucker I’ll die on this hill.
We used to gather,
wrapped in humidity
and stale air, watch
tendrils ever reaching
for the unclaimed)
and overtake the inky blanket
of night, rorschach
in the distance.
When the pyrotechnic
percussive roar drew
its last breath, we offered
a standing ovation,
surrounded by sulfur
I can’t risk cuddles or take time to play
a clean smock per room
bundled into sanitized carriers
cages scrubbed with bleach
food is measured, conditions are noted
hoping for kind hands and the tender care
I can’t give you here
a home with so much room for each of you
no more kitties lost.
Fragile is the land on which we live
under the broken sky;
cursed is the coal we gather in greed,
killing the land – and the people.
Today we celebrate the Indian Wars,
hating the witches so righteously burned,
each time to save our native land.
Far have we journeyed to gather the slaves,
lynchings mark the trees like broken limbs,
all of the bodies burned in the endless war,
good God. Will you damn America?
July 4, 2013
All I ever wanted to be
Was a pop song, for you to sing
The one that you’d like to play
As the day slips away, and you need to swing
My melodies are nothing if they’re not stuck in your head
My rhythms are lost if they’re not rattling your bed
All I ever knew how to do
Was tell a lie, but sing it true
Somewhere between middle and high brow
I’m singing it now, sticky like glue
I feel left behind and sooner or later you’ll find
That this song fails to exist anywhere but inside your mind
All I ever wanted to be
Was a pop song, to make your heart soar
The one you play when you feel good
Or when you’re misunderstood, too warm to ignore