the work

What a beautiful mind
That is right all the time
That writes all the time
That is right on time
With poetry & rhyme

What crimson lips 
They are prosperous with gifts
Crooked & imperfect
Like I like
With ever kiss
Unfit for talking shit

Whether you get paid or not
Doesn't matter
This is the work
We all take stock in lives
We make our dividends off the hurt

What a trusting set of nerves 
Condensed & learning new patterns
Like a flock of birds
We may not choose to recognize it
They respond emotionally to ever word
Giving you selfishly 
Everything you deserve

What a tremendous amount of pride
Benefits for all mankind 
Pulling like the moon's affect on the tide
A laconic crescendo 
Exegesis of that hammer & banner you wear on your side

Whether we believe in God or not
Doesn't matter
This is the work
We are all promised an end
We help ourselves to this earth

What an inept tongue
Lashing out at everyone
Slowly loosing teeth
Hymms now unsung

What hideous hands
Worked over like paper of sand
White outlines untanned 
They soften their grip 
For everyone slips
I am trying to understand
That life is not planned

Whether you're prepared or not
Doesn't matter
This is the work
Even as self-deprecated mirth

What a healthy woman natural & unafraid to be wrong
A woman that knows what kind of man she needs
Loves him like a rock
Built like a song
Gentle melodies
Harmonies that are strong

What a sick boy attempting work
He can't stop the after-thoughts
Living in the aftershock
Of unstable philosophies
Technicolor Ideologies
Obsessed with his words 
What they may be worth
Egregious in society
Idiosyncratic since birth

Max BarsnessComment