When I am hungry and want to chow,
I know I can always turn to my friend cow.
A chunk of cow, broiled medium-rare,
Is all I need to make my belly fair.

To you know who
The barer of my being rests in your arms
You are my Angel
Watching my life with tender love
Watching with sorrow from way up above
Through love I know
That I will never meet harm
For this I love
Love that only we will know
Because this is a love
That only me and my brother show
This I must remember in a sorrow way
I will be found in pain and tears everyday
Because you left this world in a tragic way
Forget this day I will not
Because you are my Blood my Flesh part of my Soul
Without you I am nothing
Not even a whole
Because you are my brother
A part of my soul
I love you Billy

I look into your wild eyes
Wanting you against me
Wanting to be with you
Wondering if you feel the same
We are together
But so far apart
Throwing caution to the wind
Not caring who we hurt
So confusing
Why do I have to feel this way?
But I want you
And I cannot hide it
Jealousy
I have no righ tto be jealous
But I am
I cannot ask you to reassure me every day
Insecure
No reason to be
Someone else loves me too
So confusing
Feelings mix around throughout my black soul
Until I canont eat
Or sleep
Or even think
I look into your wild eyes
And hold you against me
I don't care
These feelings are too big
And we cannot hide

Milk is Gross
I don't like milk,
It tastes really gross.
When I drink it,
I want to throw.
It smells bad, it looks bad,
It can curdle when warm.
The smell of it gags me,
And it comes from a farm!
Milk is disgusting,
Stop forcing it on me.
I didn't wan't it when I was a child,
And I don't wan't it in my tea!
This poem is bad,
I really did not try.
Not even James would like it,
So long and good-bye!

We are back to Egypt
walloping in slavery
of our inability to see
Even when king pharoh says freedom!
Moses is no where to be found
And the children of exile have no eyes.
We thirst now
but have blood instead of water
we seek manna
but feast on wounded flesh
Now! it is an Exodus without promise
An Exodus of no destination
On call
I climb the hill and mountains
Alas , shall I find the promise land
On the plains of Canaan

One inspires
The other commands
One is inclusive
The other is exclusive
One learns and admits his mistakes
The other "does no wrong"
One teaches
The other taunt
One serves
The other is served
One is flexible
The other is rigid
One loves
The other likes
One is man of vision
The other is a captive of actions
One ask, what can we do
The Other Yells!,you must do it'
One is a leader
The other is a boss
Who are you?

The Country could Use
A President who really Likes
Ice Cream
He would Know
Not to Kill or Hurt People
Because he would eat Ice cream.
He would see
a more valuable resource
not
in the oil fields of Iraq
But in the dairy farms of
America
He would be happy
because his Country would Produce
Ice Cream
People would like him,
Life would be Grand.
He would have
Good Foriegn Policy
But he would especially be friends
With the Cows.
He would visit them
in the Farms
and pass bills to make the grass better
And
In Return
We would Get
Ice Cream.
But If One Day
The cows got Angry
ice cream prices
could sky-rocket.
Then the President
Would be forced
To go to War with the Cows.
Cow War.
McDonalds Stock Would Soar.
New commercials would say:
MCDONALDS HAS BEEN USING SIMULATED ICE CREAM FOR YEARS. EAT MEAT, KILL COWS.
Vegetarians
as Cow Sympathisers
might be put
in meat camps.
The cows might fight
for awhile
but they would have no guns
and cannot operate air-craft
so eventually would be forced
to flee
The Cows would be welcomed into France
Because French people like Ice Cream too.
So even though
things seem bleak
in the world today
And some People Don't Know
Not to Hurt or Kill People
We Still Have Ice Cream
We can at Least
Still Enjoy
Ice Cream.
Even if we do have to call it
Freedom Vanilla.

I cut when I am scared
I cut when I am sad
Cutting helps heel
The felling I feel
Cutting makes me feel
Like everything has gone away
Nobody knows how I feel
People say I am a slut
They don’t know
People say I am a stoner
They don’t care
Mean things are all they say
Mean things
I think what I am
I know what is am
Cutting I love and
The river will always
RUN RED