As the Moon races in the sky,
I will ask of God and try
To understand the place we're in,
Unencumbered by lies and shame.
I don't know about where thought began,
But do know that this public display,
Must, I stress, must go away.
One can rant, rave and shout,
Sleeping with the Devil, is no doubt.
Something that bothers me most,
Is the evil I see with this host,
Of damaging our nations pride
And why this embarrassment, must hide.
This person, we have is so untrue.
That's how I feel. How about you?

Talk not, to me
about aches and pain,
for you, understandably
must complain.
If you feel at a loss
of words,
then you may understand
how absurd.
It is, don't you see,
the loss of a dementia patients
own memory.

The long legged cat
passed on the trail.
He was quite elegant,
but was missing his tail.
A tail he had
when quite young,
but lost it when fighting
during the setting Sun.
If you see this elegant cat
with his stub raised high
give him some room
and let him pass by.

No more cries, ere the
morning light.
No more whys of this
present plight.
No more random talks
without a notion.
No more discussion
with no emotions.
No more ringing
of the bell.
No more consideration,
gone to hell.
No more talks,
about anything.
No more happiness,
will it bring.
No more of life,
we know today.
No more my wife,
who will go away.