Your writing is crazy,
you crazy, old lout.
Don't be so lazy,
give a loud shot.
Let your old mind,
run free as the breeze.
It is not kind,
listening to you wheeze.
You reach for a word,
eluding this prose.
Keep in mind, all flowers
smell not like a Rose.
Do what you do,
don't just suppose.
Get off your rear;
at this I arose
and out to the garden
where everything grows.

Fly away.
Fly away from here.
Leave now.
Do it soon.
Hit the bricks,
as we would say.
Scratch gravel,
White Wind,
When leaving a place.
Run far,
Far as you can.
Keep running, then run some more,
For there is no escape
From the stranger at your door.

Floating in the air
as a moth to the flame,
when he arrived here.
It was never the same,
as he spoke in riddles,
when people gathered around.
His words that he uttered
were very unsound.
"Pay to me your homage,
pay every day or I will
turn this World into pain."
He had no compassion
for woman or man
and lies and stealing was
his primary plan.
Tell them what they want to hear
but do not deliver or keep your word
and soon they will make a King out of you.

Must I be the way I am?
Can I change my being?
Must I walk this road alone?
Going through life, not seeing?