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Waste of Gas

After a particularly long phone conversation with you,
I find myself frustrated.
(Not that that's too unusual)
It feels like we're driving in circles,
One of your favorite activities.
Driving around the same streets
For hours.
I always hated that.
It's a waste of time
And of gas. 

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Think of the children

Funny that they always say
"Think of the children"
But when they turn 18
They'll hand them all guns
And send them to die
In their pointless wars
And that's all
They're protecting them for 
They'll send our sons
Marching to battle
Meat for the slaughter
Like herds of cattle 

I can't even look at the flag anymore
Because I'll think too much about politics
I can't even look at the flag anymore
Because it makes me fucking sick
Red for all of the blood that we shed
Blue for the tears of their mothers
White so we can pretend we're clean
Of all our country's murders 

"I'm sorry ma'am
I really am
But at least your boy
Died for Uncle Sam
Spreading democracy
To far away lands
That never asked us
To lend them a hand" 
We spend 12 million
Every hour 
Just to maintain
Our military power
Almost 2 trillion
That could be
Spent on renewable energy
My guess is
They feel winds of change coming
And they don't want us
To have windmills running

Now how would you rather your money spent? 
I only ask you "think of the children." 

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Trite

It's funny you know.
I could never write a lengthy poem about you
Despite all you did
And how much you changed me. .
Maybe the memories are too stale
Maybe I just intensified everything at the time
But I like to think
The whole thing
Is just so trite
Just so boring
That I have nothing meaningful to say

Or maybe
I've turned my life into a state function
And all my memories are irrelevant
And all we need to care about
Are my intensive properties.
The process is unimportant.
But I worry,
I wont be able to contain
The building entropy. 

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Hangover

I wake up,
Possibly drunk.

Trying to remember 
The last thing I remember.

I think I ate a steak?

I’m alone.
Which is strange because I know 
I brought her.

At least I found a bed,
But I lost a  lover.

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Say No to Drugs

We're from a generation
That was always told
"Say no to drugs"
While they shoved
Ritalin down our throats
Force fed pharmaceuticals
Until it seemed normal
To alter your mind
Until it seemed normal
But no you see the child has A.D.D.
I think we need to have him take these
And then he’s quiet for a while
So you sit and smile
Thinking you’ve done what’s best for your child
But eventually you’ll be
Wondering why he’s on ecstasy

It’s just what you taught him

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Spin out

I'd always wanted to write about the time I almost died.
My truck spun out on the interstate
and I barely missed
an 18 wheeler
and sign post. 
The truck my grandfather left me
ended up in the perfect position for me to pull back onto the interstate,
go to a Waffle House and smoke down a cigarette in record time.
I've thought about it
and thought about it
until I finally realized
It wasn't all that interesting. 

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Debate

I was sitting
While the two of you were talking
About some political topic I had no interest in
You were defending your selfish, Republican views
While she sounded like the typical, self-inflated Democrat.
Meanwhile I sat to the side
Playing with a cheese knife
Because it was clear
You'd both seen too much news
To make up your own mind about an issue.
Eventually, you saw me,
And suddenly the knife was a novelty.
Something you had to play with
So you asked me to see it.
I obliged knowing that once you had the knife
You'd quickly lose interest
Like a child wanting the toy another had
Because another had it.
While she eyeing me sitting silently
Assumed I knew nothing about what you were talking about
And tried her best to help explain
(So I would only see her side as right)
When she didn't understand I didn't want her help.
You put down the knife in a minute
And resumed arguing
Then, forgetting about me
She did too.
And the whole time,
The two of you
Never solved a single issue.  

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The Late Worm Gets the Bird

I always hated starting my poems like this, but
the other night I had a dream.
The first time I had seen you in 2 years.
But every shot of you
was from low angle view
like some sort of subconscious director
was influencing my perception
Still, unlike most
I find it hard to find much nice to say about you
(except that you were attractive.)
I know I once could,
but now
I'm unsure if your true nature
is either too known to me
or too obscured by my opinions.
Though your father told me
while we were both drunk in Mexico
"You're a lot better to her than she'll be to you; get out."
So maybe I was right about you
or maybe your father knew something about the situation I didn't yet. 
I remember you used to tell me about the boys you'd date
And certainly you knew how that affected me.
I always felt like you loved to watch me squirm.
How long did you think I'd sit beneath you
and be your little worm?
But one day of course
you'll fall to the ground
and I'll rip apart your corpse. 

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InternetVsReal-life First Meets

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My Grandfather's Apples

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