The Art of Poetry

Hunting season is my favowite season Says Elmer Fud. Shhh everyone he’s Hunting wabbits, wabbits, wabbits, WABBITS Someone give me a gun, oh no I have to wait a week to be cleared, And a psychological exam, now they Want me to buy a safe Quick fire the wabbit is getting away, or is it duck season, NO it’s wabbit season Someone get a calendar, oh it’s 2020, and the duck just coughed Shit, shit, shit the wabbit is on to me It looks like he passed the psych eval too Bang! You missed you slippery son of a bi-! Boy give me your nerf gun! I’m on the hunt Quick your crying and go suck on your mother’s Breast. Babies everywhere. WHERE IS MY GOD- DAMN GUN! At least I know where my bullets are I wonder how angry the Martins would be if I dug them up Thank you lord for giving us more guns,  and Even more targets than before Every season is hunting season, in the great U.S of A

Independence - the fact or state of being independent. Independent - not depending on another for livelihood or subsistence. It's the catch word of the day. Everyone craves independence and yet it is achieved in a very dependently way. The use of others to get where you want to go in life. The truth is there is no such thing as being. "Independent" Because at one point or another within a day do we depend on someone or something.

Pools are dangerous They can sink the strongest man Forcing him in dirt

"I eat," she said aloud.                 "I just don't eat well," she whispered.

This is a letter of apology. To all it may pertain to. I hear by apologize for everything I didn't do . I apologize for not being loud enough. I apologize for not being reckless enough. I apologize for not standing when they told me sit. I apologize for not empting the can of spray paint all over that building. For not holding up those needed it the most. For not running when they told me to halt. Anarchy, they yelled ANARCHY! and I just sat there and watched. Watched as my fellow brethren and sisters were beat, accosted, and abused. I renounce my very own cause and for that I am Sorry. But I am not sorry for the things I did do. For the things I did do are what kept me alive, and for this I can not apologize for. Just know if I could do it all over again this letter would not be an apology but a confession. Sincerely, Speranza Abbandonata