Bull

    I am not a gifted poet
Just a spewer of the word,
If it forms a poem so be it
It irrelevant, absurd.

I am not a pretense prophet,
I just comment and observe,
Now and then as luck would have it
We get back what we deserve

I am not a saint, or seer,
Not a sentimental sage,
I am just another seeker
Turning  yet another page.

This is just a ball of fire,
Covered by a coat of mud,
We are just a bunch of carbon,
Floating in a sea of blood

Do not think what we do matters,
Earth will turn when we are gone,
We are just a tenant renting,
Eviction notice pending dawn

Heed these words, they are no deeper,
Than a babies unheard cry,
  If we aren’t our brother’s keeper,
   Truth be told, we live a lie.

This is just more bull I’m shitting,
No need to listen, nothing new,
What’s the diff I am only spitting,
Words and phrases over you.

Take or leave these words of wisdom,
For they are not wise at all,
We create with pride a prison,
Into which we all will fall.