Work

I could free a thousand slaves, I still have to work...
I could run 20 miles in 10 seconds, I still have to work...
I could win 800 trillion dollars, or just enough to buy the national debt, I still have to work...
I could lose all my limbs and get half of my brain blown off, when I wake up the next morning, I’ll still have to work...
I could get married and fly away to the mountain top, I still have to work...
I’m left alone in a dark room with half my brain depending on medicine and I barely can breathe but I still have to work in the morning.
Thank God for Social Security, Medicaid, Medicare, Workman’s Comp, Federal Taxes, SSI, reparations, the lottery, Food Stamps, and overtime. They all remind me that even when I’m dead and gone, I earned my spot in the ground.
Thanking God for work even when I meet him, for that I’m forever grateful. On day eight, he made work and I sang a song and got the job done, ready to do it all over again the next day.

Home

The lions roaring, the children playing, there’s peace...
Humans with wings flying like angels, I can hear them speak...
They sing songs of glory, songs of eternal love...
I’m no longer confused, no longer afraid of my consequences, I’m at peace...
The colors of rainbows reflect perfectly off of the streets of gold and I’m cured of all iniquities...
I humbly kneel at the altar of peace, my mind is at ease, I rest in divine comfort...
For I am forever welcomed here, I’m at home.

Upside Down

Oh, what do I do?
Is the teacher the student?
Is the student the teacher?
Is my father my dad?
Oh, where do I go?
Is history the truth?
Is someone coming to save me?
I wrote about it, who will read it?
I woke up Sunday morning and thought it was Monday.
Am I on planet Earth?
Is the Earth flat?
Have I landed on the moon?
What a story, I spent my last dime serving the poor.
Oh, get off of the ledge, it’s Christmas time, Halloween is over.
I may need a stage to write this script but who will act it out?
Poor babies, bad weather, free lunch.
Oh, what a world...
If only science could heal me, give me one more day...
What would I pay to keep going?
What would I pay to keep her happy?
What would I pay to please everyone?
Oh, look at the mighty hand of government...
They’ve lost their way, the people can’t afford them and they can’t afford the people.
I better shut my mouth and be grateful, it’s just unusual, I guess...
It’s just upside down...
I better try and fix it...
Or maybe not...
I’ll just write about it instead.

The Artist

ADHD could be described as an angel sent to earth to liberate or free his or her people. Many people suffer until they hear or see something that gives them hope. I didn’t understand what this meant until I became one of those people. It doesn’t take much to paint a picture of freedom, it may give someone with nothing left a reason to pickup something to ease the pain until the feelings are mutual. Let’s hope it’s a paint brush, a pencil, a pen or something to draw with. If it’s the mouth, warning, you may not like what you hear.

The Last Option

I was lied to the whole time but a part of me wanted the lie to be true. I really wish some superhuman being was going to come and rescue me and my people from our stubborn state of thought. After I came to that conclusion, I realized the last option, I had sat and watched everything around me crumble so I gave the order to ignite the bomb to purge the world of our enemies. Surrounded, realizing that I tried to make peace, I convinced myself that I had done nothing wrong. I was left with no choice. It’s much quieter now, the biggest news of today was how we have to move forward with the cleanup and who’s going to pay for it. There goes my reelection.
The Last Option.