Not very often does the river straighten
But when it does its attributed to Satan
The thirst of the ground and the drought forgotten
Plus the acres of failed crops and dead cotton
All eyes on the now and never on the was
It’s easier to blame Satan than the real cause
Waters receding now, the river takes form
Rain never made it here, it Was Satan’s storm
© 2012 Michael Yost 1/17
Lyrics flood my brain
It’s an overload, a strain
Blue eyes crying in the rain
© 2011 Michael Yost
The castoff pools in the gutter
Beating rain rolls over his skin
Coughing, spewing with a sputter
Heavy lids hiding a soul dim
Evil wicked days his wish away
If the rain could wash his dark heart
His soul lines gutters this day
So that I might lark in the park
© 2011 Michael Yost
Push hard the black pencil
Making it really dull
Wrinkle and rip the stencil
Give them something to mull
Not with too much tensile
All words need to be culled
Boiled down like the lentil
Leaving nothing made null
© 2011 Michael Yost
Michael's Lair 