Lifeblood

Well, shall I take my wages from your pain?
And pile up stacks to sky be financed by
your comely dread, your sparkling tears such la-

mentations soothe my ear, I pray to hear

again those cries, since I rely take life-

blood by your gloom, your soon, impending doom.

Well, shall I take my laughter from your tears?
And shorten yours to extend my years of vamp-
iristic quite sadistic appetites.
I dine on anguish; dread, I savor it--
my fav'rite taste, since I rely take life-
blood by, your gloom, your soon, impending doom.

Well, shall I take my triumph from your loss?
What other way for it to be?  Expect-
ing me to ever lose? I dance upon
your grave, graffiti up my name upon
your tombstone, why?  Since I rely take life-
blood by, your gloom, your soon, impending doom.

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Seriously, I'm going to write a happy poem one day.  I don't know why they come out like that.

You know the deal, iambic pentameter, internal rhyme, etc.  Since I love end-rhyme so much I thought iambic pentameter would make me, you know... not rhyme--since the beats are irregular (well... they're regular but not regular for rhyming purposes something about an odd number of beats just doesn't work for end rhyme, i mean you can do it but I dunno, it doesn't do it for me, sounds really forced) but as you can see I get around that by having internal rhyme.  I can't stop rhyming :( I think I'll have to get an electric shock every time I rhyme to rid me of the habit.  But whatever... next poem is going to be happy... unless it's not :)

Overdraft (a duet)

With comeuppance so bitter, reprisal so sour
Please God grant reprieve thus postponing the hour
That karma matures, oh please say it's not true:
The unfortunate day comes that my debts are due!

I've been spending and spending with credit unending.
So imagine my shock at the bill that you're sending!
And all of these charges attributed me:
Are certain not mine, they were certainly free!

I surely wronged Grace, and boy how I screwed Sam!
But they surely weren't angels, and I am the man!
But the rest of these people, I don't even know.
If you can't right your records, I think you should go.

But even you right them, it matters not much.
I owe of them nothing, beyond of their touch!
So tell your employer to whom you did see:
My celebrity status:  these bills should be free!

My employer is Justice, and her boss is Death.
We've been keeping your tab since before you drew breath.
We've been keeping tight records on all that you do.
The unfortunate day comes that such debts are due!

Your celebrity status is all in your mind.
From where I do come from, you're case eighty-nine.
We've seen all your dealings, and we're not impressed.
If you haven't the balance, we must repossess.

Oh money?  I've got it.  I've silver and gold!
And property, women, and mansions--behold!
So tell me which one of these catches your eye.
I'll throw in a Caddy.  Now come!  Don't be shy!

And all your possessions from clay and the dirt.
To you, they have value; to us they've no worth.
We've seen all your dealings, and we're not impressed.
If you haven't the balance, we must repossess.

Are you lacking in reason?  Now, why be like this?
I offer my finest so just take your pick!
'Cause money? I've got it.  I've silver and gold!
And property, women, and mansions--behold!

Your properties: dirt squares; and women:  just bones.
And mansions: just shacks; can't compare them to Home.
Since you've nothing of value, since we're not impressed--
Since you haven't the balance, we must repossess.

Now invisible guards, to your left and your right.
Have daily prevented comeuppance from sight.
Been staving off accidents, cancer, and more.
We'll be taking them with us, relieved of their chore.

But...

As far as your fortune you think earned by skill.
Was actually result of a gigantic bill.
But not one that you owed, but several owed you.
You've exhausted their favor and now it's all through.

'Cause the way that you cheated and clawed to the top
Has put you at dangerous height for the drop.
'Cause unlike the mountains so wide at their base.
You nothing of substance to keep you in place!

The loans that you took out are now upside down
The height that you soared becomes depth in the ground.
Twelve lifetimes to build it; exhausted in one.
The fortunes you shored up are now all but done.

Just squandered your fortune, forgetting to save.
And accruing more debts every step of the way.
And in need of new fortunes to pay it all back.
And fortunes and virtues is just what you lack!

Fortunes?  I've money...

Yes, silver and gold.
And all of them empty, they're naught to behold.
The fortunes I speak of are not dirt and clay
Not property, women, nor mansions I say!

Since you've nothing of substance, no character fine.
You've dug yourself deep in a pit hard to climb.
Since you clawed and you cheated your way to the top.
Without base to support you, so here comes the drop!

Why didn't you warn me?

You sent us away.
Said, "Won't you come back on more fav'rble day!"
You said we were "buzzkill" with tidings unglad.
That the longer we stayed 'round would just make you sad.

You just could have pressed me!

Remember?  We did!
You emptied the bottle; in closet you hid.
And when we came knocking you said, "Go away!"
And when we knocked harder, you smoked Mary J.

So naked you stand here with nothing but shame.
If you must point the finger yourself is to blame.
You'd plenty of warnings, now that time has passed.
The days of self-glory and this marks the last.

With comeuppance so bitter, reprisal so sour
Please God grant reprieve thus postponing the hour
Yet karma matures, I'm afraid, it's quite true:
The unfortunate day comes that such debts are due!

I've been spending and spending with credit, now ending.
So why have the shock at the bill that we're sending?
And all of these charges attributed me:
Are certain all mine, they were certain not free!

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Okay this poem started out as a bit of schadenfreude at Walter White's downfall (see Breaking Bad if you don't know).  Maybe I was the only one wanting to see him fail, but c'mon in real life everybody wants to see druglords fail and put in jail or dead, but make a fictional drug lord and everybody loves him *shrug*.

Anyway, first attempt at a disciplined anapestic tetrameter. I like beat that it has, kinda like a horse gallop feeling to it.  I hate that I write poems that require two voices (especially near the end when they finish each other's sentences), because it makes it harder to do a reading of them (seriously, you don't know how many takes I had to do), but... I only have myself to blame :)