Posted in POEM

Reading In Darkness

You heard of me,
And you were curious,
About the magical,
Writing skills that I possess.

It gave you pleasure to think,
That you could be,
Just like the swanky poets,
Who are always following me.

You let me seduce you,
With my charming rhymes,
And destroy your morality.

I didn’t have to touch you,
To get inside your head.
I’m already everybody’s idol,
And soon, you’ll also be,
Another grateful dead.

By: ElRoy © 2017

Posted in POEM

The Struggle To Believe

It is true, that fear wants you to live.
But isn’t it obvious, that rage needs to die?
You don’t have to feel near death,
To be grateful you have breath.
I know you’ve ignored the words of Jeremiah,
For a very long time.
But I will give you, one final warning.
Your under-world curiosity,
Will only make your heart numb.
And you can’t retreat,
When the battle is done.
The devil and his demons want it all, to end!
God and His Angels need you to be born again.

By: ElRoy © 2018

Posted in POEM

You’re My World

The Earth orbits around the Sun,
The Moon orbits around the Earth,
And I precariously orbit around You.

But if the Earth’s gravitational pull,
Is not enough to attract the Moon,
It will dejectedly slip away.

It may fall into another planet’s rings,
Or end up, as a solitary shooting star,
That gradually fades away.

Concept By: Sam © 2019 (edited by: ElRoy)

Posted in POEM

The Haves And The Have-nots

Every day I drive down the street in my truck.
I see the homeless people standing on the sidewalk;
Beggars holding up a sign, asking for a buck.

In the summertime:
I enjoy the air-conditioning,
As they sweat in the heat of the sun.

In the wintertime:
I’m seating in my warm chair,
As they stand and shiver in the cold.

I am coy, when I drive by.
When they stare at me, I turn away;
Because I don’t dare, to give them even a smile.

I have a job and a family, to love and support;
I have a home and a truck, I have a heavy duty.

But why is it, that I have so much,
And they have so little?
Are they lonely and sad,
Or just trying to make me feel bad?

When they were children,
Did they not dream of growing up to be,
Fathers and mothers or even a poet like me?

Why am I not begging and they’re not riding–free?
Heartless people say: “You can’t help everybody!”
Others say they choose their destiny,
By making mistakes.
It isn’t my place, to get in the way,
Of the consequences:
“How else will we learn our lessons?”

Every day I drive down the road in my truck.
I see the fatherless children sitting on the grass;
And still, I judge and condemn them.
I’m not the one, that’s stuck.
I’m justified, I didn’t cause their bad luck.
Oh Jesus, then why do I feel like a schmuck?

By: ElRoy © 2018