Why Cockroachs aren't Beautiful

Underdogs of the sewers
Who bring infection, disease
And assault our pure cleansed homes.
Here dirt and earth have no place.
Brown hiding in the dark,
Small creatures that can be crushed
Easily
Under our shoes.
Better are
Poisonous fumes
That consume them
As they lie with their ugly belly facing us
Twitching their legs as if in some struggle.
So easy they are to kill
Yet we fear them with our hearts.
The brave ones proudly
Pick them up and dangle them teasingly,
As we feel foolishly scream and order them to be thrown away.
Such small little petty things.
Yet
We fear them with our hearts.
They sprout out from everywhere
Every season
As if in resistance to
The new brand of poisons this year.
Every year.
How much longer till
It consumes us
And we lie with our ugly bellies facing the Earth
Twitching and writhing in pain?

The underdogs, however, will still crawl
Survive the apocalypse
As they have for each dynasty.

Always read jibberish twice

Today I feel like poetry
Though I have forgotten rhyme
Somewhere while I was growing up
I forgot my sense of time.

I hope you all won't mind it
This silly childishness
But I really feel like poetry
And making a big fat mess.

I really don't mind jabbing
And making no sense at all
And write climbing verses
That eventually thud and fall.

Its been so terribly long
Since I've had nothing to say
About the world in general
About the trees and clay

About the silly people
About the love and pain-
'Cause I have to write some poetry
And wet my words in rain.

There are no deep wordly feelings
That I need pour out to you
I want to spit out random words
And feel proud about it too.

I don't mind scraping paragraphs
Today I feel no shame
I want to bathe myself in nonesense
And have licence un-tame.

Don't stop me now
let me come out today
All I want to write is poetry
Some serious serious poetry
Some very serious poetry
About me
And you
And poetry
Today.