IT'S A PARTY: A POEM

A regal throne at the Cathedral of Junk; Austin, Texas

Stop.

Don't.

Teach us how to fear

Nothing as the best

Medicine can rest

Is something to revere

God and She might appear

Before the court, subpoena

Please.

Don't.

Tell me what to do so when I look at you

Think of you

Smile at you

Humble you

You'll convert me for a moment

A second

Eloquently fostering a medium repose

Has me elegantly dying and tripping on words

If language is careful, then you and me both

Can eat burning coal for the sake of the truth

So let's try a word scramble 

Without a preamble

Context is key

So stop looking at fillers

With stop Trumpets the

They only make noise

That confuses the children

And creates dead little boys

Fear

Hatred

Let's get ready for the party

Like it's 1996

Was the year we thought we hated

Is a word for another sentence

Give it time

Give it space

So that nothing's out of place

Make it just

Make it true 

Until someone picks on you

Diction can be addicting

But he can also be a dick

Until he can handle grammar

There is nothing that will stick.