Reynolds
Reynolds There on a Baltimore bench, A tormented soul cries out in pain. Reynolds The screams of a dying breed, Echoing down the damp dark streets of Baltimore. Reynolds Louder and louder the man gets, But no one seems to care REYNOLDS!!! Finally a lonely old man finds the dying, shrieking soul, But he is too late to save the hollow, melancholic, broken man reynolds… The last words of a fading genius, and Edgar Allan Poe would speak, Nevermore. I wrote this poem after doing some research on Edgar Allan Poe. While researching I came upon an article stating that his last words before death, were Reynolds. Hearing this inspired me to write my vision of how his death looked and sounded.
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Humanity, You Baffle Me
Humanity you baffle me, You always pray for equality, but angered if treated equally. You always request that nobody is hate, Yet you hate those who do not. See humanity you don’t know what you want. You THINK you want peace, but you really want war. You THINK you want love, but you always commit adultery. Humanity, you’re just an indecisive teenager. You can’t decide between good or evil. You don’t know if you want to be happy or angry. You say you trust each other, but you’ll stab one another in the back at a moment’s notice. I wrote this poem after watching the CBS evening news and seeing how f**ked humanity really is.
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Ode to Stephen King
Your stories are the definition of perfection.
Your characters good or evil are always a joy to read.
You make me cringe with fear,
Your head must be a small town,
Haunted by the monsters you created.
Pennywise runs the sewers of your brain.
Barlow runs the old abandoned house.
Jack watches the hotel, Danny tries to escape.
Randall guides the evil, Mother Abigail guides the good.
and when things get too crazy,
Warden Norton prepares Shawshank for the new arrivals.
I read your books every day,
and when I run out I get depressed.
Every turn of the page keeps my heart racing,
and every book slammed shut keeps me wanting more.
Your stories are the definition of perfection.
Your characters good or evil are always a joy to read.
You make me cringe with fear,
Your head must be a small town,
Haunted by the monsters you created.
Pennywise runs the sewers of your brain.
Barlow runs the old abandoned house.
Jack watches the hotel, Danny tries to escape.
Randall guides the evil, Mother Abigail guides the good.
and when things get too crazy,
Warden Norton prepares Shawshank for the new arrivals.
I read your books every day,
and when I run out I get depressed.
Every turn of the page keeps my heart racing,
and every book slammed shut keeps me wanting more.