Rare Form (Poem)

I’m in rare form
My form is so rare
that no lie is too great to embrace my warfare

No fire can make dust of the bombs that I drop
And no thief in the night can take swift with my plot

I’m a renegade
I give swords to your slaves

Chop it up before dawn
then give bones to your graves

I’m a hurricane
I blow hard through the chill

Get it Done (Poem)

I’ll do it when I wanna do it
I’ll do it when I’m done

I’ll do it when I’m sick and tired
I’ll do it when it’s done

I’ll do it when I’m all burnt out
And my legs are tired

And taking that first step feels like a marathon
without breakfast or a bottle of water

I’ll do it tomorrow
I’ll do it the next day