Dear Governer

(So one night me and my friends went to the Peace Frog and I read some of my poetry. There were a few douchebags in the crowd who thought it would be funny to make fun of me while I was reading my poetry. Thankfully they were in the other room and so I did not even hear or see them, but my friends did, and one comment these morons said after I read this poem was "we should call the cops on this guy"...and to be honest I am really flattered that one of my poems was real and dangerous enough to make people react in this way. I had never read this poem in public, and this is the first time I've posted it online, but I want to remind everyone who reads this that it is just art. I am in no way going to flip out and go "Taxi Driver" on anyone, but I think it's funny that a few ignoramuses in the crowd thought I would after reading this. They must have been republicans...lol :P )

Dear, Governor...

Mr. Governor I want to stab all the shame I’ve felt
For all the years of hiding behind the guise of normality
Straight into your cold uncaring heart
For taking away my rights and my sanity
Screw rubbing crossed fingers
I want bullets of shame to rip through your chest
And your blood to splatter over your fine lapel coat
For every bullet fired in a domestic dispute
Caused by the lack of treatment flowing through the veins
Of those you restricted from obtaining a healthy life
Of which you and your kind take sorely advantage of on a daily basis
If you only knew the pain your minions spread over the least fortunate
You’d understand my rage bubbling to the surface to explode
Mr. Governor…the time will come when you’ll see your flags
Burning in the aftermath of the people tearing down your walls.
Freedom rings louder to those who can’t hear
A lesson you failed to learn at your Ivy League school
You will feel my desperation and discontent in spades
It is the final hour Mr. governor….
When your lackey’s will turn on you, and Cairo will be brought to these shores
And the bullets you fire down on us from your vantage point in the capital building
Will be deflected and fired into the crowd of your brainwashed pawns
Soaking in spas of tea they squandered from this nation's store room
They fight their couch potato revolutions with misspelled slogans
Calling for regression into the dark ages where ignorance was valued
We will no longer stand aside and watch this masquerade go on
Your time is coming Mr. Governor…
It’s coming…
to an end.

Copyright Adam Gaile 2012