Live to Die
Mikee W. Sharp
February 4, 2003- edited April 13, 2004
Once in a while I get to thinking.
Life is a fickle thing.
We live to die, we die to live.
Life is the waiting room for death.
Death is the freedom from life.
In life we are bound.
In death we are freed.
Free from the world, corrupt by its own deeds.
Free from men, a brutal and savage species.
Free from a conformists society.
Free from fear that haunts so many.
Free from the screams of unborn children.
Free from the pains of life.
Free from the judgment of others.
Bastards.
Free from ourselves, our one and true enemies.
What is this freedom that I speak of?
Quite simply put, it is heaven.
Take On Love
Mikee W. Sharp
September 9, 2003- edited April 13, 2004
Love is something that many people wish they had.
It is, in fact, human nature to love others.
But what is this love, and how does it work?
Love is like money, so easily gotten, but so hard to keep.
We want to spend our love like money.
We buy the newest and best product and discard the old.
It’s pretty sad once you think about it.
So what do I know about love?
I know the love of my family, the love of my friends, and the love of my God.
I am so fortunate to have been shown so much love in my life.
With so much love, how could one hate?
But hate and love some times go hand-in-hand.
Love can drive us to hate, hate can force us to love.
It’s beautiful, really, the love of others.
It’s enchanting the way love works.
Love others because you are so loved.
If you don’t know love, then learn it.
Love will take you so far.
Take Love On, a Haiku
Mikee W. Sharp
September 9, 2003- edited April 13, 2004
Head straight into it.
Never look back, do not stop
Take love on head first.
It Hurts
Mikee W. Sharp
October 4, 2003
Why does it hurt when I’m not with you?
Why does it hurt when you’re not here?
Why does it hurt when I can’t see you?
Why does it hurt when you don’t care?
You know it hurts when you go out.
You know it hurts when we fight.
You know it hurts when I get angry.
You know it hurts when I lie.
It shouldn’t hurt when you kiss.
It shouldn’t hurt when I want something.
It shouldn’t hurt when I lie down.
It shouldn’t hurt because we’re nothing.
Haiku
Mikee W. Sharp
The Month of March 2004
Father disapproves
a lifestyle adopted
blood is shed today
She was faking love
but neglected to tell him
single bullet shot
Couples fight begins
a love was born in marriage
suicide thereafter
Social Raping Disorder
Mikee W. Sharp
March 29, 2004- edited April 10, 2004
Their breath on your neck is hot, sensual and perspiration collects.
You hate the fact you love it.
Their touch progresses over every inch of your body.
The molestation feels so good.
They penetrate you with lying words and with perverted fingers.
You squirm and say, “no, stop” but take no action against it.
They pleasure you into an orgasm of conformity.
When they’re finished you cry rape.
They stand and leave you to yourself.
Feelings of guilt, anger, and fear seep into your pours.
They do not care, you are old to them.
You’ve been tossed aside from their views.
They’ve found it is no longer fun to rape the willing.
You are now just another number in society.
Butt Plug Politics
Mikee W. Sharp
March 29, 2004
The power of Bush compels you unto a nation of moral dissolution.
His hand rose to your forehead to christen you in the name of pornography.
Visions of lollypops and sugar plumb web cam girls dance in our heads.
The tax payer’s dollars go towards an all night party in Paris with Paris.
He governs the mediocre media with the latest Hollywood sex scandal, full story at 10.
While he invites us to Neverland to watch the latest development in the Michael case.
He’s pissed at San Fran right now, tab A and slot B just makes so much sense.
Take his advice, get married; he’ll perform the ceremony and force you to divorce too.
Hey Bush, ever think that Sadam could be hiding the nukes up you ass…
Don’t forget the butt plugs.
I Died Today
Mikee W. Sharp
April 11, 2004
I found myself in a place I’d never thought I’d be.
It was dark, cold, and lonely.
The gun beckoned me, come hither.
I listened to it with intent in my being.
It said, pick me up, so I did.
The air smelled sweet on a cold summer’s night.
The scent of cigarette smoke lingered.
I looked into the eye of the barrel, it winked back.
We stared at each other for near an hour.
It kept whispering pull, pull, pull.
The cold metal felt good against my temple.
I massaged myself with fear, hate, and anger.
Then another voice cried out in the dark.
What are you doing?
I turned to see he who has caught me in my transgression.
I was still alone, sitting in the cold, dark space of my mind.
I looked at the old revolver, was that you?
No, I’ve been sitting here waiting, its reply came.
Who would bother to cry out to me in my moment of need?
Once again I placed the gun to my head.
I felt its smile against my skin.
Then the voice came again.
Put it down, Michael. You don’t need this.
Who are you to say what I need, who are you to tell me what to do?!
No reply thereafter.
I wanted an answer, I needed to know.
I cried to the midnight sky, oh God, why have you forsaken me?!
Then pulled the trigger.
Abort
Mikee W. Sharp
April 13, 2004
Abort the pain
Terminate your misdeeds
End taking lives
Abandon yourselves
Call off the clinics
Cancel your appointments
Stop midstream that which you do
Different phrases, the same meaning.
When an abortion takes place you:
Terminate a child
End its life
Abandon what the child could become
Call off the love for a baby
Cancel your humanity
Stop midstream that which you will know
Are you God?
Then stop playing him!