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A Killer's View of Society

A Killer's View of Society

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This is something I scribbled rather quickly into my notebook yesterday afternoon and even though it is a disturbing poem about society, I like it enough to sign it with my real name. I am not done with it; I think I will add more to it and use some of the craziness of The World to make it better. For the time being, however, this is it and it has a meaning. I dare you to find it though it is crystal clear......
This is something I scribbled rather quickly into my notebook yesterday afternoon and even though it is a disturbing poem about society, I like it enough to sign it with my real name. I am not done with it; I think I will add more to it and use some of the craziness of The World to make it better. For the time being, however, this is it and it has a meaning. I dare you to find it though it is crystal clear......

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Published by: Andrew N. Farrens (Drew Kazinsky) on Jan 20, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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01/24/2012

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 A Killer’s View of Society A Killer’s View of Society A Killer’s View of Society A Killer’s View of Society
Every Man, Woman, and Child were killedTheir innocent blood was spilledOn the kitchen floor and splattered on the wallsAs a result of a bad drug dealThat had gone wrong Now the whole family is dead No more Dad, no more MomThe Killer is sick in the headThe kind of man not fond of LoveAnd sees Life always in RedPure anger and pellucid hatredFor a World filled with people fakin’ and hatin’Who lock themselves away in a Barnes and Noble bathroom stall masturbatin’To magazines fresh off the NewsstandAnd they don’t consider this as any sort of violationBecause the magazines never left the storeSo how can they be stolen and really,What is wrong with a little semi-public self-gratification?So is it any surprise?That the Killer had no pityOr shitty remorse in his implacable eyesAs he stares at the corpseHe does not feel a damn thing and why should he?She was just a whoreOf this materialistic World we all live inFilled with liars and false prophets of apocryphal religionsWhere even the dishonest priests truly believes the lies they are givin’As the subtle glow of the full moon caresses him,The Killer is diggin’A hole for the dead woman in the kitchenCut and bled outThe sick nut then gutted her Dismembered at the joints,Removing flesh from the boneStopping only to sniff lines of coke mixed with oxy-codoneTrade name Oxy-CottinGuns, marijuana, cocaine, and prescription drugs is like a StocktonChristmas with stockin’Stuffers and every-thangThe Killer does not worry about the Police because he is RichAnd just like any other street gangThe cops can be paid off In a currency of paper bills often said to be snuggly soft

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