Slam Poem #1 (Macbeth and You)

September 10, 2012
I’m not as good with words as you,
With your politics and your words that stick,
slimy slick to my mind and I find
That my hands are died red, cause I wished you were dead
Like Macbeth and his wife, how they stole Duncan’s life
Well, you stole my pride, hid it inside, somewhere where I can’t find it
You were good for a laugh but now that time has passed
You’ve cast me away, hooray
cause I never liked you anyway
Your voice is loud, proud but your head’s in the clouds
And I have found that
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you
But hate’s a strong word, so I have deferred
To the proffered, proverbial sense of ignorance
Every word is offence, you've ripped down the defence
of so many people, you talk of the steeple, its absurd and you’re cruel
You’re a tool, you’re a ghoul, and you’re a drooling fool
And a hooligan, try again, to make me cry again
Macbeth didn’t cry, though his wife often tried,
And I pity poor Duncan, it’s true
So I have no pity left for you

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