"Poetry & Rhymes" by William Hancock

“Poetry”

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“We’re Play Things For The Wicked”

"We're Play Things For The Wicked"

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We’re play things for the wicked,

In this hell we call earth,

From the moment we’re born,

With their certificates of birth.

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We’re collateral to a debt,

In a country we call home,

Ruled by the rich,

Where nothing is owned.

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Human livestock we are,

To the wicked, just peons,

In a world so corrupt,

It’s been this way for eons.

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From monarchs and dictators,

To corporations and banksters,

Plutocrats and oligarchs,

Their all a bunch of wankers.

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There’s something to be said,

In pretending to be civilized,

Our freedom and liberty,

Leaving much to be criticized.

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We’re deceived by their media,

And politicians puking lies,

Nothing’s as it seems,

As we begin to clear our eyes.

.

And now the fog has cleared,

And the darkness falls away,

We’re just play things for the wicked,

It’s always been this way.

.

by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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Image Used:  [ https://pixabay.com/en/frankfurt-deutsche-bank-skyline-66840/ ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hanacock © 2016′


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“My Precious Dove”

"My Precious Dove"

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I have wandered this earth,

Though not, but yet alone.

I have squandered this life,

For a Love, I’ve never known.

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I have lived so many days,

Known some, and loved.

And yet, for a lifetime,

I have prayed to God above,

To release you from hiding,

Ooh,.. .

My Precious Dove.

.

by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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Image Used:  [ pixabay.com/en/flower-lotus-water-lily-blossom-964459 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2016′


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“Where Nothing Makes Sense”

"Where Nothing Makes Sense"

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I so wanna know her,

This woman in my dreams,

Dreaming from afar,

Like an illusion it seems.

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I want to reach out and touch her,

Caress her and more,

Feel the warmth of her skin,

As we fall to the floor.

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I want to taste her lips,

Smell her scent,

Just fade away,

Where nothing makes sense.

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In the hush of silence,

Where dreams collide,

This love that’s bound,

In these dreams of mine.

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Like an illusion it seems,

A dream from afar,

A touch never felt,

Dreams lovers,.. . we are.

.

by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image Used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/197521 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2016′

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* Inspired by.. .

            Someone very special.. .♥♫♪.  .    .

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“She’s,.. .”

She's,.. .

 

‘She’s my fourth of July,

My one and only,

My teammate, my pal,

Never I’m lonely.

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‘She’s funny you know,

The way she laughs,

The way she smiles,

Even her sass.

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Some say, she’s not pretty,

But to me, she is,

‘She’s beautiful, and loving,

Yet mean as piss.

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‘She’s my bestest best friend,

My favorite pass time,

My pain in my rear,

And yep!

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“She’s all mine”

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  morguefile.com/archive/display/951561 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′

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*In Memory of:

My Best Friend & Wife

Cynthia [Oct. 20, 2012]

 


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“Broken Dreams”

Broken Dreams 1

A sliver of light,

From yonder room,

Comes from a window,

I must assume.

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Specks of dust,

On beams they slide,

Singing in glee,

Of days gone by.

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In shadows corner,

Are wandering souls,

Wooden tables,

And empty bowls.

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Once was night,

Consumed by day,

Vanishing dreams,

Just broken clay.

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Disdain memories,

Like mangled ropes,

Hanging on vines,

Of nowhere’s hopes.

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Endless sunshine,

Knocks the door,

Reflects the sadness,

And so much more.

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by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/170118 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


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the “Parasites”

the "Parasites"

They came with their politics,

Their money, their greed,

Stealing from the poor,

On countries to feed.

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The world, their game board,

And we, the playing pieces,

Just sacrificial pawns,

For the few, the one.

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They hide behind bullshit,

Spread by their sycophants,

Flaunting their privilege,

This class of psychopaths.

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Society their blood vessel,

They latch on and suck,

“The ultimate parasite,”

The people just grunt.

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Taxes and credit,

Bailouts and more,

Kickbacks and bribes,

Economy through the floor.

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Never is enough,

An unsatisfied hunger,

Our democracy’s decayed,

The world to their plunder.

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Hear the war mongers?

They scream for the elite,

“Our parasites are hungry,”

From one and all, shall eat.

.

by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  pixabay.com/en/annual-report-stock-exchange-203761 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


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“Watched The News Today”

"Watched The News Today"

I was watching the news today,

And what do I see?

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Politicians blowing sunshine,

And wars overseas;

Blood, and death,

Even killing of our bees;

Robbers and banksters,

On nations they scheme;

Corporations playing god,

Even tampering with our seeds.

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Skies are turning silver,

From things we can’t see;

The poisoning of our crops,

On which the people feed;

More government than people,

And they say that we’re free;

The only ones living,

Are the wealthy and elite.

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Cost of living getting higher,

And insurance we can’t eat;

Wages that stagnate,

Unable to afford needs;

More homeless than ever,

Numbers growing like weeds;

Our lives losing value,

Nowhere left to flee.

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Yes,.. .

I watched the news today,

but not on t.v.,

I opened my eyes,

And this I could see.

.

by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/906371 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


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“Passed”

Passed

It was nice out,

Till the wind came,

And sucked it all away.

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Daylight gone,

No warmth, no sun,

Is this the end of days?

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Humans,.. .

No longer proud,

Hiding in holes like strays.

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Darkness abounds

In distant screams,

Stars have all passed away.

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Humanity lost,

Like rabid dogs,

We’ve all become insane.

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So hungry now,

No plants to eat,

Animals have all decayed.

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A planet dead,

So lifeless now,

Has simply faded away.

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Like nothingness,

Never were here,

Just remnants of our day.

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by
William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  pixabay.com/en/desert-clouds-mood-end-time-288352 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


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“Remember when.. .”

"Remember when.. ."

“Remember when.. .”

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Remember when the skies were blue,

And children went out to play,

Before the sky changed it’s hue,

And the earth began to decay.

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When flowers bloomed,

In sunlight’s ray,

Before the gloom,

Of skies of gray,

Before the doom,

Of every day,

Remember when skies were blue?

.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/945853 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


“I Wish, I do.. .”

I’m tip-toeing around,

Your room, I is,

Not making a sound,

Nor heard by whom.

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Creeping up close,

I make a wish,

I want you, I do,

Ah-h-h,.. .

To feel your bliss.

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Round and round,

Like a dancing clown,

How evil I be,

With these thoughts of this.

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I want you, I do,

Every moment the more,

Such beautiful thoughts,

Of you, I adore.

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Oh-h-h,.. .

If only it were,.. .

Just more than a wish.

.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/928973 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


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“We’re”

We're

We’re beautiful and loving,

We’re wicked and mean,

We’re evil and kind,

And

Everything in-between.

.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/907211 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


“Through The Curtain”

Through The Curtain

As he sat in his cold dark room,

Scratching his ear as he thought,

He peers through the curtain, towards the moon,

Remembering a life he had sought.

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He thinks of a time, and gets a grin,

Remembering his children as they played,

His wife,.. . as she kissed his chin,

Oh, those were such beautiful days.

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Why has God forsaken me so?

He asked of himself, in knots.

All are gone, and I am old,

And death comes for me not?

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Lingering, in his memories,

He looks towards a photograph,

Of an orchard full of apple trees,

A group of family as they laughed.

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His dreams are of a happier time,

When the sun had shined on his face,

Of friends and family, and drinking wine,

And kids running all over the place.

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Now he’s old, and all alone,

Everyone he loved has gone,

He waits for the day, he goes home,

To be again, with everyone.

.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/906549 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


Gallery

“From The Shadows”

From The Shadows

There’s something in the night,

That crawls, there is,

Moaning and groaning,

Coming for the kids.

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White eyes in the dark,

No pupil there in,

The dog won’t even bark,

For the fear in him.

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It lives in the shadows,

From demons, was born,

From down in hell’s gallows,

No shape, nor form.

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Like some ancient curse,

To squander your soul,

To quench a thirst,

That’s never been full.

.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/867904 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2015′


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“I’ve Come”

I've  Come

The night’s no longer,
Nor is the day,
Of endless hunger,
Nor men astray.
For with a thunder,
God did say,
“No more plunder,
Nor evil ways.”

“I’ve come you see,
To put a stop
To mans disease,
Like days of Lot.
Men do tease,
With evil thought,
On bended knees,
They smite the rock.”

“Governments of death,
Nations of plutocracy,
Where evil nests,
Devouring democracy.
The people’s best,
Full of bureaucracy,
Never they rest,
In all their hypocrisy.”

“For lack of plenty,
The people starve,
Deprived of money,
Society marred.
What some think funny,
Leave others scarred,
Bees and honey,
Are forever barred.”

“Yes, you see,
With a hunger,
I’ve come to thee,
To cure my blunder.
You and me,
And all my wonder,
I take from thee,
And do so smother.”

And with his hand,
The night was no longer,
Nor was the day.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/621511 ]

Poem on Image:  placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′ 


Gallery

“We Live In A Time”

"We Live In A Time"

“We Live In A Time”

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Of great turmoil, and distress;

Of evil, and hatred,
Great horror, and regret;

Of,.. .

Dirty sands,
Empty lands,
Wicked hands,
And murderous bands;

Of,.. .

Evil works,
Deadly jerks,
Killing clerks,
While in the church;

Of,.. .

Hopeless whys,
Children’s sighs,
Government lies,
And mothers cries;

Of,.. .

Endless death,
That never rests,
Contentious threats,
The blood still wet.. .

We live in a time,
Of do nothing, and watch;

Of sadness, and crime,
And stupidity, un-thought.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  pixabay.com/en/sunset-desert-dry-trees-sandy-soil-284213 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


“Bla, Bla, Bla,”.. .

"Bla, Bla, Bla,".. .

That’s all I feel anymore,
When thinking of what to write.
Words seem to escape me,
As I sit here in the night;

Beautiful Letters,
On the wings of words,
Soaring around me,
In an endless blur.

A desolate plain,
On this paper I see,
Has yet to form,
It‘s valleys and trees.

An idle pen,
Circles and lines,
Nothing but scribbles,
From in my mind.

When put to paper,
I sit in awe,
For what I see,
Is, “Bla, Bla, Bla,”.. .

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  pixabay.com/en/sunset-desert-dry-trees-sandy-soil-284213 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“And still,”.. .

"And still,".. .

So many regrets,
Of things I should have done,
Memories I can‘t forget,
Of our days, and then some.

Countless tears I’ve cried,
A heart without a clue.
Something inside me died,
The day I lost you.
No longer my bride,
Or to me be true.

The stars even wept,
As I watched you walk away.
Never a night I slept,
As my mind went astray.
Time no longer kept,
Nor the count of days decay.
I remember every step,
As I watched you walk away.

And still,.. .
As the moon turns blue,
The countless tears I’ll cry,
Remembering losing you.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/201019 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“Once There Was A Site”

"Once There Was A Site"

Once there was a light,
Such a beautiful ‘Site‘,
Where people would write,
Late into the night;

Writing about fights,
And men of might,
Of insect bites,
And fishing for pike;

Of stars so bright,
And birds in flight,
Of boots too tight,
While taking a hike;

And flying kites,
Reaching great heights,
Riding bikes,
And colors not white;

Of things in sight,
Plants with blight,
Of all that’s right,
And even a grip.

Yeah,.. .
Once there was a ‘Site’,
It’s light burned bright,
Where people would write,
Late into the night;

‘Twas a beautiful ‘Site’ indeed.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  pixabay.com/en/writing-journal-paper-letter-427527 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“Ellen”

Ellen

Nobody ever liked her,
She was different, even strange.
Always singing songs,
Sometimes dancing in the rain.

Round and around,
Like a butterfly in the wind,
Laughing, and giggling,
Not a care of where, or when.

Some days running barefoot,
Through the flowers in the grass,
Waiving her palms,
Through the daisies as she passed.

Blueberries and apricots,
You could smell em’ in the air.
Pollen and honey,
Was the smell of her hair.

She’s still out there you know,
Dancing and running,
Still laughing, and giggling,
Like everything’s so funny.

Some days you can see her,
As she peers from behind a tree,
That sparkle in her eyes,
As she watches you and me.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/898732 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


Gallery

“This I’d Dream”

This I'd Dream

William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/623922 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


Gallery

“Behind These Bars”

"Behind These Bars"

It’s smelly in here,
Behind these bars,
The stench of ass,
And feet of tar.
Somebody needs a bath!

Years go by,
No end in sight,
This steel bed,
I never sleep right.
Really improved my math.

Bells go off,
It’s time for count,
All in place,
Standing so stout.
Feeling our keepers wrath.

No sense anymore,
As days go by,
No longer I dream,
Nor ask myself why.
All is in the past.

No looking back,
A time no longer,
A wonderful life,
I did so squander.
Young and living fast.

I ask you now,
I pray for hell,
Anything is better,
Than in this cell.
Please God, as I ask.

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/616068 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


Gallery

“My Can of Whoop-Ass!”

"My Can of Whop-Ass!"

I keep it in my cupboard,
Out of reach of any kids,
The kitchen‘s where I keep it,
Right where I keep my meds.

Sometimes, when I go somewhere,
I put it in my pocket,
Just in case I have a need,
And not to cool my rocket!.

My Buddy, Ah,.. . My Pal,
No worries, nor even care,
My lucky charm is with me,
No one would even dare.

I never carry an opener,
The lid’s pull tab is a gas,
Like pulling a pin with teeth,
I open my can of Whoop-Ass!”

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/867608 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


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“Sweet Dreamer”

Sweet Dreamer (Short)

William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/687592 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′


Gallery

“Hammer & Nail”

Hammer & Nail

If I were a hammer,
And you were my nail,
I’d nail you all over the place.

I’d pound you right here,
I’d pound you over there,
My hammer would never lay waste.

A pounding I’d go,
My nail would sure know,
One pound is all it would take.

I’d hold you so near,
With my hammer right here,
Know my handle will never break.

My aim would be true,
When this hammer hit you,
I would hear a For Goodness Sake!

Right into the wood,
So smoothly you would,
One swing is all I would make.

You’d never be bent,
Your purpose well spent,
You, my nail, would slam in straight.

God, a pounding I’d go,
If you were my nail,
This world yes truly would shake!

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William Hancock © All Rights Reserved

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[ Image used:  www.morguefile.com/archive/display/566486 ]

Poem on Image: placed by; written by  William Hancock © 2014′