"Monday"

Monday, fucking Monday.
You're the most hated day.
Sucking the weekend highs
As we all kiss fun goodbye.
Everything has gone wrong.
Got home; packed my bong.
I begin to smoke myself stupid.
To the point I pass it to Cupid.
He kills off the last of my stash,
And robs me with a gun for cash.
I lay there on the couch stoned.
As naked midgets invade my home.
They drink all of my damn beer,
Slapping each other on the rear.
I find my pill bottle under a banana.
My Xanax was replaced by Viagra.
Now I'm stoned and hard as a rock.
As I see my girl walking up the block.
I pushed the midgets out the back door.
Only to find shit all over the tile floor.
I try to run to the closet for the mop,
Only to slip and do a nasty belly flop.
She walks in, and starts giving me lip
As I stand there covered in human shit.
She kicks me in the balls and leaves
As I feel blood running down my sleeve.
I turned around, and right over my head
Is a midget in a gimp costume that's dead.
I run out of the house, screaming like a girl.
I run to the point I have to stop so I can hurl.
I end up puking all over a parked police car.
As a transvestite watches outside the gay bar.
I try to clean up the mess by using my pants,
Only to drop a baggie of my special plants.
The cops came out of the donut shop upset.
I try to explain, but end up shitting myself.
Needless to say, they quickly hose me off.
And I take a lovely ride with the angry cop.
So, I sit in a cell with the lovely transvestite,
Praying I never wake up after this wild night.
Fucking Monday, pain in the ass Monday!
I will forever curse you, you bitch of a day!
Totally killed all plans for this weekend high.
As I kiss my freedom for 5 years goodbye!

“Last Chapter”

What will your last chapter be?

When your soul is finally freed.

What mark will you leave behind?

When your body finally resigns.

Our time here can be short or long.

Before we know it, our time is gone.

Make the most out of every moment.

Every second is truly yours, so own it!

Why were we put here is the mystery.

Each life is another footnote in history.

Do you strive be an entire paragraph?

Or just a small blip on society's graph?

We all are in complete control of our fates,

Of our success, our dreams, and mistakes.

You can either leave this world very quiet

Or can leave your mark by causing a riot.

How you want to live is up to your choice.

I rather be heard; make some damn noise.

The clock is slowly ticking away each day.

What do you want your last paragraph say?

That you lived a full life without any regrets,

Or a life that future generations will forget.

What do I hope my last chapter will be?

That I touched the world with my poetry.