Why do you warn your children, "Be careful!"
when you enter my neighborhood?
Don't you see I've lived here all my days
through its dangers, trials, toils, its joys?
Or are we more alike than some?
Cause in your neighborhood
I watch for the boogieman too.

NOT

sometimes

i would NOT feel guilt o'er a tragedy

as sweet revenge enters my heart

dominating my emotional state

i recoil, ashamed

for a moment or so

as a surge of mem'ries feeds my thoughts

coaxing the lingering rage against suppression

pay-back-time caresses me

addicted to long forgotten hurts

oh, to be evil for a flash

to know its lusts

purring like a cat having captured a rat

oh to be rotten to the core for a moment of crime

to believe i'd be happy in this state of soul

"it's life, in her justice, beating the children

with the visitation of crimes their parents obliged"

however faintly my conscience bothers me

then the children of the next generation rise before my eyes

mirroring that adage long spoke down the times

"what goes around, comes around"

comes through my door

making visitation 'pon my children

for the crimes i adore

my thirsty revenge tempers its lust

my smothered conscience recovers its shame

*I think as people get older, it starts to become evident that either they become more developed or they become caricatures of themselves. It seems that many people re suffering form a refusal of the fact that they have to grow.

-Lorraine Kisly