What is Malice
poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2009

 

Some days I can type without end, I type so fast I type and send
My visions past the lines that lend, this world its stable balance

Without these lines there is no right, there is no day, there is no light
There is no left, or life insight, these lines are all that keeps us quite

Keep us in shape, they keep us clear, they let us take our quake of care
They quote our wake, their sake is here, they stake our lifes, linger in pairs

We let them out with rage about, it seems in dreams they sparkle and sprout
Like cabbages, ravage, slowly grow and leap, out of ground in which they keep

Turmoil down and hapiness ablaze, I see the smile still stings your suddle face
A serious life, what a shame, what a waste, what a cast, what a place, what

Is malice