# Songs and Poems Author: Corran Orreaux Tags: Gay, Poetry In honor of poetry month, I've decided to post a few of my poems! I Figure it's better than leaving them sitting in my hard drive. Some recent, most old, but regardless, I hope you enjoy them. **Songs** : **A Little Gay** The morning has a rhythm and it goes like “Fuck!” I really, really, don’t wanna get up. My bed ain’t soft, and it ain’t warm, but it keeps me away from my boss’s scorn. But I got rent, and my landlord’s mean he’s why I’m addicted to Fluoxetine. I shouldn’t be driving, but I kinda have to-- bus doesn’t run and taxis pass you. Coffee tastes bad, shower’s okay breakfast skipped just like everyday. I’ll make it up at lunch, I guess, Maybe? A second over 30 and my boss says I’m lazy. I don’t wanna get out of bed, I don’t wanna deal with what’s in my head, but if I’m gonna spend my life this way, I guess I’ll be a little gay. Caution to the wind, I stopped caring. I’ll paint my nails—fuck you, Darren Pink and blue, enough to scare em’ Life ain’t good, but I’ll be okay. I guess I’ll be a little gay. ---- **Werewolf O’ Clock** Snap! Crack! Hop and pop, coming down on ya like a needle drop! Come on baby, it’s time to stop! Cuz you. Hit. Werewolf O’clock! Fellas, hold on to the edge of your seat, Cuz I’m talking about the place where werewolves meet They got a thing for the small and love the meek! Brother, they don’t eat the sheep. Snap! Crack! Hop and pop, Coming down on ya like a needle drop! Come on baby, it’s time to stop, Cuz you. Hit. Werewolf O’clock! ---- **Just Business** Another damn stray! Another sign away. These boys don't look at the literature— Can't read their signature. Cold, heartless, and capricious, You might even say vicious. But hey… That's just business. That’s just business. Money don't make itself, We're in cold hard era of wealth, and when everyone's making millions, You gotta push for a few billions. Pay the workers just enough— They won't leave, it’s a bluff. Can’t afford food that way. Rent's due—gotta pay! But, hey! It’s just business, It’s just business! Cold, cruel, and capricious!  You might say avaricious!  Oh, you wanna form a union?  I’ll get the cops to run ya through then! Can’t afford to feed ya kids?  Get em’ a job in the biz!  Oh, I’m sure they’ll do fine— I hear they yearn for the mine. They can worry about black lung when their older, But by then they’ll be a hell of a lot colder. ---- **Poems** : **The Mind At Sleep** Away in a dark chamber A man did rest his head. He had little as his pillow, but wailing of the dead. He felt their fingers in his skull-- A weight behind the eyes. He knew the Devil would be there To claim a distant prize. ---- **A Deer Named Corran** There once was a deer named Corran He mweed all day and all mornin' He mweed till they bade to get off the stage And left the lil’ deer forlor-in' ---- **Where The Gods Went** The king of hell reigns supreme In his castle of evil scheme. Upon the throne that sinners meet, The old gods kiss his very feet. Overthrown by sovereign God, The highest of the heathen sod now mere servants to lesser power. Begging, begging, for their hour. There Zeus and Jupiter hide Split in half to wound their pride. Out of reach, brother and brother, Just as they made Tantalus suffer ---- **The Woman in Perth** There was little I knew—little of worth Yet I saw you The woman in Perth Your clothing ancient Your hairstyle quaint I felt that I met you Though memory faint You spoke in a whisper A draw on your lips Lithe as they were You wanted a kiss Someone to see you Someone to care At the tower you floated With no one aware ---- **The Bing** Oh sweet horrors, how they ring In the stagnant death that is the Bing. A sea of ailing inky black On parchment use if ink is lacked. Still, it stands as an old man rests, and coughs it does as if near death. The only reminder it will bring That the sea of Bing still does sing. ---- **Intrusive Thoughts** The tapping isn’t pretty like rain against glass, or pleasant like the woodpecker’s drillwork. It doesn’t always hit with a smash but regardless, it makes noise. ---- **The Dog Man of the Forest** Don't go out in the woods tonight. I beg ye, don't ignore us! We speak of the teeth that bite, Of the Dog Man in the forest. On two legs does he walk but not a man, says I! Fur shaggy and white like chalk All who see him die! _...Sigh_ If ye insist, then take this cross, I beg ye wear it all the ride. Carry on in pleasant thought, And keep your rifle at your side. - I left the town that very night With the good people’s prayers as chorus. I promised not to take their warnings light, and headed for the forest. Down the path I did tread Under partial, pallid moon. Wooden cross on silver thread with rifle I felt no doom. _Snap!_ I heard from branch and bramble, Off the path and near the trees! Were two eyes that seemed to ramble “Halt!” It spoke! “Mercy, please!” My rifle raised, I let it drop, All shock and pure unease. “You know how men talk?” I asked the Dog Man with a wheeze. “I do, I do! I mean no harm!” He spoke and barked with equal ease “I give you no cause for alarm!” He seemed eager to appease. Though my sense of mercy said to trust a man who pleads-- “Show yourself or I’ll shoot you dead!” I knew not if he deceives. Thus, he did step out for me in full moonlight’s shine. Tall he was--white and black, and in the light he whined. We stared at one another, a moment short and long in time Finally, I did see a brother, His eyes were much like mine. “Do you have a name, good sir?” I asked him with a smile shown He looked away, and with a stir, “Dog is all I’ve ever known.” We walked beside—me and him and spoke of our two lives. His of wild life and whim Mine of quiet pride. Soon enough, we neared the edge of the forest that he spied. He realized our talk would end, and he looked as if he’d cried. He barked, and with a start The Dog Man nuzzled my side. With a twinge down in my heart I held my wayward guide. “My friend, we’ll meet again!” I swore as I pet his hide. “I cannot say for sure when, but my word I will abide!” Unconvinced, he gave a wince In him a sense of loss. So, before I left, I shook my vest and handed him my cross. “I’ll be back for that, I will. A promise I can’t toss! God would strike me as his kill if I tossed a gifted cross!” So If you see The Dog Man, Who roams through the Forest, I ask you treat him as kin and clan I beg ye, don’t ignore us! Source: https://sofurry.com/s/ZmM9Mwrm