The Entitled have left the building and I am burdened with these thoughts.

Times do change and people are strange and often lines connects the dots.

However, lately I am baffled… no rhyme or reason can I see.

I just see selfish narcissists and how entitled that can be.

One by one they are failing or at least they fail large with me.

In my future there’s a cabin and one chair by the sea.

There are flowers on the table.

There is water in the vase.

There’s a story in this fable.

We keep hidden in a maze.

I only miss what could have been.

I don’t think about what was.

What I have in here and now.

No excuses, no because.

You don’t believe I’ve moved on.

I don’t believe I care.

There’s a memory now of me and you.

And you were far from fair.

There’s a retired businessman named Red. He’s cast down from heaven and out of his head. Feeds off of everyone that he can touch.

He said he only deals in cash or sells tickets to a plane crash. He’s not someone you play around with much.

There ain’t no turning back when the foot of pride comes down… ain’t no turning back.

Hear you have a brother named James. Don’t forget faces and names . Sunken cheeks and his blood is mixed.

Looks straight into the sun and says revenue is mine.But he drinks and drinks can be fixed.

Sing me one more song about you, love me till the morning stranger. And your fall by the sword love affair with Errol Flynn.

In these times of compassion, where conformity is in fashion. Say one more stupid thing before the final nail is driven in.

There ain’t no turning back when the foot of pride comes down… ain’t no turning back.

I hear all these rumors about you. Trash lines up at my door just to bring me the news.

All it does is kind of make me wonder, why people so eager to be so cruel.

You say that the parties over. But like a drunken fool, I never know when to leave. It’s just that in the eyes of this beholder. You mean everything to me.

Cause when I look into your eyes. Our love shines… like a diamond mine.

Give me crack and anal sex.

Take the only tree that’s left.

And stuff it up the hole that is your culture.

Our Monster, she has green eyes. Her hair is bloodshot red.

I thought I couldn’t get more tired. But I got her instead.

There are mysteries in the heavens. But here it’s bought and sold.

Our Monster she’s been spinning tales into silver, gems and gold.

But the shelf life has expired. All her power spent and gone.

Our Monster had her visit here. Our Monster she moved on.

Dennis Mantin

She was wise, but wasn’t happy.

I think she knew too much.

All that knowledge made her sappy.

Alone and sad and such.

She was searching for the common.

Someone plain and twice as thick.

I slid down from the tree tops.

But my sight just made her sick.

So I went back to the jungle.

God knows I really tried.

Left her reading at the library.

Laughed so hard, I almost cried.

I tried to be a passenger, in this thing that they call love.

I couldn’t get too comfortable in what I knew so little of.

I know now, what I didn’t know, and for that there is a price.

I am just a little jaded now but I’m probably twice as nice.

There is a freedom in the knowledge that looks like you don’t care.

You look so cold and selfish, but you never learned to share.

I knew you, like few do, and there’s no prize for that.

Just older in the knowledge, that we’ve had this little chat.

I was awake when she said it. “I think you are off the hook.

I felt like I was floating, and so my time was all it took.

And some money and my pain, but I make that everyday.

Today they let me off the hook; at least that’s what they say.

I’m still a little frazzled, my nerves are raw and worn.

I’m not saying I won’t recover but I’m battered bruised and torn.

I’d like to thank the jokers and that Lady in my dreams.

I was dying there of laughter, almost bursting at the seams.

It’s either joy or sadness.

It’s either win or lose.

Success is guaged by failure.

Lost love begats the blues.