The Sick and the Dead


  • Allegory

    The Sick and the Dead

    Someone young walks down the

    Road trying their best not to crawl,

    A stick over their shoulder with a bag on

    The end, Satan comin’ from behind to call;

    The rich mans money paved the path,

    Made for their own sons and daughters to walk,

    Buy our politicians and let the money ring,

    Change our words and our right to talk;

    The day breaks open and shoots the sun

    Through the sky, the hours drop into history so fast,

    Dip into the billfold with one dollar bill,

    This is the last one, so make it last . . .


    The door slams shut on our young ones dreams,

    Born again from a dead mans luck,

    Walk straight down on the right side of the

    Road but watch behind for that speeding truck,

    Fears flow with the water, don’t think for yourself,

    Watch your step and don’t get stuck,

    I’m so sick of life, sometimes it’s

    No better than being dead;


    I constantly talk to myself so

    I won’t feel completely alone,

    A rope on my leg standing next to the water,

    The other end held fast to a sinking stone;

    I walk away with hope in my eyes,

    Power taken from a post-orgasmic dream,

    A dead end stops me dead in my

    Tracks, the illusion is real it seems;

    Beauty is the beast, this stinking

    Corpse defines my one-track vision,

    A benefit from the medicine, replace

    My anorexic heart with a deep incision;


    They give enough just to make you sick

    Then take it away so you wish you were dead,

    Lay back by the river, their words lull you to

    Sleep, in the morning you make a dead mans bed,

    Try to learn from the wrongs of the past,

    My lovers turn away from the love in my head,

    For every wish I make, I wish you were dead,

    You talk so much, you make me sick;


    They try to tell me it’s a beautiful world,

    Do everything right and you won’t go wrong,

    Come inside and have a drink,

    You’re welcome here but don’t stay too long;

    You plunge your head in the river to

    Take a drink but your mouth stays dry,

    The wiseman tells you the answer to

    Life and you walk away still wondering why;

    A crown of roses sits on your head as

    You ride naked down the street on a horse

    And the businessmen carve up our country even

    More while they’re playing golf . . . of course;


    White on white, cry to the river and drink

    The water to make your system pure,

    Work all week and collect your check,

    Don’t think of the future and the white mans lure,

    Lay awake all night and your mood swings low,

    Your dreams collide to make the day a blur,

    These pills will someday make you dead,

    But at least until then you won’t be sick.

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    Worthless commented on The Sick and the Dead


    I really dont know what to say on this one, but you arranged the words well...

    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    dylandean’s Poems (32)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Frustrations 7
    I Hate Everybody 5
    Hibernation Blues 3
    Voodoo Blues 4
    For the Love of a Woman 3
    A Study of Faith 1
    Love Bloody Love 2
    Mathilda The Hun 2
    No Mercy 1
    The Sick and the Dead 1
    Picture Me Naked 0
    Muse of the World 0
    Lights From Space 0
    Afterbirth 1
    Forgive Me Not 4
    Five Card Wink 1
    The Outlaw Trail 2
    Mystery of a Woman 8
    Endless 2
    Flower Bed 1
    Oceans of Time 1
    Reflection 0
    A Taste of Blood 2
    The Earthling 3
    Winter Rain 4
    Death Therapy 2
    She Used To Be Mine 1
    Whispering Sky 0
    Comforter 2
    Mustang 2
    Whispers of a Dream 2
    A Taste of Death 6