A poem called Sixcs

Color in my heart, a pen filled with led
Let the ink be blue, let it fill my head
When oil kills the sea
When Satan plants a tree
Green will rape red
And the only friend ill have, will be a gun named ted
Ill sit and ask the grass to grow
Talk to god, ask him why Jesus didn't show
Hold ted to my head and let the blue be gone
One less heavy heart for this world to pull on


A very depressing poem I wrote about a year ago. I just read on CNN's homepage that BP underestimated the size of the gushing oil well; meaning they cannot contain the true extent of this catastrophe any longer. Everyday it seems more # hits the fan. One day soon I feel that the fan is going to get unplugged; and the # is going to come straight for us.