Subterranean Death-Wish Blues

I'm on the pavement
Wishing I were dead
And all the people running by
From my despair have fled.
Night lies thick between them
Despite the street light's glare.
No one perceives my inner pain
So I just stand and stare.
What is the point of poetry?
Just words: just words: just words:
Do words really matter?
No! They stink like runny turds.
In the mouths of politicians,
Through lawyer's sticky hands,
In the journalist's scoop copy,
They run like dry loose sands.

Now there's another mouth to feed,
A grandson newly born,
An object for more suffering
From hubris pride and scorn.
The news on television proves
The world is still insane
The poor don't have enough to eat ,
The killing starts again.
I can't bear to listen to it all,
Music seems like noise,
There is no comfort in the day,
No pleasure, hopes or joys.
So thank the gods for beer and wine
Soon I'll feel alright,
And let this day be ended soon
By an endless night.