The Night Rose. (By: Chris Hathaway)

The Night Rose.
Make sure to stop and smell them each time you get wound up.
Live life to fast and you’ll see just where you’ll wind up.
Above the ground below beam beautiful bouquets brightening up who’s day? We miss your voice, how you would rejoice each Saturday. You were so saintly like latter day. Please, stop and smell the night rose. For no one else appreciates its true beauty. Ignored by passers by, passed up for flowers newly. Newly, newly, how newly bloomed were the flowers of June. I plucked a sunflower for you then sang you a tune. I sang you a tune. Yes! Like you used to on Saturday, your acts of kindness so saintly like the saints of latter day. I bring you bountiful bouquets beautifully bestowed upon your name.. Brightening up my day but for a moment, yet I feel all the same.


Trendy. (By: Chris Hathaway)

Kids stocking up on strange drugs, throwing caution to the wind.
They’re trendy, their obsession to fit in knows no end.
Kids get wrecked at parties, vomiting their lives away with their hair held back.
They’re trendy, their obsession to fit in reveals the self esteem they lack.
Kids popping mollies at raves, with parents at home that wish they’d just behave.
They’re trendy, their obsession to fit in causes them to cave.
Kids are so susceptible to peer pressure, they piss and moan because they can’t take the pressure. They’re trendy and to fit in, they will go a great measure.
Seeking scenes whether serene or obscene just to have temporal pleasure. They’re trendy, Except for some, trends are their only treasure.

Go, ahead. (By: Chris Hathaway)

Go, ahead. Drink and Drive.

And while you’re at it, fuck a beehive.

People like you end lives. You miniscule waste of space.

If it were up to me, I’d exterminate your face.

I saw a kid that crashed drunk driving, he didn’t die or anything.

He just needed his mom to get out of the car, tie his shoes, or say anything.

The doctors told his mother that he wouldn’t survive.

But go, ahead. Drink and Drive.

I bet the girls will flock to you when you need a cane and breathing machine, you’ll look so fly!

Everyone knows that Everyone loves a crippled guy!

Go, ahead. Drink and Drive.

Prison has open house and they got big ass dudes who need a spouse!

By the end of your first week, you’ll be wearing a blouse.

Go ahead, tough guy. Knock a couple back and then black out.

Jump in the car and head out.

It’s so cool to drink and drive, gambling with the devil on your final night out.

Not like you. (By: Chris Hathaway)

If only people could snap photos of their brains.

there’d be nothing to like.

Just tits and beers, you’re so cultured.

than you get mad at creeps that wait to see them like vultures.

Insert your mind into a glass at the bar and drink it down.

I bet you’d burp out bullshit, drunk on stupidity with an upside down frown.

tell me, who’s the clown – the kid that is himself without exposing himself or herself

or the kids that try to fit in by not being themselves?

I try to get along with the other kids, mom. I really do.

but they all seem so stupid and I have nothing to do.

school starts in a few, something exciting and something new.

I thank the Lord above that I’m not like you.

Attention Spans (By: Chris Hathaway)

Pictures at a mile a minute flashing like lives before our eyes.

Kids have such short attention spans, but why?

They don’t read, or do puzzles. No reception leaves them puzzled.

The sounds of laughter and conversation muzzled.

Everyone is so addicted to bullshit, they must be part fly.

Except they can’t fly. They just rot and love in pig stys.

I loathe being the smart guy.


Porch Lights. (By: Chris Hathaway)

moths seem to like the light, even though they get burned.

that’s me, with you.

the porch lights are turned on, as I try to make the night magical.

we sway back n forth in the seat for two, as two kids in love do.

the squalor of relationships and love leave us searching for shooting stars in the night.

somehow I feel like the moths, searching for that porch light knowing ill get burned.

sometimes I wish I didn’t care as much, it’s something I don’t think I’ll ever learn.

See you. (By: Chris Hathaway)

I used to love finding flowers within gardens to give to girls.

Now emoji roses flood my vision, nausea unfurls.

I used to love planning what I’d say the next day at school.

Now texts, comments, and messages with commas rule the school.

I used to wish you would say you liked me.

Now a picture with a little disappearing heart means you liked me.

I wish I could see you more. I guess I should get online more.