You’re just a stupid kid! by Michael Rocharde
Oh, Kyle
I see your smile
That self satisfied grin
that comes from within.
You got away with killing,
And found it thrilling
With the right loving your schtick
Making the rest of us, absolutely sick.
You’re a messed up, stupid kid
Of whom we should be rid.
With a last name of Rittenhouse;
Coincidentally, it rhymes with louse.
Complaining about the attention
Knowing you should be in detention
Stuck in an 8 by 8 foot cell
Going through all kinds of hell,
But no, you’re free to roam
And not confined to home.
You’re a messed up, stupid kid
Of whom we should be rid.
Shooting off your mouth every day
It’s not as if you have much to say
But Fox makes you out to be a hero
When you really are a zero,
But you’re also a puppet
An unwitting muppet
To be trotted out on stage
In order to enrage
Decent people everywhere
Not that you would care.
You’re a messed up, stupid kid
Of whom we should be rid.
It will be really swell
If you end up in hell
After what is bound to be a short life
Full of angst and strife,
Enjoy the time you have left
We will not be bereft
When you are gone.
We might even write a song
To celebrate your ending,
And we wouldn’t be pretending.
You’re a messed up, stupid kid
Of whom we should be rid.
© Michael Rocharde, June 2022
Hey, Big Brother by Michael Rocharde
Welcome to my life
To my daily trouble and my strife
Please listen to the things I say
During the hours of my day
And if you think it’s right
Please continue into the night
And if I mumble in my sleep
Do not weep
Because you cannot make out a word;
It is likely to be absurd
And if you have to turn up the gain
So you can hear my refrain
Then that’s fine by me
I don’t need to be free.
If what I say and do
Is so important to you
I really don’t mind
Leaving my civil rights behind
Perhaps you’ll conclude
That I am offensive and rude
Perhaps you’ll concur
With what I say and infer
Maybe you’ll even feel the need
To watch me bleed
To remove me from this place
To strike me in the face
And send me to Guantanamo.
(I’ve always wanted to go
To Cuba and see what Castro did).
And then you’ll be rid
Of me and my rebellious mind
Yes, I know you’re being kind.
Can I bring my denial
To the upcoming trial?
Oh, yes, there isn’t any need for one!
Isn’t this fun?
And can I make amends
For those that I call friends
Who’ve led me astray
Just by talking to me each day
They’ve made their values mine
And that’s why, at this time
I’m in the middle of this mess
And in such distress.
Is this going to be fair
But do I think you really care?
All that you need is for me to see
That I’m not really free
I’m just a pawn in the game
Someone you can easily blame.
An unwitting fool
Useful only as a tool
In this so-called war
But now I’m being a bore
Please forgive my careless words
They were really meant for the birds.
So, Big Brother, if you need to spy
I’ll be happy to comply
Think nothing of what you do
I know that you’re being true
To your belief
System and it’s a relief
To me and mine
That you think all is fine!
© Michael Rocharde, September 2007