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