Lyric Poet

Poetry by Brent Futo

Copyright Brent Futo 1980-2001.

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If I were a vampire--a bloody immortal,
I would bore of victims--such temporal lovers!
None sustain my passion--my rapture eternal,
Only you renew me--my equinox vernal!



Lonely or Alone?

Aloneness is of the body,
Lonliness is of the mind.
One is lack of human kindness,
The other, lack of human kind.


Summer in December

"Summer in December"

The Spring emerges as a child,
Too frail to reach the fruitful tree.
Autumn is in older soul,
Unaware he holds the key.
The Winter hears the song, though deaf,
And sees the path, though long since blind.
Time the body can't endure,
For Summer is a state of mind.



Older folks are worldly-wiser,
More assured, mature and stronger.
But children have an equalizer--
They lived with God a little longer.




Self-contentment sows stagnation
That breeds the weeds of strangulation.
But self-disgust disguised as pain,
When watered with repentant rain,
Will bear the fruit of true elation--
The spirit's own emancipation!



Nine months of hell,
Plus a night of sheer terror,
Then a year of exhaustion,
And eighteen more of error.
Add a couple more years
For a phase of self-doubt,
Then a moment or two
To exclaim, "Just get out!"
Oh, and one final stage--
One that bears not forgetting,
Add a lifelong process
Of remorse and regretting.

"Twist of Fate"

Twist of Fate

One of life's days most inspired
Is to see oneself in one admired.
One of life's worst twists of fate
Is to find oneself in one you hate.

"The Cost"

Can you pay the cost?

A million or two is not nearly enough
For a man to expire of his very own will.
Yet a dollar or two is quite more than enough
For the same man to willfully other folks kill.

It seems that the cost of procuring life's end
Depends more on the victim,
Than the purchaser's prowess,
To excessively spend.



Philanthropy is measured not
By how much grain is fed the fold;
But rather by the net amount
The shepard chooses to withold.