Alpha Male By Lannon McGregor

Alpha male has broken his cage,


Gnaws on bones and rusty blades.

Hard as fuck!" his snarls say, 


His breath is warm, rotten decay.

Fangs are yellow, with rabid foam, 


Arms are inked up, flexing tone,

Chest is pumped up, breathing slowly,

Dressed-up peacock - head to toe. 



Lives in flashy, cool success, 


Skanks swarm to his quick caress,

While his pack scavenges on those he’s left, 


And howl - these horny, lonely pests. 



Those who fly outside his flock,

Watch in silence, hushed they scoff, 


"It's not so great" they whisper soft,

But who wouldn’t love to be on top?

Sky Train by Lannon McGregor

I hit the Main Vein Sky Train,

where the public's plague is spreading.
Packed like sardines,
In Electric Death cars -
Downtown bound.

Changin' Lane Season Lannon McGregor

The new months eyes may seem wide,

But they stare backwards to the past.

In no year, I confide...

moves along too fast.

'Cause no day can last a month,

And no month can last a year.

So bring on Autumn's slump,

And Winter's frosted cheer.

Gramps by Lannon MacGregor

Swank Home

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I knew an old man,
Wine bottle in hand,
Who told me just how to live.
Told me how he's been here so long,
And how I've lived my life all wrong,
Plus all the advice he could give.

And then through his slur,
Were a few words I heard,
As he dripped the last drops on his tongue;

He said, "Hold dear my advice,
On living your life,
Cuz i've done everything under the sun."

The Hitchhiker: By Lannon McGregor

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His soul has long been sold.
He walks close alongside death;
His legs are growing old.
In fact, getting older with each step taken.
His body shakes in waves of panic,
As he walks amongst the stars.
Calm twilight, sidewalk graves,
And the highway's hissing cars.

They said he'd appreciate a mile of sun,
When he had walked a mile of rain.
But lonely storm clouds can't be outrun,
And show little signs of change.
The wetness weighs him down,
And now he struggles with each step.
His heavy eyes loathe the sight of ground,
And his lungs draw tired breaths.

Modern Pirate: By Lannon McGregor

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Pirate man,

Is using hands,

While digging cities' garbage cans.

Sucking Blood,

Rolling Mud,

Eating - Breathing,

The cities' sludge.

There he sleeps,

On cracked concrete

Wakes up wide-eyed, incomplete.

With a shopping cart,

He's modern art,

Grudgingly fed

from the bottom of our hearts.

Worn out souls

In both heart and shoes.

But never stole,

That he can't use...