His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented
Drained and defeated, his family finally retreated
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming
The doctors sent in spoke of hope and healing
The drugs they administered only made him more demented
Cemented is the feeling that his life is just an echo
Of an endless, timeless, all-consuming screaming
His best friend is a disproportioned bird, appropriately named buddy
Whose monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being
Though not potent enough to stop, the persistent pounding of the screaming
Often he stares into the emptiness of nothingness, contemplating the beauty
of its existence
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite
It’s hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles have fallen to the proper
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters
Madmen mask madness in the meticulous mastery of mindless tasks
Buddy was telling a troubling tale, of a dragon drunk off of some dwarven ale
Who through two days, threw up flames and burnt down the tavern and town
When the door to his room opened with a plume of plum perfume
In stepped an inept and unkempt nurse named Nancy
Her green eyes and fiery red hair caused his heart to flutter and flair with fancy
She had quite the quiet voice and was quick to trip over her own two feet
A bit naïve, she would easily believe anything she had heard or seen
He knew he would make her his, no matter the time nor energy
It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor
Circumventing the system that couldn’t save him
He was as he always had been and would be
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy
Just in need of some freedom from his prison and medication
Meditation and mantras had given him the sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming, and maybe even end it
Four years plotting and planning the perfect moment of promise
A fire formed from a single flamed fueled from an accelerant
It raced through the halls, up the walls, over the ceiling, killing all the residents
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what felt like an instant
Such little time to search through the bodies, looking for a single person
He found her on the fourth clinging to the bathroom faucet
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of Nurse Nancy
To his amazed mind, he was astonished to find, the screaming was silenced
just a note I cannot reduce the font so the lines fit without overlapping as they
do in stanza two
Black squirrels bound skewways
from the house, shadowshifts
falling darkly on
dusty white autumnal
snow. Paw prints run
makeshift memories soon
snowed over. Leaping
on tree trunks they wind their
way upward on paths of birch
bark in quick roundhouse runs.
I watch them go from
a seat by the door
and eavesdrop on the
dripping eaves trough. Icicles
hang like stalactites
The heater blows dry
air over my face as
dust rides recirculated
draft flows and floats upward
in a beam of magnetic
light. A thin frosting
of human sloughcells
settles on the windowsill
in a regiment I
attack with the duster
before they regroup and
resettle. Single cells
born of a single self. I
pace circles on the
fading cream carpet.
This doesn't belong to me
here you can have it back
i held it now for almost seven years
its getting heavy
you can take it anytime
i don't want to hold this anymore
why cant you take it
it doesn't fit
and it doesn't belong
it tears me apart
the struggle goes on
go ahead and cry
i can hold onto that to
just drop it in and go right through
i'm just a stop
a shoulder to need
and you can go on lifting away free
i'm slowly falling
i'm tipping from side to side
i'm not quite stable
but i'm only here for the ride
i'm not going to take charge
i'm not going to sit
and stare out my window of regret
my window is clear
clear as glass
and gets bigger with everyday we pass
its making me sad
tears run down my eyes
i cant let it go
that's no surprise
i tell you what i tell you
and hear what i hear
but what about everything inside
everything i fear
i got that to
right beside the picture of me and you
i know this is crazy
and i know i am to
but what about my secrecy
i have to follow through
Signal sweet sights
Pain pressures plight
Reach ripe reveal
Keep kindred kind
Leave lousy lines
Succinct sound stakes
Prime print partakes
Apt aim attest
Rich robust rest
Kind keepsake knot
Linger late lot
Peace prize plunders
Real rider rows
Kneeling knave knows
Learn lots lively
Sight settles sound
Prize pays profound
Right response rounds
Knave keeping knight
Latent love lights
Sparkling signs speak
Pleasure proofs peak
Knock kind knuckles
Sexy soothes signs
Progress plain prime
Rapture reaps rhymes
Kind keep kindles
Lines leap lovely
01 Apr 2014
There is no other
as loving as a brother.
I seek admiration
like a promotion
to find me smothered
in an instant, my lover
of life seemed in motion
as a song like a lotion
to put on your hands, another
love line I write, my mother
would want to hear this commotion
or, not so much to give out this information.
The rain is extremely cold, above better
days. Just be here for me, as my admirer
Nature's gone insane;
Cannibal cadavers creep.
Sometimes gravity will have
It’s grip on you.
All those moments you thought
Your feet were about to leave the ground
When your wings were finally carried
By the wind, only to have it disappear
At the edge of uncertainty.
Sometimes the choices you make
Feel like pit holes, and all
You ever do is fall into them
Getting lost in underground tunnels
Looking for the light that
Plays hide and seek with your mind.
Sometimes we forget to smile
When all we see are grey clouds
And the snow is falling a bit too much
We wish for sun that wont show itself,
Want things we know will come
But suddenly become impatient.
Sometimes we forget how many times
We fell while learning how to walk
We don’t try to stand up when life
Pushes us down , we begin to crawl
And hope someone will find us
And lift us up, but sometimes
That person should be us.
My love I can not find you anywhere,
I feel like I lost my soul somewhere,
because you are my soulmate,
and us being apart can not be fate.
You did not leave because you wanted to,
It just was just something you had to do.
I was not right, All I wanted to do was fight,
and knowing you was the love of my life,
yet I would not make you my wife.
I know that's what you really wanted
and now I am feeling haunted,
by the things I should have done,
and you being the only one
I ever loved and will love forever, if it was'nt for me we will still be together.
But you are gone
and I can not go on,
so I must say good-bye, I'm leaving myself to die.
I have always lived my life full of hope. I have come to realize that hope can be debilitating!
Lock down the LIMPING GROVE.
PIRATES have stolen the TREASURE TROVE.
I know all about the garden shed, how you
Hide and make your bed.
Watching with a whimsical stare he replied
I know nothing of these TRAVESTIES.
HERE are SOME FACTS you MAY not know:
Tedious TEASING TUSSLES to taste the
Merciless MUSING knows what treasures
You have stolen, then you will not
Continue to repose
Tell where you have roved lest I'll
Lance YOU WITH this BLADE, to get the JEWELS YOU have
Real, EXCEPTIONAL TREASURES
Can not be BOUGHT. Drop your sack where you stand, do
This as I demand. A search of the sack revealed
Nothing familiar. As he made a hasty EXIT a telling
Jingle was heard.
PRICELESS GOES the NINES WITH
FEARLESS YOU IN MIND.
pitter patter acid rain waxing hi-gloss
smoky sky-scratching monster coup
fearless hue self-out stabbing acrylic nails'
bond to black market sale-deal rape
indian tears too few to cleanse
the polluted hearts under the stitch-held
stars of a blood-whipped flag
in you is a flood after drought
in you is a pestle fitting crucible
somewhere in your rash, there's a place called sensible
our common meeting place coming out
ten-speed riding sunshine girl smiling
wide and high as her cheeky-powdered rock-washed
cellular towering, nerve-shock stroking man
dodge-wrecking his impersonal laptop-orgy
maverick hopping additive, lasso-steroid
from steak-rustling warrior pinning-the-tail-on-
a-steel-wheel-heart when picking up metal armor
in you is a flood after drought
in you is a pestle fitting crucible
somewhere in your rash, there's a place called sensible
our common meeting place coming out
toro, weightless astronaut
toro, steaming sailor
it's all in us wear it's knot
So ready and close
How could I be second?
Waited for eternity
Just for the chance
You and I join in a special dance
But it hurts to sit and want
Patience wears thin and I wait
You never could understand
How I wait time and time again
There is nothing for me to do here
You're entertained, I'm not
And your annoying voice I can't even hear
You've given up talking at all
I can see the truth clearly now, and the truth is we live in a world where almost everything is shaded to a lie. (We act as if we are someone else and just can’t be what we want to be.)
Truth remains strong that our very own fables cover our very own two eyes. (We only choose to see what we want to see.)
Only fibs and tall tales are left on the local store corner….for they the only things left on the shelf that we can buy. (Many Profound Truths remain imprisoned while too many lies are out there living free.)
I look at the ground because I can’t look at the sky; I laugh more with death rather than crying with life. (Shakespeare once said “To be or not to be” but I say F%$k trying “To be” because I’d rather “Just BE”.)
Living amongst a world of shaded illusions upon the mind eye, upon which we have many wrongs more than our rights, yeah I know we all want peace but yet we still choose to fight. (We long for death but fear it; we want to go away but don’t know what will happen when we leave our loved ones with certain grief stolen away in the night by death like a thief.)
So why is it so many of us continue to stare at our everyday truths as if we are blind, as if we cannot see our own struggle through our very own lies……..
TO PONDER POSSIBILITIES
AND POSTULATE PROBABILITIES
SOCIALLY SIMMERED SO SARCASTICALLY
TO SANCTIMONIOUS UNCERTAINTIES
THEN RENDERING A RECIPE RANDOMLY
INTO IRRATIONAL IMPOSSIBILITY
MIXED TO THE MAXIMUM MALICIOUSLY
MORONIC MINDS OF MINIMUM MORALITY
ABANDONED ABRUPTLY WITHOUT ACCOUNTABILITY
FALSELY FIGURED AND FORGOTTEN FUNDAMENTALLY
REPUGNANTLY REMEMBERED RESPONSIBILITY
HOPELESSLY HELPLESS HOMOGENEALOGY
WITHOUT SHAME OR SENSIBILITY
NO HONOR NOR HUMILITY
PRIDE OR PERSONALITY
ISSUE OR INTEGRITY
Do dancers dance only?
Do singers sing solely?
Does fame fade fast?
Does long love last?
Do painters paint plainly?
Do travelers travel timely?
Does power produce pride?
Does sin separate side?
Do writers write wrongly?
Do readers read repeatedly?
Does strenght steal soul?
Does fact forbid foul?
Do teachers teach truely?
Do preachers preach purely?
Does grace grow gradually?
Does confusion confuse continuously?
Bound by blame, broken by blight,
Scarred by a stolen satire,
nuzzling necrophiliacs within the night.
Tangled in torment, tied untamed,
blemished by the blasphemy,
of never speaking your name.
Shackled in sin, shredded sovereignty,
dealing death’s doses,
murdering you and me.
Cuffed with candor, calling our crimes,
to an impetuous enslavement,
tortured through time.
Set me free, to flee this fool’s game,
where we're always left wandering,
in this wasteland of shame.
A heated rush,
Pink tinted flush,
Reflection as is,
An insights quiz.
Who art thou,
Hand across thy chest,
A promised test.
Channels to choose,
Casting unforgettable news,
Rose pedals fled.
As the dreamer recieves,
Their reaction achieves.
It takes a dream to make a dream possible.
What are dashes doing...
What's the reason
The pause in ma words
Slowness in "songs"
Distortion in grooves
Sometimes ma mood...
That's a clue
I'll finish it later
Em..what's that letter
Or even displaced
What's next in line?
Okay I'll find a nice rhyme
What's that word?
Or is it "odd"?
Oh this is odd!
Where are words!
This tank I call ma skull
Is nought.. full of nought!
Cut! It hurts!
What a blank hut!
Every time I sleep; pains on my brain'
Abolishing my heart n soul lord escort my vein
From the bounded clouds of this mournful pain
I can't predict the weather nor the range of the rain
But hope for the station of this moving train
Thou death is sometimes rude & so insane
Life remains a distance between birth & death
That exists deep down in the palms of earth
Demise, demise, demise; roll your unmerciful dice
Flutter with our lives as we stare with horrified eyes
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, statue into dense ice
Nothing panels your path nor human's wealth
Wicked calamity that neither cares of people's health
Guilty & innocent souls shall rest on your misty throne
Plans & creatures will bow & obey to the sound of your tone
Yet no grave, on the roots of earth, shall hold my corpse down
I'll dwell with divine cherubs of warmth, & wear my sacred crown
Emulating implausible angels in the closed doors of heavens town
So wipe your worthless tears, & rinse my ashes with frosty plums
Blustering monumental trumpets, accompanied by mourning drums
While the faultless treasure chest slumps down the mastery ground
As I tumble in a dim cavernous ocean aiding my soul to rebound
Gushing tears won't refurbish dull coats munched in the idols grave
Bloated hearts shall be restored by comforting pals that are brave
The sprinkling gates of heaven will sanctify my bones with streams
Consigning my precious soul to a land filled with endless dreams
Confessing all my transgressions; as I knock on the heavens door
While my corpse respite calm on the arctic layers of my odd floor
TO GET IT OFF MY BACK (TO LIVE)
To get it off my back, I write about this and that.
To get it off my back, I write about life.
To get it off my back!
To escape mania
To destroy the voice
To defend my rightful mindedness from evil discourse,
I write about the lunacy of the Courts.
To get it off my back, I write about what the world did.
They killed my people my people spirit of happiness.
I write about the mania I normally live within.
To get it off my back, I scribe proverbially and have a psalmist thumb.
I tell the public about the wickedness to come.
To get it off my back, I am bard to tell exactly the way it is.
To get it off my back
Penned April 27, 2014!
What is our purpose?
Why are we here?
Why are we here left in fear shedding all these tears
starring at this demond in this mirrior
blinded by everything I see so clear
where am i going after this life? and is it near?
people always always saying swagga shut up stupid clowns
I see all you frowning behind that fake smile
I can help all im spreading the word around my town
to make you turn that frown upside down
they have you in the palm of there hands cant you see it?
If it wasnt for them we wouldnt be asking all these bulls*** questions
and not to mention who are you to be asking me who im reppin
you should get hit in the mouth but
before all that idiotic violence let me talk to you.....
they got you all so corrupt but yall dont know so you dont give a f***
they have you like a trout with a kook caught in its mouth some slip and get
away there the lucky ones who can actually say
I have truly been saved
I have to be brave and put up a fight till the end of my days
they say im headed in the wrong direction but thats the governement
there just like a nasy infection
theyll always be here picking at your brain saying all the answers are in this certain section
always saying dont use Jesus's name in vain but every king has his rain
all loss through out years to come its people like me that will put your name to shame
am i satanic NO these are just my devilsh thoughts
theres turning back im self sustained put in this hell knowing very well that i shall rise above all these brainless people that are stuck in this hell get out of that brainwashed shell
to escape this long life lasting jail not knowing you are rotting in this cell
I really do care about my people
the government they dont there the true definition of evil
they work for lucifer so they do what they have to, to get thier share
piece the puzzle and you will find it
Jesus Christ is luccifer he has all you misguided he himself and his dominions where all behind it.
Danny diligently drew delightful dinosaurs
Delightful dinosaurs Danny diligently drew
If Danny diligently drew delightful dinosaurs-
Where are the dinosaurs Danny diligently drew?
For the dinosaur contest..(obviously)
Life is so crazy/
Death so busy it never get's lazy/
Thoughts blurred and blinded by true lies that they always get hazy/
The mother ****ing devil is always trying to chase me/
But I'm stronger than that I won't ever let *****like that ever ****ing faze me/
I no longer care if any muther ****ers want to over or under rate me/
I've already been ****ing up on my own lately/
I take your ****ing criticism greatly/
*****es I'm too real for any of you fake mother ****ers to fake me/
I'm too ****ing still in God's foundation to let the devil shake me/
I'm the general, the king of my own *****nobody can't ever break me/
**** what people say for I am the maker of my own *****people can't ever make me/
I'm the leader and deliverer of my own *****you can never take me/
Who want to question *****about *****mother ****ers thats why I'm Writer Crazy.....
He swifts on by like a moon lighted night.
He shines bright for a moment in time.
His arm's always open with warmth.
His smile always bigger then everyone elses.
His heart of rage and fire.
He swifts on by, he swifts on by.
Who will know the true man within.
The man thats full of sin.
No one can, no one can, for we are all just man...
I am valuable but not worth any price
I am precious but far more than gold
I am productive but not for abuse
I can talk but not to be abused of talking
I am hardworking but not to be a slave
I am a wife but I am an individual too
I am a mother but I'm just human
I am strong but I get tired too,
I am in flesh, so I need rest
I care but I value myselft first and foremost
I am kind but need kindness too
I listen but not to be lied to
I run the house but I deserve to run myself too
I am the help meet but I need support too
I understand but not to be misunderstood
I provide but I need to be provided for too
I run the kitchen but I need to run my self too
I am the housewife but I am a wife too,
I am married, to my husband, not the house!
I love but I should not be taken for granted
I am weak but not to be raped, beated and scratched
I am submissive and obedient but not to be exercised power abuse on
I am a cheerful giver but not to be robbed
I am soft but not to have my blood squeezed out,
I am full of life but not to be taken away from me
Yes, I am a woman,
Created to live,
Not to be a woebegone!
Flames roared through the nights sky.
A glimpse of blue still protruded through the flames.
The heat warmed the mortals below.
They believed that this was a great night.
The sky emulated a beautiful red color.
The color was extraordinary with remnants of blue.
They believed that they were all safe.
They were not nearly as safe.
They were witnessing Armageddon.
The war between good and evil.
For no one is safe until judgment day.
That is the day when the sky will forever remain blue.
The birds will sing a tune.
The flowers will bloom.
That will be the day.
The day when we will all be ok.
As but only one young lost man in a great land I sometimes don’t want to see what I see in life but death causes me to look. I don’t want to hear the things I hear but have to admit the things here that I’ve heard. I don’t want to be guilty today it’s why I continue to strive past my past for innocence in the near future. I don’t want to feel what I feel but after another day in this dark place has gone by I can’t hide what I have painfully felt. As but one young man I wonder why I question others motives and still can’t see the answers to my own as if I know all the answers to life when I don’t even know the true cause of my own. I wonder why I am happier at times but more often than not why I continue to be sad. I look for ones in groups of twos and get lost in groups of threes, but don’t get even me started on the groups of fours. On the outside world I am lost yet inside myself I know I am found, I holler silently at night while I quietly pray during the day. As but only one young man I can only do what is best for self-first if I want to start making a difference for two.
Sometimes life for one can be fun, but on the reservation more often than not it is boring and dull. On the reservation I found serenity and solitude in the hills but I also found old savages and young Satan’s in the towns. I see beauty and peace in Mother Nature but I also found violence and ugliness among my very own in the neighborhood. I see not what I see and I think not what I think for I feel what I see which leads me to think. I choose rather to just be rather than not be what other people want me to be. I see what I see because I haven’t really got a choice in what I will see, I’d rather choose to just say that I saw. Outside people can’t make one see what I already choose not to see for I see what I see rather if they want me to see things their way or not. I can’t feel what they feel unless they feel what I feel and live where I live and be where I am to know where I truly am from to understand the thoughts and feelings of not only a young native of struggle, but as a person worldwide no matter the skin color.
Dreadful dawn dug doggedly deep, dazed dues
Prickle-prone paths pierce peer-less purpose
Buried bricks burn beneath brine and blood
Homes and holes hitch-hike heated Hours
Sync'd steps stoop, saddling steely shores
Shadows of sagging shoulders shed shrewd strokes
Sanctioned sympathy sealed and soiled in stoic stories
Homes and Holes hauling hymen of horror hormones
Nagging newts nutured nadir of nervous noisome nuns
Jilted jones jaded in jiltery journey of jerky joules
Measled mare much-malligned by myriad of magnetic manacles
Homes and holes held hostage in hidden hydrogen hades
I live in a place striving for sobriety surrounded in alcohol looking for happiness trapped among our very own sadness. I hear my people’s laughs and I hear my people’s cries, but most of all I see their dreams because their dreams are my dreams because we remain not against each other today as enemies but hidden friends united through culture, language and blood. I laugh with my people and of course I cry with my people and I fight with my people but most of all I continue to dream with my people. I know who I am and where I am from to know where I been to still hope to where I am going to go. I feel darkness engulf not only myself but also almost my entire reservation’s race, no matter mixed or not because soon our culture and language will have no face without any more light to shine upon it. I know where I lived and still live to know if I will truly go where I truly want to go in life before I have my one walk with death. I know by a long shot that I am not the best but by a close hit on the reservation’s target I could be better.
I take a stand against self to stand against others to better a worsening crowd of many young lost indigenous souls waiting to be unknowingly found and waiting for something similar to what I’m about to write. I take a stand for self so that others know that we aren’t all lost and we can and will be found with the true hope of no one’s but your own. I take a stand because my brothers and sisters wont, I take a stand because now days most the people around me or within me can’t or don’t know how, I take a stand for the children who don’t have a father and mother as I once had, I take a stand for my unborn child almost here, I take a stand for courage because within me is filled with fear, I take a stand against because the alcohol and drugs within me now I just can’t stand, I take a stand for those around me who cannot stand, I take a stand for a culture dying on its knee’s trying to get back up, I take a stand for the forsaken yet to be forgiven self-stand.
I patiently wait, lying away in the darkness searching for light even though I can see the light I just don’t know how to get on thy path to the light. I am not alone, I know for a fact that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings about life on earth here. I can see our pain, I can hear the hollers and screams, I can feel your anguish and I can smell our destruction. I walk through the reservation valley of darkness as if I am but a blind witness to our own destruction upon where many of us go unknown truly forever in depths of time, in the depths of death.
I know that I cannot give in or give up on a dream of a people’s dream where the buffalo in our young hearts and minds may roam around free and where the wolf warrior chief may rise above all odds and become thy greatest modern day warrior, the people seek him, the people crave him, the people need him, the people need someone to rise if not geographically the worldwide mentally.
Play prompts ponder
Love lines loiter
Yes yields yonder
Poise puzzles play
Love lingers lay
Yell yummy yay
Posture peaks press
Lovely leans less
Yielding your yes
Prose primal peels
Listen loose leaves
Yes yonder yields
Posture paves prime
Plant pleasant pest
Live lonely lest
Young yelling yes
Prompt precious pay
Look laughing lay
30 May 2014
They say when life throws you lemons, make lemonade. Well the niggas i know work and its not honest, but it pays the bills in the words of badu because she gone tell you the truth and ima give you the scoop on a livin troop who got the boot because he didnt wana shoot a dude in the same resemblence as hisself but he still work, its not honest, but it pays "his" bills. -Afro_Kira
power, police and prudence,
the mainstream monsters of mimicry,
like patels of a flower playing far from the fulcrum,
their power derived from dismal points interior,
of state sustainance and centres,
assistants arrayed according,
to authority anchored beyond,
to pry prudence on paupers,
thus pour power like powder,
on supra-orthodox options,
and security sanity perforates without.
the text i sent i love you sweetheart seems as just another failed attempt at opening her eyes to the ways of her actions altered her ways aren't as full as they were not as joyous or emotional but rather quiet, bleak, and sad using the pen for release instead of the blade is beginning to not be quiet as satisfying why cant i have her back why is this new person filling her shoes i don't want her i want my life back! give her to me! i need her! but it appears she is no longer here... never to be seen again for her physical self is alive and well but her MIND now that's different her mental state has changed died and come back as something else i cant find her i don't know where she is why cant i find her?! come back! please! please come back for i"am anything but found without you... please come back..
On this pavement walking in the cold,dark night.. In my mind theres a man edging on a fight, but when I come back to life its just a battle withen myself..... As I walk on this pavement everyday and night, thinking theres a man edging on a fight...
How long, how tough
This world, just war
Endless war, endless world
Words and world, all about war.
Oh, what's war in this world?
The world's war, not yet in your world?
Wait till your words reveal the war.
I wonder, will this world end its wonders?
What an irreversible order
It's not our order!
I wonder, when will the order become a past order?
Others wonder "how will a new order be ordered?"
Yes! How long will this order make orders and not our own orders?!
Strolling southern seashore in mists of September
searching for something set to stay,
her mind that meanders,
perplexing the phantoms at play.
Voices validating vague vagrant vocations
of poetry placed in parade,
with words waged in warring,
warning of the wheighman,
who knew you had dues left unpaid.
Before the seashore became her domain,
she’d wandered the wayside of pain,
locked in psychotic box
Doctor’s ticking clocks,
saying drain her poor brain once again.
Prefer sleep on the street keep her beat from defeat
she found sound vocation once more,
tourist response sterling,
shape sand to her seeing,
she sells sea shells, by the sea shore.
Once the voice of rain
Everything on earth dance
For help and get wet.
As loud beats hit the ruff,
Books on the stool in my
Adjust to this mood,
The pages flip in speed
As the wind predicts.
Lighting takes the hook,
With his dynamic flute
That has no two.
Lots of energy,
You can differentiate his
This rhythm has caused
Man no dime.
They are tools to show
My creator is good.
I was born in Babylon
Everyday I want to be alone
I prayed not to get low
Everyday Babylon claim more soul
I just have to go, seek for more show
I grow with no shoes under my foots
Ganger is my food,
Mosquitoes sing the reggae allover my room
Webs block my views, killing my crews
What can I do to survive when am buzz
Where is that place to get crazy?
That place you cannot erase,
That camp with more space,
Where you don’t have to get late
That place where you just want to be free from
“Babylon” Babylon” Babylon…I want to be free
If there is a question, it should be about relation
My action will generate your reaction
Is substitution the way to be free from Babylon?
The game is always ON, grow horns like Capricorn
Cut the vegetables; let’s be able to be stable
As i'm stroking the side of it's face
Our lips instantly meet
Were talking about the life ahead for us
But as it turns out you don't want a relationship
I can beg and plead
And I never succeed
Now i'm screaming oh' please, oh' please
Don't give up on me
Your my life my third priority
This is not something you can throw away
For we belong together
We should never be apart
And just to start
I should tell you
DANCE dont leave me
Do you see
This love I have for you is never ending
I feed my hands…yes! With inks,
The ink does what?... Oh! My heart gives words,
Words from…yes! My brain thinks a lot,
Of course, from my lot!
I love to…,
Do I really love to?…
Or I’m forced to…,
Em, I’m pushed to…,
No, compelled to…
I don’t know!
What makes me write?!
All I see,all sees
All I hear, even all are “all ears”
How can I see a can and say “yes I can!”
Oh…I can’t stop” I can”
My “can’t” can’t stop my “can”.
I’m disconnected but, still connected
‘Prefer isolation but, I’m still among
‘Love to be away yet, I’m still around
My ink…or me sees a lot,
Thinks a lot,
Reveals my lot!
I wonder if it’s love,
Let’s give it a thought
I think it’s my lot
Or is it really love?!
Save your energy...
I've found my center a place to sit amongst the absent.
My mother-my best thought; says she made this all just for us.
Love your enemy...
My father killed my dog-my best friend, lost.
My father killed him then disinfected both hands in our kitchen sink.
A place to sit-to insist the other exists.
Consistently I forget my missing leg; perhaps with the proper measurements
I could fashion myself an adequate replacement...
Save your energy...
My mothe stood by-my father knows whats best for me.
He says he made it all up for us-that'd we'd better make it up to Him.
Love your enemy...
My mommy is secretly my most cherished memory.
I've found my center.
I dismiss those cornering me, gladly
burning down my home in the name of the one re-assuring me.
Save your energy...
I hate myself and everyone else.
I love speaking about myself; yes, I'm even a master at slaving myself. I service the help-first I self service myself heaping portions of self help. I hate myself and anybody else discussing my health. Accomplishments? Laundry lists!
Wow what words woven where wit was working!!
Well written words while I wondered what to write...weally wonderfully witty!
Two bees or
not two bees
that is the difference in
Really random rantings
Rouse right reasoning
Reread and rear
Reason in season.
so they seek the sorcerer;
so they seek the sorcerer's stone,
masked in malignant malice,
savoring in the sacrifice of singed souls,
preying on power with passion,
dauntlessly drowning deeply in delirium.
quoted questions and questionable quests
drive them with defiant desire and
pride and pandemonium push them parlously
to tantalize, taunt, and tease;
to tear down the tallest of the towers, and
to cause catastrophic chaos.
they foster future generations with failure and
kill kindness with a desolate kismet.
they lead as a luminary of loathing.
they ponder pathetic, pandering paradoxes.
no longer do they lead with lies.
they now rest in rebellious retribution.
I think of a lonely dark tunnel
I feel like my first time on a horse gripping its pommel
I see people in situations that can do nothing but worry
I hear complaints that make me want to cry
I touch the hands of a sick person and can only sigh
I think, I feel, I see, I hear, I smell, I touch
But what do I do about it?
THE GREAT AMERICAN RACIST
I stand my ground and white is what is me
as fair a man as there could ever be
I'll not apologize to anyone
for what the world's dependent on
but love my own, for that's the way I see.
Excuses come from those who ever fail
or educated by their time in jail
and racist it may be
but it's the side of me
who stands by justice, in its final wail;
the die's been cast; and juries set the stage
and let out are the crazies from their cage;
while whites proclaim all guilt from high
and blacks can only live the lie
expecting things to change because of rage;
whose knife has cut the thread that's meant to bind
depriving all the love there is to find?
the greatest tragedy of all
is when our backs are to the wall
that's when our hate clouds every mind.
Alvin had eaten eight apples, every evening he ate
Every evening Alvin ate, eight apples were eaten
Eight apples eaten every evening, Alvin ate
Alvin’s eight apples he ate, eaten every evening
"he should probably never need a doctor"
The wayward wanderer, wonders whilst walking;
when woken the somnambulist savagely screams solipsist soliloquies!
Shunning salvations sweet succor s
y seeping, softly creeping Being resumes
and he Wanders...
and he Wanders...
in the mind of the mad minstrel
like maggots in mazes
his mysterious muse
masterfully mining for misery
melting in molten memories
of macabre mirrors
ministering malicious mistakes
with the maniacal matchmaker
who masquerades with malevolence
masticating the meat
milking the marrow
the minstrel's music
a maddening march
motioning to the murder
of mental mortar
his mouth moving
marked by madness
I see your reflection
you're sitting on the floor
all curled up in the corner
behind the bathroom door
I hear short, soft sobs
while you look into my eyes
in me you see the pain
that caused yourself to cry
you reach for a tissue
and as do I
and while you bring it to your face
I too, bring one to mine.
I don't quite feel the hurt
that you are going through
but I sympathize your pain
and so I cry for you.
I'm the only one you talk to
you think no one else will care
this world is dark and cold,
lonely and unfair.
I'm your one and only friend
and that I'll always be
and I'll never turn my back on you
'till you turn yours on me.
THE BEST CIGARETTE
In a darker part of morning,
or a lighter shade of night,
with his paying for hereafter,
to be rid of all his blight,
was a lunetic in waiting,
she was something of a tease,
she would spread her legs at dropping
of a man onto his knees.
Never faking her orgasim,
she would always let him know,
she could sense about his coming,
and was first to let it go.
With the sweating of her body
and the beating of her time,
she would take him to hereafter,
but to stay would be a crime.
In a little bit of wiping.
if he paid a little more,
she'd remind him of the reason
he'd come back again for more.
But the best part of hereafter,
in his smoking just a bit,
wasn't part of what he paid for,
so he left forgetting it.
Forgiven - But a ludicrous loophole.
One method, one shaky support system for so many souls.
Murderer - Malicious, Morbid Murderer hears of this system and conveniently conforms.
Peacemaker - Passive, Patient, Placatory Peacemaker, but beliefs of different form.
Awful atrocities, Loathsome lies, Demanding dictators - forgiven?
Perfect parents, Humble husbands, Wondrous wives - forgotten?
But such ambiguous claims of cruel, coercive leaders to be believed?
And to be overlooked every problem a non-conformist relieved?
Because you concoct a corrupt campaign you call yourself a winner?
Run with your religion, I'll run with the supposed sinners.
Zesty zippy zombie sat checking out the Yummy yuppie Yankee that was wiggly
wishy washy but wealthy as he could be. And even so vary vainly vaguely unfree.
Till one day, a Tuesday I believe, the tiny twiggy twenty year old named Tracy Tori
Tory was watching the toothy toughie trickster zombie sitting under the thistly
thorny thickly ugly tree, watching our Yankee. Now strangely she was a strongly
sturdy sweetie, and sweetly but swiftly suavely went to see the Yankee to let him
know of the scummy squirmy spooky zombie checking him out under the seedy
shaggy shabby little tree. Now to show his appreciation he was really ready to
rarely ask this queenly quirky quaintly lady to promptly go purely proudly puddle
popping on their way to a preppy peachy pearly pastry bar with oddly the only
oldie oozy pastries in the nutty nightly nearly neatly town of Nietzsche where
monthly a mystery mushy movie played. Since they were both loony lofty lefty
laddie and lady and lastly the lengthy lively lovely movie was about to play, he
keenly kindly knightly ask her in a jolly jiggly juicy way if she was iffy itchy
interested in this imaginatively happy haughty history movie. Well in her giggly
giddy goofy funny funky flirty easy earthy earthly duly dizzy ducky cutely cuddly crazy
bubbly briskly bravely aussie arty amply way, said …….. NO!
All clowns do have a trick to give a laugh although their hearts are sick,
Upon their faces gleaming grins are glued with miles of smiles all hued,
And lofty laughter's just their frozen forte from books of circus' sort.
And mourners whimper, wail and weep although their tears are fast asleep,
And when the tears are found, the mourning mob gives its so-called sob,
While others cry, the rest just sigh, no chance to try to question why.
And on the stage of life they act with every grace and care and tact,
While limelight streams across the stage as fingers flip a book's first page,
The music starts, the voices fade and soon begins the pride parade.
The clowns do stunts and show some tricks with great delight, with clever flicks,
But one of them laughs much too loud, much more than what is just allowed,
His laughter chokes him till he dies with pools of tears that flood his eyes.
The mourners' chance to steal the show has come, it's crying time they know
They soak the dead clown with their tears and hope their wails the audience
But then their weeping drones too much, the viewers frown, their scalps they
And now the clowns they dance no more, their brother's corpse still on the floor
Down on their knees they make no sound, they feel they're lost, they look around
And whent they weep and wailed at last, the crying clowns disband their cast.
And so the mourners get the right to own the stage, to make the sight,
They sing and cheer, their faces bright, they tease the clowns with much delight,
And there upon the stage they dance the merry-making mourners' dance.
Well, what a sight, and such a scoop, while mourners prance, the clowns just
The audience laughs at such a joke, they say the chick swallows the hawk
A change of roles, a change of souls, the lights go out, down crash the walls!
Strangle my senses
So frank and relentless
Fierce less from fierce fists
I’m fighting my senses
To get back to what this is
Twisted and tasteless
Bitter and wasteful
I crave for
To savor the fervor
In thought but insistent
To persist in this growth
To resist this…
I’m frozen in moment
But running in thought
For I cant see
That I smear
I cant hear
Nor can I feel
I must will my way through these
Few to be easy
And more to be hell
I can’t smell
Failure a choice
I can taste it
I am getting
So I’m guessing
To strangle or mangle
Since this is
Just a figment pressing
The crevices of my persistence
The days go by slowly
as the rain drizzles on me
I stare at my palm
at the drops that fill it sparkle
Thunder crashes loudly
lightning streaks the dark stormy air
fights break out daily
yells and screams become a normal lullaby
So I stare blankly at the water that falls
rivers of tears fill the street
hopefully the plug will be pulled
then the tears will cease.
she sadly searches
So we’re going on a picnic with the pygmy, Pixie Poggly, being the quirky queenly
quaintly quickly person she is and her friend a raunchy rascal reverently named
Andy Bailey. As you remember he was in the Aussie army association, barely
battling the banshee that were bawdy blackly bloody in the boggy boundary briefly
in the outback, and lets not forget pixie’s perky prominent pal that is a bossy,
bluntly, brainy, bookie, breathing brashly, balmy, bits of boogie bookie chatter to
all the cheery, choicely, chunky crowd around his choosey, cheesy, cheaply
choice of chummy spots, and in his coarsely cocky way, he coyly clamors crafty
creepy words that really don’t say what they needs to say, but confuses even the
gentle, ghostly, gaudy, gawky, gabby, gypsy genie down in the gaily, gabby,
ghastly valley town called Gatsby. I hear even Fatty Fannie the fancy, fleecy,
flimsy, flowery, and foxy maiden that has her doggie, “Dotty” watching her dreamy,
dressy, downy, dowry. And to make things easier Pixie’s dumpy daffy deafly, dinky
donkey named Dixie is going to carry all the supplies, and we are going to the
daffy damply dainty little dairy where the daisies grow daily in the deeply densely
droopy grasses next to the hay, and it sounds like it will be a giddy, giggly, goodly,
goofy, goosey, grabby good grammar in all its Grammy award wining grandeur
Parts of this poem were copied from another poem that I cannot display here, but
that I did write, it is called “The Picnic” and I thought this would be some fun
reading for all here.
Loves lesson's loud
Ears echo endlessly
Always after another
Veering vague views
Eons ever empty
Dry skin caused by frozen winter winds
Caused by over washing
Too much caution given to cleanliness
The rough ridges distinctly defined
Will soon go away with care and time
These epidermal deserts
Are greatly in need of an oasis
Some lotion for lubrication
To make the redness in the deserts turn to tan
And now I wonder, why?
Why am I writing about my hands?
What's that flirts in the distant horizon?
Up from the hottest lands of frozen.
Is the clouds of Grey?
Or is it the darkest of rays?
Is it the canopy that covers hope/
Or is it the breath with which the hearts get chocked?
Oh! Its dull than the dullest of weather -
As if allthe seeds of daekness in it hath gathered -
Its the smoke -
The smoke of destruction,
The smoke of friction,
The smoke of blemishe'd motion.
The smoke - rushing up from the clutter of engines,
The smoke hath engulfed the country regimes,
The smoke in the din and bustle,
The smoke in the parties and dazzles.
Whence peace was settling itself under the sun,
Many, a lot did thump with their guns,
The smoke curved its way out from here and hence -
It did pale and brush the love's fence.
Whence the path was straight
A lot we all did fret,
Now whence the smoke hath filled the bower,
We'll have to climb the curvy hazy stairs up to the heaven's lower.
I talk to him all the time,
His only words are "Hi,"
His heart is already taken,
My crush for him has not gone by.
The sight I see is broken,
The love I share is lost,
A shattered mirror in my eyes,
Never saying anything is my cost.
If I ever mentioned the word,
A word much more to say,
So hard to reveal or share,
Is fading with each day.
I'm scared I'd mess it up,
That I'd say something wrong,
To let him know how I truly feel,
No one can explain in song.
Never been kissed before,
Im saving it for "the one,"
There is always a first for everything,
I know it can never be done.
Lust is such a word,
To be used in much of the wrong way,
If I am committed to this,
I shall never do this today.
How tragic my life will be,
For I think I've suffered enough,
I'm sure much worse has happened,
Love, a broken path, so rough.
Touching skin on skin,
His lips as pure as rain,
My heart left alone, unnoticed,
As another day passes again.
Throwing my life into such a fate,
Shows how far it starts off late,
My life is spinning and it’s spinning fast,
Circling around in a world so vast,
Around and around the merry-go-round goes,
Until all of what I don’t know flows,
Flowing in circles around and around,
Until one day ill hit the ground,
The ground as cold and harsh while I hit,
Will throw me back into the pit,
The circling pit from which I came
It is too much to read too many books and close them,
Even good books are rubbish because they finish.
I'm not Finnish, no.
But we are finished.
He destroyed everything with his mind
Broke it down to pieces which made no sense to me.
Now I have had the time to look at myself
Gratifying his words like a hamster and chewing his stupidness.
I can't see as well.
It really makes no difference to me anymore,
He is the one who has lost me.
It's just that now this I can see.
I could never be more real, so he has ruined me again I feel.
Sometimes it`s fun to remember the past...
Sometimes we cry remembering them, but why do we cry?
Is it because it hurts to remember them, or is it because we cannot get them
Somber sonnet, slumbering of soul
So tired of being tired,
Seems nobody knows…
Soul of slumbering sonata,
Somber, screams of the heart,
Superficial strokes soon to depart,
So tired of being tired,
Seems nobody knows…
Searching sweet solace,
Stir o’ slumbering sonata
Stimulating serenity of soul…
Surrogate the somber sonnet
Serendipitously, so …‘til, it’s no longer tired, but
Soothing balm of stamina
Strengthening survival of the soul…
I don’t know where I’m going
I only know where I’ve been
I know what I was taught
I know that we have sinned
Don’t get caught up in this masquerade
They will take ‘til you can’t give
They will look you straight in the eye
And tell you how to live
This place that we call honest
Is the place we can’t forget
They teach to live forgiveness
Yet they persecute to the end
We look down on others
For their restrictive ways
What good is that developing land
Yet we sell our soul to get paid
We look down on others
Can’t they figure it out
But we sit here under dictator
Only we can’t throw him out
We should all run
We should all hide
We can save ourselves from this time
Why can’t we all run
A place that they can’t find
So our dreams are truly ours tonight
Forgotten again where has my sanity gone
frantic in my search to find it
frolicking thoughts dance around
finding their way into my head
free from the bounds of sanity
freelancers find stake in the confusion
frightened to a level shy of a breakdown
freedom beckons me to her
feeling the soft caress of the folds justice
free falling into sleep to rest my soul
found I am in peace forever more
THIS PERSON WHO IS HE IN MY HOUSE
WHY DON'T ARISE IN MY JARGON-ED NAME
MY SOUL IN DESPAIR
I HAVE AN INHUMAN INVENTATION TO THIS AMALGAMATING AUDIENCE
SKELETON 'S ARE IN ADMISSION, THE GHOST IN REPETITION WITH GHOULS
MY BONES' CRIES ARE FEARLESS IN UNANSWERED
FILLING THE ROOM WITHOUT ENOUGH ACCOMIDATIONS
A DEEP NARROW PATH APPERS OUT OF PARTICIPATION
WHILE THE REAPER BEGANS THE TRASLATION
I FEEL THE INVOICE OF SORROW
WITH DEATH'S INCOMPETTENT BARROW
HE STEALS THE SHAMEFUL TOMOARROW
I STAND IN LUXURY OF ;OUD-SPEACKING MAN OF POWER
CLOCKS TURN MANIPULATING EVERY HOUR I AM LIKE A NEWBORN IN A
NEVER FEELING THE SAME
AS I WALK TO SIT DOWN BY THE FIRE, I PLACE MYSELF
AS I 'M STOOPED OVER IN THE MIDDLE,
I AM STRUCK BY A FIDDLE