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
Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star
Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries
A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn
Tiptoe into my room
and hide behind the curtain;
You wait to slither onto me
and be my demon.
You lurk in the shadows
waiting to pounce upon me;
You seek to capture my soul,
and you do so through my body.
Hallucination or reality,
you make it hard to comprehend;
you show me a starting line
on the dead end.
Tearing through my flesh
you bruise my bones;
clenching on my nerves,
you make my sanity moan.
Flowing through my veins,
you want to poison me;
suffocating my being,
with your invisible brutality.
Would you make me yours
and never let go;
Or would you destroy me
and throw me down the road?
Who's that staring through my window walls, with eyes as old as time
the clock has not yet moved and the wind outside has died
no breath for me to find nor the strength to check the time
unless the minute hand is lying theirs a chance i may have died
I wish this all a dream but the eyes i see dont lie, they have told me with their watching that all men do really cry
yet in vain is all my wishing but perhaps this is delusion of a sedimentary man with his mind ripe for losing
Come at me then red devil, I shout within my mind yet the tension I had hoped for was delayed and rather dry
no ravishingly velvet flame encircled this such room, nor were the furniture and ottoman thrown like an old shoe
marvelous the time in which a demon throwns your home and his only one intent is to stare right through your soul
to that i bid goodnight to you, to do as you wish, regardless of the manner I am nothing more then fish. to be shot out of a barrel for a fellow such as this
If you do deem it fit that I wake another morning all i ask is that the clocks all please return to working order
Batman and Robin hit the Joker
But their blow was only a croaker
The Joker hit back
But instead hit Jack
Who said "I'm glad, the Joker's an smoker!
Dorian Petersen Potter
Homeboy Skank Mann Blue was strolling down the street,
Dancing to the music, bopping to the beat.
Four cops bum rushed him and knocked him on his ass,
After nearly blinding him with pepper gas.
Lesson learned, the big bad popo own this street.
The first damn bullet shot at me in anger
by some frigging commie with an itchy trigger finger.
I heard it zip by very close to my head.
I was glad I was still alive instead of dead.
All those months of training kicked in,
I hit the ground a shootin’ and a cussin’.
Then I was on my stomach and off my feet,
I was surprised that I could hear my own heart beat.
A few more scattered shots here and there,
a couple too close to my head and hair.
As quickly as it started it came to an end,
I was relieved I survived to fight again.
Fear is adrenaline gone wild.
In battle there is no meek or mild.
Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
We consume it all like freshly baked bread
We feed until we are engorged and fed
A viral, universal mess
Ideas and unmade memories
Nothing more or less
My eyes remain glued to the screen
Living it all out
Tears dare to flow—to doubt
I should have thought of that
Can I truly let myself believe,
Someone else lived that!
Pound away your directors, script-writers, fighters
For miles and miles of stories remain unread
While the unknown remain in the grounds of humble malnourishment
Careers for the mind with a twist of the fable
Left us savage for the meal and the crumbs under the table
I can never let the raw truth rest
Naked, bare and empty—soothed
Nothing more or less
I cringed for originality
Observed the world through the unedited scripts
The very act, the poetry pact
The wild animal drooling in the back
I was slapped in the face by my boss who had cracked
As the reviews bloated less and less
They wanted something awful, something flaw-ful—something new
And this empty brain in agony—HISSED
I have lived in no epic battle of account
Of the collateral sufferings of my brothers
The stories the red carpet smothers
And still I ache to create
Before the other ones discover
I returned with ‘‘oh me’s’ and ‘oh my’s’’
With a work of pure genius—a storybook of lies
Nothing more or less
Little have I lacked to dream
Of contortioned pulls and dramatic fire
Stories that rarely brittle or tire
I fiddled with precious glass on edge
Foully eager for self-damage
As if it would trigger some legitimate spark
Searching for creatures and features in the dark
No one unlocked the passage that night
For the starving idea-parched malice of right
But all welcomed with open arms
A pale mannequin filled with jewels and charms
Consuming, fuming dooming
All ghosts hoping, screaming, looming
Hoping that one day they would find themselves on the big screen
Their legacy real as it can possibly get
Nothing more or less
I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear
Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm
When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane
I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes
I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries
I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs
As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call
With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay
A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
through silent valleys
around the earth
through the wind
The creature soars ever higher
in great swoops and dives
the horizon curves as it eludes vision
the stars pulse their siren
but thrill denies
their ambient warning
Gust to gust each fades
quicker than the last
whispers carry the weight of wings
and their soulful song breaches sanity
prayers of rightful good
where petty purple banners
crest twinkling hearts
The last thermal ridden
last lyric dies
as flight’s drone fades
upturned wings alone
the sky empty oblivion
as the sun aligns its beady eye
to the looping path of the bird
Two brittle forms
grapple in light
which blots out the senses
what can never be touched
smites the naive bird
an archangel buried
in a crypt
six feet deep.
We should not accuse all black people
We should not accuse all white people
We should not accuse all those in between the two colors
Of/for all big problems of black or white or those in between
Same perspective to/for countries, states, and governments
Same perspective to/for Buddhist, Christians, Hindus, Muslims or others
We should not generalize and spread the lies
We should not overestimate nor underestimate
We writers and speakers should specify the doer/s
Or keep our lips closed, not to add more to it
We had enough!
We should see the whole picture
Black rose on the wall
See the daylight no more
All the hearts are sore
Left black to the core
No need to wish for more
And throw it on the floor
Two field mice took a walk one day
Then feeling tired, they'd walked a ways
They thought they'd stop and rest a while
For home was further on some miles.
Then they heard the pad of old Toms paws
Which spooked them quite a bit I'm sure
As the cat purred loudly to see the mice
And thought "a meal it would be nice!"
Their whiskers quivered nervously
As, our two mice made haste to flee
So off they scampered for their lives
As old Tom cat for them did strive
That old cat looked he, high and low
And where they were he didn't know
As the two they trembled neath a bush
They could almost touch that mean old puss.
Then Tom gave up and skulked away
And the two mice lived another day
And their lungs filled up with gratitude
They'd foiled that old tom cat, so rude.
Peace, Socrares Dec 2 2003
When chaos brings civilization to its knees
From world wide pandemic critical disease
Or when a tsunami consumes everything beyond the shores
Swallowing the landscape and changing life as we know
Earthquakes shake the very foundation of this world
Or an astroid penetrates the cradle of birth
Bring us back to the primitive unleashing the truth
From the umbilical chord we are more ferocious than rabid wolves
And we will kill fellow man just to survive
Or just for the desire of taking ones life
What is compassion but a dead corpse on the road
Adrenalized by fear no time for sorrows
No need to worry about a world war zombie apocalypse
We're already flesh eating monsters wearing dead skin
Most people panic when they lose internet or their lights
Autonomy is just a word most people can no longer define
And your money isnt worth *****so forget trying to buy
Your way out of cleansing while you run out of time
So learn to die well and hold your loved ones real tight
As you pray that your death will let you ascend to new heights
Beans, bullets, and bandaids are all that I'll need
To keep population zero from taking over me
**** being hopeful could we really be so naive
To think that in these days we could some how find peace
When our mother earth gets restless and releases all of her worst
The only thing more destructive is our human nature
I'm not sure how youre going to lead your people to salvation
gang bangers holding the bag, perpetrating violence
i can't help what i think about that predicament
blackmailed, or all rap artists truly do like being the figure heads
of community terrorism
fighting for their rights throughout history
just to throw it all away
raised to believe they were the only ones whose legacy is a nightmare
but they make money rubbing their guns and drugs in our face
selling other people to blackmarkets for slavery
to make more chemicals
I truly hope you take this opportunity to lead your people in the right direction
to truly be able to find themselves
i'm only one person on the outside looking in
i just truly dont believe all those money making rap artists
truly desire to continue the cycle of violence
i myself believe some sick racist paid them to throw themselves away
Drugs and guns
\kids killing kids
something has to be done
and why your people are the ones representing this
I truly believe another black man can encourage his fellows of skin
to see the bright side, work on solving the problem from now on instead of making it worse
I can't handle much more of this
seeing people fight for their rights
and lose to themselves again
being part of the solution of the problems they are soo upset about
is more understandable than being paid to be the front lines of genocide
and continue the never ending cycle of hate and confusion
I'm not fooled by what has happened to them, and what is
but change is inevitable, solving their own problems they probably were entrapped with
War crimes on both sides
the black and white
minds cornered by previous experiences just want to end this nightmare
or maybe i'm wrong
maybe the racists over there are right
maybe they didnt see how someone made them think one thing
and used violence to enforce actions cornering the hate again
in the end war crimes on both sides
i just urge you to find a solution to this
i myself am tired of the psychological fight of a futile civil war
engulfing both sides of the unfortunate paradox
its harder than you realise to see through it
its harder not to get wrapped up in my own emotions of the past that was and the present
Manipulative people brainwashed the innocent
and then used violence against your people to prove that they are justified
its a sick game obama
its disgusting and the streets of your own society need a solution to a dirty trick
Those who kill innocents are cruel,
Their bodies will always be hell’s fuel,
Islam teaches about honor and dignity,
Care and love for the whole humanity,
But black sheeps are found everywhere,
Like KKK or Taliban, “Be aware”,
They do things on their own,
Their very own people, they disown.
All rights are reserved. Syed Imon Rizvi
From a book "Outspoken" - 2012
Available at www.amazon.com
BY STREET CRIES
PEOPLE PASS ME LIKE I DONT EXIST
LIKE I AM THE ONE WHO REALLY WANTED THIS
DROWNING IN MY SORROW AS I REMINISCE
DAYS OF MY LIFE FULL OF HUNDRED DOLLARNESS
FAST CARS PLENTY OF WOMEN TO KISS
NOW WOMEN RUN CAUSE OF MY STENCH
I USE TO BE ON BILLBOARD ADVERTISEMENT
NOW I HOLD SIGNS IN FRONT OF BILLBOARD ADVERTISEMENT
FACE FULL OF PAIN BEYOND RECOGNIZEMENT
HEART FULL OF SHAME WONDERING WHERE THE TIME WENT
YOU CANT SLEEP OR BE HERE IS MY ONLY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
FORCE TO LIVE IN A ENVIRONMENT WHERE ADDICTION IS DOMINATE
ROB AND RAPE HAPPEN TO THE SCARED AND SILENT
JUST TO GET A PLATE CAN TURN INTO SENSELESS VIOLENCE
UNDER THE INTERSTATE JUST TO CLOSE MY EYE LIDS
BLINDNESS PROTECTS YOU FROM SOCIETY DISGUISES
WHILE I STAND IN A FOOD LINE APART OF THE POVERTY CRISIS
You think you’ve gone just far enough,
I could smile knowing you’ve gone far enough that you can’t go back again
You think you were careful but,
I’ve caught a glimpse of your true, wretched form
You think you can find a way into my good graces
I’ve seen what you are, monsters with a friendly costume
You can’t deceive me anymore and, I don’t consort with serpents
You think I’m a game to be played but, trust me, you could never win
Don’t underestimate me
You think I’m a joke but, trust me you won’t be laughing
You think I’m just talking myself up but, trust me, you’re the ones going down
My eyes took too long to adjust
Better late than never
It may take a monster to know one but, I promise my teeth are sharper than yours
My first reaction to the hideous revelation that was your form was to weep
Fall to my knees, maybe even wretch my heart from my chest and onto the carpet
Then I thought about the mess it would make
I decided the only blood that will spill, will be your own
I was not weak, but I had a weakness
A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care
Now my heart is a stone so heavy
I could kill at least two birds at once
Being the nice guy is a thing of the past
Thanks for freeing me of that softness
You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things
When really I had just been swallowing razor blades
Now that sun is setting and I hope you see it was you who were wrong
Can you feel my darkness coming, because it’s eager to hold you
If you thought I was the one who would just stand still or turn to run
Your gonna be the one with tired feet
I’m not sad anymore
Just sick with the plague of your lies
Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss
Even angels can make themselves wicked
When we do, we take no prisoners
Still think I’m a game
This one is just beginning
Oregon Inmate VS Nike
Nike’s been sued for its Air Jordan sneaks
I’m thinking the lawsuit’s a little bit weak
It’s by a young pimp caught beating a “john”
By stomping and kicking him on and on, on
He said that the “john” had skipped out on a client
And he was teaching the “john” how to be more compliant
He was charged with the use of a dangerous weapon
The shoes he was wearing when he did the stepin’
He’s claiming that Nike is partially to blame
For they made the “weapon” that he used to maim
He said there’s no warning on the box or the shoe
That say’s it’s a dangerous weapon – Who knew!
To The Bank And Ballroom Delights
Right here right now explosions!... excited fuses!... Bombs going off!
In the back ally by the river bank
History rising to gun shots, balloons and music
Too fast to stop as something goes off
Ballroom dancing in the dark next door
Stumbling into the bank
Alarms going off. Shots going off. Babies screaming for a change
Drinks in three or more hands or so it seems
A little blurred and fuzzy on the scene
Music blaring, people dancing
Yellow wall flowers flying off the walls
Exploding, floating on the edges
With my sweetie peach we dance all night
In hand in flight over silver lights, flashing reds overhead
Music rocks history to death in the speed of numbered steps
Caresses of my baby warm against the flesh
Power drums pounding at the door of love
Feels so real, moving slowly, growing into building rhythms
Primordial religions spinning on in joy
Tearing yellow flowers off the walls
Hurricane bands of magic raining down on clouds of love
Enhancing, advancing on the living floor
Holding on to dear life, my sweetie pie and I
Guns in our pockets as we rock
We came to rob a bank
Where did it go
Someone pointed to outside
Next to the disco tech is the ballroom dancing hall
By the river bank next door
11/21/14 Ballroom Delights - Poetry Contest
Tell me America ,
Will you win this war ?
Will you bring cruelty to gallows ?
I see you daily here;
Left and right like pendulum,
Ups and downs like leaf-cutters,
Building army, building allies,
Pacing faster on trick’s ladder;
Still this monster is gargantuan,
Like phoenix looks its soul,
Like elixir its spirit.
Storms cruelty gathers daily
The brutish it breeds like ants,
Their fangs like shoemakers' hammers;
Making hell of every metre
That I am affraid America;
From which hedge will you strike,
From which side will you come ;
To bring brutality to its knee?
The day mother bought a hen
And let it loose for airing a bit
No sooner it met the brutish
Than the cruel scraped its head
With their vampire’s aching-pecks.
On their feast of bear your fangs;
The green were shredded like young okra,
And the gray like potato chips;
Every foot wore sock of red ;
That an aged man sermonised :
Monster's world , young as the day is ,
Lions have made morsel of antelopes.
Who shall tame the lions ?
Who shall safe the necks of antelopes ?
Tell me America, will you win this war ?
Will you bring cruelty to gallows ?
Will you tame the lions and cage the peckers ?
The lions are roaring everywhere and there,
Their noise becoming louder and deafening
Worldly peace in monsters' cage , tell me,
Please be eloquent; will you win this war
Or we start building temples for terrors ?
Why don’t you love me?
The small brown eyed girl asked her father as he beat her at night,
then with a smile in the morning he’d scoop her up in his arms to play.
Why don’t you love me?
The bigger brown eyed girl asked her father as he walked out and
never came back.
Why don’t you love me?
The young brown eyed girl asked her boyfriend of two years,
As he walked out the same door her father did eight years before.
Never to return.
Why didn’t you love me?
The older brown eyed girl asked her father at his funeral.
As she leaned over the edge of his casket and kissed him gently on the forehead,
Tears running down her cheeks.
Why couldn’t you love me?
The oldest brown eyed girl asked as she lays Jasmine’s and roses
On her father’s grave.
Only a row down from her old boyfriend’s,
With love that never dies.
And her question is answered in the wind,
As the answer is whispered in her heart.
How could you love me?
If you couldn’t love yourself?
He sits there, looking around his room. Light and sunny outside, but yet inside his room there was a darkness. He covered himself with his blankets, hearing the crackling of the walls. Keeping still, his hair rose upon his skin. Feeling the sudden coldness around him, an odd feeling upon his chest. He had thoughts of what it was. Still he sat there, upon that moment a loud sound came from the walls. As if someone kicked it, the feeling of being watched fell upon him. He didn't dare close his eyes, small pictures fill his mind. The sudden uneasiness once again filling him. He closed his eyes, he will always live this nightmare. This darkness grows each day, getting stronger and stronger. Until it swallows the light we call innocence.
The Crusades Began a Holy War
Which Continues to this Day.
We Kill, and Kill, and Now it Seems,
This shall Always be the Way.
One Side Scores, the Others Die,
Then the Cycle is Repeated.
It never Stops, It’s never Done;
The Battles Grow More Heated!
The Way to Peace, it Seems so Clear,
Is not Through Senseless Slaughter.
I Appeal to All, “Please Quit the Fight!”
Save our Sons and Daughters!
To Find Our Way out of the Dark,
We Need only Seek the Light.
A Solution Lies within our Grasp:
Forget who’s Wrong or Right!
This God or that, it Makes no Matter.
This Truth I have Acquired:
Be they Different, or the Same,
The Gods would Preach Cease Fire!
Poem Becomes A Novel
So, I am a novel and not a poem
That is what I said and I am never wrong!
So get that through your head!
You say I am a good for nothing poem
So What! So sue me!
With a bazooka aimed at the head
One might change their mind
Question?..... What am I now?...
A poem or a novel?
I hope you get it right this time
Dark potions, liquid substance of evil, they rot in my veins,
Oh and the heartache that it brings to my brain.
These potions of darkness,
Plays with the mind game after game,
It is known by many names.
Its gift is a false sense of security;
Causing you to feel,
As if you can do anything!!
For you, it makes its own deal!
It runs rapid in your blood, laughing all the way,
It offers its own passages of deceit and lies,
It causes you to see each color brighter than before,
Every taste in the beginning you seem to adore.
You start to believe, you can fly.
Addiction?? Oh no, I can stop anytime, really,
I can really I can, if I wanted to . . .
A self-delusion from its beginning, but this you already know.
It steals – it kills – it destroys,
Your happiness, it stomps on your soul,
The seeds of destruction, it has sown,
Finally, it you that addiction does own.
It whispers in deep inside, take me in!
I’ll share with you the world, it says, as soon as you begin.
It is then; it steals your free will of choice,
Killing your logic of reason -- your inner voice,
Death then becomes your next adventure;
Paranoia is your finest companion,
The face in the mirror, is no longer your own,
Your entire world has been wasted and to the winds has been thrown.
In my darkest hour, with desperation,
I fell to my knees, I cried, with a great bellow,
Words I uttered while shaking,
I am so weary of my addiction that is always taking,
This is my jailer, these are my pleas.
This darkness is my chain of prison for me,
My words began shouting so someone could hear,
Is it even slightly possible from this I can be free??
To guide me and save me before I am consumed,
By each and every one of my fears,
To possibly live and love within a different tune,
Or has I have gone too far, too much is lost,
The price that is waiting,
Is it possible it is too high of a cost?
I cried a sea of tears for help, for change
That some how my life just might be able to be rearranged.
I am now fit with a choice & a voice.
Delivered from the dark potions that once ran through my veins,
As I now reach to the suffering addict,
That one whose heart has a stain,
For the same message that was sent to me,
That life might be saved and be set free,
I smile and gently whisper, the passage is not an easy one
But certainly worth while,
Come on just walk with me for at least a mile . . .
Never will I give up on you,
Even if you still have stumbling to do!
And so do I fall, and so do I fail,
Falling so deeply into this destructive void,
Nothing but ash and specs of dust that were once my brittle bones and scarred flesh.
To not know what is ahead,
How maddening! How so distraught have I seemingly become,
Forgotten myself as time has smoothed over me.
Tricky, sly fiend indeed; master and slave a like to us all.
Do I dare move forward into the uncertainty that is humanity and of such society?
So gut wrenching, thoughts filled of bile at what is.
As we all are from and are the same, yet tear limb by limb the essence of ourselves by one another in an endless state of bigotry and violence; so brightly are we bathed in evil.
So easy is it to see.
Miracles; perhaps shall they see fit to carry me away from the void that is, and from such temptation, as to live the rest of days in blissful, stagnant dreams.
Fright washes through my tiny veins
He's drunk and driving in opposite lanes
Scared for my life, he enters my complex
Because of something he blew out of context
So alone in my house with locked windows and doors
Scared for 4 1/2 years because of his roars
Trying to break in because he knew I was there
Feeling my anger and fright begin to flare
Locked in my bathroom --- police on the phone
Feeling my insides go heavier as my heart turns to stone
Dispatch says to keep inside and wait for the Law
Breaking my heart, soul, and love as it goes raw
The Law arrived and saw him and the others outside
For 4 1/2 years inside of him I did confide
He raised his fists and almost killed me more than twice
But on his wrists and arms --- he always made a slice
Crazy and deranged and scared for my life
4 1/2 years of bloody pain and strife
Controlled and scared I shake in my bed
Because one day I feel like I'll be dead
Either I leave or he leaves my state
It's the best way to leave him behind and my would-of-been-fate
Threatening my family and all of my friends
Tired of waiting for him to kill me --- where is my end?
Today was a common nightmare like always before
My mind, body, and soul go sore
So now he's gone and the Law won again
And again I am alone to live in this
Domestic Violence Sin
Such pain foretold.
Women of old,
As fears unfold.
Burning, cracking, the earth splits apart.
Warning, oh warning of my poor breaking heart.
Losing love as it fades into black,
Splitting the earth with fiery cracks.
The starless sky, filled with ash,
For magma bursts through a glowing red gash.
Such fear, unknown, what are you saying.
Please I need to know what the future doth hold, I’m begging, I’m praying.
Am I decaying?
No more, let me sleep.
People smoke weed, or crack to ignore problems and laugh hysterically,
coffee is my drug, it's my quick pick-me-up...I say it so proudly,
because it won't harm me, hallucinate me or make me feel afraid;
I will be alive tomorrow, not crash into into a lamppost as Freddy did.
I lived through the Hippie Era: bell-bottoms...long, frizzy hair
and funny clothes the kind that clowns wear,
no offense to those who thought they were cool;
it's my opinion, not of that guy who didn't see himself as a fool!
I had no time to protest, or vindicate the Vietnam War as Omar;
off I went to work each morning as hippies hung out by a bar
shouting at me, " Kid, stay alive...don't ever go to war! "
They ran and screamed, knocking down police barricades...horror!