Bulletproof,
I wish I am bulletproof,
Bulletproof from love,

Bulletproof, Bulletproof,
give me the strength to be bulletproof,
I can't accept more of this pain,
I'll die eventually,

Bulletproof, Bulletproof,
stop shooting, stop,
I can't handle much of this stress
end it up for me,
end it up for good,
end it up.

Bulletproof, Bulletproof,
show me the truth,
give me only the truth,
even if it's hard, even if it hurtful,
just give me the truth,

I can handle my own broken heart,
I have mended it before, for you,
and I can do it again.

Well Wouldn’t You Know It... ?
I’m A BULLETPROOF Poet... !!!
  
BULLETPROOF Flows...
That CLEARLY Show...
That It’s Really NOT Wise...  
To Try To Deride...
My Poetic Lines... !!!
  
And BULLETPROOF Rhymes... !!!!!
  
BULLETPROOF Logic...
That’s NOT Microscopic...
When It Comes To The NONSENSE...
  
That Is Now Evolving...
Like Guns KEEP Revolving...
  
That Now NEED STOPPING... !!!
Because They’re STILL CLOCKING... !!!!!
  
Coppers Whose Bullets...
KEEP Giving SHOOTINGS...
And Crooked Conclusions...
That NEED BIG IMPROVEMENTS... !!!!!
  
And Undoubted PROOF...
That It’s US Who NEEDS Vests...
When We Encounter Them... !!!
  
That’s Right I Mean The Feds... !!!
  
Ya See It’s BULLETPROOF TRUTH...
That I’m FEEDING You... !!!!!!
  
Rather Than The FAKE News...
That’s Now Being Used...
  
Like Bullets And Blades...
On Display TODAY...
  
It’s BULLETPROOF RAGE...
That HITS My Page... !!!
  
When It Comes To The Way...
That The Media PLAY...
The Same ol’ Game...
  
of CLAIMING DISMAY...
When It’s WAY TOO LATE...
To SAVE Young Brains...
Who’ve Met Their FATE... !!!!
  
BEFORE They’ve Reached...
Or SEEN.... “ OLD AGE “.... !?!
  
Because They’re NOT...
... BULLETPROOF... !!!!!!!
  
And THAT’s Some TRUTH...
That NOBODY Can DISPUTE... !!!
  
Which Is Why As I’ve Said...
I’m A Poet Who’s BULLETPROOF YES... !!!
  
Because What I Write...
Does NOT Embrace... LIES...
  
Or Writing Rhymes...
Just To Get RECOGNISED...
As One Of The Guys...
Who Faced BULLETS...
Cos’ of LIES They Spread...
  
That OFFENDED Heads...
Who Used PLENTY of Lead...
To Leave Them... DEAD... !!!!!
  
I Could Be NEXT... ?
Well So Far NOT YET... !!!
  
I’m NOT Afraid Of Death..
Which Is Why I’ll STAND BY...
The Things I’ve EXPRESSED...  
In... “ My Poems “...
  
Because Their Defence...
IS... BULLETPROOF YES... !!!
  
TRUTH And FACTS...
That Are EXACT... !!!
Send The Hacks...
Back To Their Pack... !!!!!
  
Their Pack of WOLVES... !!!
Who Shoot Like Dudes...  
  
Whose Aim Is Lame...
So Are Bound To LOSE...
If They Try To Shoot...
My Wordplay Down... !!!
  
Like THOSE IN The Suits...
of... Government Clowns... !!!
  
And THAT AIN'T NO JOKE... !!!
  
I May End Up BROKE... ?!?
But My Use Of Prose...
WILL ALWAYS SHOW...
  
A Style That’s DOPE...
Like ******* Folks... !!!
  
So Now You KNOW...  
Why This Piece of Prose...
IS ONE That PROVES...
  
That When It Comes To...
The Verse I USE...
  
It’s Cool And TRUE...
And One Other Thing....
  
It’s......
  
..... “ BULLETPROOF “..... !!!

you have the
nerve
to say that women are
squeamish

when we see blood
month after month

you say we are too emotional
to hold office,
too fragile
to be independent,
too unpredictable,
to be on our own

but you forget
we are bulletproof.

you forget
we have stamina
and fire inside of us

because we are fighting
twice as hard
to be recognized
as the amazing,
successful people we are.

we are fighting
to be seen
as more
than our appearance,
to be valuable
because of our brains
instead of our *****.

we are bulletproof.

Bulletproof

How is it
that we can make an argument
bulletproof..

We might say that if the argument
addresses both sides of a question
and demonstrates affiliation with both
and points out that diminishing one side
diminishes the other..

However..note that when all is said
in accordance with the advice
there remain two sides of what is
perceived as reality..

So..to be truly bulletproof
the argument itself must dissolve
in the silence from which it arose..
Silence speaking alone is bulletproof...

Bulletproof School Backpacks...

                DeLuxe model with emojis and a charging port

School days, school days
Dear old shooting drill days
Coding and walkouts and smart pad functions
Taught to a federal court’s latest injunctions
You were my queen in tats (Day-Glo®)
I was your Trump at every gun show
You carved in my skin “i luv U ‘n’ Che Guevara so”
When we were a couple of latch-key kids




As of 3 August 2019 bulletproof backpacks were not on the approved list for the Texas Comptroller’s tax-free school supplies weekend; bulletproof vests are on the list as taxable (https://comptroller.texas.gov/taxes/publications/98-490/clothing-footwear.php).

Imagine the outrage
If a band, all-male members,
Refuse to play tunes
for the opposite gender.

Imagine the uproar
The venue would face
For excluding a half
of their customer base.

“It’s rank discrimination!”
The ladies would moan.
If the males got to listen
while the girls  stayed at home.

Yet the Bulletproof Stockings,
That band that wears wigs,
Exclude guys from their concerts
Not just chauvinist pigs.

“It’s a matter of Faith!”
The girl band members say;
No guys at their gigs!
No men hear them play.


Yet I’ve heard pious Pastry chefs
Don’t get to choose.
If gay brides want a cake
It’s a crime to refuse.

An Orthodox authoress
who published a tome
would be most put out
if male buyers stayed home.

So if girl musicians
seek public expression
They ought to think twice
about gender oppression.

Its great that they’re keeping
an orthodox home.
But enough of these concerts
For women alone.

In Spanish, VIVIR means To Live, the proper conjugation of which to when you say something as improper as “I live” would simply be translated to “Yo Vivo”.
I live, as a Colombian-American.
I live, as “You don’t look Hispanic”
I live, “Woah! You and your brother look nothing alike. You’re so… white.”
I live, “My mom came home once and talked about a man who simply replied with a horribly pronounced “Me gusta” when my mom said she was Hispanic.”
I live, “My dad condones abusive behavior because he thinks Latina aggression is ‘****’”
I live, my mom asking me “Would you rather celebrate the Sweet Sixteen or have a quinceanera party?”
I live, as the white boy sitting across the room in Spanish class asking “When will I need this in real life?”
I live, as the “Yes I DO have a friend with a skin complexion similar to mine, and yes, he is Hispanic.”
I live, most of my friends are beautiful people of color.
I live, when will you open up the tab in Google and search some Hispanic History to fill your mind instead of “Latina ****”?
I live, the messages on the Internet saying “You’re Hispanic? I bet you’re great in bed.”
I live, there are NO gender neutral nouns in Spanish
I live, yes I DO love coffee
I live, no it did NOT stunt my growth
I live, one kiss per cheek at family meet-ups
I live, “Eskimo” nose rubs
I live, "if you’re hispanic, why aren’t your ears pierced?"
I live, being expected to remember Spanish just because it was my first language, but growing up with an American dad made me whiter than fresh bed-sheets sold in America, made in South America, Hecha en Peru.
I live, my mom breaking into tears as she is so proud that I can sing in Spanish
I live, my mom used to be so embarrassed, when I replied “un poco” to her friends asking “Tu Hablas Espanol?”
I live, "if you’re Hispanic, is your mom an Alien?"
I live, "But your dad looks so white!"
I live, being subject to racism hidden in a joke, hidden in a remark about how pale I am, hidden behind a judgmental look, hidden behind a scoff, a laugh, a pity shrug, a fetishized assumption.
I live the bulletproof clothing and horrible crimes I am warned about when I say I wanna go to Colombia I wanna go to my mom’s home.
I live, as a Colombian-American.
I live.
Yo vivo.

"Limb by limb and tooth by tooth
Tearing up inside of me
Every day every hour
I wish that I was bulletproof

Wax me
Mould me
Heat the pins and stab them in
You have turned me into this
Just wish that I was bulletproof..."

Let's not make this long speech
    my best moment to reach
    Casablanca-*******
Day in and Craker Jack out what!!
Please the kiss needs to be longer__
The piano plays incredibly stronger
So short the "Cheez Wiz" visit

Oh! My the lovely edible dish
The long wishtoo long its been
way too longare we short on

The strawberry short cake
Please make no mistake
   ******* Barrel crackers
I am Jamming sweet grape jam
Orange marmalade home run slam
New Orleans  Southern hospitality
Don't rain on my parade

    Robin-Tweet
C-R-A-c-k-E-RsCozy-Real
A++ Collection can't be beat
King Eternity the Queen *******
Cheese deck what a home wreck
Green Guacamole animal
 crackers green Scrooge

"Long story Witchcraft"
The spell his magic fingers
French Tickler ******* winner
Those finger foods gift matcher
She sees little red riding hood
Getting the right Judge Judy
homemade Country fudge

VIP ******* may I RIP cracked
the code computer hacker
Afterthought but don't
come towards me she's bulletproof
It's today coffee dark swirls
Proud Mary got cracked mug
I only have eyes for
      Sunny

The Leap jump for all
Easter bunny
Long appetizers in her tray
The longer the wait like the
Meisers
The same star how I
met all the losers

Moms *******
Saltine stuffing
I am longing for English crackers
Like a ritual, out of time lips chuckle
Sweet Berry cheeks and lovely dimples
This life will burn and crumble
Over crumbled crackers?

Dog wear collars of polka dots
Vacation spot Meditterian crockpots
by the sea
Sea salt sprinkling saltine
over the shoulder, good luck
Feeling love sick her revolver
crackers to meet her four leaf clover

This is not only__New York City
  "Apricot" cracked wheat dot dot
What white as a sheet
Longshot transformation
To the Stepford wifes
Robot desperately seeking crackers
The best honey milk

 bedroom eyes like
Star shape crackers
the ship watch your salty lip
The shepherd's pies short skirts
Vampires blood jelly
Be Jolly Santa's baby *******
wicked plot "Santa Claus"
*** of gold belly at a glance

Cheesecake Factory
Trampling over crackers
What a time for a boycott
What fine attribute of
girl scouts
Getting blondie
brownie points

Someone passed her
screen test mirror mirror
cracked the glass shot
Astronaut gravity goes insanty
The third eye three reasons

"Soap Opera Diamonds"
three times got cracked
*** matters lips sensually
Madonna Vogue
The oyster's long love rumors
She just loves her jelly roll and
Mr. Graham crackers

Just appreciate those cracked
wheat ladies
Sesame melba toast short top
of the crack
Whats the matter?
With your daughter
He longs for her divine crackers
That's another short chapter

They crack up those actors
The writer needed to
find more movie extras
Groucho mark with
joke of crackers
The jackpot was hard to hit
Everyone was better to
crack the safe long neck
My lady Giraffe*

The true lover's knot
Your poem is worth the shot
Astronaut I brought you
The perfect flight the men
with the mustache
The salt and pepper shaker
Elvis the King is shaking
Long shot ******* butter fingers
Happy Holiday to all

11/24/2017

Everybody says i dodged a bullet
But the bullet landed
As for the trigger, was it him or me that pulled it?
I thought he helped my heart expand its hard to think i even could with
Both feet braced on solid ground
Our situationship wasnt planned
I know its hard to understand
From the outside its easy to brand me
Can we analyze every time i noticed how masterfully he handled me?
I understand that time is the only poultice
But for a moment Id like to be candid please

The bullet landed and it travelled
It ripped a path through my flesh
Day by day i ate less and less
Let this be as many lessons
As you can manage to pull from this
The side pieces and the rest is all fluff and *******
He put strings on my heart and pulled it
And i danced and said “how high”
And my soul became dull it became harder and harder to wake up every day
Is it ok to say the only redeeming quality is that he never struck me?
But i wanted to escape the pain of being stuck he told me never, ever again to cut
He didnt see that he was the reason i needed release
The Mona Lisa was out of luck

Finally the bullet festered
The pain became so great
And the benefits so much less
The bullet ripped a path
I cut it out and sealed it back
Now the bullet is nothing but waste
And i can find a new way to relate
New tissue to create
It takes talent to close, to suture they say
“Approximate, dont strangulate”
And now the bullet is disposed

So they say i dodged a bullet
But the bullet landed
It ripped a path through my flesh
Til i became so much less
And the wound began to fester
So i cut out the bullet and cleaned up the rest
Now i have a scar to show the truth
The bullet landed
And i still choose
Not to be bulletproof

In the faraway land,
trees smiling and nails
Not the escargot snails
Booming business sails
His name Rusty nails
Super rich paper shredding
Destroying fine print
paper and nails affair

Those hot leads faxing
The heart opens up than bleeds
What a mess misleads to
More hoarders
Trying so hard to get
over the U-S-A border
When you least expect it
Being searched papercut body

Like Honey Bee without
Hair like a beehive
foxy lady
No Jive rock paper scissors
Twisted sisters also drying up
All lines and spot
like a dark romance
Cheetah
Not the Samson and
Deliah race
Millionairess place
Became a swamp
Forest of racers
Super moon Gump
Lady and the *****
I am Instagram Disney Pixstar
Getting looks by far
Superwomen nailed her
With Starwars
European fellows

Soft clouds daze-like fun yellow
Emotionally their crying
Broken one scattered piece
of glass, please I see something
to smile about
Super rich why do they get
the VIP pass laughing
He's the roundabout
Someone with love handles
Can we handle all this
Getting drinks and hot lady
winks hit or miss
Racing their motorcycles
Dark glove handles
What Harley Davidson cycles
Is that your best reaction trying
Mirror my mirror on the wall
I am not buying it super
rich mechanic
The only one chosen mirror
She feels ******
Love can give you tumors
Dissect you who will direct you
You don't feel this is your time
The sunny side of the street
Sunnyside eggs over easy

The Speakeasy
Your hair of ringlets **** wavy
Did he nail your darker side beat
Bird up your nest feeders heat
Don't break me up to fall
The phone rings dingaling
Spiritual candles witch is dead
Your mind is somewhere else
instead
Just make your silk ties of the bed
Tied to your ankle I love you
How your hearts just dangle
"Having a nail full because you're single"
Were all linked into something
Yodeling, not the business
of smuggling
Knocking on heavens door
Super rich marble black and white floor
Hammering nails in the cabin
He's fishing the hooks how it fits together
hugging
Going up the staircase to heaven
What a big cliff-hanging nail diver

Zippety Zepellin*
Songs whole lotta love
How you've been nailed in
the blackout
Not a piece blackout cake
Canarsie at the pier
Out of nails, the darkness hits me
Bend over nails like the devil more rivals
Never to be resentful
Always pray to be needful
Her face value of her smile
Being poor her soul
stepped on

Too many men, not enough nails
But they got their thrills
New York City construction
worker
He's wiped out being hammered
nails hot drills
Such poorly written emails

Her heels got stuck
No stars to shine *Rusty bar
Starbucks

Her mind was a
bulletproof vest  
"Jane and *****"
"Plain Janes" movie cut
Of paper dolls
Being Nailed Bunny hunt
of tricks
But all weapons he nailed her the best*

Blood stem thorns
Italian love horns
Robin Redbreast tweet text
What holds us together
French **** nails
Fountain of golden coins

Lion heads or tails the door
Back to spam ham of emails
Super rich we may never be
But New York will always
be my kind of town
He nailed it so
many times

New Yorker super rich talker
Like a perilous time super
rich food delicious
Pygmalion how we nail our nation

I never claimed to be bulletproof,
You see, you created this tiny wound that entered my heart,
Blew the whole thing to hell,
Then, as if in slow motion my world fell apart.
I never claimed to be bulletproof
I just hid the exit scar well.

Who is the angel
Who found you living lifeless
The angel that never seems to break
The angel that stands beside you

Who is the angel
Who gives you life
and always wipes your tears?
The angel that sews your broken heart
The angel that fights your fears

The strongest bridges appear unbreakable
But they withstand the greatest stress
and bulletproof glass will take the shots
But only just so many,
and you might not see it coming
but it will break when it is bombed

The angel will always take your chains
And rest them on their shoulders
They'll smile at you when you're okay
And tell you not to worry

But don't forget, the angel is human too
Despite their amazing strength,
and even though they never cry
Their eyes mask the blood of warzones

The angel will always take your chains
Even when they cannot hold them
And the angel will do so until they break,
so that you can always smile

So go find the angel that never cries
Hug them, and say I love you
And you could be the angel
when the bulletproof is bombed

lightheaded i scatter to the curb
and stare in blank wonder
at the carnival of obscene
open on the ***** street

a father wanders drunk up the
sun dappled lane
singing that tune from childhood
if he could only recapture
even a moment
but time evades him like paper butterflys
and his life flees as he chases the past

a mothers brother lurks in the shadows
hoping to be seen and unseen
in the same moment
his hand clutches the traces of a poison
that hes here to sell to imitation innocence
its the same as the ones in the cars
they just sell a different form of insanity
just another filthy lie
they are trying to hand out with a smile

she lay back in the bent perception
and plays on the dreams that might spark
but benith her bulletproof  layers
she is crying for all the tenderness and love
she feels she will never know again
she waits for the bicycle man
she knows he is her escape from the carnival  

there is no time to waste
i must escape this vipers nest
this wasteland that lives between the
fast food restaurants
and run down motels

i find it funny
that you think everyone
is bulletproof
when i know you
would shatter
like glass
at the slightest touch

Zoom
Clank
That sound you hear
When trying to cause fear
And doubt
Within me
You threaten
And tease
Torturous
And ******
Tremendously tactless
Terror
Zoom
Clank
It goes again
What is that sound
You're hearing
You're fearing
It's an omen of what's to come
I have always been patient
Can you say the same?
Your patience is similar
To how you love.
It's fast, and burns bright
A shooting star
It felt so right
But I realize
You've done this all before
The only difference is
This time you have the ultimate weapon
You have my daughter
You will not be forgiven
You will not be apologized too
You are the embodiment of poison
But beware
My power has risen
My future is clear
Vast are my choices
I am no longer scared
Zoom
That's a bullet
fired by you
Clank
That's the bullet
Striking true
You fire your guns
But I'm bulletproof

Insecurity is wool blanket drenched in water
laying across my nose and mouth,
every breath i take in is a wicked reminder of everything i am not.
its sharp needle points prodding my pores
ripping apart the skin of my throat with every word i'm unable to speak.
Insecurity is facing a firing squad,
every bullet comes from the mouth, every tongue a trigger, every tooth ammunition
Your feet are nailed to the ground, an iron staple of your own making lacing through your toes.
The worst thing about it is that your hands are bulletproof shields,
and if you had the strength to raise your thousand pound arms,
you could use them to block your bruised up brain.
But you can't.
So you don't.
its being uncomfortable in your own skin, a bone shattering, helpless feeling that you
cannot change this.
no amount of compliments or beautiful words whispered in the darkness can fix it
insecurity is the building blocks of my personality,
I'm constantly tailoring everyone in my life to fit it, like a worn dress
I can't walk down the hallway, down the street, through a store
without the feeling of a thousand weighty words cutting into my skin
In every war my mind wages against my body
i stand there like marble, letting the bullets eat me alive.

I Craw in the Urban Jungle night after night, making shadows my best friend
Because my pale skin would get sunburn in the day time.
Many of you have read about me on the internet,
But don't know if we exist like the Yeti or Bigfoot
Every now and then you see photos of me and hear stories about our existence
But here I am, White, Nerdy and…. Nerdy

Nerdy like the Nerds falling out of the box and skipping on the floor of my lair
(or my parents basement whatever you call it).
Some moments you will find me praying to my shrine for my savior, Weird Al Yankovic

Many of you may call us “ Losers”
But let me take a moment to tell you why you are wrong, in every way.
First off, We are not losers we just win at things that you don't care about
Like the Rubik's Cube, Dungeon and Dragons, and Larping
We don’t care about making friends, getting the poo tang, or getting high off of our *****
No we are too occupied trying to plan how we will survive the zombie apocalypse,
Or debating on if Star Wars is better than Star Track.
We are too busy reading comic books, Leveling up our one handedness
On Skyrim of course.

You think that we are hideous,
But in all reality, my acne improves my defenses against mother nature,
My braces are actually tools that government uses so they can reflect solar flares back to space
I'm ugly because god decided to make me pick up girls on ******* mode because before you Meet me it was way too easy.

Many of you think that we are weak
I may have spaghetti arms, no abs, but you know what, no problem,
Because if you look at my shadow, you see someone that 10 feet tall and bulletproof
I am a nerd, hear me roar.

My roar breaks your paper thin confidence
As it just floats in the wind like leaves, leaving the tree in October
My roar will rock your house with all of your friends leaving you alone because in the end, you May be popular but lets be honest, who are your real friends?
Call me weak, I dare you

Being a nerd has taught me many things
Like don't eat cake because it is deceiving
And that Neo should of taken the blue pill
Because that movie series was terrible.
And that DC Comics is the best, ***** Marvel
But the one thing it taught me the most is that be proud of myself.

Blue Hill Avenue

It begins with Spanglish-speaking merchants
conducting business inside of bulletproof stalls,
where the faint scent of dried cod follows you
to the flat fix next door, into the auto body,
a hair shop, and to the steps of a church
for first generation Cape Verdean-Americans,
their offspring and that old lady --
someone’s  grandmother --
who wears a black dress on Fridays
and walks home from the Market Basket
the same time that you get off the bus
who wears a shopping bag full of tropical foods
and memories on her head.

And if you stand at its first **** south,
you will notice how the families disappear
in the African American section.
There are fewer stores here, lots of energy boxes
with epitaphs: “Tiffany Moore Died Here”;
a seatless swing set, a playground gone fallow.
You won’t see any church steeples in this section
that feeds on a neon CITGO sign too small
to illuminate the skyline like the mega one in Copley does.

A few blocks away, a ghost of the Jewish past sits
with pointy stars of David nestled inside its
bulbous steeples that simmer on summer Sundays
where Haitian congregants stew inside,
praying and giving to the building fund
in damp envelopes that will go to the omnipotent one
who will someday replace the stars with crosses.

And as you keep walking, past the temple,
you enter Grove Hall’s Mecca, a strip mall
with a drive-thru Dunkin Donuts,

a Stop & Shop, CVS, Bank of America,
and a Rainbows that sells your teenaged aunt
the sequined one-off shirt she needs for a date
and the fishnets she wears to the carnival
that parades through a sliver of the avenue,
the very next section of our beloved Blue Hill.

Across the street, Check Cashers speak English
as good as the number of dollars and cents
they count when they hand you back your cashed check
or the double win you scratched out of a Gold Rush ticket.

Adjacent to them, a Greek-owned sandwich shop
that feeds you steak bombs as long as your forearm or
Festive Fridays: 20 wing dings, a pound of fries,
a Greek salad, and a gracious gulp of fountain cola --
essentially, a heart-attack meal.  

Next, another ghost of the Jewish past,
a church in the former Franklin Park Theater,
where Yiddish entertainers performed vaudeville acts
which nobody living can remember.

Then a building that resembles an African footstool,
one that will allow you to see over the **** of the hill
and down below at a gospel choir trapped in everlasting song
against the wall of the one-hour cleaners and that store
where a turkey-shaped lady with flour dusted hands
stands behind a window, noticing you,
while guarding her beef patties and cocoa bread
with a bulletproof smile.

I am alive by luck at this point.
I wonder if the gun that will eventually take me has been made.
Whose trigger will bury me.
How many bullets, like a flock of sparrows, will come carry my life to its final bed.
Today, I am alive but there is no law to thank.
If not me, then someone else.
Born into a game of chance we never asked for. Traded diplomas for obituaries. Traded graduation speeches for eulogies. Traded futures for an early grave. Forced to cash in their chips. We don’t want to play anymore.
And this too is eulogy. And this too is prayer. And this too can resurrect the coffin wood back to a tree. Can sing back alive whatever parts of you died with them. Whatever leapt in your throat at yet another headline.
Mourning until you, too, are a thing to mourn.
But we will no longer be martyrs.
We are the rude awakening to politicians who pawned out our safety, who bartered our lives for bribes.
You say “gun reform is not the answer” but all I can see is a bullet rattling like a pinball in an innocent student’s jaw.
You smell like gun smoke and
I can see the AR15 you're holding behind your back and
I guess it's easy to crack jokes about dodging bullets when you're the one firing them.
Give teachers books not bullets:
Kafka isn’t kevlar.
Bronte isn’t bulletproof.
And how sick is it that we must add school shootings to your list of proud american traditions.
Throwing opinions like punches.
How many more have to die before you decide your ego isn’t as important as you think it is?
And I, too, am buried alive
My soggy grave parting its greedy lips.
To you, my bones, when ground into gunpowder and mixed into water, taste like champagne.
My pulse, as thin as an obituary panting beneath sweaty palms, and sure
We are “just kids,”
But you are forgetting we are the next generation
And you autopsy your fists.
Call it reclamatory.
Lately, when asked “how are you?” I respond with a name no longer living.
And who knows if mine will be next

**** boy, look at me now.
I'm all pretty and you look like a cow.
You've got "friends", but I've got more.
I've got a heart when you have no soul.
I'm not stupid, in fact I'm smarter than you,
because I don't make people feel bad,
when they're already blue.
**** boy, look at me now.
I'm bulletproof and
you
can't
bring
me
down.

they all think I'm wearing,
a bulletproof west,
but can't you see,
I'm lying on the ground,
bleeding,
screaming,
and you are still shooting me?

(e.k.j.)

Thank you for breaking me
And making me
A better me

Thank you for hurting me
And making me
A stronger me

Thank you for shooting me
And making me
Bulletproof

Thank you for burning me
And making me
Fireproof

I have always believed that human beings grew up wanting to be grown
and spent the time when we were wanting to try again
all the time I have known I felt this was true
and coming back to me and you I'll say it again:
life is not lived outside of original sin
and every step I take feels like a mistake
no emo lyricism here
just real fear because there's too much dark in this big broad world for anyone to shed any real light
and without light the shadows creep and crawl
and I can watch the walls but who mans the halls
all night long I wait awake
every blink and every breath I take another reason for me to fear
"major depressive disorder"
doctors croon that like a sweet lullabye
but that does nothing to dry my eyes because what?
I'm not sick, just crazy?
I'm not hurt, just lazy?
I know the pains I feel so deep
if they aren't real then neither am I
I fall short of every sunrise with color but I try
major depressive disorder according to books
(allow me to paraphrase, I can't be bothered to look again)
is categorized by an extreme feeling of hopelessness
and loss of interest and I feel they are lacking finesse
when I am told I am a sad sad soul because the world is grand and wide
and I would invite it all to come inside
but I can't and that makes me sad.
it makes me sad when I see the way people are treated.
it makes me sad and often downright defeated
and when the little flame that keeps this broken heart burning
gets washed out by the darkness of the world awake and yearning
waiting for a moment of doubt and weak
I feel so ******* meek
me, meek.
I feel like the world is collapsing but only in my chest
I feel like an infant in a bulletproof vest getting shot
my skin starts to itch and I can't scratch with my nails deep enough
and son of a ***** they don't trust me with sharp things anymore
and the scores on my arms are the times I have lost
and this battle isn't won and this is hardly a war
this is slaughter, this is me standing alone under the whole wide world and keeping it up
and this is everyone I love looking at me straining and telling me that I'm slipping up
alaska is too far south today, do I even give a ****?
depression is not a feeling of overwhelming sadness
I am not sad because of misaligned cables in my mind
I am sad because no matter how hard I try
I'm told that I am not.
but here I am still trying, standing up from my cot on the floor
and every step outside that yawning door
there are people pulling me back and slinging words that cut deeper than I ever did
and every hand that grasps my shirttails to try and pull me home like a lost little kid
leaves mars all down my back, claws that sink and ravage leaving me ****** and raw
and bleeding open and sloppy all on the floor I keep my pace, like every step will be the last straw
like every step is the last one I need to take to get away
and as I go I follow all the trails of similar blood, refreshed by people like me every day.
and I just wanted to say
I don't give a flying **** what you think you know about my scars
I don't care if it makes you uncomfortable to see my arms, the sun is out and it's 90 ******* degrees
don't lie to me and say I should be ashamed and not wear these badges like good luck charms
don't tell me my survival is offensive to your eyes because you should know without being told
these scars are here to help me grow old
when I needed to remember I was alive these scars
were fresh cuts, science experiments on a corpse brought back screaming "I'M ALIVE"
I'm not ashamed for surviving because if I were ashamed
I wouldn't be.

In a time,
when men were the superheroes,
born in an unconventional location,

a young girl, unknown to the future
she was destined to,
was born with a uniqueness
unfound in all people, a superpower
of empathy
and as she grew,

the world knew
she was imbued
as a living embodiment of legends:

Athena's wisdom,
beauty that surpassed the goddess Aphrodite,
conversational skills that made Hermes envious,
and strength that Hercules
could never attain.

As she approached an age, when her parents would
trust her to be guardian,
her powers manifested.
This incredible child was now a woman.

With the ability to heal those in need: she could expunge
poison that had afflicted a person,
even their hearts,
a God-given gift for those most sacred;
her correspondences exponentially developed,
able to connect in all languages, fueled by her empathetic nature,
this allowed all who interacted with her to trust her for she radiates sincerity.

Now, fully grown, this super-no-

This Wonder Woman had retired her duties
to save the world, not forsake it, but,
to train Wonder Girl, her daughter,
to unlock the latent abilities her mother had passed on to her.

She still looks up at the Higher Power
and realizes her duty to provide
the world justice is not over
but only beginning.

Her holy spirit was not unacknowledged
and was gifted
a bulletproof bracelet,
forged by the most skilled craftsman by direction
of all that is wise and healing.

Given to her to wear
so that nothing could halt her
as she continues
her fate to provide the world a humanity
that could only come from
an intrinsically true
dear heart.

Perhaps I'm encased in a box
made out of two-way glass.
A biased one-way mirror...
Mutual vision doesn't meet nor pass.
When you look at me,
you only see,
yourself for all that you care...
Me? Just a faint suggestion that I'm even there.
   Maybe that's why...
      you ask about my life,
      about my strife.
      When I'm about to unload my
      head,
      I end up having to hear about yours
      instead.

Perhaps at times I travel around
in a bubble of frosted glass.
Only a blurred version of me...
Clumsily ploughing through the mass.
Incoherent, misunderstood and unclear.
Unintelligible muffles of hopes and fear.
   Maybe that's why...
      My words are just perceived as
      playful rhymes.
      Never keeping up with the times.
      Words regurgitated but no one
      realises what's coming undone...

Perhaps what I need
is an armour of bulletproof glass.
One of unique quality...
One ahead of its class.
You can do and say what you want.
A shell that would bear most of the brunt.
     I'll be impervious.
          I'll be protected.
               I can be indifferent.
                    I can be jaded.
   Maybe that's all I need...
           A shocking stunt.
                 A fresh perspective.
                      A new plan.
                           Revised objectives.
   Maybe a different name to start all
   over...
      To tie the binds and thoughts that
      scatter...
      Hoping of holding everything
      together...

Come morning, all will be
      forgotten...
Maybe I'd still be beaten.

   So for a chance that's,
     fat as hell
           or
     thin just a sliver...
Truth is of the three, I have neither...
So...

    *what I've said doesn't really matter.

His body is lifeless, but
The endeavor wasn't completely fruitless
He sees a strand of hair on the pillow
It belongs to her
The one
That ****** one who dared trespass
On a heart the way only a woman can
He watched as she set ablaze
Every fire from east to west
Every fire from heaven to hell

He gently sets the pace, but
By the look that travels across her face
He knows that he's not so bulletproof
As he thought he'd be
As he used to be
That ****** one who dared take a shot
On a heart the way only a woman can
He watched as his blood spilled out
Every drop from heart to floor
Every drop at love's closing door

People could send words like knives my way and I would still find a way to laugh. You can't break me down, I'm so far off the ground. I have heard every word and insult in the book, but I still don't give a ****. No reason to be hurt by some *******'s words which are probably lies. I might be ugly or whatever people say, but still prettier than your ****** personalities and words of hate. Too happy to care about haters today, don't bother with me, I won't cry or tear up for a ******* ****.

The room is dark and he's sitting alone.  The light from the moon sneaked a peek inside.  He's writing something....but i can barely see.  

The blanket is so soft that's covering me.  He removed me from the closet.  I was in a box with some cards from when he was a kid.  I was actually surprised when he opened the lid.

I've been in this box for quite awhile....so I'm wondering about the occasion.
I see him lacing up his prized possessions....he also has a closet full of those.
He says he loves them and that they match his clothes.

A tear falls on to me ......and i feel the warmth of his hand.   I'm turned over and pulled back....and out jumps one of my friends.  She falls on to the bed and sticks her landing as the blanket cushions her fall.

He lays me back on the bed and searches the room for something.....I hear a click and realize that he has locked the door.  I'm trying to figure out what he has in store.

Whatever it was ....he finally found and loaded it up with her brothers.  Meanwhile...she was still there lounging on the covers.

She said...."you know what he's about to do don't you?"  I stated that I didn't have a clue.  He's about to make us become an accessory to a crime.

He's attempting to use his last life line.  The news caught me by surprise....I vowed to serve and protect .....to guard my owners house.

She said "He has tried it before ....matter of fact several times. He just never succeeds. That's why he purchased you.  He thought it was the gun ....he said it kept jamming when he pulled the trigger.


I asked her what happened...and she said "We worked together...since he's not strong enough to refrain from the voices that speak....we decided to be the strong one's since he is weak."

The safety did his part..because he thought.... he took it off...The clip decided that she didn't want to fit....she had put on a little weight. Plus she went from a size sixteen to a thirty two.  She was really upset and didn't know what to do.

My brother's and I worked with the trigger and when he stuck me to his head and closed his eyes.....all you heard was a click.  His hands were sweaty and so was his face....I guess he envisioned blood all over the place.

We had just pulled off a trick....although he tried once again. The attempt was another failure.  He will never know that we are a team and preserved his life.

We won't become an accessory and maybe he will get an opportunity to read that suicide note response....so he can see the other side of his selfish act.  This is not an opinion....what I'm stating is a fact.

I guess he's gratefulful that he's still here....I see a tear and he's on his knees.

He said "Lord please forgive me for my selfish behavior.  I just don't know what to do.  I prayed and nothing happened...so i became angry with you.

  Why...must I struggle when others have it so good?  Why did my wife leave me for another man....even after I put a diamond ring on her hand?

  Why did i suffer abuse from my dad? ....Lord, please restore the fire within me.  I'm hurting so much inside....and feel death would have been better.

That's the reason for my letter.  Lord...I hope you forgive me. Thank you Amen.

He took me apart and placed me in a bag....before he did that... he wiped me down with a rag.  The bullets were scattered all over the place....and he finally turned on the light.

Psalm 119:105
"Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path."

An excellent decision ....and another opportunity to fight.