I destroy homes.
I tear families apart.
I'm more costly than diamonds,more precious than gold.
The sorrow I bring is a sight to behold.
If you need me,remember I'm easily found.
I live all around you.
I live with the rich,I live with the poor,down the street & maybe next door.
I'm made in a lab,but not like you think.
I can be made under your kitchen sink.
I have many names but there's one you know best,my name is Crystal Meth.
My power is awesome,try me you'll see.
But if you do you may never break free.
Just try me once & I may let you go.
But try me twice & I'll own your soul.
When I possess you you'll steal & you'll lie.
You do what you have to-just to get high.
The crimes you'll commit for my narcotic charms,will be worth the pleasure you'll feel in your arms (your lungs & your nose).
You'll lie to your mother,you'll steal from your dad.
When you see their tears - you should be sad.-
But you'll forget your morals & how you were raised.
I'll be your conscience.
I'll teach you my ways.
I turn people from God & separate friends.
I'll take everything from you.
Your looks & your pride.
I'll be with you always-right by your side.
You'll give up everything,your family,your home.
Your friends,your money,then you'll be alone.
I'll take & take,till you have nothing more to give.
When I'm finished with you,you'll be lucky to live.
If you try me be warned-this is no game.
If given the chance I'll drive you insane.
I'll ravish your body.
I'll control your mind.
I'll own you completely.
Your soul will be mine.
The nightmares I'll give you.
The voices you'll hear from inside your head.
The sweats,the shakes,the visions you'll see.
I want you to know these are all gifts from me.
You'll regret that you tried me,they always do.
But you came to me - Not I to You!
You knew this would happen,many times you were told.
But you challenged my power & chose to be bold.
You could have said no & walked away.
If you could have that day over what would you say?
I'll be your master & you my slave.
I'll even go with you to your Grave.
Come take my hand,let me lead you to hell.
flowing...life never startles her.
takes each piece of paper she finds
& hides it away
between the pages
of whatever book she
happens to be reading that day.
soul filled with fire:
changing any & all
that come too close;
that thinks he can let the flames
lick his fingers
then pull his hand away,
Oh Nature, sweet dancing girl you
Because beauty lies in minerals and chalk,
and outlandish tinctures remedy physical faults
with pastes and goo,
the daily ritual of painting flesh,
disguising ourselves from a social stigma,
compels and consumes us
Obsession over minute details,
driven by the incessant narcissism
of a portentous society,
coerces us into a proclivity,
so that each day we worship a virtual image,
mere reflected light
Because of all the reticulated bones and fat and blood,
sustaining life-functions and supporting the capability intelligence
which we rarely take steps to refine,
and of the independent, incognizant cells,
working ensemble circuitously,
the web which imprisons it all is most beautiful.
They spoke of bears, I saw one last year while skating
And these women were chatting of their recent experiences.
Suppose I am lucky to have been only friendly with deer in the forest
To be bear meat would be rather traumatic
Last time I saw bears, they were getting ready to sleep
I could have stood there and watched them for hours
But it was the lovey dovey sea otters on a later, snowy visit
That captivated me more
They were so tender and violent, incredibly adamant, ardent lovers
I was embarrassed to be watching them mate while next to...
The children were confused, it was played off as parents tend to do
As nothing more than play and rough housing
The nearby people are in a heated relationship
I care not either side or their issues
But it is at such times as I see one of the mom's kids
Struggling silently with the boyfriend/half-brother/relationship crisis dramas
that I am more resolute than ever
to keep any potential relationship that one day may happen
Private, far away, from my children
As this has yet to be an issue,
no personl relationship of such a type
I am thankful for where I am in my life
Don't think I don't see the looks that I get
As I walk down the halls of our school
Ever since that report came out
"Missing Ottawa teen"
People have been staring and they think they're discreet
But I notice every single glance
And every single point
And my doctor says its the paranoia
But I know what I'm fucking seeing
I see you whisper as I walk by
I see you ask your friends what happened
I saw your posts on Facebook
"Please help she's my best friend"
Bitch you don't even know me
You didn't notice that I hadn't been to school in months
You didn't notice my sudden disappearance from your life
I got zero texts zero messages zero calls asking if I was okay
That is until the day I ran away
I logged onto Facebook 55 notifications
"Help she goes to my school"
Bitch no I don't anymore thanks for noticing
Its really true what everyone always said
Nobody cares unless they all think you're dead
I'm halfway to
And I still don't
My soul was
My teacher fought
Against the forces
Forces that swept the
Thin gossamer web-
I jerked awake to
Unsatisfying kind of
Kids just trying to survive
"Would you please
Repeat the question?
I wasn't paying
Kindness, sometimes, from
Of the series of
Who had the distinct pleasure
Of having Teddy Scheck
Way down there on their
Most often it was stern
Shame is anything that
Makes you feel smaller
Than you really are.
Classrooms are battlefields.
Bullies are armies,
And I was at their un-
And time, which seemed to
Hold the infinite expanse
Of its boundless breath,
Exhaled slowly, the squeaky-
Balloon hiss of air escaping
A too-tight orifice.
And I'm swimming in the
Miasma of confusion, self-
Loathing, desperation, and
The incredibly strong urge
To dig for green gold
In my own nose.
Welcome to my childhood.
OUT IN THE HALL...
Alphabetically, having "S"
Put me toward the end of the line,
But not "Zemichael" or
or "David Woods"
And Dave Woods, whose
Eyes wandered behind
Coke-bottle glasses, and
Who whistled when he said
His 'Ws' was a kid
I could really relate to.
He got bullied 4th.
I was 3rd-most.
Two effeminate boys,
Scott and Mike,
Who played with dolls
With the girls, twirled
Jump ropes and chanted
Chants and had
High voices, and couldn't
Kick at all,
They got picked on an
More than I did,
Although, strangely, they
Seemed much better equipped
To deal with it, or
Ignore it, or
(I don't know)
(And this killed me,
It really did)
I took it all in my heart,
And head, and stomach,
And elbows, and picked
Nose, and bitten-off
Warts in 1st grade, and countless
Accidents and injuries and
Scrapes and bruises
By the plethora,
So that by 9:00 that night,
I was sobbing beneath
My pillow, trying
Not to make noise
In a household of 10.
And Mom, my sweet
Mom, would take me in
Her arms, and say
The most confusingly
Comforting words in
The whole wide world.
"I'm sorry, Teddy,"
She would cry, holding
Me so tightly I knew that
If lightning struck, or
A tornado blew in from
Kansas, no force on
Earth would seperate me
From my Mom's loving
"My sweet, wonderful,
She would whisper, the
Only balm to sooth
The cuts from prissy girls'
Tongues that made
Me bunch my fists and
Run away in anger,
Or sometimes lash out
The knuckle-rubs from
That asshole Randy, the
Class jock and class
Mom's words of
The slashes and punctures
And lashes from the
Tongues and eyes and lips
And patience and compassion
Run dry like a well that
Has died of thirst.
But boy, did I have a
I went to where
My dreams were stored
During the day.
And put them on
I rode my bike
I took off my clothes
And swam in farm ponds.
I chased leopard frogs,
Ate questionable foods/plants;
And swung higher on
The swing than anybody
I was happy at times.
I could imitate just
About any sound
(Real or imagined).
I did the voices
(And I STILL do 'em)
My sisters adored me.
I made people laugh
(Often by accident)
I occasionally sat
Still in church, taking in
Pictures stained colorfully
In glass frescoes.
I had a younger
Brother whom I was
Immensely proud of
And who loved me back
As best a brother
I had a roof, food,
Clean water, safety
From harm, freedom
To pray and worship,
Questionable bathing habits...
(For about an hour, anyway)
I had more as a child
Than about 95% of
The entire world.
Maybe everything that
Happened to me
Brought me to this
Soul, wounded over time;
Creates a poem that,
Can help some
I saw an act
Of appalling cowardice.
Screaming hatred at the world,
As he brandished a bloody knife.
I saw an act
Of extraordinary courage.
Confronting a killer,
As she tried to calm him down.
I saw two extremes
In the middle of the road.
72 years. Thats how long true love lasts. Well I like to think it lasts longer. I don’t know that for sure yet but I’d like to some day. Together since age fourteen and sixteen, I think thats pretty impressive. A different time. Which sucks because so much of ‘love’ nowadays revolves around lust. Which is more physical than emotional. So then I wonder how can they throw the word love around, whilst throwing themselves around. Oh the irony
Well I thought I loved someone once. Eight months, with probably triple that amount in fights. Though we fought it came easy to us. I guess thats more than I can say then the couples that were around us. But it was too hard. Hearing what he really thought about me. Not good enough. Too far away. Like I was so object only to be attained, to be shown off. Like a prize. Well I stopped being that object the same day he decided he didn’t love me
That’s what also sucks about this generation. There isn’t just a relationship or single there is: Talking, talking talking, flirt texting, couple dates talking, occasionally hook up talking, got drunk that one time at a party and now things are awkward talking. Then there’s: Having a thing, kind of together, pretty much together but not official, pretty much together but not Facebook official, together, and too many more.
We can’t go two seconds with out Facebook stalking, texting, IMing, calling, or being together without fights, or assumptions about unfaithfulness. People are treated as objects and love it because someone, somewhere is paying attention to them and making them feel special. Generation X. Who can’t stop worrying about all their ex’s. More like generation disappointment.
Most breeze through the Boardwalk Big Dipper Bling
Ocean Street Sleeze, and a walk on Cowell Beach and say
I've seen it all, that's Santa Cruz, as they cruise off on highway 1
or crash into the barriers or 17 but that's not all, at all
I love Santa Cruz on a bright sunny day in May as I
gorge on the Indian vegetarian buffet, available all day, by the way
And check out the O'Niel sidewalk sale, and then past the sweaty crowds in front
of the Cineplex and the sign in the window display at Camouflage that reminds:
May is National Masturbation Month, are you doing your part?
and at Pergolesi a homemade sign says "friends don't let friends drink Starbucks"
and there are two art house cinemas within 200 yards of each other
and there are lesbians holding hands and homeless people breathing the fresh air
with their shelter pets and I feel free
like anything can happen here, even me
Is anyone really who they say they are?
Is anyone really who they portray they are?
What exists in our realities?
There is an unspoken language that exists in all of us.
The thoughts humans think, but never say out loud.
The way we all interact with each other, but never showing our true selves.
The ones that do are considered in this society as "crazy".
What defines crazy?
It was a word, made up by people.
A concept made up by people, to group the unfamiliar against our social norms.
Were words created by actions?
Our actions, even in animal behavior are formed by "group think".
Are we no different from the animals we keep as entertainment?
The animals we lock into cages; thinking that in the end, it is better for them.
But is it really?
We as humans lock ourselves into hypothetical cages: relationships, marriage, careers, because we believe it is good for us.
Have we really seen what happens on the outside?
Have we really payed attention to what is beyond our caged existence.
Is living in a locked cage until the day you depart from our natural earth, really truly better for us.
Or are we trained to believe it is, and show spite towards those who choose different.
The real world is tough, just like the animal world is.
The reason we are all here, is to explore.
To live, to take advantage of the wide opportunities that are laid out there in front of us.
We may get hurt, even resulting in death, but at least we lived.
Outside of our cages.