A-Whilst my Lips copped to your Startling News:
WHOAH! THE TIE?! Up-Hold your Decision turn
Though Evidence submit past some Lies and Views
Would make my Bearings and Assumptions burn
That by your Video your Truthful Eye become
Since Six Months fulfill this Love-of-a-Man
His Smile - breathe his Merriest Joy and Some
Forbid his Name from Sane Hunters he can
At least for Now - Admit your Stars ignite
His Sterling Faith cross-distance your Thoughts keep
As for your Dames shed Blood in Wear and Spite
And Shot the Dove their Olive's Fruit now Weep.
You had to Decide. This for your Peace enough
Though Valiant your Swim past their Judgments tough.
Here's a temper tantrum I'd like to write down:
There are not enough words to describe,
Not enough words that could help me articulate,
Not enough words that can possibly substantiate,
The insane amount of perturbed I feel,
If I was capable of doing so,
I'd take this time to apologize for being a brat,
Unfortunately, at this time, I don't believe I can do that,
Considering I feel my soul being sucked out by endless stupidity,
I'm not good enough,
I'm not young enough,
I'm not tiny enough,
I'm not enough,
This may not be my time,
And maybe the next shot won't be it too,
But I guess I'll just have to decide to make do,
Besides, I hear that good things come to those who wait,
Or something like that,
Fuck, who cares?
I'm still too pissed to concentrate.
Could vous just take a second, a moment, one solid instant
to visualize the boy in the stall with more felt lacerations than words of admiration.
Could the bold, bright, beautiful ones start singing
because I'm sick of the loud talk that goes through the motions of lingering
in an echoed room as they "try" to save the oceans - tell me, did we
litter on the way there? There's a forgotten world in stories told of heroes, breathing clean air.
Could the world give one more shot (a mountainous event) because history needs valor.
But technology is further than requirements for bravehearts to trigger a gun. Envision
a man four foot high, who stands a flag where poppies lie because he was that lucky man
who watched his fellows die
I'll say, weaponry wields death to We, naught could prove me wrong.
Could the world be a little bit more tight; bring back the mystery of gentlemen.
We're too loose and on the edge of loss, and the cost - oh, the cost
is sentimentality that somehow became disconnected when
baring your soul and stripping bare became two
and when I meet the one, my mind is plagued that we shall only amount to half.
Could the world be about more than the new, the sophisticated
or have too many eye closed to the life before the Dodo's died; now only
one view: to screen the disease from the rescued swingers, sinkers and singers
ahhhhhhhhh! basking in captivity: to compensate, we take back by metabolizing habitats.
Could the world be about to - because me and mine are everywhere,
but mind: the brain's likely to reach revelation. Clap, we will excel. After all,
when the world explodes and we reconnect, I'm sure each will preach and teach and leech
until it's known - We'll thank Gutenberg as needed, but printer is no master
when the minds are intertwined. But P'haps it has been a bad morning because I've known you
and you've bled true - long been fixing those around, so they aren't torches who warn off monsters,
instead they shave down fangs of loathing, there's no - not one! - beast they burn.
And don't I wonder? Ah yes, I do wonder: that now
Could the world be about to turn?
Joe and Rose’s Children
Joseph’s plane was shot down near England during WWII
John was assassinated in 1963 of November Twenty-Two
Rose Marie Mary had a lobotomy because she was acting aggressively
Kathleen, wed Wm J Robt Cavendish and later died unexpectedly
Eunice married a great man, Lieutenant Robert S. Shriver
Patricia wed actor Peter Lawford, their marriage wasn't forever
Robert, wed Ethel Skakel he was another that was assassinated
Jacqueline Bovier felt sure that the Kennedy’s might be hated
Married to Stephen Edward Smith
Jean was wed to him until his death
Edward late one night drove off a bridge at Chappaquiddick
Reporting the next day about Mary Jo Kopechne was horrific
All Rights Reserved
They say language is mostly non verbal
If that's true, you have written novels and epics
With your hands
From years of violin and careful sewing,
your fingers move like acrobat
Swiftly, deftly, purposely
When you have something t say, a hand
Soars out like a warning shot
That you are about to speak
When you laugh, or are coy
You hide your mouth behind a screen of fingers
As if they can filter the words to just the right people
Really, it just muffles that sound
But I don't mind, it give me an excuse to lean in closer
I know, if I hold your hand, it will figdet
Like a lie detector or a seismograph
I hope it does
Maybe then I'll know what you're thinking
And you I
And our hands will say the things
Our voices are too nervous to admit
Ady was a troubled kid, but he didn't use to be that way. Now, he almost never smiles and happiness has become an outdated concept to him. For a seventeen year old boy, he was unusual. He sulked in the darkest thoughts of his mind, with his head held down in disdain. He had black hair and dark brown eyes that would always stare at the ground, looking at his every footstep. No solace in his life existed, for he was overwhelmed in his thoughts, lost in a world of nonconformity. He thought of himself as a slave of society, forced to be confined to the strict rules set upon him. His mind, however, adventured to break the chains of bondage, no longer detained to society’s norms.
During school, he was despondent sulking in his own thoughts, while teachers became agitated that he was falling behind. Ady knew what all the answers were, but kept quiet, so his fellow peers wouldn't look at him with repugnance. He felt that he was surrounded by ignorance, only to be comforted by himself. His thoughts teased him, pressuring him to question his every action.
He sat down in the cold seat of his English class and stared blankly at the bare wall in front of him. His headphones were blasting music, but he could still hear the remarks made by his classmates. Instead of paying attention in class, he soon dozed off into his own dark thoughts, once again.
"Why are you here, Ady? What possesses you to keep coming to class? You don't even pay attention!" His thoughts were devouring his mind once again. "Your parents have put so much pressure on you to be just like your brother. Why are you falling behind? Your parents aren't proud of you anymore. Look at you; you are nothing. You're making yourself look like a goddamn disgrace." His thoughts wouldn't stop persecuting him.
Ady whispered to himself quietly, “Please just go away. I don’t want this right now.”
”What do you not want? Me reminding you how much of a failure you are? You should know it by now, how your teachers whisper to each other about how you were such a wonderful student. Now, you are just a disappointment. No one cares about you. Your peers think you’re demented.” Snickered his thoughts, “You are only killing yourself, Ady. Doused with drugs, alcohol, and pills, you have become derelict. Might as well kill yourself now.”
"Will you just stop fucking with me!?" Ady shouted.
Suddenly, his classmates turned around in awe with wide eyes to see Ady sitting in the back. His teacher, Mrs. Beck, stopped reading Huckleberry Finn and stared at him blankly with her jaw dropped in shock. Realizing that he said this out loud, Ady grabbed his textbooks and stormed out the classroom. He sat on the nearest bench in his school’s courtyard, his palms placed upon his forehead, reminiscing on what he had just done. "Now everyone is going to think you're a disgrace and a delirious lunatic." His thoughts boasted. Tears streamed down his face with his face cradled in the palms of his hands. "Oh now Ady, don't be a coward. Why are you crying? Because you can't get rid of your thoughts or that I'm haunting you to the point of timorous suicide?
"Why can't you just leave me alone?" Ady asserted, shaking his head.
"Because I am a part of you, you can never get rid of me. I will haunt you till the day you leave this Earth, which might be soon, since you're thinking of killing yourself." His thoughts teased. Ady didn't know how to respond, so he solemnly walked home in the cold November weather, with his thoughts still taunting him.
The next day, Ady returned to the class he absconded yesterday. He walked in right as the bell rang. "You're late again, Ady." Said his teacher, Mrs. Beck. Ady ignored his teacher's remarks and sat in his seat, while his fellow peers whispered about how Ady had boasted out of class yesterday.
"Do you think he's on drugs?" said one of the students.
"I don't know, but I've heard rumors he was placed in that mental institution, Holly Hills." replied another student.
Even though Ady had headphones in, he could still hear what his fellow peers thought of him.
"They're just jealous, Ady. Don't pay any mind to them; they will all pay their do's soon." His thoughts echoed in the cobwebs of his brain, even louder than they were before. Abruptly, Ady felt a slight pinch on his shoulder and saw that it was one of the girl's sitting behind him.
"Ady, are you okay?” exclaimed the young girl, "You ran out yesterday and I was worried about you, I hope you're okay now." The girl's name was Ester; she had hazel eyes that matched the freckles on her cheeks, with long light brown hair. Her lips smiled from cheek to cheek as she gazed into Ady’s eyes. She had known Ady for quite a long time, and had even gone on a couple dates with him, but it didn't turn into anything serious.
"Yeah I'm fine, thanks." said Ady whilst turning back around to face the front of the classroom. Ady knew Ester meant no harm, and that she constantly perturbed about him. But why would anyone care about him, especially her? No one else paid him any attention, except for Ester. Ady didn't know the answers to his questions, but he did find solace that someone cared for him.
3:18 A.M. Tuesday, November 18th
"Ady, wake up. It's me again. Did you hear what your friends said about you? They said you were in a mental institution and that you turn to drugs to help you cope. Are you just going to let them get away with that?" murmured his thoughts.
"They're not my friends, not even acquaintances. Why should I care now what they think of me, they've said rumors about me before." replied Ady.
"You are such an ignorant young boy. They've been doing this ever since you were in Elementary school. They think you're insane, in fact everybody thinks you are. Your parents, friends, teachers, classmates, and even Ester.”
"Shut up you have no idea what you're talking about! “Proclaimed Ady.
"Oh, but I do. You should be locked up in a mental institution, one of those padded rooms, where you can't hurt yourself. Or better yet, hurt other people. You like the idea of pain, don't you? So, why do you only inflict it upon yourself, and not others, you selfish prick!"
"Get out of my head! Get out! Why do you do this to me!? I don't want to hurt anyone!" shouted Ady. He grabbed a syringe full of Heroine from the second drawer of his nightstand and stabbed it into the inside of his elbow; he slowly injected the drug into his blood stream. His dark brown pupils dilated and soon fell from his bed to the carpeted ground, without his thoughts there to torment him.
Ady woke up around noon, and decided to go to school. However, he injected another dose of Heroine to ease his nerves, and hopefully eliminate his intrusive thoughts. He also took another bag, but his one was not full of his usual textbooks. Three G17 Gen4 9mm pistols, two Bear OPS switchblades, and one Desert Eagle semi-automatic pistol. Ady, of course, obtained these weapons illegally, and kept them under his bed in his old guitar case. He wore a dark black coat and a black bandanna over his face, to make sure his identity was not revealed.
When he arrived at Saint Augustine High School, he was immediately noticed by one of the teachers, Mr. Hills. Mr Hills had been Ady’s Advance Placement Chemistry teacher, who he had known for quite a long time.
“Ady,” exclaimed Mr. Hills, “why are you dressed like that? Don’t you need to return to your third period?”
Ady slowly took out one of his 9 millimeters and aimed it at Mr. Hill’s forehead. Once he saw the gun Mr. Hills took off running, but Ady shot him directly in his spinal cord. Mr. Hills fell to the concrete sidewalk, blood escaping his body and painting the ground a crimson color that matched the autumn leaves. The sound of the gunshot was heard throughout the school, causing the emergency bell to start blasting a high pitched ring.
"Wonderful, our presence is known." His thoughts echoed. The school suddenly went into lock down, teachers started locking the doors, turning off the lights, and students frantically hid under their desks. Ady wasn't naive, he knew what was exactly going on. First, the teachers and students had been notified that there was a deranged psycho loose in their school. Second, the police and SWAT team were on their way to stop Ady in his path.
Ady proceeded down the hallways of his school, where all the doors were shut and the classrooms were dark. His footsteps echoed in the hallway, and he could hear the gasping of breath inside the classrooms as he passed them. He slowly strolled to Mrs. Beck's classroom, and jiggled the doorknob just to see if he could get a reaction. He did. With as much force as he attained, he kicked in the door. The students hid under the desks, screaming and terrified they called out "Please, don't hurt us. Please. Please have mercy." Ady smirked at the sight of their terror.
"Why should I be merciful towards you?" Ady claimed. He then took out his semi- automatic pistol from his black book bag and aimed it to the boy closest to him, who was cowering under his desk. His name was Matthew and he was one of the boys that had harassed Ady since he was eight years old. Ady then preceded to the shoot the boy in-between his green eyes. His blood plastered the wall behind him, while his head lay adjacent to the crimson wall. The whole class shrieked, not for the boy, but for who was going to be the next victim.
"The way I see it is you can either be the victim or the culprit.” said Ady, "However, you guys drove me to this, and so I think of you as both." Ady thus opened fired on the whole class. Mrs. Beck, the boy who sat next to him, and the girls who used to flirt with him. As the bullets fired, their blood piercing screams were heard throughout the school. Though, through the midst of chaos, Ester was not injured. She stood as a gleaming symbol of hope, while blood and lifeless bodies covered the tile floor. Her palms in her face, she wept hysterically under one of the desks. What had she just witnessed? Why did Ady not shoot her? Traumatized she looked around at twenty-one lifeless bodies lying around her, and then she looked at Ady. Ady gazed into her eyes and walked away. No emotions. No words. Nothing.
The police and SWAT team surrounded the school, but luckily Ady surrendered. He had gotten what he wanted. Revenge. But, revenge is not a substitute for justice. Ady was now locked up in Cherry Grove mental institution. There, he was alone with his thoughts again. He wanted to escape from everyone who had ever done him wrong. But the one person, who caused Ady to go mentally ill, in which he could never escape, was himself.
it was you day
what you were waiting for
you planned it
everything was were it was supposed to be
you were alone
for that one shot
Then ask her name, she will tell you to earn it.
She fills her glass, straight up no rocks.
Handling every shot cupid can manage,
Leaving men to lick their wounds.
She counts no money,
Only the free drinks and failed attempts.
Her face is easy on men, which makes men easy.
A surfers perfect wave are those hips.
She smoothly lights her cigarette,
Leaving ashes in the wind.
From her mouth she wont blow smoke up your ass,
Just cigarette smoke in your face.
How to make a poem,
That will never end
How to fix a broken heart,
When you know it will never mend.
How to be gorgeous with grace,
How to stop an infinate hate.
Snowbirds should be beautiful,
Girls should not be rude
But, oh, how we've changed
Even the best are crude.
Light blue lace insilks a treasure,
embroidery and patterns,
They used to make life better.
But oh, how we greed,
How we want,
How we seize.
Oh, how we loath
There is so much hate.
Everyone's so nice,
Everyone's so mean.
Everyone's a fake,
But they're all how they seem.
No need for emotions,
When you can't tell them apart.
No need to care,
When the whole world's in park.
Yet everyone loves,
And everyone's loved
And God has plans,
Near, but so far above.
Life is beautiful,
Even if it's in a twisted way,
Life is gorgeous,
Respect it all, because it will stay.
Horses running wild,
Penguins waddle free.
No matter who they are,
No matter the species.
How to contain an anger,
How to accept,
Nothing can happen
Live life at it's best.
But of course things do happen,
And of course they will
But you don't need to acknowledge that
Move on when you've had your fill.
How to be beautiful,
How to not care,
How to be a poet,
Because I'm not quite there.
How to be a writer,
How to know a deer,
To live like a hunter,
What is infinate fear?
Your soul animal,
Well, it runs through your soul
Picking little fights,
Warming you when you're cold.
It's a dark night,
But you can see the moon
It's a clear night,
But fog will drop soon.
It's a bright morning,
The birds chirp with cheer
But they are shot dead, not far from here.
Now, please, fear not,
There's this thing called the sun,
It works magic wonders
But this was part one.
Ripples of effulgent colors
Reaching out from waters disturbed
Waves bothering no one
Except silent moods
And heavy sighs
Leaves falling like the fire from the skies
Sitting at the river bed alone
Hearing the blazing trumpets of angels
In the air for all of the world to hear
Definite, gazing and profound
The streets echoing the screams
Maybe millions burning
The people melting
turning to ash
Visions so pristine, with pools of clear waters
Where the universe dances with shooting stars
Nights so serene, with comets and saucers
Where multi-verse poets tell fables from mars
Mirrors orbiting realms of light and sound
Along ghost ships, serpents and mango worlds
Wormholes overwhelms clouds that surround
Near women’s hips and flowing hair swirls
The earths below like a burning molten orb of muck
Where Rephaite giants wrestle behemoths in vile seas
The dreams glow here like a harem where angels fuck
And centaurs play Gato Barbieri tunes full of gleam
That sad moment where I wake up in an opium pit
Below the Broadway theater
And a little Chinese lady scoots me out for new customers
And I stumble out into the streets
And buy a paper
Reading of a stock market crash
and the end of my job
as I fend for life in the jungles of Vietnam
I see friends of mine get their faces shot to pieces
And their brains fall to my lap
And I scream as the Vietcong rush me
Hack my limbs off and leave me for dead
And I wake up in a hospital bed
A quadruple amputee
Falling in love with a nurse I might never see
Again, so I ask her to hold me and let me
Cry into her shoulder
Then I pay a homeless man
to push me off a bridge with him
We fall and hit the water hard and—
I float up to the surface
And when I emerge I see
myself at the edge of a river
Tossing rocks into the water
I call out to help
But He doesn’t hear me
He stands up and leaves
I crawl up from the river with new arms and legs
Crying with an emotion I cannot describe
For what dreams and past-lives have been here
On this Day of Wrath?
On this beach of trash and rocks?
Where I can see my grand-kids playing
In the southern California dusk
And my wife reminds me of the first time we met
In that hospital
Next to the opium den
At the end of the world.