i don't watch home movies
hate them
reason being because
when i was young
i was looking for a movie
my mother
had recorded for me
and accidentally
put one in the vcr
that i'm not sure
i was supposed to see
i know the obvious response
"uh oh, ****"
sorry to disappoint
they were only marked with dates
  1991
on live television
montel williams asks my father
"how can you just throw
your child away like a piece of trash?"
   1994
i spend so much time
in the emergency room
that my parents stop
penciling in growth marks
on the frame
of my bedroom door
i always thought
it was because they believed
i would never grow out
of this sickness
sometimes i believe
the reason that they
never bought me a dream catcher
was because they never thought
i'd live long enough
to see them come true
   1996
i am eliminated
from a spelling bee
because i didn't know
the 'dad' is silent in 'family'
   2013
before i got into poetry
i used to do standup
none of my jokes were funny
one of the other comics
tells me my skits are dry
sometimes sad
he says "why don't you joke
about something like your family?"
so i say
"i never wore any sunblock
because i didn't want anything
to keep me from my father"
i say "what do you call christmas
without lights or heat?"
before he has a chance
to answer
i say "1997. better yet
why don't you
make like a dad and
leave"
   2014
every time we drive
past the hospital
my mother reminds me
how much it cost to save my life
like she'd rather
have her money back
she doesn't have to say
that sometimes she wishes
it was me who had died
instead of my brother
i can hear it in the way
she says "love you"
sometimes i imagine
that if i were to die
that she
would pick out a casket for a child
because she never loved
the person i became
yesterday i told my father
how close i'd been
to suicide lately
and he said
"that's my boy,
livin on the edge.."
and i can't remember
if i laughed
or cried

Mark A. Williams
                            SEPTEMBER 14, 1962 – JULY 23, 2018

___________________­

Wow Mark,

Was so, so saddened to hear this news. I haven't seen you in over ten years, but as kids, we had some amazing adventures, didn't we? Partying, camping and swimming at the Hudson lime pits. Mowing down on Pizza and pitchers of Pepsi (and as we grew up, BEER!) at Pizza Hut. (We knew the numbers to ALL the songs on that jukebox by heart!) Hanging out and looking at the stars through Budvido's telescope, listening to Doctor Demento. Laughing hysterically as we ran through Monty Python skits as everyone looked on in total puzzlement because THEY wouldn't discover them until YEARS later!

Building underground forts in the North Woods. You, Budvido, Zeke and I playing pinball at 7-11 for hours and hours. Watching Bands, chasing girls and playing Foosball or Pool at the Touch of Class Teen Club. You gave me my first Imported beer . . . a Lowenbrau. I will always owe my passion for those German beers to you and it was fitting that Budvido bestowed you with that moniker.

All through Jr. High, sharing a seat on the school bus. You, Matt, Tom, Buddy and I cruising around late night on our bikes for hours. Hanging around in the Jasmine Lakes sign with hijacked beer or getting free bags of Burgers from Burger Queen when they closed at night! Jousting with shopping carts on our bikes in the Winn-Dixie parking lot. Sitting up all night in Jimi's room after climbing in through the window or going on endless space cruises with him and Raymond in the Toyota.

(RIP Jimi Carlsen)

Sneaking into the nudest Colony and skinny dipping! Always cracking up at the school lunch table. Swimming in my pool and terrorizing my sister and her friends. (Allegedly) Trashing that crook Fast Eddie's produce stand after he refused to pay us for a full day of picking watermelons!

Good times, indeed . . . Some of my most precious memories.

I can only pray that you know that I wouldn't trade my youth or you in it for anything in the world and you will be sadly missed, Lowenbrau, my old friend.

I hope that where you are, your beers are ice cold and that you and Jimi aren't having to glue the Hookah  back together.

Jeff Gaines
July 28, 2018

Though perception is interesting, how many was it really, wait, the joker never drank really? did he? ****, I forget. um, but I think I recall the riddler had , wait, maybe not. um,, way under the legal limit is below two , but did he, the joker, you know how he is. considering, wait, who was counting those things? what, one and what, oh ****. and we... what a **** this kat can be, wait, did he really, run the gauntlet just to show the world , oh ****, pull the skit, it is too rich, and he was spotted at the bank earlier speaking of laughing next time he visited. ****, writers and those skits. troublesome, and grrr, they forget to keep it clean. lol

Skits
so-so-
soothing
Sweet
.nothings...
All me stitchings. - - -
He
draws
you
To fetch the
Sketch

By the bed
clock
Virginity- lock
Birds
the
word B, S,
White
feather
Storks

Bothered
Talking to
himself
Kvetching

Earth to me
myself
All looped in
Silvery earrings
His eyes
deep-set
piercing
It took
nine
years
He finally hears me!
He's the
tiger*
TV Skits
watcher

I am
itching
for
something
Higher reach +
nails
scratching

Her
private
eye
Gel
FBI packs
LoL
His
Virginia
Slim
lady

Acting isn't
her
thing

Earthling  Amen
A-Man morning
stretching
The best time?
Be
on
time*
No
time  
Traveling
He's in
my way
his
presence
Anger!!
manage-men
Those
noisy
women
Yentas----
He
is
cursing
Like
a tourist
accidental
Jungle-Maniac
The African
forest
Green money
Sin-shine yellow
Bananas
Jane goes
Panama
His skits
Drinking up
Werewolf wealth
bills
Clinton X presidential
All  bits Teenager zits
Whitehouse

Superheros -Zebras
Lined
black
All taken the white
I will betcha
All complainers
Dreamers
Those Black and
White cookies
Computer
cookies
Ripley
believe
  she splits

The
wedding
Never bound
to
happen
No, I love
you
heading?
Here to Earth
Eulogy
Why was it
Not
white

Turned out
black
The funeral
The maze tunnel

A part of you
He left his heart
in San Francisco
In the Island
of Marco

The olive oil
Ceco
His love skits
Ciao now Bella
Take the gun

Come to Papa
My cannolis
Love fit wine and they eat
More skits to their beat
What a **** hot fiasco

Her face, flawless and filtered, flows over
my chest, ribs, stomach, hips, fitting the curved
mounds of my body, and even within simplicity
of thread and dye, I sense her presence as her face
hangs from my frame, a statement louder than pillow-lips,
Nancy Sinatra-hair and a glamorous 60’s ***** face.

When paired with leggings and an artfully-distressed denim jacket,
I become a member of the “freshman generation of degenerate
beauty queens,” a hipster fallen to the circumstance of youth,
but I wear her face and the romance of it all reminds me:
we are not defined as Lolitas lost in the hood, or distant,
airy voices in a sea of crude jokes and half-baked skits

meant to highlight shortcomings of a person who doesn’t give
two *****. Lana fits me better than my ribbed, red
sweater and even amidst gods and monsters,
this T-shirt makes pretty last, and I am just as cool.

The road skits faster
Than my eyes can capture
Gravel flying upwards like bullets
The winds are familiar
So is this place
My conscious is emancipated
As I draw closer towards home
The warmth and safety enhances me
Familiar is what I crave
Home is what I need
To forget today's work and sweat
Truly I don't need that anymore
It'll be on pause till tomorrow
When I return to that world again
But for now its home
Like a queen needs her bed
So do I.

A calamity of views abused
When the alcohol is strong
The choices go wrong
Everyones offend through Misinterpreted temptation
Using my over analyzing brain to calm the degraded
Crying over a mundane sane
Looking for persuasion
Through persecution
Picking out your weaknesses
Bleakness, is a majestic trait
Not intentionally
Burdening their agony
My name is animosity
I depict a character that sympathizes
Your alibies
Using my vulnerability
Contaminated humility
Finding
The hiding
No problem suggesting
My dark secrets of the night
Applying my skits that fit right
Paranoid to be viewed in a mortifying light
I would be lying denying my animalistic ride
I have scrutinized
Remorsing
I see earth born
Godly you stand
In the morning
Behold deformities
You fit the norm
I bow to your Godly proportion
In vein this I pray
Amen

Trying to ride a bike with no chain lacks movement a lame cycle.
A nation of people that have abandoned  the teachings of the Bible
Its awful seeing people bow down to an idol
There is  continuous sin, it has gone viral
YouTube I see foolishness recycled
Its like ignorance is winning as knowledge is comatose holding on to survival
This world starving for something yet being fed food scraps
Walking through the park ..side stepping ****** wrap-pers
***, The  the life is so exciting according to rap-pers
Lacking Fabulous vision husbandless women
Fatherless children
Same old show...shots fired no witness
Skits should have limits
Too many unbroken cycles
Foolishness like outer space endless

In the hazes of a distant dream land
I see you
Shrouded in the hearts of dreary dawns
Smiling

and pulling me aside you would
smell and caress me all over
a gentle wink and the lightest kisses
and the night would break the spell

On the borders of the smelting fire
A pyre awaits for the burning star
Skits on the shadows of the darker waves
Grim and tied in the locks of the hair

In the wearied low-lands of the outer earth
I see you
Spinning in the many colours of our lives
Beckoning

Child's play at the sound of the horn
Cacophonies and running home
Splintering at the daze of the day
And grinding in silhouettes

In the wake of the latest day
I see you
Eating tomorrows in the cream of love
Smiling

Dripping inks from a dreamer's quill
Trembling tip illustrates a scribbled script
Weary sheets capturing an innocence guilt
Corners not spared for a timeless trip

Walking in reverse replaying all skits
Sorting out smiles from the grimeless grins
Missing a delicate frowned is a vital bit
Expressions throned from denying wins

Drifting words marking of flamboyant speech
Passing judgement even before the trial begins
Anonymous decision narrowing countless ditch

Where should we go now?
Or what should be seen?
Visionary or idealist repelling reality's keep

Spinning ticks as the grandfather clock dings
The journey sails even when our eyelids peep
Lights now shining while we recounting sheeps
Reality is knocking so now just let our
Fantasy breathes

@2014 Maman Screams

They heard she was a poet
who shocked the open mic
Friday nights with tight skirts
and loose words
that slid off her teeth
over her whiskey breath.
Truck drivers,  
who rode hard,
daily listened
for ******* screams
and honking horns,
came to see her. They
balanced on rustic chairs,
drank *** and Cokes,
and hoped she wanted
a ride to Reno.

She heard they were drivers
with sharp eyes and taut *****
beneath blue denim.  
She didn’t mind
weather beaten beards,
calloused hands or that
they would leave in the morning.  
She was a poet who
gathered words from interludes
among pillows and sheets that
aroused tomorrow’s verse
of wanton words and enticing skits.

Let out a little of the beast. Enough to appease it.

It howls. I feel it scratching, wearing away my mind.

This rage, This dark veil obscures. Clarity skits away.

Let a little out, then cage it again.

For this world knows not of the beast.

And it shall not.

Easy will I give blood to thee
My love of anger simmering.

Tough mutts and breezy gates shut up while I'm walking up the paved path to heaven.
My shadows carve depictions of their home across it's border, until the time that obliteration comes preceding daylight.
Presently, the senses tell stories of alleyways, bending, screaming, dark, and hollow niches where cells holding cretins feeding on easy cons, closely eyeing the greasy pawns that wobble across rotting paper, voodoo art a secret guarded closely hidden in the hole a beating heart long ago vacated. Robbing rich snobbish ****** their childrens life of ignorance concerning newfound addictions.
You know the type.
You know that I know you too, and how you prefer to shape the ghastly forms these predators take, turn them into your thralls discarded soon after rehearsing the parts of your play, writtin precisely to incite your own addiction to probability gamble gaming intuition. trashing skits naturally reactive to exhibited patterns laughing mad at the victms thrashing quiver, stashing films of the accidents in your pack to gift the sadistic mastiffs  attack and ravage and tear and
Sadness.
The fictitious movies play out onto the skyscape of this mind we share, and attempt to accept the last thing you truly fear.

here i've prepared a couple of jokes
why did the girl cross the road?
because she thought she was being followed home by the boy who threatened her that he would hang her and so she ran five blocks to get away from him
ok here's a better one
why didn't the girl go to the party?
because she was told she was worthless seven times that day and that everyone is secretly laughing at her
here's my last one
what did the cruel middle school boys do when they got bored?
spit on me, push me around, threaten me, spread rumours about me, and more!
wait why aren't you guys laughing?
see, i didn't think that was that funny but then
when i begged for help
they asked if maybe the people who  did that stuff to me were just joking
apparently they were just kidding so they shouldn't be punished
boys will be boys right?
i was probably just too sensitive, too thin skinned to understand their humour,
maybe you guys are too
or maybe i said something that made them say that?
but that makes no sense...
how would you provoke a joke to be told?
oh i know
it wasn't a joke
that's why you're not laughing right?
see daily death threats really don't get five star reviews in the comedy clubs
and i don't think there's been any skits on snl about being spit on because people thought you were garbage
so why did all the adults assume that the boys weren't to blame because they were just messing around?
messing around implies there's a mess and when there's a mess you clean it up but it's hard to clean up a mess that everyone thinks you made up
and I don't think clorox is going to wipe up the feeling that all of the people i trusted the most thought i deserved to be bullied
so i guess what i'm trying to say
is that people shouldn't have to walk through the hallways everyday  knowing that in a few short hours, the boy in their p.e class will tell them that they shouldn't be alive
and when they tell five separate teachers
the teachers will all ask
are you sure they weren't joking
are you sure you didn't deserve it
i'm pretty sure that when he pushed me to the ground i didn't break out laughing afterwards
and their laughter wasn't contagious when they made fun of how i looked
their stand up comedy made me back down
sometimes i hear people say
oh bullying is stupid, how could it actually you
why wouldn't they just tell someone
and here's my answer
have you ever shouted so loud that you lost your voice?
probably shouldn't do that again right
well I screamed so loud that when i lost my voice I never really got it back
it's because you want to learn from your mistakes
learn that when people say that you can always tell someone, you should keep in mind that "always"  is apparently conditional
don't assume that if you were in their shoes you would just tell someone
and everything would be fixed
some situations can't be fixed with a talk to an adult you trust
some situations you actually did nothing to deserve it
some people make the messes and some people can never clean them up
some jokes aren't funny
some jokes aren't jokes
I don't want any more back down comedy
this is my stand up piece but only this time I don't care who's laughing

Each day there is the morning walk
to gather the morning news in print

An amble back to a rocking chair
comfort for consuming coffee
and attempts to ingest current events

Soon the coffee is gone
followed by another cup
News columns are skimmed
like a dragon-fly skits across
the still of an evening pond

Skittish has become a life-style
concentration a foreign word
completion evasive
By nighttime there is
an abundance of projects,
goals, desires left to await
revisitation - revisitation never happens
as  new distractions fulfill
the daily routine
of living in the moment

*****
sweet *****
sometimes toetoe
often skits
but always *****
my love
my dream
my doll
the apple of my eye
the nails on my chalkboard
the silver lining to my cloud
the dog whistle to my baby ears
salvation
grace
irritation
gushes
where have you gone?
for, i cannot find you
you are no where to be found
something i am not only uncomfortable with
something that i fear
come back to me
find me
you know where i'll be
black tank.. black socks.. black everything..
i'll be waiting for you
patiently waiting
in the most impatient of ways
i'll even try to whistle when i see you near
if only to remind you that i'm here.

Tonight I heard
the voices of angles,
the beats of drums,
and the scats of skits.

Don't know if that made sense or not,
but it's the words I know
and the only words I got.

And together,
these voices like angles
and the beats like drums,
the skats that skits,
they made a harmonizing melody,
and my my heart began to flit!

It was beautiful!
This A Capella sound,
it was wondrous,
this singing that I have found.

These songs,
had no meaning,
as the voices who sang them did,
it made me happy,
young,
vibrant.
Like a kid.

These voices,
need only a moment,
to sing their hearts to their hearts' content,
makes a sinner,
fall to their knees and repent.

Songs of songs,
voices of voices,
they sure help,
when dealing with the noises.

My walls my walls was built to  keep you out, with important information
Within and about,

I tried sharing my caring how daring
I'd seem, to let you preview my passions my thoughts my dreams,

What would you do wit  these top secret thoughts and skits that would be otherwise impossible  for a secret agent to get,

Would you hold me close would you love me most until we are one, or

  Play wit  my heart split it apart and take my love And run

All those nights we spent.
Watching movies and shows.
Sometimes just straight up skits.
I cherish them all.

Your smile.
Your laugh.
The way you make me feel.
Is unexplainable.

You leave me breathless.
It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment.
That I fell in love with you.

Maybe it started when we first spoke?
Your funny jokes, the stories you'd tell.
Or perhaps it was recently?
Because whenever you speak my heart pounds.

It's almost suffocating.
It's kind of masochistic.
How you make my heart burn and ache.
Yet I never wish for it to stop.

I lay awake at night.
Watching the shooting stars.
I wish for your safety, your happiness.
All of the above.

Maybe when I wish upon a star.
You can feel my love.
I hope that with every wish I make.
My love becomes more apparent.

I know, that across all timelines.
Across all universes.
My love for you will never falter.
You, to me, are the embodiment of hope.

The embodiment of everything good.

This poem was a little cheesy.
I'd apologise but my words are sincere.
There's still a weight pressed onto me.
So I'd let to let it out.

Thank you for all the laughs.
All the love you've given me.
The only thing I have to ask.
Is will you go out with me?

I love me a good hypocrite
One minute he is praising and the next he is talking ****.
I love me a good hypocrite
Always making promising that he can not commit.
I love me a good hypocrite
He says he loves his children but he is just a counterfeit.

If you didn’t want children then why even have them
I am sure that someone would have come along and found them
We are not your slaves so just leave us
It would have been sooner or later, there is no more to discuss  
You are just a hypocrite
A small baby misfit, I am done with your skits.

I love me a good hypocrite
Always making people feel like they are the reason why you split.
I love me a good hypocrite
Always saying that we did not love you one bit.
Now you know why I always threw a fit.

You can say whatever you but that won't change me one bit.

Me and my gal there are
way too many skits
All fits extra bits the "Kit Kat"
More edible so incredible
The next door Gals
loveable

So pompous everyone
is competing for
the pearly white smiles
Those walkouts extra
digging workouts
But what was lost the
extra hugging

Dreaming do we all
have the right
extra goods going to
Church always
Saying I have sinned
kneeling
Like those dog days
So swift as a second skin

The summery like winery she
shifted her hips the Gal with her
divine flowers extra mind she showers

Whats becoming mystical with poise
That ethereal hooked extra path Rose
Those extras I suppose for granted 
The fundraiser heart of giving
Teaching us a lesson in lying
Godly extra of surviving
How he loves his treats dog
or human begging and love
forgiving

Medieval shows she knows
Bazooka Gal bubbly
But wickedly incredible
The mix of Pixar extra
star trouble

Gingerly **** Rosy Lips
suggestively incredible 2
Divinely, he cannot help
himself so manly whats to do?

Emblaze another phrase
Saying your nobody until
somebody loves you
He's the Dean of all extras

Happy go lucky humming
bread Robin red breast nest
What freedom fireflies, daffodils delight,
and butterflies extra wing Peking duck
Gal Friday turning another page he ducks

All in the  kingdom Ms.Joy no extra pain
Laughing like the fandom taking the next
Wolf tie train trick of the brain
but stop in her name
The other Gal got her fame

All the extra love at the top he's
at the bottom bed of condoms
The high-Gal post-chaise with
her bell bottoms
He took a sleigh ride

Just out of random don't push
her buttons
Seeing the stray Bengal Tiger
his extra studded
collar down to her currency
Only a dollar tree
Hollywood extra part wasn't
the true color of he
His Stingray lay lady lay
He just never stays
Being Starved  for love
All the extras the roast
Hottie buffets

Mmm so nice her ear raven
dark brunette
The gal can kick you like
Rockefeller showRockette
That Gal all news gazette
That extra crepe Suzettes
his eyes he just went
through raced his extra miles
How he charmed over you
In his Corvette

Bombay French-skirts cafe
The extra treat parfait
Magnificent Monet
Cobblestone love walks
Gateway the gal with
something extra talks

They cuddle
fall asleep arm to arm
head to head it really
didn't matter
They just knew it felt
extra right good night
What was ever said
With your after-mints
And substitute plays everything lit up
Purple haze, so passionate but crazed
Something extra she got a raise

My mind is jumbled up with feelings and thoughts that i once stored away. Is this this real or is this lust?. I miss your touch, your scent, your lips, but is it worth it?. I don't want to fall into the center hole that trapped me, i can't catch anymore feelings. Little skits remind me of you, i shouldn't be thinking like this. Things will all go back to normal, then where will I stand?. I need you to fulfill my empty space, but i just can't be with you. It's a pleasure to know I'm on your mind, but a sin that I'm locked in this triangular dungeon. Should i praise or cry?. Just be in my presence and I'll live. I'm so confused, yet i know where I'm going. No one else can portray you...

There's a hole in my stomach
Everything I swallow gets stuck inside of me
All the cheap drinks and the whispers that escape your fragile smile
All the lies inbetween the kitchen tiles

A ghost from my past is playing with fire like an iconoclast
And I'm trying on a new identity, yeah I'm looking through my wardrobe for a different one everyday

Seems like the only thing the music critics see is new adjectives to leave
You're the prettiest puppet I've ever seen
But somebody else is pulling the strings
They're the one making all your words sing

My pockets been spent, but I forgot my wallet was in it
I lost all my power, now I'm mute every time you throw a fit
You're angry because your mind has become a cinema of hypothetical skits
Because you're thinking about it at night, and in morning with your oatmeal and grits
Trying to knit together a torn pocket, you're sitting where you sit, the only thing you've ever done about it is gotten lit
It just keeps tearing apart, you're tearing apart, you're getting sick of it