40 is not the new 30,
it's still 40.
Jessica in my bed.
the alarm tatses like bananas.
because she has a nice bedonkedonk,
she is smart.
because he is tall,
his phone won't work.
"Eat the bananas!"
"No! I don't want to eat the alarm"
Jessica doesn't want to smoke.
the joker wants a cigarette.
he will smoke at 2:15.
nature is screaming, with moxy-
to have a cigarette.
orange,orange,orange!
"smellslikeash,tasteslikesmoke."
Apr 30, 2012
Apr 30, 2012 at 11:38 PM UTC
Blue Sand Plagues the landscape.
Two pyramids stand tall,
Ruling over this land.
Palm trees fill the void of
s p a c e.
One lone camel roams the blue sand,
front and center in this portrait of life.
Pull the lid off this scenery and you will find,
twenty
little
soldiers.
It was easy to separate the soldiers from one another.
Seven in front.
Six in the middle.
Seven in back.
They stand with their heads held high, unmoving,
They do not fight back.
Set their legs on fire,
watch them burn.
Drag them to your lips, experience their burning flesh.
Rich and mellow,
the most aromatic soldiers I ever pressed to my lips.
Domestic.
A distinctively smooth finish I have never tasted before.
Reaching the head is always a let down.
Heads taste the worst.
I have never enjoyed them.
I drop the remnants to the Earth beneath me.
Grabbing another soldier,
searching for the same thrill.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
I am eight when we first heard them.
While the sun kisses the treetops,
Mother is in a panic
Screaming for sister
Grabbing her by the collar.
Booming carries from a mile away,
Sweet percussion of a death rattle.
Bitter drums of militant clatter,
numb and hypnotic heartbeat of their boots.
I listen as they turn to my neighborhood.
Mother knows they will come for us.
Goose-steppers divide at their middle seam,
kicking in doors on both sides of the street.
The man at the end wears an enormous hat.
He yells at them,
“Hunde töten die Juden, töten für das Vaterland!”
**** the Jew dogs, **** for the Fatherland)
The same thing every time.
(They take the people who wore sacred stars Two of them kick in our door
On the front of their shirts I tear my star from my shirt,
like me.) throw it to the ground.
They assail our stairs, hand cannons aimed.
screaming at me, louder and louder.
I break,
They laugh.
the big one charges towards me.
I flinch, he laughs louder.
grabbing my hair,
Dragging me into the streets.
My neighbors stand beside me.
Transfixed stone pillars
I, and them
Fear-stricken.
Hollowed eyes,
Robbed of all.
robbed of hope.
I, and my neighbors
put behind a fence.
Slamming behind us,
chains and locks.
Mother yells for me.
She cries,
I hear it.
I try to stay strong
Like father.
Like a soldat.
I look back at the crowd that storms the gate
My town yells,
people cry.
screams become muffled
Stone soldier, I
speak to the hillsides,
to the trees, to the streets, and to mother.
I call out to my world,
"à tout le monde,
à tous mes amis,
je vous aime,
je dois partir.
Ceux-ci sont les derniers mots que
je jamais parlerai.
Et ils vont me libérer.”
Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 6:21 PM UTC
Not again
This always happens.
It's become the air that I breathe
They take the breath right out of me.
I sit to hide
Hide from the metallic screams.
I pray it will end soon
Remnants of their actions plague the earth.
Now let me tremble
Let me escape this hell I feel.
I will reconcile the injustice of their neglect
I won't go quietly, give in to you.
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 8:17 AM UTC
what is *** anyway?
is it what two people do when they’re bored?
nothing better to do on a wednesday night?
*** is just a killer of time.
or is *** what happens when the air is flooded
with the taste of too much whiskey?
can *** only happen when people are intoxicated?
Who cares, you probably won’t remember anyway.
isn’t *** to happen when the people love each other?
monogamous?
A night of sweaty passion that ends in “I love you”
who believes in *** after marriage anymore?
I was under the influence that *** was the ultimate act of love.
I’ve been wrong before.
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 8:13 AM UTC
It’s such a paradox isn’t it?
How’s it feel to be white washed?
Feeling homesick aren’t you?
Don’t you belong here?
This is what you wanted right?
So you wanna leave?
How can you feel this way if this is what you wanted?
You prayed for it didn’t you?
Where would you go?
What would you do?
How can you do this to yourself?
Do you feel it tearing you up inside?
You won’t listen to me will you?
Your just going to poison yourself right?
Just fill your lungs with cancer?
Continue your successful life of failure?
How’s that life working for you?
How can you pretend you like your life?
How can you pretend to care?
There’s no need to fight it?
Just bite your tongue?
Swallow your pride?
Move on?
How can you say that?
How can you think that?
Why are you okay with destroying what’s left?
Are you even listening to me?
It’s such a paradox isn’t it?
Isn’t it?
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 8:11 AM UTC
We are the deepest grey.
We have many notions.
Everything we hear, we ***** slowly.
Just as it isn’t, misted by hate and love.
We are cruel, compulsive liars.
The heart of a giant peasant, circular.
We never meditate to ourselves.
They are dull and bland. We refuse to look at them.
We try not to think about them.
Hands and sun bring us together.
Later we will be mountains.
Man looks up at us.
Wishing he could be us.
He turns to the truth, bulbs and stars.
He looks at us, we shove it in his face.
He smiles, he will never leave.
We mean nothing to him.
At night, his face brings the dark.
Within himself he saved an old man, and a young damsel.
Sink within him year before year, as if they were yellow submarines.
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 8:09 AM UTC
Friends are just enemies who don’t have the ***** to **** you
The indoor rain freezes like magic,
this hell is tragic.
Your lies consume me,
With every breath I burn.
Time slows to the beat of my pulse.
My heartbeat echoes in my head.
The floor is dry, hands are drenched.
How do I cope with this vicious betrayal?
My world imploding upon itself,
the acid burns my skin.
Blood on the floor.
This on his head.
It all ends now, at my all time low.
Paralyzing, rendered helpless.
I get the last laugh.
The agony is over...
He payed for his vicious betrayal.
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 8:07 AM UTC
it’s cold
it’s bitter
it’s emotionally detached
it’s jagged
it’s stained
it’s cut into... deep.
it knows just how to turn into you
it wont hesitate to unlock your past
it can show you your future, no matter how bleak.
it can’t forget the past is real
it has no secrets, deception for these would tear this down
it never forgets, these choices were made by me
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 8:04 AM UTC
You are happy.
A smile runs wild across your face.
Eyes bright as can be.
Glowing with the joy of your life.
Not a care in the world.
You are free.
Free to do whatever you wish.
Your imagination is the only thing confining you.
You don’t feel confined do you?
No, for this split second you are happy.
You can take the world head on.
Nobody tells you what to do.
You don’t care about anything besides making the most of every single day.
Looking back makes you think what happened to that child?
Why isn’t he this happy all the time?
The still frame in your mind.
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC