Pump them full
of lead in protest...
that's sure to
knock em dead.
Use all your ammunition,
leave em ****** read.

Be the Gatling that
mows em down,
the bullet lodged
inside their head,

Be black powder
burning imagery on
their minds unkind extinguishing the misery
that makes them lost
and blind

Yo Merc my boy,

....what gives.... everyone's telling me they haven't been getting their mail that you haven't been doing your job with speed. You better not be with those 7 sisters.... you see, the Pleiades belong to me.  

I took them from Atlas in a game of Russian roulette and instead of his life I just took his 7 daughters as wives and pets.

So come on son hit me up...I got some juice in a golden cup that might make your quicker .  It may not be nectar but it does taste like liquor.  And I'll throw in the 10 daughters of the youngest vicar.

Get back to your post, I've been a good host and don't want to turn you into a ghost!

ANu Dei

Ahh...childhood.... The library was solace... It was adventure it was days.

It was being lost in a world of Roman gladiators, pirates andGreek myth....it was reading about Jimi Hendrix before my first trip

I could check out reel to reel, eight track, and vinyl if I wished.  

Ahh those days of imagination
I sorely do miss.

If today I pass...everyone at my funeral will see that I was hysterically happy when I died....at last

I can squeeze an ocean from my pillow from just the first night.  If I keep crying like this it will be worse than the biblical flood.

Toño Toñito mató a su mujer con un machetico tan grande como él... sacó sus tripitas y las puso a vender y con esa plática compró otra mujer.

NAME D DEVIL LIVED DE MAN

I can't stop it from making an *** of me..
He's saying he's Poe now....what a blasphemous fool...
I gotta put him on ice
He ain't being nice...
And now all the hecklers pool.

If ya didn't catch Poe (M.A.)
try Poe (M.B.) because
this is not po' Poe's poetry.  It's just ANu poet trying not to be Poe but me.

I put out ANu
ad for aMuse
The first girl to ANswer
hANded me ANude
Wow, Jesus, dude...
I don't know what to do...
I was just looking
for a chuckle or two.

I love my pencil it's really cool but lately it won't touch the canvas it has another agenda illuminate fools.

It's got a mind of its own and speaks out loud no matter if I'd rather remain in a shroud.  

Yeah it gets me in trouble but I'll back it's play....it makes plenty sense and helps get me paid

I love my pencil I won't put it down though sometimes it does make me seem like a clown

My boy Eli, poet extrordinaire, punked the jura today.  He made a lot of sense so the pigs had a fit and squeeled off....rolled his windows up like a "punk *** ***** cop".  Dumb ****** rookie looking for sapos and a snitch...STOP!

Eli was just looking out for his fellow man....also his cousin, blood in part of the Garcia Cervantes, clan...he needs the help. He needs his family with millions of dollars to take the initiative and help their own people.

But since they've ignored their responsibilities, Eli was hoping the police, would step up...."protect and serve" the public's interest but **** those putos who only protect and serve their own...... ***** *** *****. **** THE COPS! **** THE PIGS! WHATCHOO GOT?

Ah Po' me trying to pen poems like Poe writes to right poetry
from the likes of poured me
who sweats thru his pores to pour out his soul, and try out ANu poesi

Wherds          Wirds

Arrgh                our

At                     ­   Rat

My                     Mye

Mer, sea            mercy

Words               Whords

Ah                             are

Rat                        rhat

Meye                     Mie

Merci                  mer see

Whirds              Wurds

R                                ­ar

Hat                           hgat

Mye                         mai

Myrhh c            murse sí

I've already said it but you deserve to hear praise twice
...and if you see in my poetry
I fancy myself God but compared to yours my poetry's just "nice"

Release me from your spell...you've got me drooling all over myself. It's not envy at all cuz you're on a way different level. Gem quality facets and brilliant bevels. To catch up to you I'd sell my soul to the devil.

Nope not better than Poe
try as I may not to mope
I don't even compare....
I might be a bishop but he's
definitely the Pope

A poet wants to be read but I don't care if I commit literary suicide for expressing my views that's my right

You may not agree but I'm sorry that's me and I'll keep writing til the day I die.

I may not be as eloquent or refined as many writers I know...I let my pencil flow wherever it goes.  

Sometimes it's street smack sometimes high brow... I'll write about shadows and sunsets,  demons and cows.  

Enigmatic persona pours onto the page.  With no style or language or structured restraint.  

My works runs the gamut I get bored with the same.  I write what I feel in the moment it came.

If you dig it that's cool if you don't, no complaints

A wonderful sunrise a crimson sunset
A hero, a friend, a speed demon angel.

Bro Merc,

Hey man...you alright?....ain't nobody heard hide or hair from you for weeks....I checked all over the universe and the two dimensions next door then I picked em all up and checked under each of their floors...

I'm starting to worry Merc.....give some proof of life...I talked to all your muses and hundreds of thousands of wives...the last one to see you said you was at the park shooting hoops with Herc on the Fourth of July  

I was joking about vaporizing you if you were hitting Venus behind my back....she does it with all my dogs...oops I mean gods....man you know I'd cut you some slack. And you know that I love talking me some good smack.

So like I said drop a line, FaceTime, come on back; your character was never in question and much less under attack.

And I'll still throw in the Pope's 10 youngest daughters so you can hem them in up your shack.

Your bro,

ANu

Remember the name
they'll be considered the same.
Two centuries apart but
both just as smart
at playing the poetry game

¡Que asco! Pensé... pero el primo me obligó.. pruébelo y si no te gusta te doy el mío.  Ahí en un runcho en Bogotá probé esta "delicia" según Miguel Ángel...y sabe que....como no me supo nada mal el caldito, decidí darle un mordisquito a lo bueno.  Intentando disimular, el sinvergüenza del primacho me espiaba entre sorbos.  No se le contenía la carcajada que quería soltar.  Una cosa babosa, gelatinosa y parecía de tendón ya masticado me invadió y empecé a sudar intentando esconder lo que buscaba Miguel.  Como no le di la satisfacción, sólo dejó que se le escapará una gigante sonrisa al ofrecerme el caldo suyo. Pero no me sacó la piedra...y me quedé asombrado de como se chupaba los dedos al terminarse el mío.

¡Que asco! Comprobé

Wicked hot Wednesday worrying about the weather.....will we all wither and waste while we work wondering whether the weather will worry bout us?

¿Pa qué existe el zángano?  Un solo propósito tiene este bicho.....dejar preñada a la reina...hecho y dicho.

Este se hace el huevon...es decir, no hace nada del labor que sostenga a la colonia.  Perdón,
pero este zumbon por ser el único macho se sale con la suya pero todo se paga y por ser un inútil tragón:

Poco después de su única relación amorosa, sufre el zángano una muerte asombrosa...pues la abeja reina lo destripa mientras goza.

Así fuera el caso con la mayoría de los hombres, cuchachos, y cuchos bien machos que no saben nada sino sacar más muchachos.

ANu day dawned and
ANu it was gone when
my hand tried a Poem
like Poe's........... instead of
using my own,
ANu type of prose.

Some like Colombian
  Sleeping powder ....
  ounces up the nose.
  I prefer the effects
  of snorting hymns
  psalms and prose.

Others sniff crystal,
   ice, **** or glass
   I say poems are
   a narcotic of
   a much higher class.

Still others ride the
    horse talk smack or
   Stick tar. The dens
    that I frequent
    offer verses
    in their bar.

Bonne nuit ma chérie poésie. Il est un peu tardé et
j'ai besoin de dormir. 
Je suis tres fatigué,
mon crayon est cassé et
ma main ne peut plus écrire.
Les esprits du sommeil
et la nuit m'appelle au lit.

Dolores vive conmigo
Angustia aquí también
Esperanza no está lejos
Pero a ellas nunca
las voy a querer

Tenerlas no me importa y
jamás me siento bien
porqué a la única que amo
por mi siente desdén

Sweating bullets in TJ
a Hot August Eve
want the filet but can't even
pay a burrito on the street.

Pop into a club
to quench the thirst,
then lose all my cash....
the corner casino,
ouch that hurt.

My brother smells tacos
I say sure swell then
up four flights
to a ****** hotel.

Rooms by the hour,
I just want a shower,
it's ******* hot as hell.

What should take one
turns into 4 hours
playing the waiting game.

Handed her green,
she left the scene,
came back with,
a quarter of the order.
Pack up our **** lickety-split
it's time to cross the border.

Long and slow we wind
our way through,
no passport, no birth certificate and now at the booth.

He's on a watchlist
the feds know me
where you headed tonight?
the uniform speaks.
Secondary sir
I'm used to it see.

Scolded for lack of papers
told they'll detain us next time
we're tagged and processed then he points to a line

Run through the scanner
& told to get out by
a badge on a boy
just outta the scouts

He scans us briefly  
looks quickly inside....
then he says free to go,  
Have a safe ride

Little did they know
of the contraband inside....
25 tamales
in a bag untied.

No sé que pasó me bloqueaste y me borraste como si fuera tu ex-esposo.

Perdón si dije algo que no te gustó, la poesía no siempre es lo acontecido sino una exageración.  Es lo que usa el escritor pa encantar...que sus lectores lo lean y que lo vuelvan a alabar.

Sé que andas en un lugar muy obscuro pero quizás sería mejor ni juzgar te lo aseguro.  Imposible borrar lo que ya habías dicho tratarme así como si fuera un bicho.

Pero bien, tendrás tus razones pero pa curar aquel corazón y el alma, mejor tomes la poesía como algo que calma, y no te enfurezcas y obscurezca a tú alma.

I might be Poe reincarnate....
Who knows we share similar traits:

Impossible to muzzle
For us poems are puzzles

To be solved by
the reader's resolve

I could go on for days
telling you how we're the same

but only time will tell if the history books will, like his, remember my name.

I apologize on behalf of all poets to all poets who feel they have been slighted by one or another poet's hand.  There is no hate, only love....one love...it's just that one and only one gets more love than the rest.... that's because her love is the best.

Ud. con su arte y yo con mí arte así que no se apene que aquí escojo el mejor.  Ojalá tengan patas de perro porque perro que no sale no encuentra hueso que roer.  Y si sufres por cualquier razón.....al mal que no tiene cura hazle la cara dura. Y por fin acá nadie le va decir que deje de mamar gallo, bien pueda que yo no les fallo.

"Eh **** mide marica que me traen crujificao como si huera un esucristo." Y así se lo llevaban los guardias al hueco pataleando y dando guerra....se necesitaba en lo mínimo 8 guardias cuando a la "pulga nuclear" le daba por darle paliza a todos los negros de la "universidad".  Estaba vez por corretear a unos 15 negros con un fierro que lo había transformado en machete.  Intimidaba más que un régimen de soldados armados de metralletas en un pueblo de pura mujer. Además era intocable. Claro era un gamin pero capitán de barcos más fuerte que 20 hombres y sólo media poco más que metro y medio. Era el terror de todos que le hechaban un medio mal recibido vistazo.  Violento, asesino, un sicario inigualable en el arte de la tortura y el mismo angel de la muerte.  Menos mal que este gamin también era mi guardaespaldas y ferozmente fiel.  Y bien que lo necesitaba ahí en una prisión federal en TX en los años 90.

My name is Antoine Nunez....I am an Iron dog and Scorpio...born in Queens NYC in 1970.  I wear my pain and faults like a badge.  I love ferociously and ferociously defend what I love. I make no excuses for who I am though I am not always proud of what I've done.

I am Colombian American.  I live in a garage with my dog Domino.  I have had material wealth and success and all it brought about was stress.  I sling a hammer. I have friends in all corners of the world that I would defend with my life.

I am a loner...no girl no kids no ex no wife.  I live by the motto better alone than in bad company.  I have given my heart thrice ...the first two ******* 12 years from my life.  This last I was sure would be my wife.

I am not ugly though not Adonis.  My beauty isn't physical....as I'm in the twilight of my life.. it's what's in my mind...the person that this smooth and bumpy road has fashioned....that make me who I am.

I don't hide...have no need to lie.  What you see is what you get...the mountains where I run to cry  don't care about my height.

My name is Antoine Nunez....i don't want to fight....so I'll let you all know everything to make it easy to take my life.  

My name is Antoine Nunez and on any God given day you can try to ***** me at the corner of my block in the varrio....165th St. and Norwalk Blvd. Norwalk, CA

Or you can come for just a hug.

Leads to misunderstandings and broken hearts.  Talk to them directly, be honest from the start.
And realize that words not silence can tear a world apart.

Initiate....

Bit the bait
Big rebate
******* skate
Running late
Potential mate
Blind date
Recessive trait
Ill fate
Hell's gate
Trepidate
I hate
Restate
Subjugate
Annihilate
Remediate
*******
Heart rate
Hydrate
Terminate
Clean slate....


Initiate

That's me blandeverrantisphemous

Into your hands I commend my spirit

How is it that
my most popular poem
with 970 reads,
twice as many as
the next in that list
has not one comment
nor like nor dislike....?

While runner up
brings nothing but accolades
and praise
from some pretty
**** good poets,
is the fountain of
most of my followers
and trended 10 of 10 days.

Is it the title?  
Did they just read one line.  
Let me post the painting
that it goes with
then they all would love it....maybe even say sublime.

Its all good I don't mind...I call it market research....though skewed, I can use the results to understand reader's minds.

Downtown Long Beach....Fender's ballroom...what a bash...every weekend burn and crash.  Angry Samoans, The Germs, Ramones, Descendants, FEAR, UK Subs, Exploited, the ****** Vandals, DRI, Dead Kennedys....the Circle Jerks....I saw all these bands and many many more before i was 16.  Sporting a white mohawk or black liberty pulls pushing pulling shoving slamming....those were the days.

I told her I needed a fix and my dealer mumbled a couple words and then ignored me.

I am ANu poet
the poem is me.
I may not be Poe
but I'll be et alli.

Just got a call from an old friend that lives right in town at the bottom of Main in PC, near Butcher's Chop House.  Roomie really (lived there about 1yr & 1/2).

"Speak"....

"****** Antoine....can't believe you picked up....I knew you weren't dead."

"Joel my man! how's it?
How's Crash, Gela, them slippery South Cackalacky squidbillies...
Doug?  Everyone still there?"

"Yeah...time warp. ..Good bro...what's up with you...are you coming up this winter to tear your knee up again?  Hope so that way you're stuck in the kitchen cooking all day!"

"Hahaha hey Joel....remember where we were about this time 10 years ago?"

"Yeah...we were heading home slowly from the first 'annual' Jackson Hole Music Festival....cuz you're *** wanted to fish the Green and every hole in the Uintas.  Been fishing lately?"

"Not much lately for fish my brother...more for smiles."

"Imposter! You ain't Antoine!.... wait..... WHAT the HELL'S got into you?"

"Awe nothing just caught two bugs....love and nostalgia"

"Classic ****... unclassic Antoine....come up in December and tell me about it"

Colby and I are already planning to!