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Anthony Terragna Mar 2017
(Inspired by This Is the House That Jack Built)

Crack House

This is the house that police raided.
This is the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.
This is the wimp,
That injected the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.

This is the ****,
That bought the wimp,
That injected the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.

This is the cop,
That alarmed the ****,
That bought the wimp,
That injected the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.

This is the dealer with the street popcorn,
That distracted the cop,
That alarmed the ****,
That bought the wimp,
That injected the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.

This is the pervert stocked with ****,
That bought from the dealer with the street popcorn,
That distracted the cop,
That alarmed the ****,
That bought the wimp,
That injected the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.

This is the baby recently born,
That annoyed the pervert stocked with ****,
That bought from the dealer with the street popcorn,
That distracted the cop,
That alarmed the ****,
That bought the wimp,
That injected the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.

This is the gang armed with scorn,
That kidnapped the baby recently born,
That annoyed the pervert stocked with ****,
That bought from the dealer with the street popcorn,
That distracted the cop,
That alarmed the ****,
That bought the wimp,
That injected the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.

This is the homeless man that begged at morn,
That waked the gang armed with scorn,
That kidnapped the baby recently born,
That annoyed the pervert stocked with ****,
That bought from the dealer with the street popcorn,
That distracted the cop,
That alarmed the ****,
That bought the wimp,
That injected the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.

This is the panhandler all forlorn,
That supported the homeless man that begged at morn,
That waked the gang armed with scorn,
That kidnapped the baby recently born,
That annoyed the pervert stocked with ****,
That bought from the dealer with the street popcorn,
That distracted the cop,
That alarmed the ****,
That bought the wimp,
That injected the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.

This is the cardboard sign and clothes all torn,
That belonged to the panhandler all forlorn,
That supported the man that begged at morn,
That waked the gang armed with scorn,
That kidnapped the baby recently born,
That annoyed the pervert stocked with ****,
That bought from the dealer with the street popcorn,
That distracted the cop,
That alarmed the ****,
That bought the wimp,
That injected the needle
That lay in the house that police raided.
Originally Posted 2016-03-24, 13:45
Anthony Terragna Jan 2016
A wounded ***** nestles in the arctic space,
an aspiring black widow with venom seeping from the sides.
Euphoric beats once played with a dopamine race,
The bandshell held a mosh pit of butterflies.

Beautifully crafted cocoons left from infatuation or lust,
the decreased caterpillars shriveled from insufficient trust.
Dismembered victims carried wings that once tickled the walls,
new echoes from a voice linger from the calls.

Warmth restores the moisture and growth,
the sporadic eggs represent a brand new oath.
The arctic space reflects light like the blazing sun,
the beating rhythm overrides what was done.
Originally posted on WF.
Anthony Terragna Jan 2016
A little boy takes his tackle and bait,
Finds a spot to cast and wait.
A little old man smiles with a grin,
Points to the water and laughs within.

Don't be alarmed, you're doing just fine,
It's not you, young lad, but at the end of your line.
Plenty of fish, your pops may say, but not in these waters,
I've had my fair share in my day.

You want a young fish, without the hassle,
Treat her like the queen of your castle.
For every trout and bass you may find,
there's a new route for a lass assigned.

Build a boat, sweat and bleed,
Fight for the catch your life may need.
When your line starts to pull, never let go,
The one with the struggle is the one to show.

Tell your mother, tell your pops,
Show your friends, more kudos and props!
Work hard for that catch, but don't set her on display,
Work hard together, and remember this day.
Anthony Terragna Jan 2016
Trust me with eyes shut tight.
Your smile is the only thing open.
Feel my embrace against you tonight.
Lips occupied for words to be spoken.

A feather-like touch against your cheek,
The only way to hold your face.
Dilated pupils build up to the peak,
Arousal requires a steady pace.

A woman is a caterpillar to a man with no desire,
She becomes a butterfly the minute he makes her perspire.
Spread your wings, my love, let me set you free,
Those cocoon days are over, my dear, and now you're with me.
I am in a warm fuzzy (and cuddly) mood.
Anthony Terragna Jan 2016
Clouds fill the sky with thoughts and feelings,
Young and naive, our tongues anticipate the taste.
Rain descends like grains of sand,
in a heart shaped hourglass.

Water droplets across the face of innocence,
Toes drowning in puddles of disbelief.
Life's blessing is fate's curse.
I wanted to write something. I know it has been a while. I hope to contribute more this year.
Anthony Terragna Mar 2015
One. Two. Close your eyes. Renew.
Three. Four. Release your thoughts. Explore.
Five. Six. Express. Fix.  
Seven. Eight. Nine. Repeat. Refine.

Ten. Breathe in. Let's begin.

"What's the matter, Logan?" Jessica asked.

I paused to reflect upon the moment when my hand reached over my heart. I was helplessly pointing towards my chest to express the chaotic feeling inside. "What are these feelings?" I pondered.

"What? What is it? Chest pain?" she asked.

I shook my head with my hand tapping against my heart. "How do I tell her that I feel irregular heartbeats? How do I tell her that I am feeling something completely indescribable?" I thought. I rubbed my stomach in rotating motions.

"Logan, is it your stomach? Do you have a stomach ache?" she asked. The deep look of concern in her eyes heightened the feelings inside. I reached over to my phone and texted her a brief summary of how I felt.

"Logan, seriously?" she asked after reading the message. She leaned over moving closer to my lips. "A mosh pit of butterflies," she whispered. I could feel the warmth of her breath against my cold lips. "Well, I am ready to rave if you're willing to ...," she said before she was interrupted.

I closed my eyes and leaned in closer. "One size fits all," I thought to myself. When two souls fill the large vacancy between each other's arms, there is nothing to do other than embracing that invaluable time together.

The butterflies subsided.

Ten. Breathe in. Reflect.

Nine. Eight. Seven. Euphoric heaven.
Six. Five. Rejuvenate. Revive.
Four. Three. Proofread. Agree.  
Two. One. Close your eyes. Have fun.
I am about to write more for my novel, The Sensualist; A Voiceless Young Man's Struggle for Love. So, I am trying out something new as well as sharing it publicly. This novel will hopefully be crowdfunded via Kickstarter in the future. This is not an excerpt, but a warm up to write.
Anthony Terragna Mar 2015
A colorless rainbow in a sky of imagination,

a camera-less tourist on a summer vacation.

A cloud without rain, but a sky without sunshine,

a constellation for admiration for a blind man's cloud nine.



A stemless flower in a competitive ecosystem,

the prey born with one leg, the predator without any eyes.

... a chaotic compromise.



A mannequin selling fashion and deadly sins,

a homeless man searching through trashcan bins.

A chalkboard without a budget, a teacher without hope,

the Valedictorian hanging from a rope.



It's just mental complexity like congested New York city,

daily traffic jams with mental crams, and I don't take pity.

Flash flood warning, a fair reason to vent.

Drowning those who don't appreciate how much time I have spent.

Tears of a stranger, throw me some lemons and a stand,

time to sell drama out in the front yard to prove that the supply isn't up to its demand.



Blurred vision, bullet proof heart, it's just a decision,  it's time to start.

Appreciating a rainbow in a storm of dark rage,

the pessimistic cold skin attached to a fairy tale sage.
When this was first written, I felt such a euphorically intense feeling as I was writing everything down. This is only an excerpt. All those moments when you feel as if you should let it go, never hold back. If it doesn't make sense, just let it go.
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