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Michael Rucker Oct 2016
I've spent the last five years constructing a place to rest,
built to lay every piece of me.
It's rose wood, stained black and glossed.
I trimmed each edge with red,
and held it together with stainless steel, blood, sweat and tears.
Every condescending comment,
each lie told,
forgotten dreams,
and ambitions,
all structural foundation.
Blankets of black and blue hue placed inside,
were my mother's keepsakes to me.
Tar pit lungs and an old liver,
laid with so I could sleep.
Set me down,
and bury me with this coffin I built.
Michael Rucker Oct 2016
Leave me alone

Don't you think you've done enough,
damage on  your own?

I can't stand to look in your direction,
the shadow you cast is in vain.
your eyes scream "disappointment"
I hate hearing your name.

If words could describe,
how horrible you are,
everyone else will realize,
you're simply "sub-par".

I know that you're a mistake,
I never needed you anyway.

So leave me alone
let me go on my own
this is my home
I'll never step back into your unknown.

The smile that's plastered on your face,
is as fake as the life you lead.
Your goals are motivated by spite,
it blinds what  you perceive.

You're everything I ******* hate,
but I wish I could ignore,
the fact that you still exist,
and your "patronizing self-centered arrogance."
Michael Rucker Oct 2016
I took a step back yesterday and thought about nothing.

I know, the wind blows.
So walk with me my dear,
for I see clear,
once again.

We all, look away,
run from things,
scare ourselves,
to become,
different beings,
taking
advantage of everything.

I don't
want to
be apart of it
anymore

Cause its scary to see to see,
this world falling apart
in front of me,
in front of me.

Should we fight?
Should we flee?
Should we make peace?
or become evil beings?

We hold the answer,
no man,
can take that, away from me.
Cause I know, that this globe,
was meant to be
at peace
just like wind and trees.
like birds and bees,
like the way the tide moves,
when the moon takes what it needs.

Set me free
from the chains
that bound me
take off the weight I carry
and buy me a pizza.
Michael Rucker Oct 2016
For me,
hope is a Friday afternoon at 3:30,
leaving 25th on White Blvd,
unloading the air compressor,
putting back the last "tear off" shovel,
hoisting my *** on the black lawn chair,
in the shop of Blackburn Roofing,
examining the stench of J.W. Craft,
forcing itself upon me,
waiting for my uncle to arrive with my paycheck.
Michael Rucker Sep 2016
You see,

I'm a normal guy, who leads a normal life. But when we take a step back, we start to ask ourselves "what is normal?"

Defined by google, normal is to "conform to a standard."

But who makes this standard?
The Media.

See, through television, the radio, the internet, social media, etc. etc. we've been told that "This is what normal is, it doesn't change."

For a while this has been true, people of my generation especially. are aware but seem to still follow societal norms. They take in what the media has to say, and practically live by it. We have teenage girls starving themselves to be models, young men getting railed on ******* and alcohol, going out and being reckless, winding up dead, or hurting someone else, because of the media. We have these enabling parents, who all know that feeding this is wrong but still fall into it as well to make their kids happy.

There are people dying every day, but those who claim themselves as "men of god" living it up in a 3200sq ft home throwing their money away to the church. The best part about it, other people do it too, it isn't just some specific problem. We all do it, and we sleep like children at night.

Want to know what else is wrong?

The pharmaceutical industry, handing out "medication" like it's free.

Want to know what's worse?

Your child dying because of it.

Thanks, Mom.
Michael Rucker Sep 2016
A forced experience at my laptop, spent well wasted.
Michael Rucker Sep 2016
We are gathered here today,
in separate parts of the house,
taking part in some sort of mindless self indulgence,
not really gathered at all.

The repetition of foreign house music,
sun shining through what we call, "the blinds,"
and beer bottles scattered around the house from last night.
Four bodies, sick.

The laundry needed to be taken care of,
yet nobody had the drive,
nobody had the energy,
we were all sick.
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