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Out of the deep
Depths of darkness,
We crawl from the
Evil that taunts us.
The struggles and strife
That life leans upon us-
Frantic and determined,
We are naked and harmless.
Evil might be convinced to believe
That we are weak in the knees,
It's up to me to succeed in life
Even without the wings of Achilles.
Forever give me power
As bright red as fire,
To be the best I can be
As this evil surrounds me.

*Copyright Christopher Rossi 2014
Draft
Sep 2014 · 1.6k
Prison Haiku
Barbed wire crime
Tongue tied mind
Dignity is diminished
The future executed
Sep 2014 · 940
The Set-Up
Her laughter suspenseful,
a shivering tale of discomfort
turmoil and bleeding mascara.
She denounces her faults
and erases our friendship;
I retract my statement
of trustworthy companionship.

Her developed state of maturity-
lack thereof existing,
she exploited
my love,
my patience;
and victimized my dedication.

I really
believed
she could handle my passion,
when all I wanted
was an everlasting love.
A heart stopping contraction.
Apr 2011 · 1.2k
My Last Prayer
Lord
I am becoming a dangerous man...
I cannot breathe your light,
I do not know where I stand.
It is not like I needed to ask permission
to live or believe in your religion;
the one I was raised with.

Lord
I betrayed myself with a weary prayer.
I yearned for remission.
I was haunted by a guilty conscience, filled with monsters;
was not ever warned that it was all just nonsense!

Lord I am confident.
I cannot include you with the decisions I make,
By myself I will learn from my own mistakes.
No longer can I pray that my wishes come true,
I believe in myself more than I believe in you.
Amen.
© Christopher Rossi, April 20, 2011
Dec 2010 · 788
Where I'm Goin'
Ready to fly
for the second time
Far away for many days
To breathe in a new place.
Where will I end up along the way?
I haven't a clue; neither will you.

I sit and wait
For the time to escape
Making conversation with a dude
All tattooed
But enough is enough,
I'd like to nap before the flight comes.

The sun peaks through
Enlightening the people's view
Justifying the hope and
Safety of our travel plans.
Just a few more hours

I'll get where in goin,
and never look back.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, December 29, 2010
Dec 2010 · 1.1k
Honestly, Honesty
a girl with
a personality,
expensive taste,
soft skin and                     an honest embrace...
                                               that is what I want.
Honestly,
honesty is a rare trait these days,
in a world of animosity,
all seem phony all betray.
                    As I escape my fate
                                               I become my own face-
society around me
is different from me,
                                               identically.
As the day begins to fade,
my work is done; a drink, I say!
A drink I'll have in Gonzo's Pub
to escape the people's fray.

A Girl...
with honesty
that is what I want...
                                               I'll take another shot please...
© Christopher Rossi, December 27, 2010
Dec 2010 · 907
In The Name of Passion
I hope there is a light beyond the darkness
that suffocates a confidence I used to believe in.
A hopeful feeling of salvation that used to be...
whole .
She burns through my vacant heart,
a pinhole charm, causing harm
upon my constant forgiveness.
I ignore I wait I beg I stay;
I fight with passion and bathe in my own pain.
I drown in my forgiveness
contemplate my regrets.
I am forced to forget her words
I have forgiven once before.
But I cannot ignore
my swollen wound is infected
burning with ignorance;
what appreciation?!
there is no turning back
now there is no sign of light,
I am not sure if I can forgive-
in the name of passion, I lose the fight,
laying dead in the choke of night.
© Christopher Rossi, December 27, 2010
Sep 2010 · 2.2k
Everything Is Okay
A soft smooth motion 
across the skin of your feet-
A peaceful touch of grace 
that strokes the knots and
relieves the strain.
The stressful day complete,
no bickering or complaints.
This calm, this quiet 
must remain for the sake of our brains
You must realize,
It's the end of the day-
You're safely at home
And everything is okay.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
I really care about you.
I appreciate everything
you have done for me.
I cannot wait to see you,
for these days are drifting slowly
through a blinding haze.
I do not know where I am going
and I cannot wait
to hold you in my arms as we lead each other,
and I will not be alone.
So I hope to God you never leave;
you are every stitch upon my sleeve
that securely guards my skin.
Every time you come home,
I am reborn, I chant, yes I can.
I am vulnerable
weak at the knees,
though you make me
a stronger man
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
I look outside and wonder
when will time fly faster,
(only when I want it to, of course)
so I can be released from this cage
and roam free across the plain of grass
that gives me surface from the gravity
that  in and of itself keeps me grounded
because without it I would be lost
and floating without direction;
out of this world and into a place
that welcomes my existence
with dark open arms
but terminates my life
and suffocates my breathing calm
because oxygen is absent
and breathing is a healthy habit,
so I must relax and take a breath
to get through this day of madness.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Aug 2010 · 1.1k
¿My Future ?
silhouettes above my head
hold me down like  paperweight,
the earth crumbles beneath me
and separates into quaking plates;
a toxic air instigates choking breaths
along my gasping throat that strains,
I am graveled as I contemplate
what my path is when I graduate.
Aug 2010 · 653
*20* End of War *10*
a key
to
f r e e d o m,
wave our flags
and renounce our forfeit
b e l i e v e
succeed
and place the crown upon thee
for standing
^u p^
and turning the key
that enables our country's
d i g n i t y
we fight
to protect
we deserve
r   e   s   p   e   c   t
for as a team
we take the throne
America,
they are coming home
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Aug 2010 · 745
Room 154 (Part Two)
hair laced with condensation,
beading moisture streams with fluid
motion down my forehead
as I sweat the day away
amongst the land of incompetence

"can i help you?"
"can i help you?... can i help your lazy ***?!"


feet will not relax,
a constant swaying motion
a blood flow clots within my toes
and suffocates my freedom
of relaxing or letting go

if that ***** scolds me one more time…!

That empty water glass,
It sweats as well
forming a permanent liquid stain
atop the desk a ring of Hell

a ring of Hell for sure-
*room 154
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Aug 2010 · 901
Room 154
a dull pencil
lay to the left of me
and the glass of water is dry,
to the point
the atmosphere hath licked
the contents away with spiteful pride.
a message blinks intermittent
as my file lay awake
with blood-shot eyes and frustration,
this job I cannot take.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Aug 2010 · 1.3k
America's Noble Stance
this age of existence strikes
an honesty that prevails
it disappoints the generations
perhaps this age has failed

liberal humanism condemns
America's noble stance
a selfish congregation builds
a mosque on hallowed land

for we elected those
who dug us in a hole
in debt, our freedom spent
and now this wretched toll

it's about sensitivity,
we need a peace of mind-
change, our leader must make,
but he's on vacation all the time
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Aug 2010 · 862
The Noose
From a nail, the clock hangs reading half past five
A sentenced man dangles by the dental floss that ends his life.
Minty fresh, it maybe- a thin poisonous remedy
to free his captured soul and clear the grooves between his teeth.
Is it freedom or is it selfish?
Certainly subjective,
treason
to the life he was given,
treason
to the family who loves him.
Now the miracle child hangs
and his teeth begin to stain...
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Aug 2010 · 785
My Apologies, Beloved
You are a humble gust of wind,
your kiss dances on my chin,
a tango, certain of a flow-
step one
two,
I love you.
What else is there to say-
for last night, my mind had gone astray
and I abused your gentle gust,
I disturbed your peace in us.
I do not regret my mistake,
though you did not deserve the tongue I gave.
I know you forgave
and would never stop loving me.
Within our book, a coffee stain-
I am sorry for the mess I made.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 904
No Matter How I Become
I may seem 
un
           Sure
I feel un(sure)
Unresponsive,
......^...^........^...^
But not comotose
Not *******...
I think too much 
I'm (scar)ed
A compulsive
D
   R
      O
         O
            P
               I
                  N
                      G
disappointment
I'm sorry
What else can I say?
No matter how I may become,
(you)r judgement (will) never c(hang)e
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 4.5k
A Read Between The Lines
I am an italicized remark,
your spicy punctuation;
I am your steamy satisfaction,
your permanent vacation.
A unique innuendo,
a read between the lines;
I am a story like no other
as I lick between your thighs.
from Cosmo,
The New Yorker;
A romantic gentleman lover.
A sweet wine you taste-test
and lick around my lips,
I am a kiss you can't resist-
a naked sweat, a seductive bliss.
I am the palm that stings the skin,
a ***** spank than burns within.
I am a moaning, seeping ******
that rumbles with percussion.
I am your emphasized description
although no adjective does justice.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 1.2k
United We Stay
Air fan filtering through 
the cruelty of the world,
A sweeping hum       a deadly slice,
helicopter chopping 
fields within the fumes.
Crop circle shaped symmetry
determined force of army
To fight for freedom in its name.
No religion come to take our place,
No wing disturbs our flying grace. 
Horaah!  Horaah!
United we will stay.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 975
Coffee Stain (One of Many)
There is an open book upon the windowsill of my brain,
The rays singe a clarity across its blank pages
With a bonding so thick
So gripping on a memory unspoken of,
Undeniably ignored.
So clear and brown among the peace of paper,
a stain seeps through the creases of mistakes not erased. 
A windowsill of white,
stained dark color from the waste.
A book so pure
polluted with distaste.
A book so destroyed
cannot be replaced.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 882
Queen of Storm
The storm floods the horizon
With great exuberance
She is an ocean of time 
A fatal collapse a disastrous crash, 
she takes the torch
Pure atmospheric voltage strikes
with cataclysmic force
A surface permanently damp, she is angry
She rises above and drowns the city
Intently the people scream 
scattering
Flooding throughout the streets
The wrath persists; 
a queen of storm prolongs peace, 
and brings the world to its knees
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 1.7k
Blind Date
His bar stool creaks,
quaking ice rattles
as he examines his glass .
His finger swirling liquor, 
compressing flavors 
with ease and contentment.

He sits 
He waits with great patience
and a whiskey drink.
Classy choice, I must say.
I wonder if his blind date
Will feel the same...
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 1.1k
Those Grandparents Of Mine
A young woman bows her head in shame
A day that cannot be replaced
A breath that cannot be taken away
An itch that cannot be scratched the same
She is left alone to prowl the dirt
Her man left this life on planet earth
A dear friend a lover, a cure a rebirth
She misses him so, I missed him too
And she decided to join him
Because that's what lovers do.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 726
Loneliness
I don't know much of anything

You tell me all the time

Ciggarette burned out

Tea has lost its prime

The apple has run dry;
Fallen too far from the tree

Away from its comfort zone

*Far away from me.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 1.0k
Session I
Sitting at this leather couch
spilling out my mind
as it drips upon the floor 
from every minute of my time wasted.
I'm wondering what you're thinking;
if it's me that's been crazy
for commiting this so-called crime
I'm jaded.
You're judging me pretending to respect me.
A folder thick with penmanship
You diagnose my intelligence
A steady flow of consciousness,
"I was sick of her *******!
I was sick of the relationship!"
It's just a subtle mood swing
And that **** was so controlling
I wanted out.
So you jot your ******* notes
And cross your sloppy T's,
But you won't get the best of me
You're pills are not my remedy.
I stand by my insanity
You can claim I'm unstable
You can claim I'm in denial,
As I choose to ******* leave,
Make sure you make note in your file!
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 1.5k
Vultures
Picking skin off the dead flesh
bones naked from muscle mass
a bloodied gore infested chest
a vulture feasts upon the distress
paitence nonexistant
a gutless meal persistent without regret
they'll vocally attack your mistake
fueled with dire fret
a wild screech demand
a groundbreaking command
it's claping claws sever
its a vultures life forever
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 716
Sickness of the Day
Stuck inside this tissue box a suffocating space
denying me the right to cure my sickness of the day.
I realize there's no time to waste
but a tissue cannot help me when the problem's not my face.
I drip a sickness so gripping from my pores
it aches to breathe a lung so coarse
scraping scratching h2o
refreshing not a single soul
a final breath I take in case
this tissue box gives me away
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 907
Life As It Goes
Down by highway twonintyfive
a racoon lay breathless on the canyon side
survived probably by a family of four
or three who knows,
sticks and stones
life as it goes.

Down by the river Providence bound
a drunken man falls down
from the bridge to the ground
homicide suicide noone will know,
sticks an stones
life as it goes.

Cranston town a white pickup
two fat men come to steal your stuff
and break into your private home
thinking they're the underpants knomes!
Days are short that's all I know,
sticks and stones
life as it goes.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 2.3k
Daydream (Haiku)
Dragonfly
zips across thine eye
flowerbeds
fields of somber song
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jul 2010 · 756
Serenade of Love
That song is on the radio for the third time this week
her heels are propped on the dashboard of my roaming SUV
what a state of relaxation as the wind blows 'cross my arm
that hangs out of my window as I drive along the shore
Daffodil and daisies pink and yellow white supreme
fall within the vegetation spread around this blissful dream
I hope I never wake up I close my eyes clenched force
her pucker peach  lips contact mine without remorse
Coarse strip of sand brushed gently into the sea
Beckons my lover and I to trail along the path of beauty
Hands held tightly gripping hearts with beating streams
of blood travel slowly down the beach 
Our serenade of love sung calmingly with every step 
as the sun sets in the west and the sea engulfs the rest
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 689
Call Of Shame
I'm trying to grow the courage
but the telephone won't reach for me
there's a number on the napkin 
from a resturant down the street
my only lame excuse is..
Is that a seven or a three?
Is it hot in here or is it just me?
I don't know why I hesitate
because you're the one who inked your name
expecting to be my lucious date.
Don't waste your time; you'll only wait 
for my dispicible call of shame.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 825
Forever and A Day
She rides into forever 
on my wings of grace,
so elusive so tender 
forever and a day.

My protruding splendor 
nonvacant heart detained, 
she is a promising reservation
of forever and a day.

We lay on a bed of air
She whispers in ear
and promises infinity, 
forever and a day.

A solid bond of harmony
Forever and a day with me.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 2.8k
My Dandelion
She is like a dandelion on the edge of a cliff
Next to the sea.
The wind-encouraged rapture brings her to her knees as she’s taken
From the rocks into the deadly blue sea.
(She is stronger than she thinks,
I know, that’s why she left me.)

Before the endpoint, the gusting breeze
Meets its end,
So the dandelion plummets into the sandy beach instead.
(No matter what brings her down, she shall always stand up.
It’s the way she is; the dandelion is tough.)

So comfortable now, her stem is stuck
In this thick warm surface,
The tide seems to be interested in this dandelion’s purpose.
(I tried to **** her into me with my love.
She didn’t give me a chance because
I wasn’t enough.)

The tide erupts upon the scene within the lively flower’s green,
And yanks it from the sand to bring her colors to the sea.
(He stole her from me,
she accepted his hand
There was no chance for me)
To the ocean, the flower seemed different from the others;
The dandelion seemed to be tougher.
She has always been strong, my little dandelion,
Even from day one,
(But like I said, I wasn’t good enough)
Nothing could destroy her pride, nothing could be done.
(She told me nothing of her
feelings and left my concerns in the dark)
She brought her roots down within the oceans depths,
And ****** the sea dry until there was nothing left.
And then came the rain.
(She left the door open on the way out,
I was so shattered,
I couldn’t even cry.)
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 830
twentytwo and influenced
My tone is "rude
cockyunpredictable
misunderstood"
whatelseisnew?
all i did was write an email;
all i did was ask a question.
isn't that what students do?
allidid
was be a kid.
twentytwo and influenced,
i'm not a ******* idiot.
those ******* certificates
give you credit-
more than you deserve.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 977
Numb
The freedom stored in the metal of a syringe
Brings fire to the hollow point that breaks the skin.
Secular glory in the pipe of faith
Supplies the habitual drag that you would take.
The endless hallucination is real; it seems-
As you wake up in the chair, realizing the dream.
A happy-gas mask was placed on your nose.
The uncomfortable state the dentist chair sustains
Gives birth to the pain.
A tooth is pulled without Novocain-
Doesn’t this resemble the average life we live?
Because you dream of the syringe that should break your skin.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 5.3k
Wake Up Call (Short Story)
The neighborhood was silent. There wasn’t a soul around this eerie town and the sun hadn’t peaked out of the clouds for days. The darkness of the land had swallowed the smiles of the population and nature had ceased to show its existence. The birds must have migrated early. The wind disrupted the branches of every tree that was in front of the houses; it left only the whisper of its presence behind.
Shadow’s alarm clock blared at the appropriate time of eight in the morning and he grunted at its ignorance. His girlfriend, Jessie, didn’t seem to care too much about his morning laziness. He didn’t even bother turning off the alarm. He simply rolled on his opposing side to ignore it. That seemed to require a larger effort than if he’d just gotten out of bed. Jessie remained motionless and wasn’t snoring like she usually did. She wore a long sky blue nightgown to bed and it brought out the true color of her blondish hair. She was lying on her stomach and her hands were tucked underneath the fluffy pillow. Shadow just peered at her through the crack of his eye as the sound of the alarm clock withered away his patience. Shadow heard his three-legged basset hound, Tripod, hobble to the nightstand and he began to lick Shadow’s left foot that was hanging out of the white silky bed sheets. The saliva dripped towards the floor and the grossness of the dog’s actions still wasn’t enough to get Shadow’s dead *** out of bed. The dog realized it had no affect on him and left the room.
Shadow had just gotten fired from his job as a technical engineer at a no-name computer store. He put computers together with both new and used parts and resold them to the customers. When he told Jessie, she was not supportive at all. They didn’t speak all last night and Shadow couldn’t imagine how this morning was going to go- another “Yes, MOTHER” conversation. He always had a problem with his temper. All hell broke loose when shadow didn’t get his way, but you’d think he had been taught not to swear at his boss when he got angry. Well, on the contrary his mind and anger had gotten the best of him. Guess Shadow saw that there was no reason for him to get out of bed. But his three-legged dog seemed to think so. He kept ignoring Tripod for some time and he **** all over the rug as a result of it.
Shadow felt a discomfort among his genitals as he stumbled to his feet to go to the bathroom. He concocted his usual bowl of cereal once he reached the kitchen across the hall and slurped up every last drop of milk. He thought distressingly about what Jessie was going to bring on him this morning. The sounds of static and distorted voices echoed through the room from the television- he walked back into his bedroom to get dressed. Shadow called out for his dog.
The job wasn’t so good anyway. Shadow was displeased with his boss from the beginning but he knew he needed to receive the checks- the pay was so good. He always had a passion for building computers and when he first explored this field, Spot would sit and watch Shadow build. Spot was his first dog, around the time when he was a teenager. He would sit there until Shadow was done and that might’ve been what caused him to like building them so much- it was the memory.
Shadow continued to call for Tripod but there was no response. The aroma of the dog **** grew more and more noticeable. The doors were closed so there was no doubt he didn’t escape again. He ran all around the house, opening doors and calling outside for him; peaking behind the furniture and the clothes within his closets for him. He spotted the pile of dog **** on the living room floor.
“What are you doing, Shadow?” Jessie asked.
“I am looking for the **** dog. He **** on the rug again.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Jessie.
“OUR dog!??” said Shadow.
The air began to blow through the rooms of the house and the papers that were neatly stacked on Shadow’s desk began to fall to the floor. Jessie sat up in bed and the wind carried her hair across her scull and it made her look even more beautiful than ever. Her hazel-green eyes remained staring a Shadow with the same goofy look of concern but she still looked beautiful.
“I don’t know if I’m alright. My face hurts…” said Shadow.
“Shadow, I DID hit you pretty hard last night. Remember?” asked Jessie. “I threw that little book-end at you and it hit you in the cheek bone. I didn’t mean it, I AM sorry.”
“It’s fine, Jess. I was being a ****. But really, where’s the dog?”
“I don’t know, he’s you’re dog. Let me get dressed and I’ll help you look for him,” said Jessie.
The window shades were pulled up so the light could shine throughout the house but there wasn’t much light to affect anything. It was still dark and moody in the sky and the storm was still passing though the area. Shadow had to turn every light on in the house to see, even though it was ten in the morning. He knew he needed to find a job, but he wanted to find this dog. He ran around the house looking for every trace of dog fur. The sounds of Jessie getting dressed were coming from the closet.
“Could you hurry up and help me, honey? I need to find this mutt,” said Shadow.
Shadow had given Jessie a special license plate for her birthday last year. It said “Jessie” on it and it was very hard to get. He had to call months in advance to purchase that plate. It was now implanted on his silver Jetta. Shadow’s job was right down the street, so he just rode a bike to work every day and let Jessie use the Jetta.
The job Shadow had used to drive him crazy. He’d work for hours on fixing or building motherboards and if it didn’t work, he’d have to start over. He’d come home in the worst moods after a hard day’s work. He didn’t want dinner; he didn’t want to hear from anybody, though Jessie liked to talk. And that’s where Shadow got very aggravated. He began to yell at her because she asked him questions and he would kick over Tripod’s food and water and storm out of the house in a rage; leaving the front door open behind him. But Shadow didn’t leave last night. He wasn’t the one who stormed out in a rage because he was too tired for that. Jessie left with the dog and claimed she was going to stay at her mother’s for the evening. They must have come back in the house late last night. The dog must be here. Shadow and Jessie kept looking for Tripod while calling out his name to come in sight. Tripod finally walked through the door form the back yard and barked a weak screeching bark.
“It’s about time, Podders! It’s about time we accomplished that dilemma” said Shadow as he looked up at Jessie and back at Tripod.
“What the ****?!” he said. The dog had blood all around his gumball nose and his droopy lips and walked away from them into the bedroom.
“I give up,” said Jessie. “You gotta clean that dog up because I am not going to go near that Blood; I already cleaned up the dog ****. What has he been through?”
“I don’t know…” answered Shadow.

In the mean time, I’m going to go shopping for some new shoes,” Jessie. “I’ll be back later this afternoon, alright?”
Shadow sat on his favorite recliner chair in the living room. She kissed his forehead, grabbed her keys and walked out the front door.
There was silence. He was alone.
Shadow immediately got up and opened the front door to grab the daily town newspaper from the steps. He noticed that the Jetta had already left the driveway and wondered why Jessie must have been in such a hurry. He looked down the gloomy dark street and saw no sign of life. He closed the front door, locked it, and sat back down on his recliner. He unfolded the newspaper and wiggled his toes to the melody of his improvisational hum.
The hum suddenly came to a halt. The toes stopped wiggling. Shadow didn’t seem to breathe. He read the front page of the news paper and couldn’t believe his eyes. There was a Jetta- or maybe it wasn’t because it didn’t look like one. Maybe that was the point. There was no hood; there was no front seat. There were two photos: one of the car and one of the whole accident. A Tractor trailer was involved and no one in the Jetta made it. Shadow started to breathe slightly again and came to his senses; tried to collect himself. He saw the license plate and couldn’t believe his eyes.
There was silence. He was alone. He was alone the whole time.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 1.4k
Ball Point Pen (Short Story)
I am not used to taking risks. Many barriers tend to block my train of thought and my decision-making. Now that I was lying at the bottom of the trash, I could talk; I could think straight. I had no distractions or punishments, even though there was no need for deciding anything. I felt free because I knew he had given up on me. I felt like a meaningless particle of the planet when I was under Master’s control. At least plastic was used to create something else. But not me! No! I could not be used for anything else; I just got thrown away. I couldn’t say I was completely oblivious towards my lifespan. I had an idea of what was going to happen. There I was at the bottom of the trash; knowing that my master’s next victim had already been chosen to take my former position in his soaking, swampy hand. Master acted like he worked so hard; he should have been ashamed of himself. Because lying crippled within those dark suffocating walls of that garbage basket was HIS doing. I do not take risks. Those crumpled up papers began to fall upon me like rain and it felt like I was being buried alive.
I don’t remember my birth or the first few years of my life. My psychology teacher told me about how you cannot remember the first 2-3 years because of the brain’s progression in growth. The first thing I remembered was waking up in a box, locked in place by my neck and feet. My family was nowhere to be found. I did not even remember being apart of one. There were four others enslaved with me at the time. They were not my family, but they dressed like me, which scared me a little. The loud noise of slicing scissors pierced my ears and a small stream of light entered the cardboard box when the top was cracked open. The first sight of the Master’s obese fleshy hand brought motion to my bowels as a feeling of failed screams collapsed around my throat. I had no voice, I had no mouth. Was it welded shut or was I created incorrectly? Watching the way Master’s large hand devoured the poor ******* next to me and yanked him out of the box brought an immediate knowledge of trouble upon me. I was frightened because my opinions were insignificant and I didn’t know what to do to gain control.
We were transferred from our holding shackles to a less-captivated holding system. I don’t know what it was, but we were with many others; lost and stupid. The light blinded me at first, it was more open and I could see clearer. I would have gotten myself into trouble… or maybe not. The sight was horrifying because it enabled me to witness it all. Master was unfair and he had no patience, like me. When a victim needed a break or was tired, he banged its head on the desk (or the paper) or threw it across the room. When the victim was not meeting the Master’s needs, he squeezed it harder and harder while banging its tip more. If a victim was useless to Master, he threw it away without a care. That same poor ******* that was next to me ended up in the trash after a day and a half because it couldn’t finish transcribing Master’s C’s or A’s. I would’ve transcribed his C’s and A’s; and his M, O, T, R, F, K, R’S too! I hope master sweats himself to death. I knew my time would come. I knew I would end up just like the rest of the poor and helpless. When my juice ran out, the five of us from the box would be back together- empty and cold.
I sometimes wished I was not smarter than Master. I didn’t have a mouth, but my narrow cap surely consisted of a larger brain, I’ll tell you that. I sure wished I could have taught him; him and those sweaty palms, a thing or two about our existence! He should have been grateful I was there and he should have given the respect he did not deserve to get. He probably didn’t know that he would’ve been using a chisel and a rock if it wasn’t for me! I sure as hell was saving Master a lot of time. If my uniqueness was not available, Master would have been wasting hours of his time to create one word. I wonder if the chisel used to say the same things I said during those horrible events of slavery and cruelty. Chisel probably never received punishment. It was probably buffed and puffed and sharpened and cared for. So why couldn’t I just get a re-fill?! But still, Master didn’t care. He wouldn’t have sharpened my tip if I were a chisel. He’d let me rot and throw me away because it was all in the same to him. Master wouldn’t have cared if I informed him about the chisel. I probably would’ve received more of a punishment if I was able to speak.
After my ink ran out, there I was within the bottom of the garbage basket. This was exactly what I expected. I couldn’t lie, I was kind of glad it was all over. I was so sick of Master’s crap by then. Those sweaty palms got the best of me and that impatient anger caused my juices to run fast. I was developing a realization about Master’s endeavor. He threw me away too early. Usually, our species would be thrown away when death occurred. I was lying in that trash very much alive when I began to glance at my previous struggle. Those papers devoured my appearance while they exposed every waking memory that my hard work had created. When the papers stopped falling, there was nothing else to think about. The memories began to fade away after every word I read. I couldn’t help but recognize the mistakes that Master forced me to make. At that instant, I only wanted to go back and edit the foolishness that was transcribed onto those papers. I wanted an opinion. I simply desired to have my voice heard; I wish I had one. As free as I was, I still couldn’t make that happen; even after I was hurled into the trash- as if I was some useless implement. This was like being under some Calvinistic rule. My fate had been an adversarial predetermination, no matter how much I followed the rules.
It was a sensible act to throw me out. Master appropriately responded when I was of no use for him. He should have thrown me out when he snatched me out of the box like a piece of paper towel entangled within the roll. I was useless from the beginning. I couldn’t stand up to myself and I couldn’t make a difference whatsoever. I collapsed within myself when the words on the paper began to fade as I scanned each line. The scriptures came to a halt; I realized I was as dead as any other useless implement that previously suffered within these very same haunting walls. There was nothing else I could do. I was banished to freedom. I achieved the freedom to originate nothing. So that’s what I did… nothing. I wished I could speak; at least I would’ve gotten something in before I became the excrement that master walked upon. I closed my eyes and patiently waited for death to overwhelm me as I listened to Master’s distant grunting in silence.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 1.6k
Indomitable Spirit
If the clouds went away,
far away from me,
they would continue
to rain on my parade.

Nobody should march to
the beat of someone else's drum;
I will always be a
disappointment to somebody.

They come they go-
the compliments and sacrifice.
How inconsistent
they always are.

How can I firmly
establish my identity,
when my identity
is what they disapprove of?
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 600
Mother Courage
Wind brings cold sorrow
upon the harsh cheeks of peace.
Like sandpaper forced to strip
the wood from it's originality.

Wind splintered;
scarred by disease.
Freedom of the world permits-
experiences we forget to seek.

I have the power while
trapped behind these walls,
to bring the wind down-
to sandpaper these memories away after all...

Nature give me strength,
as I sink in your terrain,
in order for me to live my life
within a world where evil reigns.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 774
I Dream.
I dream of the wind on a Fall day,
in the everglades.
I've never been but I pretend I've laid
on the peaceful green grasses that grow
before the sun went down so slow.

My dream diminishes that peaceful thought
and the moon fulfills the sadness of
the night that I spend alone,
because she's gone
for good you know.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 1.2k
A Bug's Quarrel
There was a bumble bee
with six legs and three teeth;
he was romantically involved
with the flea across the street.
When they got together
it was sticky and serene,
bee got what he wanted
for just fifty bucks a week.
though it was not serious,
it truly was a fling,
the flea's attempt to break it off
inspired a fatal sting!
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 1.6k
My Sensual Paramour
In my voice,
a conviction stability,
a dedication,
a sacrifice unrequited,
an eternal reach for decency.

In my heart,
a pressure uniformed,
a blood flow,
a purity,
a mortal love storm.

In my eyes,
a mirror pristine,
a secret,
a truth,
a promise of my loyalty.

In my soul,
emotion,
a romantic amour,
a lover,
a flame,
my sensual paramour.
© Christopher Rossi. 2010
Jun 2010 · 1.8k
Occasional Lover
Her intellect driven,
melted chocolate drowning tongue.
Succulent splendor 
too enjoyable to swallow.
Drooping sliding angel-gaze 
mesmerizing wafer, 
compacted sugar drug
hypnotizing love chase.
Daily Addiction, dissolving 
companion of desire.
Not for hire 
nor for sale,
our lust we will conspire.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 654
Writer's Block V
So many people
dying,
breaking promises,
bleeding
dealing stealing,
gunshots to my right.
Not a soul,
blissful
loving caring,
meditating or controlled.
Alone at this desk,
a hot reckless mess of sweat,
hoping
praying wishing,
for
freedom
peace and respect.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 1.3k
Her Kiss...
Dampened delicate lily pedals 
float 
      upon 
              thy 
                  cheek-
they mingle, dancing among my dimples;
forcing a gleeful grin of ecstasy.
Everlasting evidence of appreciated elegance,
the pedals 
fall 
    below 
             my 
                 chin 
and dangle on my necklace.
A solemn oath of love proven loosely by a touch,
like the roots that bind a willow tree to Mother Nature's cuff.
A touch so refined, a grasp of divine certainty-
blistering my lips is a perfect love,
undeniably.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 594
Cottonmouth Announcement
A spotlight shining 
down gives significance to my face 
and draws attention to the beings among the dark surrounding space.
The microphone 
a massive fit within my cotton mouth:  my voice amplifies a welcome to the crowd with booming sound. 
Too late now, 
No turning back I preach my lines with charm 
as every beady eye investigates my nervous calm.  
Need for alarm; my sweaty palms collapse a desperate grip upon 
the silent seated people unresponsive to my drum.
Rising from their seats,
they aim for their retreat- 
FINE! turn your back on poetry 
don't listen to my speech!
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 1.8k
Vampire
She breaths octane
gas polluting my heart,
and paralyzes my emotions,
love straining to restart.

Blue blistering toes,
pneumonia-driven prose,
she aches the bone inside of me
delivering a cold.

Moving towards
my aching soul,
she finds my
emptiness, tenfold.

Gaseous toxic dust
confides within my lungs,
her selfish evil breath fills me,
permanent distrust.

She drinks blood through
my straw-thin veins,
detracts my serenity;
swallows it all the same.

Disfigured masterpiece discharged
and broken on a hospital cart,
you're jealousy tears me apart,
I wait for the autopsy chart...
© Christopher Rossi & Nicole Hurley, 2010
Jun 2010 · 1.3k
Toxic Drift
Broken hearts are lost, confined and chained to the wall
by a chain link fence so sharp and strong;
disabling a soul from moving on.
Combustive beating heart,
distrusting evil ****,
she ****** me over and drifted away
like a formaldehyde ****.
© Christopher Rossi, 2010
Jun 2010 · 2.2k
A Confident Reserve
I need a clear sky
a clear head
a sunrise, 
a fresh breath of pure life,
a symphony of wind chimes.
The  form of a dandelion 
is compromised by wind,
as the seeds float aimlessly 
among it's master's drift.
Patience is a virtue 
unworthy of rebirth,
you only  got one shot 
of loyalty on planet earth.
So the dandelion waits 
For it's land into the dirt,
loyal to it's nature,
A confident reserve.
Copyright Christopher Rossi, 2010
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