it's gonna be dry one day
when it finally stops raining
down here in old Alabam'

seems to be either drought
or tsunami rain forest ****
down here these places

Outside the puddles
are taking over, the farmers
always proclaiming catastrophe.

like drug dealers, I used to know
they don't want you to realize
their prosperity

or find their two ounces stashed
buried near that peanut plant
in the field

or the fifty thousand cash

the female genitalia mutilation community
and the suicide bombers ordained ministers
and the child molester Chesters
posing as Catholic preachers
as well as the emancipated sore back flagellants
the Moral Right down home
KKK followers acting sanctimonious
while stringing up some young black dude
or burning crosses
Hail the name of God!

What’s in a #?

#“What's in a #? That which we call a #
By any other # would smell as #...”

-#Shakespeare?

You are, by the Grace of God, as you speak;
You are not a #; you are not an @
You are not a consumable to be
Tagged, twitted, labeled, renamed, and recycled

Honor the languages of your ancestors
Who gave to you, through work and dignity,
The Muses Nine of civilization
And not vague scratchings in the muck of now

Write nobly, not in # @ noises weak -
You are, by the Grace of God, as you speak

first contact scenario
close encounters of the third kind
well how many
kinds are there anyway

a peaceful delegation
or an alien invasion

because alien we are
under threat of war

your burning desires
my best intentions
a clash
of unspeakable dimensions

this is not a game
we are
one misinterpretation
away
from mutual annihilation

you’d better tread lightly
I know I will

If you knew what I thought,
If you opened a small piece of my mind,
You would lose yours,
The weight of my thoughts would crush any mortal,
My insecurities would implode any person,

If anyone were to look into the darkness of my mind,
The ink of my thoughts would drown them,

Yet I still live,
I have no purpose,
No real motive,
Yet I walk along this line of Society,

As sociy progesses I will stay behind,
Not wanting to interfere with the revolution,
I will be the only nuisance,

Desperate times like this call for a distraction.
Feeling wanted and craving some attention.
There's always a price to pay without an education, in the art of seclusion.  
Laying on the couch as he gazed upon me.
Taking in the sight, to his delight
he found me charming.

He told me, "I'm a fighter. I'm a queen."
That he found me particularly fascinating.
"We're not so different you and me,
Which makes you superior when compared to anything."
I was stuck between the sheets. Plunging forward.
Falling further. Wondering why his smile made me feel so sickening.

I'd be crying as he took me in his arms.
Made me believe he truly meant no harm.
He held me tightly and he muttered,
"If you get any older maybe we could move past heavy petting.
You can't gain experience without experimenting. "

He told me, "I was pretty
And around pretty things don't mind if I get a little touchy feely.
Younger girls fall so very easy. Just don't gain any unwanted feelings,
without them I can still make you feel amazing."
Once again I was stuck between the sheets. Plunging forward.
Falling further. Unknowingly risking everything.
I felt like nothing when compared to anything.

He'd pull me closer as I started shaking.
Assured me that'd he'd never hurt me and there was no need to be afraid.
He made me feel uncomfortable rather than amazing.
Turns out his words meant nothing.
Still sitting frightened in his lap.
My need for comfort had enticed him so much one day when he just snapped.
And me feeling guilty for doing so, I Innocently asked,
Craving comfort and security, how was I supposed to know?
I'm sorry, that really wasn't my intention.  

He started smirking as he said,
"You really like attention.
Your teasing doesn't pay the bill.
One day you won't be able to shut me out.
And those doors won't stop me from getting in.
Is that so difficult to comprehend?", he threatened.

I was a token of your humor.
I was your stupid little fool.
I was nothing but your prisoner.
I meant absolutely nothing at all to you.
I was stuck within your sheets.
Unable to move forward.
There was nowhere else to fall.
As I was screaming silently, you made me realize
the meaning of nothing meant me.

If I had known all along, that I was backed against the wall,
I would have never wrote this poem.
And I would have fought harder than just screaming, that this feels wrong I think we should stop.