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  Sep 2016 Doug Potter
dennis drain
Clip full to the max and one in the chamber,
No fears can't stop a solder who's ready for danger,
rather fight with bare knuckles than wast bullets on suckers.
Mother ******* under estimate me cuz I'm white.
But see i fight big dudes like 6 foot 2 without a crew,
I'm 5'6 and skinny but still takin every hit like a man and winning!
Walking tall, back to my enemy's after every brawl,
Like If you wanna hit me from the back "ok", that's cool, be a punk, and think your bad.
I don't do **** unless I'm starin at your face.
I don't even bust my gat without steppin out my ride and gettin my target in sight.
Don't underestimate me cuz of my size or baby blue eyes,
I was raised by killers, drug dealers, and fiends. caught my first felony case at 14 and did 2 almoast 3 years in a box under lock and key!
Apon my release I kept my face muggin mean and nobody in this new town messed with me!
Police gave a warning sayin, " we got a gangster with a violent history"!!
No chance for me to explain my being,
Labeled for my violent felonies.
the sight of me drove fear into my peers And attracted fine honeys.
Each looking to put their claim on me,
but I keept it OG. and gave em all a taste of me.
It was shortly thereafter that a bad crowd found me.
Crowned me a bad *** and treated me like a king!!
Looking to me to act boldly and disregard authority.
I needed no prompting to put a ******* up proudly, where everybody could see my defiance speaking loudly.
I love the lack of ****'s I give, I'm a piece criminal and say it proudly.
Im still one to fear but the closest of peers adore me for my risk taking and back having.
One face for all to see, my attitude of **** all you equally!!
A nice guy when you take the time to get to know me.
But I appreciate the fear I instill in strangers who steer clear of me.
I'm the same as I was long before I met anybody I know now!!
I just grew 2 feet and made my voice loud so I could lead a crowd, or pick a fight with the whole **** town!!
There's no changin the true me inside, even if now a days I've tried to stay away from drama and trouble.
I'll still ****, I'm still down for a bare knuckle rumble in the streets. I still do steel to eat, Rob houses and cars for money, do drugs and sell em to.
Only thing holding me back from screamin at police while I attack em and strip em of they badge, is a woman I found that grounded me.
Gave my delinquent mind clarity and gave me my first taste of love, truer than I've ever had as a ****
She respects every aspect of my past and only asks that I keep in check,
so I can stay around make a check and and bless every breath she has left.
So I do my best and respect the limits she sets.
Never over stepping her wishes unless I know the situation best,
and know for a fact that my actions will bring less regret.
But regardless of the love I hold or the wishes she bestowes Im still a gangster throwing up 1-4, wearing red and repin as a Norteno, cuz my stripes are big I did men's work as a kid, and took beatings like they didn't happen when theyes did
I been strapin myself since 11 when I stole a little 22 from up under the mattress of my uncles friend ben.
I used it a lot! Used to bring it to school.
never showed it off cuz the point wasn't to be cool.
i had it with the intentions of smokin a fool!
now I'm 18 and I've slowed slightly,
but don't think that just cuz I'm treating you nicely that I won't **** you with a dull knife and stick around to watch you slip into nice sleep!
Point being I'll treat you with what respect you deserve but cross me an ima eat your ******. Soul for desert!!!!
  Sep 2016 Doug Potter
Sophia
He's my 3am thought,

tired eyes, blinking lights
cold breeze, dry lips
but it's worth it
if it's him

She's my 3am thought,

firm hands, dark room
heavy sighs, pale skin
but it's worth it
if it's her
On the playgrounds of the future
Children will laugh and sing
And we’ll cross the bridge to real peace
Where the bells of sanity shall ring

Until then we’ll play the game
Which will all add up to naught
“It’s your fault, no, it’s theirs…”
Why some fail at what is taught.

We’ve been given new books and bosses
Numerous regs to do the job
But money flows to the burbs
Inner-cities fair game to rob

Touching the future may seem easy
From a point too far away
One could assume it’s all just ditto -
Then lunch -  then math - then play

If this is your belief
You could not be further from the fact
That success is measured forward
As we have our students’ back

So forward we will plod
Secretly teaching to the mean
We will test, and test and test
From which all congress shall glean

Information in nice neat form
Of bars and charts sublime
Symbolic of teachers and students
Who have been sentenced to hard time

And the monied districts shall rule
Golden in and out
And the bootstraps will appear
Accusing all who doubt

Good will be the words to spread
And many who will eat them
The failures will be shown the straps
But for pity’s sake, don’t beat them

                                                                             G. Davis-Feldman
  Sep 2016 Doug Potter
Crimsyy
I know you are lying there,
probably unconscious
of where you are,
I know you wanted to
find a backdoor to finally end
your journey to the stars,

But I want you to know,
you will one day be able to
breathe on your own,
one day, you will recognize
your beautiful body as
your beautiful home,

An overfilled vessel,
filled to the brim with
the complications of existing,
I know you are in pain,
but sweet Hope,
I know you'll smile again.
Doug Potter Sep 2016
There are thirty of us under a torn canopy
where the sound of wind blowing against canvas
assaults me as if I were being beaten. We will
soon ride into the hills and **** pine; to fell
the mighty as if the mighty are horseweeds.
Every callused man here  hates his weapon;
worn chainsaws that would make  better
tools to fight  wolves than walk the earth
clearing  stands of timber.
**************
Twelve of the original thirty loggers come back
for our 48th consecutive day; it rains as if  prehistoric
elk hover over the camp and **** a lake upon us.  Six men
go home within an hour because farming and stocking
cans of tuna at grocery stores appear more plausible than
wallowing in mire with saws, wedges, and chains with links
the size of your mother’s fist.  It is work and *******
every man  needs to eat or help feed a family.  The money
is not good, conditions like Czechoslovakia WW II.  

The six of us who remain, leave.
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