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Jul 2012 · 1.1k
Spiced Rum
Crooked teeth sharpen.. like ******-brains.....when the widow takes light.
Bus-pass funerals feeding the satanic presidents who have never seen the love of night.
Drags upon drags UPON DRAGS... of prescription biblical realities. Which fed them
but seem to **** my possibility.  

If love and life and will are work. Then why do we go to work?
So I can get some head and not have to ****?
The pain of despair puts me against a ******* wall.
Hey! **** it!      I've got some face on my *****.

The bright are ghosts and pure fiction.
All are artists who are paid exist as contradictions.
If I'm ever "PAID" and living off my dreams.
I know I'll become a get rich quick scheme.

Money isn't mine. Belongs to mankind. Help us all out of binds. Give humans some time. They crossed the line. Come straight from behind. Allow me to remind. Why there really is crime. Throw some paper drop a dime. ***** your friends you'll be fine. You got that shine.

You got that precious fully equipped with payments that keep you locked down.
Might as well be a prison. My minds coming down.
Apr 2012 · 974
French Girls
Each day it’s charted course.
Fate with it’s heavy force,
We are dog toys.
They’ll chew us up the more we squeak.
Do not forget.. You are but the meek.

Obsessions of the heart.
It can be passion,
But it’ll breed desperation and we fall apart.
Heavier and heavier the weight becomes.
Yawns and yawns until you succumb.

The bane wont burn out.
They wont even fade away.
They carry on as false martyrs..
Leading us astray.

Point the finger,
She can blow the whistle.
Insure security and care about the fiscal.
Ignore the truth and fire the missile.

Loss! Oh what is loss?
The pain of the gone.
The rise of the strong?
Accepting this is where we belong?
Loss of soul?
Loss of love?
Loss of pain?
All really the same.

They make us.
The mind being the key.
To disbelieving all you see.
All a struggle to be free.

But free is really an affordance of all fees.
Until you see me as I see you.
Nothing will really be true.
The sun will set.
The moon will fade.
We can all be in this ******* parade.

The truth of the problem was the mind.
A hoax of consumerism and self obsession.
To deny all instinctual truth and never question.
What is the real root of this ******* recession.
Feb 2012 · 824
Lorna
Looks down at me.
Has empathy but mistakes it for pity.
Treats me like charity and never gives.
Has a car seat but no ******* kids.

She runs us.
She runs us.
Our lady of hope.
She is the future,
She is the horoscope.

A dream of white fences,
And black  and yellow dogs.
With red hydrants and green cops.
And fires burning the logs.

Dining and romancing.
Firehouse roses and  silk beds.
Miles Davis and the sweet soul.
The jazz we burn over a bowl.
Through the city streets, through the empty malls, and vacant houses.
As we pass brothers, and sisters, and mothers, and fathers, and lovers, and many haters,  and twice as many sheep.
To find home and self medicate while I can.

The elastic squish,
Of flesh and juice,
And sheets, and sweat.
Which felt like steam when it rolled.
Smoking. OH HOW SWEET!
HOW SWEET THE DRAG!!
How it filled and thrilled.
As we ashed and smashed.

The coma, the aftermath.
The limbo of luxury.
The ***** of salutatory.
In my bed, I mean her bed.
If we were one, I mean if we’re one.
Then the bed is ours.

Death and dying,
Life and living.
Lives desperately trying.
Love it and we will buy it.

Teach  me to be.
Help me to cry.
Hold  me till I see.
You can be me, and I can be you.

Walk together, all we do.
Fights for peace.
We’ll die for hate.
Oh delusion, how sweet the escape.
Feb 2012 · 737
Scars and Bars
The broken ***** bent at bar,
cleverly hiding her emotional scars.
The Kind man looked very lonley.
Patiently waiting for love,
                                       If only.. If only..

He sat stool next to her right,
Say's "Hello" to overcome his fright.
Eyes turned purple by bar light.
She owns him with miniscule might.
Her actions were made from pure spight.

Pulls his hand between her thighs,
***** shouldn't be this tight.
This is it! Invited her home that night.

Sold with lines of..
                    "Your cute"
                                       ...."Just looking for Miss.Right".

His heart warms to be glad.
How long can one woman stay mad?
Enabled him to want to be a Dad.

They kiss,
            they touch.
He surrenders his emotional crutch.
Mentally he screams "THANK YOU MUCH!"

She gets to the ground,
pumps him up so they can pound.
He moans the "Ahhhh" sound.

Works him to the point of nut.
She makes sure his door is shut.
Pretending  to be a ****.

For you see!

Her life was getting ****** by guys.
Who only saw her as a pair of thighs.
The lack of connection made her cry.
She gave up on love after a lifetime of tries.

Men who ****** her and left her alone.
For she didn't realize all she did was give dogs bones.
After a million men she was smashed to stone.

Until one man promised her the world.
His love made her feel as innocent as a  little girl.
Eventually the man got bored and gave ***** another whirl.

It left her broken and dead.
So she sought revenge in bed,
and cut off **** during head.

She pulled out scissors and chopped.
She loved doing it right before men popped.
Bush now stained red.. **** dropped.
**** on the gound... his heart stopped.
Put his member in her purse.
Walk around with a ken doll curse.

He cried and screamed.
For love is never what it seems!

Her ****** was the man being broken.
Pain breeds pain, token by token.
***** is never the word to be spoken.

She had been hurt, so she went on to hurt.
What could be worse?
As the pain we feel being the human curse.
The versed cant be reversed.


Just try to heal.
Don't just poke her,
                    buy her a meal.
For love is something we all deserve to feel.
Feb 2012 · 684
Must Be Santa
Chains. Chains. Chains.
Pursuit of truth,
Labyrinth of fear.
The cautious man runs from his dreams.
He paints his face with black and white.
He sees no clouds and always has an umbrella.

The anarchist.
The preacher.
The student.
The teacher.

All together on a grassy field.
Where we fight for production of goods that no one can afford.
Where we dance like junkies in a trance.
All together yet so apart.
Burns and scars were their only friends.
We all borrow but no one lends.

Destiny!! Oh SWEET DESTINTY!
Was I blind?
What do I see?
Fear, Death, Merchandising, Proclamation, Exploitation, Education, Deliberation, ***, Love, Hate, DRUGS, DRUGS, and more Drugs…..
   For the platform never moves and the train never arrives.
******* to live, born to die.

So we’re here.
All the work got us here.
All the bloodshed and loss to preserve something.
Something… and we are here.
Wars for the rich fought by the poor.
When they own the stores.
When they own schools.
When they own our churches.
When they own the lower class.

We accept this.
To operate and assume.
To work hard enough,
To be a silver spoon.
So sell out.
Give it up.
You don’t deserve it.
We ******* hate you.
You won’t ever fit in.

So become a suit.
Earn your money.
Buy a house.
REFIANCE!!!
Dance, the ******* dance.
It’s what we do and we are here.

— The End —