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The pigeons picked at the
crumbs in between the diamonds.
But they were more than likely
just pieces of broken glass.

The occupants of
the Mad house sit
out front on the concrete steps.
The look on their faces
say they are far
away from all of this used to be.

He could have been a
family man, a respected man.
Instead he slept like a
naive little baby, curled up on
the concrete with only
a wine stained coat for comfort.

This here is an asphalt
run still alive with history.

Good time girls and juiced up
sailors once painted this
street red with painted kisses
and fist fight blood.

The guys danced with the
women whose lips were
as red as the wine they drank.

This all should have gone
on forever.

All that is left now are
the pigeons and
the broken glass.

The winos and the Mad ones,
who shuffle like lost penguins
along Beacon street.
Still waiting for
the party to begin.
To be Loved
is mostly
temporary and at
times a lie.

But to be missed
to be remembered
lasts as long as
a memory
and is about as
real as it's ever
going to get..
I guess you could call this a flashback
Maybe even a lament
Sleepless nights always drag out my inner demons in the subtle madness of complete silence
Then again my memories are always hazy until I reach that point
The point where I ripped off my angel wings and fell from cloud nine
I guess really it’s not a lament more an old broken duct tape together soul trying to teach those around him who are following a path he had drag himself out of
Their experiencing the release of powdered heave
Their loving the absolute embrace of pixie pills
Their caught in the web of grass that twists on the pearly gates
Their living what I already almost died trying
Like Icarus I flew too high and came crashing to the earth.
But at that point I was no longer living with angel wings
I was crawling around with devil feathers then
I was selling my soul to a needle filled with the most emulsifying and weight lifting crude toxin I could get a finger on
And like a weight I came crashing down one day awoken by a beggar merely happy to see me alive
I guess what I really mean to say is I’m tired of hearing that all these wonderful poisons aren’t addicting
You become like a bird hardly ever wanting to set foot on the ground
The grass in the clouds is gnarled and vindictive trapping you to it like a spider web
The angel dust like pixie dust lets you fly but confines you in thorns and splinters when you can’t
The sweet nectar of hand held doses may break your chains but only at the cost of a choke collar tied to the release itself
And when all these magic paradise inducing chemicals don’t work they turn to the most caustic vial venom the world can find
An injectable heaven that leaves them a dying husk of who they were.
So I was wrong it is a lament but at the same time its me trying to preach
I know I’m the ***** sweating in church
I know I’m the recovered addicted who never asked for help
I know I’m the happy supportive psychopath
Trust me when I say I know I’m weird one of a kind human being
So I beg of you to listen to my learned wisdom from playing on cloud nine
But you don’t
You won’t listen you think you know it all
But
You haven’t walked down the rabbit hole as far as I have
You haven’t played chess with the devil for the next flight to cloud nine
I know I seem like one big conundrum of hypocrisy
Preaching what I already did
But the reason I seem like that to some of you is simple
It’s because I’m preaching what you don’t want to hear
Now im not going to make you listen
Though you should
On those long sleepless nights when the sweet velvet like call of angel wings whisper to you please ignore them
I know it’s a brutal thing to deny what’s like heaven itself but please I beg you not to follow the mistakes I’ve made.
Don’t resort to other reliefs like another warm body or a bottle of fire water
Just keep strong
I have seen the pits of addiction
I’ve done many a things I will never forgive myself for
So from a ruined tattered soul like myself please heed my warning
The leaves of the tree of life only go so far
The dust of enlightenment is not permanent
And the magic pills won’t send you up the bean stock forever
Stop pretending to fly above the world and instead embrace those around you
Before you wind up like me scrambling to save a dying *****
While fighting to find your family and friends again
Leave the toxins, chemicals, and venom behind they only leave you to rot inside the shell you once called your mind.
Inspiration on a sleepless night. It's a truth I came to understand the hard way.
As I scarpered away, I could hear the voices,
echoing through the steel walls.
The cries, the vociferations, catching up to me,
couldn't fathom the escape, with a plan full of flaws.

Turning left, bending right,
running in circles, an endless plight.
The drug they induced,
pumping through my veins,
blocking my vision, severing the mains.
Don't know for how long,
I can put up this fight.

The sentinels advanced,
as fast and agile as they ever could be.
The alarm had rung more than once,
red lights poured all over the scene.

Needle in hand, dipped in ataractic,
who were they fooling, with that mild sedative?
I raced with every semblance of life I had,
couldn't survive this hell-hole.
Another day here would've driven me mad.

As the unexpected turn came,
I banged the door with the unknown name.
Fell face first, the momentum it carried me,
Scraped through the floor, stomach felt queasy.
Warm liquid oozed out of my nose,
dripping tardily as I rose,
the environment all but blurry.


Insanity Prevailed


As I blacked out,
I recalled how I came to be,
this house of horrors, delivered to me.
'Magnolia', home of the mentally challenged,
avowed 'care for the community'.

The head-shrink had advised,
you be safe, a feeling I imbibed.
A wry smile and that was it,
'Magnolia' She exclaimed,' would deem you fit.'

Believing in every word of hers,
I opened the door, welcomed
by the smell of fresh carcass,
the shabby floor with spots of dirt,
and people, oh lord the great unwashed,
like walking zombies, feelings inert.
They looked at me, some smiled and some laughed,
others cried, rest merely coughed.
So this is it, the house of the harebrained,
this was going to be my life,
Living among the insane.

I harbored no ill will,
But I couldn't absolve,
this feeling, inside me,
no friends no family, nothing normal.
Lasting with the un-dead,
my new destiny.

They filed me,
Gave a number, names were difficult to process,
66 it was, perfect, contributed  distress.
Admitted to my room, solitary for the neophyte,
'Morning' they said,' begins a new life.'

With a wicked smile they left me alone,
I was meek enough to cry, stiff enough to moan.
I wailed the whole night, the walls resonated,
the shrill of metal, the demons it encouraged.
The lights polished off, staring at the darkness,
all the monsters , the behemoth, dancing around me,
an invitation to their everlasting music.


Insanity Persisted


A specter bobbed up from the tiled floor,
gazed at me and pointed to the door.
'Rise, Awaken, my soul',
and the door opened with a loud crack,
'You must hurry, the guards will be back'.
I sat bolt upright, the apparition never lied.

Nose still bleeding, I took flight with haste,
looked back, they had dropped the chase.
It felt safe after a long time,
The world must know, of their wicked little crime.
They had to be stopped, the Doctor, the Nurse,
all of which were part of the crust,
which protected the whacko who experimented on us.

End of the hall, I noticed the Blue door,
It had to be the one, which will take me off-shore.
Head still paining, the doses that drained,
the vigor and strength, I couldn't sustain.
One last time, I had to draft
my will my power, from within.
To conjure up all my might,
before the shadows cave in.

As I drew nearer, towards the blue threshold.
I knew there was no looking back,  
nothing left to unfold.
I slowed down, one step at a time,
I could taste freedom, a taste so sublime.
My hand reached the door,
and gently turned the ****,
I pushed open the exit
and stared at the waiting mob.

Before I could assimilate,
with my failure and disappointment.
Someone jabbed a needle,
covering my mouth, crackling my vent.
Pushing me again, down the memory lane.


Insanity Pursued


The days were bad,
the nights equally worse.
A thin line existed between illusion and insanity,
indistinguishable they became, virtual and reality.
One could hear screams, begging for mercy,
Which the henchmen showed no sign of,
and continued to treat the already cured.

Those who betrayed, yearning exemption,
were treated with immense brutality.
Straightjackets, shackles and all sorts of gear,
were enough to put a man in psychotic fear.
The staff comprised barbarians and sadists.
Who lacked the basic sense of morality.

Shock therapy, voltage to its max,
bound and gagged, glued to the sacks.
The jolt of the lightning hitting them hard,
enough to churn up the flesh into lard.
They drugged the sufferer, the dupe would tranquil,
the fallout was horrible, it would make them frenzied.

For those beyond cure,
who lived for mere existence,
earned their own private, privileged experiment.
A special space, a hidden chamber,
well beyond, beneath the ground.
Defecated walls, layered flesh and blood,
****** fluids scattered,
in abundance, constituting a flood.
Human torture, vicious and cruel.

In a place so dark even the demons would fear,
how could I survive? This life to me was dear.
And the patients, the patients wouldn't help,
for them it was a game, live a day, reward for the next.
Some were quiet, lost in their own world,
speaking, whispering and talking to themselves.
Some looked sane, but stuck in paranoia,
for them the universe could any day cease to exist,
pertaining to their biggest phobia.
some were smart, they indulged in theories,
the real world mattered less to them.
And then there were the trigger-happy.
The truly maddened ones, violent with rage.
Every day was a battle, they fought within the cage.
They couldn't help me, for I wasn't crazy,
Just your usual guy, a victim of fate.

Magnolia was a place, where people ****** away their souls,
I wasn't ready to sell mine.
I had to escape, make an elaborate design.
There were no doctors at night, just the cruel handy-men,
had all the time in the world to formulate a plan,
question was, to execute when?

One night the attendant came,
wearing  a strange jumpsuit,
pen in breast-pocket,
woke me up and proclaimed, 'Get up you imbecile,
it's your turn in the lab today.
Stand up now, I ain't got all day!'
'HAH! You could try young man, to put me down,
but I ain't going to your lousy town'.
To this he smacked at my retort,
and laughed with a disgusting little snort.
'One more time you test my good nature,
and I swear to God I'll ruin your caricature.'
'Go ahead then give it your best shot,
You want me dead, do you not?'.
His laughter, this time, deafened the silence all around.
'You're dead fool! If it were up to me I'd skin you flesh and bone,
The amount of ruckus you create, the annoyance you hone,
But the good doctor has plans and once he's done with you..'
His unfinished sentence struck a nerve so strong,
my eyes rolled over,
what could possibly go wrong?

So the man with the strange jumpsuit,
dragged me all the way to the office.
The dimly lit room, ornamented a large crucifix.
Dear lord, you see how they mock?
Came back the degenerate with a big round lock.
'Oh yes, this is for you my friend,
chains aren't enough, straightjacket I will get.
Sit still you half-wit, else you'd regret'.
And I smiled and waited.
He returned as promised, with the piece of vestiary,
a twisted sense of humor, whoever built this monstrosity.

He stared where I looked, into his breast pocket.
'What's missing pal?' I asked in amusement.
He stopped everything and looked around.
With a motion so fast, it could only fly by,
gripping the pen, I poked him in the eye.
Ink exuded instead of blood,
the large man fell, loud with a thud.
The immense pain had him in shock,
now was the time for me to run amok.
But I kept focus, and ran for the door,
promised myself never to look back anymore.
Eloped with the only chance I foxed.


Insanity Reigned


The source of light was so strong,
I twitched a lot, just to see what's going on.
Caged in a room, no wait, a theatre!
****! I was so close to getting out.
The staff, I assume, were prepared all along.
Hatched a sinister plot, to show where I belong.
They had me now, tied to a work bench,
metal clasps around my wrist,
belted to the maximum limit.
For some odd reason they had me gagged,
the tape tasted foul, hygiene they lacked.
I wrestled my wrists with the wrought metal clamp.
But they were tight, wouldn't budge,
getting them off needed more than a nudge.

Alas the doctor came, with a frown upon his face,
With great ruefulness, he peeled off the tape.
'You caused us a great deal of trouble today.
None of our methods have impacted on you, what do you have to say?'
'Serves you right, you junk-less freak!' I was happy he was disappointed,
'That's not a very nice thing to say' responded the doctor, almost agitated.

He picked up an instrument,
a big long nail, the pointed end was so sharp,
I could feel it piercing through my brain.
Next he lifted a mallet,
which shone so bright it reflected upon my face.
To what devilish purpose could they serve?
The doctor took his time, and allowed me to observe.
He wore his mask, the mask of a surgeon,
at this time of the night? Surely he wasn't
planning to operate on me.
'Leave me alone, what are you doing?
Surely you know I'm not to be blamed, I don't belong here.
This is insane!'
'Wrong again 66, the society would never accept you.
You killed your wife and children, ******'s on you.'
It was at this moment the specter re-appeared, right behind the doctor.
Calling me, my name,
'They're all lying, you didn't **** anyone, they're framing you.'
'LIAR!' I spat at the doctor, 'You know she's is alive and waiting for me at the doorstep,
As always' I said.
'Yes she is waiting, but only at her death bed.'
'LIAR! You know my kids are sleeping peacefully at home!'
'Yes they are, but the sleep is eternal.'
'LIES! I can't **** a person,not even a fly!'
'And yet you poked my assistant right in the eye!'

The specter now appeared closer,
in a calming tone almost a whisper,
'Do not believe a word they said.
You're not a killer, just a victim of fate.'
Exactly, that's precisely what I meant.

With all the strength my voice box could muster,
I cried so hard the doctors ears could rupture.
' LIES! LIES! ALL LIES! You won't get away with this, the truth will come out.
Why would I ever **** them for crying out loud?'

'You're right, the truth shall come out, but not in this form, not from you.
66 has to die, a fact you always knew.'

No one dies today

'Hold him still.' The good doctor ordered.
A pair of hands inclined my head south,
Another pair, taped away my mouth.
I could hear music, a soft hum.
It had calmed me down ,that bass drum.
It kept beating at regular intervals.
The specter now, beside me,
placing her hand on my shoulders.
I looked up towards the sky, a light bulb
glowed right above my nose.
The doctor raised the nail,
a dot replaced the light source.
As the blot grew in size,
the light dimmed, luminance was minimized.
The music almost placid,
it made me smile, a smile so gentle.
The doctor enounced,
'This will only hurt a little.'
And as he struck, the spirit vanished,
the music stopped.


Insanity Triumphed
Part 2 of The 'Karma' trilogy
When looking for love leave no stone unturned
When fighting for what you want be an animal viscous and strong
When all the odds are against you keep at it
When looking for love don't forget sometimes it finds you

While you're searching don't forget to stop and looking around it maybe right next to you
When fighting for love make sure you're happy
When the odds are against you make sure the odds aren't trying to help you
When looking for love time is the best healer and tool

Time does not mean wait on them
That's not love
That's lust
Love isn't one persons job it's boths job
Love can't be a princess waiting on a knight
Sometimes that knight just snuck by the dragon so it'll fight their demons

Meet them halfway and see what real love is
Meet them in battle and help each other win
Meet them in hell and climb out side by side
Meet them in happiness and find happiness

When searching for love you must try
You must be able to walk fight and trust them
When searching for love search for a companion not a lover
The last line may seem a tad off but it is not. You are happier with someone you have already gone through hell with. A friend is there before and after a relationship a lover isn't.
 Jan 2014 Pearl Feldman
anonymous
this is not a democracy!
this is a nation of hypocrisy
the only chance of survival
is a frontal lobe lobotomy

creativity is a dying breed
open your mind
look around
tell me what you truly see
Beautiful minds dying on the streets every day

this country was founded on dreams
now day were focused on gay marriage
and smoking ****

find your passion
whether its fashion
a paint can
or the musical aspect

plant the seed
lets make its a place people want to be
If given the chance, would you erase the past?
Or simply move forward like every second was your last.
Would you ponder your thoughts or sleep your life away?
Would you crawl under a rock day after day?
Would you open up your heart to the one you truly love?
Or lock up your feelings and give fate a shove.
Would you reach the farthest you could reach or fall down with regret?
Would you ever define yourself as self-actualized or suffer from anxiety, lonesome and much fret.
Would you accept you are or watch others grow?
Would you discover happiness or remain too shy; not bold.
Would you keep your head up high when you're feeling down?
Or isolate yourself from all around?
Would you follow your heart or only use your head?
Would you let true talent go to waste and feel as if it's dead?
Would you drink your sorrows away or face reality?
Would you fight until satisfied or suffer brutality?
Would you speak your mind or let others exploit you?
Would you live life to its fullest or become withered; black and blue?
Would you cry when you needed to?
Or have a large lump in your throat,
Would you express your emotions as your personal anecdote?
Would you always think positive or have a negative mind?
Would you make the most of your life or have the beauty yet to find?
Would you help those in need or just hope and pray?
Would you make an impact in their lives?
Or assume they'll be okay.
So if given the chance, would you begin your life anew?
Or contemplate all the memories,
After all you've gone through?
 Jan 2014 Pearl Feldman
Julia
I didn't plan for this to happen,
But Life pays no mind to my plans.

I remember the day I looked Life
In the face and said
Today will be beautiful.
A coy smile came about her
And she slowly shook her head.
Anything you say, dear;
But I have other plans instead.


That was the day my sister
Got into the car
Where she took her last breath.

But a few years have passed now,
And Life gained compassion with her age.

I sternly told Life
I will not fall in love with him
Again she smiled, but made no sound
As she silently clasped her wrinkled, feminine hands.

Look at me now.
I didn't mean for this to happen
But he's always on my mind.
"Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans."
Please excuse the corny fiction, and rough form.
 Jan 2014 Pearl Feldman
Julia
When I was young,
     my mom braided my hair with purple ribbons
     every Sunday morning.
Her fingers trembled, tangled in my curls,
     but she kept braiding, twisting, tying
     until it was to her standard.
Nights like this, I miss her
     as I braid my own hair,
     And I can't achieve the perfection
Of those trembling fingers.
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