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My world came crashing to a stop
Thirty four  years ago....on 8 December
I can tell you all just where I was
And I'm sure that you'll remember

I mourned the loss of a legend
I sat and cried for he who died
And like people the world over
Our emotions could not hide

Three years before, another
Died, but it didn't mean the same
He was found dead in his bathroom
A brand new image for his fame

I mourned the loss of a legend
One who died, but at what cost
He was a victim of his excess
I didn't feel the sense of loss

Two Men of peace in Sixty Eight
I was not yet seven at the time
Assassins changed the world we knew
It changed direction on a dime

The King of Camelot in waiting
His brothers shoes, this man would fill
But, for a bullett in Los Angeles
Would hit their mark and get the ****

The other man was destined
To die, because he had a dream
But he united those who heard him
It was a surreal as it did seem

Five years before in Dallas
A President brought down too soon
Was it a single snipers rifle
Or another on the knoll there in the gloom ?

For each of us, a moment,
When our world did change it's way
When we asked why did this happen ?
There was nothing left to say

Imagine or Remember
We all have that certain date
Be it November, or December
It was not ordained by fate

Lee Harvey Oswald, James Earl Ray
Sirhan Sirhan, Mark David Chapman
Elvis Presley, John F. Kennedy
Martin Luther King Jr, Robert F. Kennedy
John Lennon....ask which ones we should remember.
Dougie Simps Oct 2014
Interviewer: Douglas Simpkins, who are you? We don't understand you..the world seems to mis read you..can you tell us in a few words, maybe? Who is Douglas Simpkins?

(Heart beats)
(The sound of writing)

Dear Everyone,

Time has passed. I maybe overthinking this but I can't find my brains top latch
(So my thoughts are out)
You ask "what's that about?"

Let me explain..

I said things, broke things
Never thought I'd become inslaved..
To the monster who's beating inside me
To the ignorance placed in my grave
I done messed up, never confessed up, talk to god now, so maybe I'm blessed up?
But we cool and talk about when I was in school
How I created so many lies, blamed it on a high..
Stabbed so many backs that nobody walked with a spine.
Walk a mile in my shoes? nobody wanted my 9s
Figured Id grow outta my fears and self overtime..
Something happened,
And I gradually found death
I spoke to him as he would glare at me with darkness spewing from his breath
Manipulation at its best
As he grabbed a hold of my chest
Told me "only the good die young"
Put his hand on my pecks and pushed me back to this mess.

(Then what?)

I tried to follow purity,
The constant fight with this monster inside of me!
He wants anger! I just want maturity.
A sense of security.
Maybe that's why I'm so locked down
She thinks I'm being stubborn
But she don't know, I'm just starting to open up and share all about my past now.
****..and I gotta be honest,
I want you to be the one that I endure the longest,
Who accepts me at me at my weakest, supports me at my strongest.

(Let her now kid)

Hiding the truth in these subliminal notes,
Ask myself
If you like her why don't you go after what you desire the most?
Probably because I was a felon in loves convictions
I believe she deserves to enjoy life without pain and loves restrictions.

(Again man!?)

Yeah, I also needed time to break down. Weak knees, lord please, help me feel the force of the ground. The words of the angels and only some can hear the sound.
Ask yourself if you needed help, who the F!ck would be around?
I was stranded in the water and you just watched in an attempt to let me drown!
I survived!
Look at me rise! from all your f@cking let downs!

(Take it easy man)

But I tend to constantly escape, to a world, a beautiful place
Where I can't be judged, I can finally be alone and mediate in my vital space
A mind that represents the ocean, a heart that's the beating sun, a soul that is the sand, and a life that is all I want to become.


(That's beautiful)

Because we all have a story
Not one makes less sense.
I took a gun to misery, blasted the ****t outta it
Walked away and left that ***** for dead.
This is me. I can't make this up for your amusement
My words are the bullets, excuse me as I reload my weaPEN.

(Doug, calm down!)

Chill man, I told you I'm grown now and have full control.
I just speak with alotta passion and that don't go away even as you get old.
This my story and they wouldn't believe me if it wasn't properly told
I was a beast, a loose bullett that could **** a person with one shot..stare em down and spit a venom so cold.
But I apologize for it all and taking ya down this road...

(Hands shaking)

I prospered from myself and learned to hold my own.
Stick with me now and please embrace my change. Help me write my story and turn a new page.
Goals can be made, I never heard there ever had to be a certain age.
Giving you my all now and hope ya will accept my best
But still look back once in a while...
So that I'll never forget.

(Oh my god)

Also, had to go back to the lab, reconnect and draw up some new plans
And by the way, you can't know who Doug is...when it's really Bland.
Amen.

(Stopped writing)

Interviewer: I have no words. Thank you.
Haven't written like this in years
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2018
i am both

         thespian,

                  and ******...

the chikatilo
                    bullett...

   that slowly,
started eating away,

from the back
of the cranium...

   mouth-like-a-mushroom...

apparently you can only
read german philosophers,
if not wholly,
then "only" slightly
                     demented.

- because why would people
   do so?
the odd chance people
achieve
introspection of a sparrows'
song, lifting up
the labour equating itself
to literacy...

           bequeath cameo
          within the confines of
the opportunity to
assert the sigh orientated around
a prime, performance?

     i don't appreciate
reinstating Hippocratic orthodoxy...
when...
            ah...
              worth the excuse,
of liberty,
      and the boring lives
      reduced to reiterating: trivia...
it almost makes my life
worth: the presumption
of the thrill prior to a grave....

have i lived, the,
     only life?
                        no...
        but have i lived
a life, most alone?

that said,
    what would you say,
about, said example:
            without
                emphasis?

all that remains of me,
is a "question"
         regarding the technicality
of usage, with
a language, rather than as:
a language...

           can't exactly fake
a disembodiment...
              no one actually bothers
to pursue a reiteration
of such technicality...
       unless it be a technicality,
that language
  accommodates,
but reiterates itself from making
a use of.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2020
it's impossible to write anything...
when there's an ambition
to write...
          an ambition and no...
ice-cold crispness of spontaneity...
when... there's not even
all the bad reasons to write...
like money: carrot...
or... leaving a plough-of-
bombing sensations of past
and lost lovers... some variation
of a stick...
   it's impossible to write anything...
when there's an ambition
to write...
it's impossible knowing:
at best... a framing of anon.:
namely you... 40 years ago and through
to a now... your's an epitaph...
a grinding of a tombstone hoping
for... chatter cheats among teeth...
and imitation cages of rib-cages
from skeletons...
to ache like a body might for
a shadow... in reverse:
to ache like shadow might...
for a dead-end of being...
superstitious and coincidental
for a loot of soul...
       a mind a pickling jar...
an ego a pickle coo-coo:
                            lots lost cheaper...
for an umbrella...
    to cite: because there's no
quote involved...
                   simon posford...
flux & contemplation:
portrait of an artist in insolation...
i have my variation...
portrait of art: as failure...
           the... unfucked-******-with: wit...
of... the son not crucified...
is leftover cranium base: foot and food...
for... she has such...
ambitions for becoming the AVE MARIA...
the crucifix junction is...
a brothel robbed of a madame...
sort of... exact... scenario...
     we were the ones to tow
the toothless dog before the graveyard
of horses... stinking of sweat
and... hierarchy... and shadow...
demands of architecture...
language complicated itself along the way...
we substituted rye bread slices
with rye fermentation extracts...
we found melancholic joys from
drinking whiskey...
we were best kept apart...
sons and mothers...
ghosts and making those tender
years... her fully catered years...
with... even children are not allowed /
or are governed by such justifications...
i stand firm against a quake...
the winds make me a *******:
unfrequenting these parts...
there's a hounding sensation of...
the affirming mother of the elements...
coupling with the senses...
there's never, though!
never, though! a mother... making
me... this far grieving being in-depted...
as this... trivial affair of...
towing boredom to the extremes
of: the loiter gob-smacker-shut-****-off!
the cowering father figure...
some... mother: at least an adolf...
would have... speeded up the concept of:
to the grave best attired... bullett gritty...
catching... chewing on sand...
proposing...
   a shot of tequilla be not...
drank with a lick of salt...
   but a lick of... ashes... lazarus' ashes...
ghosts with echoes...
the resurrected kin'...
                                                'dred...
how does one... escape a mother a smothering
cult... of each and every... pardonable...
excuse post-riddle: forgiven?
it's a bad idea to have ambition
to write...
   to write without spontaneity...
it's idiotic to make oneself
inconveniently... in want of either money...
or... success on the breeding market...

           one can be forgiven with
having a mother... one can't exactly be forgiven
with having a wife...
esp. if one is... appeasing the...
already exploited avenue of re-,
   i welcome myself as a failure...
for the sole reason that i know what success
implies...
pride wet-locked egoism of...
when females congregate...
to boast of... ah... yes...
their offspring... not born from
alpha-male stature...
                  
      hence the greek alphabetical hierarchy...
omega's wording...
              shadow loiter...
it's almost funny:
the phrase... perhaps... perhaps we could
do some worshipping?
   oh forget about dividing will
and belief...
                   into something congregationally:
synonymous...

how does one... hide...
when your own mother abhors her own mother...
worships her father...
as a pseudo of man...
as a quasi of man...
                 to have had to marry...
it would have been easier:
it would have been... necessary...
to be... excused... as a homosexual...
i think my mother hoped for giving birth
to a homosexual...
rather than... a mongrel of...
solipsism and misanthropy...
   rejected by the "jedi" academy...
if i was the earning bread... and dough...
   and not some... loitering pass...
of a crossword puzzle...
we needed people to not... over-complicated
themselves...
we needed... safe avenues of...
earned wealth... that became...
running mates for others to earn theirs...
even if the... nuance...
came from... the dentist...
who desired toys...
             and the toys / dolls thust manufactured...

my words are no bricks... not glue...
nothing: to be invested by for the living...
except... by a living: in my own...
own invested in: post-mortem...
                        
                     i have a wild dream... though...
unlike the one concerning...
a... trampoline dachshund... spinning like crazy...
like a tony hawk...
   a wild wild dream...
me setting off to swim from norfolk...
to... norway...
        
beside having the concept
of a mother: i have a minder...
someone who desires... most...
to over-stretch her... authority for a simple...
per se motive...
      i want this complication
to be over... i want to establish it
like some vain hope acrostic enigma...
vain: hoping it's not true...
             add to it a trough of
borrowed bad experiences with
"gill-fwends" of shared drowning
with them 'aving daddy issues...
how best: to **** one's way out of these...
mummified sessions of wasted
psychiatric jargon-hunter misnomers of
schlang and grafitti?

tough treat... "mother"...
my grandfather was invested with these...
napoleons of the ****...
my father is invested in one...
my uncle said a beautiful goodbye...
took to acting... pretending the godfather
role... and... what not...
    
            i reason with an anger that ends
up being me tattooing my knuckles
plum against a wall...
             i suffocate an anger...
helen of troy... i guess hoped to: try...
to suffocate...
but what she didn't...
        her inverted ******* of *****
did... otherwise...

for the sacrifices of the living...
and the dead with their most profound:
told you so aversions of boast and
bewildering loiter...
                    this is a medium invitation...
that there be a bridge: yet...
burning... but sure as ****...
on its way to... bellow: the chime...
the grieving / numb echo of bell and toll.

— The End —