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Chanel Tatum Jan 2018
Suicide- 1-800-273-8256
Bullying- 1-800-420-1479
Self Harm- 1-800-DONT-CUT
Teen Help- 1-877-332-7333
Domestic Violence- 1-800-799-7233
****/****** Assault- 1-800-656-4673
Lifeline- 1-800-784-8433
Grief Support- 1-650-321-3438
Depression- 1-630-482-9696
Drug/Alcohol- 1-877-235-4525
Eating Disorders- 1-630-577-1330
Homeless/Runaway- 1-800-RUNAWAY
Mental Health- 1-800-442-4673
Sexuality- 1-800-246-7743
You are not alone; get help if you need it. I love each and every one of you so so so so so much!
Big Virge Oct 2014
BILLS BILLS BILLS !!!!
  
Soooo Many ... **** Bills ... !!!
I don't like Destiny's Child ... !!!
This ain't a Dance Drill ... !!!
  
I’m writing this poem
cos i'm ... TIRED ... of ... " BILLS " ... !!!!!
  
BILLS ... for the Electric ... !!!
BILLS ... for the Gas  …!!!
Soon … they'll be Billing ...
For taking a .... "SLASH" .... !!!?!!!
  
BILLS ... for ... The NET …
BILLS ... for your Texts ...
BILLS ... for those ... HOTLINES ...
For .... Telephone *** .... !!!
  
What will they bill next .... !?!
They're Billing .... Soooo Much ....
They don't even want ... Cheques ... !?!
  
Just Tap In ... Your PIN …
that's how they'll begin ...
to steal ... ALL Your Money ...
  
Why don't people see …. !?!
are they REALLY .... "THAT DIM" … ???
just look ... In Your Bank ...
  
"The Beast" .... Lies Within ....
  
Cashpoint machines .... “FAILING” ....
The service is .... “SICKENING” .... !!!
  
Meantime ..... YES ...... Your Bank
is … “HAPPILY” … Billing ....
  
Now ... I really would CHILL ....
if I ..... Never Again .....
SAW  .... A **** .... Dollar Bill !!!!
  
cos ... AMERICA’S ... used them
for Killing ... at Will ...
  
kinda gets me to ... Thinking .......
that ... even .... " Bill Clinton " ....
just bombed without ... Blinking ... !?!
  
Sudanese People .... DIED ...
as the U.S. .... just .... LIED ....
  
While meantime .... Bill Tried ... !!!
to STOP .... his **** .... SHRinKing ... !!!!!!
  
Lewinski .... for sure ....
Was NOT .... "FINGER LICKING" …. !!!!!
  
But doing ... Her Thing ...
while thinking ........... Ch-Ching ... !!!!!!!
  
Meantime .... Bill's career ....
was about to start .... SINKing ....
  
" TITANIC " ..... Indeed ..... !!!
  
Bill ... fulfilled ... His Need .... !!!
  
but then came ... The Press ... !
Monica's … "All DISTRESSED ... !!!"
  
but Bill ... Tried his Best ... !!!
once again .... to .... “DECEIVE” ….
  
but ... All of A SUDDEN ... !!!
BILL made ... "A NEW SOUND" ...
  
“Okay, Yes I did it … !!!”
  
The TRUTH ... did ... come out ... !!!!!!
  
So, how many Bills ... ?
are feeding us ... LIES ... !?!
from BILLS ... that we pay for ... ?
To … “UNIFORM GUYS” …. ???
  
Oh Yes ... The ... “OLD BILL” …
over here ... NEED TO ... chill … !!!!
They're beating on ... BLACKS ...
"RACISM" ….. “INSTILLED” …. !!!!!
  
Blacks Dying in ... Cells ...
All Show ... but ... No Tell ... !?!
of how this ... CHIT ... happens ....
  
“THE YOUNG MAN JUST FELL !!!!”
  
See, that's the ... Hard Sell ….
that's what ... Blacks Deserve ... !!!!!!!!
Ask .... Warren Mitchell .... !!!
  
Alf Garnett …. I MEAN ... !!!!!
  
See …. On TV screens ...
for years ... they've been showing ...
Blacks being .... "DEMEANED" ...
Drug Dealing .... or .... VIOLENT …
  
Then they want to ... BILL ME ...
for a **** ... TV Licence ... !!?!!
  
They may well be ... "Jokes" ...
to … “OLD SCHOOL” … White folks …
  
But .... Listen up ... CLOSE ... !!!!!
  
A Joke is a Joke .... !!!
but some ... "OLD BILL" ... these days ...
are those ... “*******” ... blokes ... !!!
  
So ... who in the end ...
will have faces of ... YOLK ...
  
Well .... NOT .... Rodney King !!!
Try this for a name ....
PC .... Julian Glyn ....
  
A .... Leicester .... Policeman …
caught .... " CHILD MOLESTING "… !!!
  
See i'm SICK of ... these Bills !!!!

We're paying .... "TAXATION" ...
for these ignorant ... " SICKO’S " ... !!!!!!!!!
to get their ... "CHEAP THRILLS" ... !?!
or to use ... Dollar Bills
to get people .... KILLED .... !!?!!
  
So ….

There are a FEW Reasons ...
why ... Bills ... get to me ...
amounting to ... TREASON ...
  
Haven't YOU ... had your fill ... !?!
  
Well ... maybe you ... Have … ?
Or ... maybe you ... Haven't … ?
  
I just want to ... RELAX ...
and be able to ... " CHILL " ...
and not have to ... Worry ...
about these ... " ****** " ….
  
BILLS … BILLS … BILLS … !!!!
They just keep on with them .....
White Owl Jul 2017
As I watched my mother get beat,  as a child,  I was convinced that if I were to call the cops something bad would happen.
I have watched my father slam my mother in a car door.
I have watched as my father threw pans at my mother.
I have seen my mother walk out covered in bruises.
I have seen my father break a printer with my mother's head.

I remember running to my room crying and covering my head with a pillow. Hearing him curse at her calling her every bad name he could think of. My brother and I would blare the radio and still hear screams of my mother,  as she was beaten.

We were young when it started out; I don't remember a period of time when it was not happening.

My mother tried to leave him time and time again. My brother and I begged of her. Just leave him, we would cry.

She was with him 18 years. She was put through Hell for 18 long years.

Peoples first assumption is why didn't she leave, why didn't she stay away. This was a question that,  even to me,  was hard to see; I just recently was able to understand and see what was wrong with this picture.

She was beat physically but she was abused emotionally as well. People only tend to see what they can literally see and forget what is laying behind the bruises. Day after day she was degraded, called names, told she was worthless. She began to belive it. It was now in her head that she was worthless and no one would love her. No one would put up with her, she was a *******; or so she thought.

Taking the courage to leave that is a lot, she was mentally unfit for certain jobs and her health began to decrease. She was a woman who felt that she could not succeed or provide for her children without my father, or another man.

Leaving my father for the last time was the hardest thing that I believe she had to do. She wasn't just leaving anyone. It was the father to her children, the man she has relied on for 18 years, the man that had her believing she was worthless. He done everything except brainwashing to get her to stay.

Also, my father is kind sweet and caring to everyone outside of our family. Even to our family he was nice but he had times were things of this nature,  behind closed doors, would happen.
My immediate family was not the only ones who knew he beat my mom. Everyone on my fathers side of the family knew. They always made excuses or turned their heads. Some people on my moms side had questioned it but she always made excuses because she thought that she loved him.

Domestic violence is nothing to joke about. Everyone should know the signs and report anything suspicious. There are a few things to know. The person being abused has to want help to get out. The cops and social workers can not do anything unless the abused come forward when approached about it. The exception to that is when there is kids involved, like in my situation.

Domestic abuse hotlines:
1-800-799-7233 | 1-800-787-3224 (TTY)

Not sure if it's abuse?:
http://www.thehotline.org/is-this-abuse/
Domestic violence does not only harm them in the present but haunts them in the future
Liam Neeson movies,
Lop-sided smiles,
Dandelion fields,
Fake marriage proposals,
Grass-stained knees,
Ketchup lips.
TRIGGER WARNING
“I put my first boyfriend away,”
I say at parties
Because I am a dangerous girl.
I am better at Russian Roulette
Than I am at beer pong.
I have stared down the barrel of a loaded gun,
This blonde girl stared back at me.
She doesn’t look anything like me.
If I didn’t look anything like me
Maybe he wouldn’t be able to find me.
My mother makes me dye my hair back;
She tells me judges don’t trust bleached blondes.
She asks,
“How is it abusive if he never hit you?”
TRIGGER WARNING
Plastic tiaras and performance chefs.
“No one will love you like I do.”
TRIGGER WARNING
I sleep with a baseball bat under the bed,
Carry hot pink pepper spray in my purse like lipstick.
My friend Dolton tells me he can get me a gun.
TRIGGER WARNING
No one will love you.
TRIGGER WARNING
I do not know my own triggers;
They are the way a stranger walks down the street
Or the way that my lover's lips
Form around a word.
“I put my first boyfriend away,”
I say at parties
Because everything is a trigger;
There is no safety on my mouth.
I say it because I’m waiting for it
To stop feeling like a lie.
TRIGGER WARNING
I signed the papers.
TRIGGER WARNING
I called the hotlines.
TRIGGER WARNING
He sat in a jail cell.
TRIGGER WARNING
I sat in a stairwell,
Shaking with the recoil
Of everything that we had done to each other.
I walk to work even though I feel
Too small to be a babysitter today;
I need someone to look after me today,
To cut my apple slices for me,
To hold my hand crossing intersections;
Keep me away from knives
TRIGGER WARNING
And cars
TRIGGER WARNING
And men on the street
TRIGGER WARNING
Who look like knives and cars.
I don’t believe in lying to children
But when she asked me what was wrong
I still tell her the storybook version.
I tell her that once
A bad man broke into my house.
I wish I had also told her
That the bad men look like respectable young men,
TRIGGER WARNING
That the bad men will compliment your grandmother
On her cooking from across the table,
TRIGGER WARNING
That the bad men write love poems,
TRIGGER WARNING
That the bad men smile so wide
They will swallow you
And you will then convince yourself you asked him to.
"Stalkers can’t be convicted unless their victims prove they feared for their lives."
How do you prove fear?
How do you put months of hell breaths into words?
And will you please come with me?
And he will **** me!
TRIGGER WARNING
He will **** me!
TRIGGER WARNING
He will **** me!
TRIGGER WARNING
But I told you so on my gravestone,
Because you can’t ever say
"She didn’t scream loud enough
"Into a ziplock bag
"For the ladies and gentlemen
"Of the jury."
TRIGGER WARNING
Loaded questions,
TRIGGER WARNING
Filling every chamber of my heart
With ammunition,
TRIGGER WARNING
Always a weapon,
TRIGGER WARNING
Always an ultimatum,
TRIGGER WARNING
He shoots me,
Underage,
Underweight.
TRIGGER WARNING
Contorted in his favourite positions,
TRIGGER WARNING
Tells me he knows how to upload the pictures,
TRIGGER WARNING
Without leaving any fingerprints.
TRIGGER WARNING
Aim: loving someone,
TRIGGER WARNING
Handing them a map of your weak spots.
TRIGGER WARNING
Fire!
TRIGGER WARNING
Fire!
TRIGGER WARNING
Fire!
No warning shots.
My friend Dolton tells me he can get me a gun.
I tell him I have seen a gun go off,
Yet I cannot shake the habit
Of believing, I can stare down the barrel
And gently wrap my fingers
Around the trigger
Without pulling.
M Clement May 2013
I tried to figure out what to do.
(I'm bored you see)
So, I figured I'd write a line or two.
(Hell, I could write more than three)

So, here I am, click, clack, clickitty, clack
(That's keyboard presses)
Trying to type away my modern heart attack
(That's women in cute dresses)

I listen, I sing, I play
(iTunes offers impressive influence)
I wring my brain in the midst of day
(School no longer on offense)

So I write, seeking gains
(I hope you like it)
I write from experience, common pains
(Like cleaning dog ****)

I wear horse heads
(I get so bored)
I bleed in clean beds
(Then I remain floored)

Only you
(What's happening?)
I take two
(I can't stop; it's maddening)
broken Dec 2015
the day after his cousin died, he stuck his hand onto the hot frying pan when his mother wasn’t looking. she cried rivers all the way to the emergency room and the only thing he could say when she asked why he did it is “I touched her last. I touched her last”
the doctor came into the sterile room and said he lost three out of five fingerprints on his right hand, but he would be okay and so would his shaking mother. the boy had hugged his bright-eyed cousin before she shot herself and I think the bullet hit him too
let’s not tiptoe around coffee-stained details, that boy didn’t grow up to be an inspirational anti-suicide activist. he put up defense mechanisms and lined his entire body with barbed wire, and he’s been piercing people with his touch ever since
truth be told, I loved that burn marked boy, I did
but he threw me to the wolves when I got too close and maybe he felt guilty about sending me to the bottomless darkness he lived in or maybe he still can’t forget the way his cousin kissed him on the cheek before she put ammunition to her head, but I saw him at the gun store on the corner two weeks ago
it still hasn’t sunk in that he followed the exact path his cousin did that destroyed him when she was seventeen and he was only ten. he walked in her blood-traced footsteps all the way to the end of his existence, didn’t he?
he bought the gun, he loaded it
he probably started a note
do you think he started a note?
how many times do you think he’s tried to write it in the past seven years, broken pencil ends and the smell of tired lead
how many times do you think he tried to write it on Sunday? Sunday is God’s day, right? that’s what he always says to me
said
it’s a past tense
that’s what he always said.
I wonder how many pieces of notebook paper he crumbled up before he decided that his final words weren’t good enough to be seen by the people he was leaving alone on Earth
he always said he wanted to fly and I wonder if they can fly up there like all of the stories say when they talk about angels and I wonder if he can actually fly now
I wish that I could see those scribbled lines on discarded pieces of paper just so I could know why he did it
but maybe I’m lying to myself
maybe I already know why he did it
I knew it the day he said he couldn’t take it
the day everyone told him to stop being so overdramatic and grow up and be a man
I remember the exclamation points at the ends of his sentences like lines and flashing lights that screamed “help me”
the days his smile would say everything’s okay but his eyes looked like he was already dead
I wonder what his eyes will look like now
I wonder if he’ll still be the simple kind of beautiful when he’s in a coffin
what do you think his mother will pick out?
she always loved that red shirt
but he hates it
he likes blue
he liked blue
he liked a lot of things
he liked running and baseball and 3am movies and math and sometimes English and never science and most of all, he liked self destruction
I wonder if he gets to see her, if there is an afterlife like all of the Christian books he studied tell of
I wonder if she would tell him that there was never anything he could have done to save her back then
I wonder if he would regret letting himself float away that night
I wonder,
was there anything I could have done to save him?
why didn’t I?
I saw it
I saw the scars that were a little newer than the ones I had memorized before
I saw the sadness in his eyes on Friday
why didn’t I do anything?
but…I did
I asked
I asked him if he was okay
“I’m fine”
“I’m great”
“I’m happier than i’ve ever been. It’s okay. I promise. I’ll never go back to that bad place. I just have to keep my head up and keep going, I’m amazing lately”
exaggerations
false truths
lying through his teeth
I always know when he lies because his smile gets a little too wide, too artificial, and he can’t look me in the eyes unless he’s telling the truth
but he’s never going to look me in the eyes again
do you think it hurt?
do you think it was instant?
I wonder if the hurt made him happy like it used to when he scratched lines into his skin and ran until he collapsed
I don’t know if it actually made him happy
he thinks he deserves the pain he inflicts on himself
a sadistic self destruction is what he thinks he deserves
thinks?
is it thought?
this hurts
turning every present tense into a past tense feels like someone stabbed me in the chest
or maybe even shot me
how funny is that?
not at all
maybe a little ironic
the police will investigate the blood stains on the hardwood floor his father installed back when he was half sober and they’ll write down every scuff they see and they’ll have a sketch artist draw the green eyed boy who offed himself
he’s just a statistic to them
just another case
just another rotting body that they get paid to sign a death certificate for
they don’t know him
they don’t know where his scars came from
they don’t know that his dad gets angry when he drinks, and he drinks a lot
they don’t know his little brother
they don’t know what style he writes his paragraphs in
they don’t know him at all
he’s so much more than just a casualty
a casualty to suicide
another number that the hotlines can use to try to get money to save teens with razor blades and sad thoughts
another percentage
BUT HE’S NOT A PERCENTAGE
HE NEVER WAS
how would he feel about this?
he loved math
he was good at it
how would he feel about being another tick mark on some scientific research paper about the risks of drugs and alcohol and falling in love and teenage suicide deaths
falling in love
did I fall in love?
can you be in love with someone who is dead?
someone whose heart has stopped beating
maybe his heart stopped beating a long time ago
right with his cousin’s
did I mention that I saw him Saturday?
he was in the batting cage when I took my sister to the park right beside it
we talked and he said he was great
but I watched the news today
the news, can you believe that?
I only watched it because I had a terrible feeling in my stomach as soon as I woke up early Sunday morning
it’s Tuesday now and the police issued a report and my mother brought your mother a casserole and a bottle of wine
the police told us what happened with blank stares into the TV cameras
you died early Sunday morning
in the middle of the night
you always loved 3AM things
I saw you at 7 that night at those batting cages
I asked you what was wrong
you said you were okay
I knew you were lying and you were bleeding internally and I was scared you would fall into pieces of skin and broken boy right before my eyes
I put my hand on your shoulder and asked again
you didn’t look me in the eyes
you never did
you never will now
never again
you said you were so happy
your eyes pleaded for help, didn’t they?
I hugged you
it seems like a dream now
I hugged you and told you to stay safe
and then I left you alone in that batting cage
and I had no idea you were still planning your demise
more police reports
the news is informative
that’s what my grandpa always says
your parents were out of town
your parents were at a family reunion a state away
one you didn’t want to go to
phone records show that you didn’t call anyone after 10AM on Saturday, the robot officers in blue repeat
oh my God
I’m not supposed to use the Lord’s name in vain, that’s what you always said
that’s what your cousin taught you when you were eight
but you aren’t here anymore to correct me
I’m watching the news with shaking hands and I think I might break into sad molecules right here
because I know my bad feeling was right
the pit in my stomach wasn’t lying
God,
I did it
I held the broken boy before he shot himself in the head because he wanted to be sure that this time he would actually die, unlike the time he slit his wrists on his bedroom floor
it’s true,
I touched him last
Depression Hot Line:
1-630-482-9696

Suicide Hot Line:
1-800-273-8255

Life Line:
1-800-273-8255

Sexuality Support:
1-800-246-7743

Eating Disorders Hot Line:
1-847-831-3438

**** and ****** Assault:
1-800-656-4673

Grief Support:
1-650-321-5272

Runaway:
1-800-843-5200, 1-800-843-5678, 1-800-621-400

Exhale: After Abotion Hot Line/ProVoice:
1-866-439-4253
I know I have posted this before but I will keep reposting this every few months to help people who might need these. You are not weak if you need these.
Mike Essig Apr 2015
Sometimes
it's the only thing
between you and
death.

Distillers
have saved more lives
than all
the suicide hotlines
in the world.

Here's to you.

mce
From my younger days. Bourbon was a great comfort that I had to let go.
Toothache Jan 2020
Passing around a fatal flaw like a joint in a hot box,
Refreshing baths of Coca~Cola and regretful indulgence
We are wasting away in a paradise of my creation

Poems tinted grey through abstinent romanticism,
and an inexplicable undertone inherent to my prose.
As everything starts to return to a drumming constant.
It all sounds the same.

We've been sunbathing in porcelain skies and empty daydreams.
Drab and dreary and acid washed.
Interrupted like a beach by the sea,
By the little pieces of drug soaked warmth that act as comforting distractions.
A smile or a shoulder or a sunny day to drink from.
Summer and solitude, the likeness of warm bodies in a cold pool.
So.
Compose me an opera of Soda Cans and of choral song. Synthesise two bass lines and slow drip coffee and pollen and folk.
Make it for me so I can watch you as you work.
Let me listen and bask in its ludacris vanity, and clean shallow waters.
How I would relish the time spent muddying the current. Destroying the tide I desired out of boredom.
And black hot frustration.

Flowers painted in acid and acrid accounts of repetative revalations in the context of rude rosy cheeked romance.
Blonde haired ignorance and one dimensional delusions.
Blue eyed terrorists armed with air and arrogance.

Give me seatwarmers and handholding
Or corvettes and convertables.
Give me arrowheads and heart attacks
Humble my bones with a cardiac

!F.R.I.E.N.D.S.!
SITCOMS
ADJASENT PLOTLINES
mumble rap
AND ***** TALK HOTLINES
four letter words with little context or meaning and selfless expression that's often demeaning

Its September in January and it rains for a day
And despite all our efforts
The days waste away

— The End —