A ripened sky splits and bleeds
Mangled reds and blacks;
An instant melts as heat from
Clustered newborn suns --
Blistered from the wounds --
Collects and beams 1600 feet
Earthwards from Fat Man's
Plump and pompous underbelly.

The pure-light pin-***** stopped
The city's pulse for a moment;
Collecting remnants of the
Beating hearts (of artists,
Doctors, students, parents,
Preachers, rats, and peasants)
To plant on rotting soil -
A hellish fungal pustule.

The swelling abscess breathed
But once and burst to
Ripple excess outwards
Soaking up the landscape;
Ingesting miles and spewing
Spores towards septic skies to form
A mass of mushroomed
Might and pyrrhic triumph.

All the world's a *******,
And all the lads and ladettes mere defecators,
Gratifying oozing exits and entrances;
And one man perforce enacts too many roles,
His acts being seven deaths. D'abord, the baby,
******* and ******* on his mummy's frock.
Then, the errant truant with his rucksack
And pock-marked ******'s face, creeping like death
Foul-trouser'dly to school. Next a teenager,
Panting like mad dog, with an oozing pustule
Dripping oe'r his girlfriend's pubics. Then a hoodie,
Full of strange oaths, and dressed up like a freak,
Lacking in honour, decency, and up for aggro,
Seeking the respect of loathsome peers
Even on the street corner. And then the adult
With bulging beer belly, and ample burgers stuff'd,
With eyes dulled by unfulfilled promises,
Mortgaged to the hilt, and indebted to Visa,
And so he wastes his life. The sixth age dawns
Before he knows it, bald futility,
With ****** in pocket, five quid a pill,
His youthful hopes well ****'d, the world too much
For his ignorance, and his vain butch rantings
Reverting soon to teenage curses, coughs
And tobacco'd wheezings. Last we see him,
Ending a pointless and useless existence,
Clutching to his ****-stained Zimmer frame,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans pension fund.

Tear out my eyes
repainting them shades of purple puke
and send me off back to work
Snip the curious child
from my gut
and paint the walls pink with his feet
pour drano into my ears
so that i may not have to think anymore
lobotomize my fingernail biting fetishes
till i only get hard-on's from my skull
dragging its skin across the pavement
you pitiful excuse for a poet
you hope to dazzle them with dayglo frosting
caked like mold in the corners of your mouth
you sick hopeless perfectionist
knitting cellophane walls
of hands slapping your face
so you can close your eyes
and lose yourself in the confines
of your stalagmites
you with your cut and paste philosophies
which leave gaping holes
stretching across everybody's pupils
huh?
exactly you ******* pustule of plastic bubbles
you are an empty bud
no flower could rise from soil as rank as yours
no love will ever find comfort in a heart as prickly as yours
i can only be ashamed
that i share your body
i'm better off getting aborted
next time you sneeze
so that i could infect another's fragile flesh
passing our sick parasite
at least something of yours will be left
for others to cherish

So pick up the scissors and cut it the **** out!
Then take a stick and knock it the *******.

Alright, all done?

Are you ready for a conversation consisting of truth?
Or does that concept still, somehow, confuse you?

For years I've been fighting a battle with the cowardice in you!
And now, after all of it, I have more emotional involvement in my shoe.
No, scratch that, not in my shoe...
Because that dog **** I stepped in last week, has more integrity than you.

Fidelity, do you know what that is?
Egregious, do you know that word exists?
How about 'low life ***** *******'?
Oh, meaning got through.
Allow me a moment to adjust my vocabulary for you.

You're a coward. A snail. A waste of my time and space.
A blister, throbbing pustule on the *** of the human race.
You have never been loyal.
You're robbing me of my youth.
The worst part is, I see myself becoming like you.

I admire the way you avoid the subject.
The method you use to crawl out of the line of fire.
Throwing others in front of the bus so you don't hit the tires.
That's right, its all their fault, duh.
You really think I'm that ******* stupid, huh?

Well. *******.You're a ******.
A *******, class A.
A dissapointment, A nebbish, A poltroon, A quitter and recreant.
Someone I should have never given a second glace.
I mean it.

I'd be a liar if I didn't admit.
I regret the last four years of this ****.
I'd be ******* stupid to stick around for more of this.

I give your life meaning? Purpose?
If that's true I hope you're crushed by my indifference.

I am a pimple on the face of the world,
A festering pustule
Simply trying to heal.

When the world reaches up
With its ***** hands to
Break me, for its own vanity,
It merely opens me up
So it can pour in more if its
Filth.

Over, and over,
The world will try and fail
To empty me
Of the filth it feeds me.

And maybe,
One day,
I may finally heal.
But when I do,
Because of the meddling,
I will be left as a scar,
A symbol to the world,
That it should have either left me alone
Or washed its hands.

There's a town somewhere up north off of route 54
It's cheap to live there, but I wouldn't recommend it
It's streets run with greed, ****** and sin
The people there are devoid any sense of ethics
It will leave you all shocked and breathless
Welcome to the neighborhood
Where you board up your windows and doors then double check if they're locked
Where you can always hear some one screaming
"Stop"
"Stop"

The mayor has been in office for six terms
And in his cabinet are members of the mob
Whose fronts are local mom and pops
Where junkies like to hang out
While a mugging of an eighty four year old widow takes place around the block
Welcome to the neighborhood
Where you board up your windows and doors then double check if they're locked
Where you can always hear some one screaming
"Stop"
"Stop"
       -Tommy Johnson

The youth are all in gangs that **** each other
Delinquent dropouts doing drive by's
Defiling untouched regions between innocent women's thighs
Girls making appointments for back alley coat hanger abortions
As some hate group constructs homemade bombs

Welcome to the neighborhood
Where you board up your windows and doors then double check if they're locked
Where you can always hear some one screaming
"Stop"
"Stop"

Diseases and food shortages
Rotten government cheese and unpaid mortgages
Call the department of health and human services
Life here is unbearable mercilessness  

Poverty and violence
Money and bullets keep those who might talk silent
Here it has come down to a simple science
The spineless **** the non-compliant for their defiance and they lay lifeless by the hands of those who commit viscous acts so mindless

Where you board up your windows and doors then double check if they're locked
Where you can always hear some one screaming
"Stop"
"Stop"

You may ask, "where is God or the police?"
They're doing their bi-weekly patrol
And they're both on big brother's private payroll
There is now law and order in this contaminated area
It's an unkempt, repugnant pustule in the middle of the caked-on face of America

Welcome to the neighborhood
Where you board up your windows and doors then double check if they're locked
Where you can always hear some one screaming
"Stop"
"Stop"

Penny had hives that day
I remember them well
Some almost pustule
and that room we where in
with the wall paper
that if you half closed your eyes
seams like flowers
that made faces that all grin
but penny
I must tell you
in your arms I felt warm
maybe due to the lack of heating
But penny that night
i we are one

Then in the morning

THE PENNY DROP'S

Another impact on your mind,
The glass wall flexing more and more in time.
His screaming is getting louder across the brink
Take this second nemesis and think!

Break this wall and there is no backstep,
Push me under and there is no breath.
Fall down deeper for every misstep.
As with this freedom you have bought your death.

The glass it shatters but still holds firm,
Under bloodied hands the weakness squirms.
Holding on with every muscle,
You feel it break like a putrid pustule.

Break this barrier  tears will falter,
Don’t do this for the freedom alters.
I pray to every hearing ear,
to **** me before his birth comes near.