In earlier times a Daughter was born
Who carried the welts of a belt
An oath of no children
By the Mother was sworn

Ten years went by
An she agreed to one
But you must never
Lay a hand on my son

The man felt afronted
By the Oath on his head
But agreed to the terms
His wife had said...

The son was born on
A hot august Morn
But the oath on his head
Was the Mans Scorn

As the Boy grew older
All of 8 years old he
Was told his mother ill
Her Failed sight ner seen

The Boy Had to help
The mother to cook
Taught by her
From recipe books

The Man owned a factory
Where each day he must be
After school his time
Was never free

He must clean
The factory floor
And haul the Rubish
Out the door

By 9 he was working
with 16 ft boards
To help make the slats
That paid for our Board

When ever the boy talked
Of what he had learned
He was ridiculed by the father
And vicously Spurned

He was called
Insane and stupid
Told he belonged in a
Mental institution

He was told
He was a slacker
That nothing he
Did was ever right

The Spite and the Hatred
built Day upon Day
His father argued
With all that he'd say

By 12 the Boy had
Longshoremans
Syndrome, from the
weight of the work

As his spine was growing
It bent the spine as it formed
The Raging went on day after day
The abuse heaped on the head of the Boy

When Finally he left
With his back to the door
For 2 years they never
Heard from the Son

Till he missed
Them and called
2 minutes it took till
The father started again

The son slammed
Down the phone in tears
And wasn't heard from
For another year

Through all of this from 5 years old
He'd been ***** by an older boy
And Held it all within Him
Afraid of his Father he never had told

All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack

Where was you when I fell , how cliche of a statement to tell,
no! Where was you ? Not here aparently,
seems like yesturday, another cliche,
**** it! I can rhyme all day.
I just need to know whats the point of money?
I GET IT, I loose it, i spend it , I abuse it.
I dont want it but I need it, Is money air?
Cos I dont wanna breathe Im stressed from the atmosphere making  me share.
I rather be ghost watch time fly by , maybe write a book to tell about my times travel,
about love from afar, how its pure but scared,
Have it published  then be awarded rubish, cos there no success or achievement when you see the half cup cruisin the highway and you decide to *** in it.  
LIFE How its concieved , how I precieve it ? IS newspaper Id keep under table to stop wobbling.
Am I rude, yeah, and unconventional so?
Im used to the self sabotage and abuse as a noose to climb up different challenges just to call a truce.



By EMMANUEL jv Hernandez
Aka Linguist musician

Well here I am
Alone Again After This, I will maybe die a lonely death that is never known I will love that so that I don't have any cheap perfume that chokes me to the point that I can't hide from the pain.




Today is the day of  no return I will be missed or I may not I don't Care about life anymore this is my sense of happiness none I hope that all who hurt me die like I will too




Well here I Am Alone But happy I am a man of no words I am you-you are me we are all lonely till we die we are now nothing but trash goodbye life and death I'm now noting but rubish Now I'm back to live a horrible hell-bound life.