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Tuffy Mutombo Aug 2018
Steve - Hey

Steve - Hey

Steve - Hey how are you doing?

Steve - Hey I’m just trying to get to know you.

Steve - Wow so it’s like that?

Steve - You won’t even give me a chance?

Steve - I know you see the Facebook messages.
                            
Anna - Hey sorry I don’t feel like talking. You are not worth my time or attention.

Steve - I’m good now.

Steve - I found me another lover.

Steve - All I wanted was your time and your attention, but you placed my heart in an emotional detention.

Steve - To me now you just another potential lover I could of loved and cared for. But you loved your ego more.

Anna - I’m sorry.

Anna - At the time you wanted me I was busy.

Anna - I want you now though, even though you have another lover, I envy her. Your persistence showed me you were worth my time. But my ignorance encouraged me to ignore my heart and feed my ego.

Anna -  Now it’s sad to watch you go.                                                  

Anna - I wish I knew better and did better. Now loneliness comforts my ugly mess.

Steve - I guess this is goodbye, because with persistence I also come with, love, patients and loyalty. I am glad I never gave you the best of me.

Steve - My lover truly deserves all of me. My time and my energy, my flaws and insecurities. Thank you for letting me find the best of me.

Steve - You were the light that had to shine in me for me to find the best of me. Your rejection brought out a better version of me.

Steve - Love stings like a blind bee it can kiss anyone and make them feel it slowly. For those it never kisses their hearts forever remain lonely.
"God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve."

But what if God did? What if I showed you
the lost book in that cramped hand some call Moses',
right to left (you read Hebrew, right?), the Book of Steve?
Stefan, if you're Orthodox. Esteban
if you also worship the ****** of Guadalupe,
but never mind those dark madonnas. The Book of Steve:
it's much like the rest of the Pentateuch, you'll recognize
the style, except that it was before Genesis 1
when Steve became a living soul. A lively, friendly soul:
when those animals came questing, Steve was thrilled.
He scratched their ears as he named them, puled
their ticks, asked them what they thought they should be called.
So he was scratching and chatting, naming away,
when up came Adam (Yahweh had been practicing men).
"Hey, dude." "Hey, Adam. You think this looks
like a crocodile?" "I dunno. More like a fox?"
They had a few beers (Yahweh's work of the day),
named five kinds of ants: Steve got carpenter,
leaf-cutter, sugar; Adam took fire and soldier.
Probably they made love, probably a lot (the world
Was young then), but the Book of Steve is demure;
Moses, or someone, drew the curtain of discretion.
When the curtain comes up, the snake
Still has brief feet, but Adam is changing the names
To better ones, and Steve’s not there. It seems
There were complaints. Stave talked to much, always on
About feelings, food, the slant of the light; sometimes
he wanted to be on top; he took the remkote, and didn’t
give it back when Adam glare. And his chest wasn’t nearly
enough like a pillow. It ws all too much.
The end of the book is torn out; there are marks of fire.
No one knows who defiled the Book of Ssteve,
But in some stories it is said that *Eden
has other quadrants
And that Steve is in one of them.
Stevek and the snakes with feet, and other people
Who missed the next book: the roc preening its iridescent plumes,
The unicorn lipping apples, the manticore haveint a dustabth.
They say that somewhere among the leaves of western Eden
was found a helpmeet for Steve, who was not fruitful,
who did not multiply, who had no dominion over the earth.
KarmaPolice Jun 2014
An ill man’s guilt


I’m perfectly fine, I keep telling myself,
I’m loaded up to my eyeballs, swimming in my wealth.
I've got a best friend who's with me all the time,
His favourite drink is lager and lime.

Yes officer my name is Dave, my address?
It's number 1234 The Cave.
What am I wearing officer? What a strange thing to ask.
I'm wearing a penguin suit and an eye glass?

What's that Steve? I won’t mention that...
They will think I am loopy or some kind of prat!
Yes officer, No I am fine, why do you ask?
I want to complain and put you to task!

Don't raise my Voice?? What do you mean?
Tell him Steve, to stop being so mean!
Get off me, what's going on?
Help me someone my mind has just gone!

Yes officer, there is medication I take,
It's at 1234 down by the lake.
Hello there doctor, I have a sore throat,
Steve help the Doctor out, don't just stand there and gloat!

A drink doctor? I'd love one, a saccharin as well?
Impressive what's in it?? Go on. Do tell...
I’m tired Steve let me go to bed!
I've not slept for months, let me rest my weary head.

OK doctor do what you like,
But be careful doctor, those syringes do spike.................
Apologies doctor for the other day,
My mind just wouldn't come out to play!

Who's Steve Doctor?? Ask him yourself! He’s just there,
The one with a jumper and ginger hair,
No Doctor Steve isn't dead,
He went for a long sleep in his double sized bed.....

Steve was my brother Doctor, can you not see?
He died in the summer of August...1973
I should have been there Doctor, when Steve passed that night,
But I was too busy injecting, I was high as a kite!


Before the Guilt


Steve? Listen to me,
When mom goes out, it’s just you and me,
We are going to play a game called hide and seek.
You be quiet when you hide, and do not speak!

Do we have an understanding? Or do I draw you a picture?
Or use those cards, that you are familiar?
That's it boy, keep it to yourself,
I've got to locate my 'medicine', off the top of the shelf.

Right then she's gone, you go and hide like I said,
Don't be so obvious and lie under the bed,

Stupid boy... he's sixteen years old going on three,
I'm rattling badly, I need the karma in me,
Switch on the music, get out my ****,
My usual is coming round, so I can plant my seed,

Steve? I can't find you...I'm a sarcastic ****!
He's probably fell asleep. With any luck,

Need to open the windows, this gear is filling the room,
The ****** is bubbling nicely, on this battered old spoon,
My hands shaking, I need to hurry this up,
The needle is drawing nicely, the syringe is full up,

Time to meet karma, widen my eyes,
Needle in my legs, it's easier to hide
The rush in my blood, filling me with calm,
I'll light up my joint, it won't do any harm.

Feeling drowsy, this **** is so strong,
I'm out of my face, but my feelings are wrong?
The pain, pounding in my chest,
I'm sweating profusely, right through my vest,

Can't move, falling asleep in the breeze......
Steve???.....Steve??....STEEEEVEE???!!.....

Can you hear me? Can you hear me? You *******!!!
Your brother hung himself......while you were plastered!
I'll never forgive you for what you have done...
I can't even look at you...You are no longer my son!
Read in the intended order. The secret behind his schizophrenia.
Jonathan Moya Dec 2020
“Don’t make me bury you,” the elder
spoke to the younger
over the phone,
knowing that his child
had inherited all his demons.

“I will support you
if you want to do rehab,”
he whispered,
that old Harry Chapin Song,
Cat’s in the Cradle,
about fathers and sons
circling in his head;

his son’s new one,
Harlem River Blues,
kicking it off the loop:

Lord, I'm goin' uptown
to the Harlem River to drown 
***** water gonna cover me over  
And I'm not gonna make a sound …”

“I won’t,”  the son
promised his father.
A click and a dial tone
was the final statement.

That night
Justin Townes,
named after
Townes van Zandt,
the folk oracle
that was his dad’s mentor,
died alone
in a Nashville apartment.
A mixture of  
******* laced with fentanyl
was found in his blood.
He was just 38.

When a child dies
the father no longer a dad,
no longer
the parent of Justin Townes,
or just J.T.,
his first little boy,
adopts his own identity back,
rears it fondly in memory,
burying the child’s legacy
until the erosion of time
files him down
to his birth name,
just plain old Steve-
Stephen Fain Earle
from Fort Monroe, Virginia.

When Townes died
he did a tribute album.
When his old demons returned
he released a tribute album.
When grief surrounded him
and the whiskey bottled beckoned
Steve mined J.T.’s  catalog
for a ten song tribute session
that can be done with that rock sneer
they both shared.  

The only thing that mattered
was that it be released
on the day of what would
have been J.T.’s 39th birthday.

He would concentrate on
the songs whenever he wondered
why he stayed clean and J.T.  couldn’t.
Why did he survive and J. T. succumb?

Steve didn’t hate the fact
that J.T.’s songs
were better than his,
his guitar fingerpicking
was more mind blowing,
that musically J.T. could play
Mance Lipscomb blues
in a way Steve was never  
able to figure out,
not even that J.T.
had a way better voice.

He was always reminding J.T.
how proud he was of him,
how much he loved him.

No, Steve hated that it wasn’t
enough to save him,
that he was the stronger man.
that they both shared the same disease.

Steve sang, his craggy voice
the perfect underscore
for the dark themes
in J.T.’s ballads:
a drowning death
(Tell my mama I love her,
Tell my father I tried.
Give my money
to my baby to spend);
the phantom-limb ache
for a former lover
(Even though I know you’re gone
I don’t have to be alone now.
You’re here with me every night
When I turn out the lights.)

It was therapy not catharsis.
Steve always sang
because he needed to.

J.T. was the opposite—
dressing in retro style,
reveling in the notoriety
of his intimidating talent
that was always trying to
eclipse his more famous parent.

Steve wanted this to be a memorial
between father and son.  
No guest singers, especially
those ******* enablers
that helped **** him
with their nonintervention.

He never included J.T.’s songs
about absent fathers
and single mothers.
He knew only J.T.
could rightfully sing those.

Steve was expecting it to be
a horror show emotionally.
He felt sad, but not disappointed
when it was just business as usual.

When it came time to perform
John Henry Was a Steel Drivin’ Man
he deliberately emulated
J.T.’s fingerpicking.

He felt jealous that his son
was able to write
the John Henry song
he always failed at.

When it came time to record
the album’s last song,
Last Words,
the only song
written by Steve,
and like the
more sentimental
Harry Chapin one,
a heartbreaking synopsis
of a father’s journey,
from cradling his newborn son
to speaking to him for the last time,
the pain returned and
their shared disease
pulled inside him.

By the time it was on tape
he knew it was the only
song he had written in his life
where every single word
in it was true.  

Last thing I said
was ‘I love you.’
Your last words to me
were ‘I love you too.’


https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=FXgtD3jfikk&feature=youtu.be
David  Jul 2015
Almost famous
David Jul 2015
John:
Is this your first Job since finished education?

These words are spoken in a monotone, tired, almost-bitter manner by a balding man whose age is somewhere vaguely over 45. The man is wearing glasses and is at least 50 pounds over his BMI. On the mans plain, forgettable white shirt, next to his plain black tie, hangs a name-tag, written with the words: "JOHN - CLEANING STAFF MANAGER". Behind JOHN is a wooden door which has a plaque attached to it, which reads: "CLEANING STAFF ROOM."

Ross:
Actually...

The man answering John's question is the complete polar opposite to John. He looks almost like a retired rockstar, or a retired wannabe rockstar, or a wannabe retired rockstar; he has long hair, a perfectly trimmed beard, and folded sunglasses in his jacket pocket. His age is somewhere over 30, and he seems to be unaware of that fact -or perhaps would rather be unaware.- On the table that he sits at, facing John and the wooden door, lies a piece of paper which reads: "Ross Lewis - Application form" only about a third of the paper has been typed on.

Ross:
Actually,I never finished High school.

John looks up from the question sheet he's holding and glances at Ross blankly, judgingly.

These two men have nothing whatsoever in common, except that circumstance has led them both into the same room. They look like they belong on two different branches of the evolutionary tree.

John: So, what have you been doing for the last...

John pauses to look at a piece of paper behind his question sheet, then looks back up Ross.

John: ...10 years?

What have I been doing? Ross thinks to himself. what the ******* have you been doing for the past 10 years, John?" Is what he wanted to ask.
John had no idea what kind of things Ross had been up to. While John was getting up and going to his boring job every morning, and coming home to his boring wife who probably wouldnt even put out, and then trying to be a father to his kids who hate him; Ross was living the life. A life of adventure, excitement: a life that John would be scared of. John didn't know about the gigs, the afterparties, the tour in ireland, or the one groupie Ross had that turned out to be a guy but Ross was still thrilled about it.
No, John didn't know.

Ross begins to answer, refraining from the outburst that he feels like having.

Ross:
Well, have you ever heard of The Rolling Cans?

Johns reply is a blank stare.

Ross:
Well,we won a local battle of the bands competition in 2000, then went onto record our first album. For a few years we opened for some pretty big bands.

Ross stops himself for a moment, recalling one of the 'big' bands.

Ross:
Did you ever hear about The lampshade death squad?

John shrugs, clearly not knowing who Ross is referring to; which isn't too much of a surprise, Ross thinks, John probably lives under a rock, and will die under it.

Ross:
Anyway, we opened for them. Then we just toured around, really; promoting the album, and all that. Just band stuff, and, well...

Ross stops again for a moment, this time it's because he's realised how uninterested and almost annoyed John seems at hearing this.John doesn't even try to fake interest.

Ross:
Well, John, we decided to break up after that, but if we had just kept going..."

Ross struggles to finish the sentence. He is forgetting where he is now after memories of his time in the band, and all his hopes and dreams that were crushed, flood back to him. He really feels like he was supposed to make it.

Ross:
Everyone thought we were really good, you know? And if we had just..

There is a short silence as Ross stares through John, through the door, into nothing; as if talking to himself. John faux-empathetically nods and thus brings Ross back to the room.

John:
We usually get back to applicants within 2 weeks.

Ross nods and smiles, with a sense of embarrassment and guilt, like he's just been told his time is up by a therapist.




end

Ross's slumped head rests in his hands as he sits in the darkness of his lounge. The TV has lost signal and is showing a static picture. There is a bottle of some prescription drugs and a bottle of whiskey lying on the coffee table in front of him. He raises his head and looks at the tv blankly before closing his eyes. He forces himself to get up and walk out the room, but on his way he is stops in the hallway, paralysed. hes staring at a door which leads to another room. A room he is almost surprised to know exists. He inches closer to the door, almost cautiously, before opening it, entering, then turning on the light to reveal a room full musical equipment and band posters. he looks around the room, sorrowfully. This room reminds him of hs failure. He turns to a les paul guitar which hangs on the wall, moving closer to it, he looks at it, admiring its slick contours. His eyes look down the neck until he reaches the pickups, he stops there, seeing his own distraught eyes in the reflection of the pickup. Whilst Ross continues to stair into his own eyes, a knock on the door is heard. The door is shown with a plaque of a 'star' pinned to it. Ross is shown again, just turning his head away from the door to see his himself in the reflection of a dressing room mirror. Ross is all made up and no longer in his pajamas. The door swings ajar and Steve the drummer skips in with his drum sticks in hand.

Steve:
Rozza. Do you want to keep L.A. waiting, man? Wouldn't be the best start to our American tour.

Steve pauses and looks at Ross, with Ross looking at him through the reflection of the mirror.

Steve:
You alright man?

Ross now turns to face Steve. Looking relieved, like he has just woken from a bad dream in the comfort of his bed. He nods at Steve.

Ross:
Yeah, I'm alright.It's just that, I was just thinking, you know, like: What the hell would my life be i wasnt doing this?

Steve looks a little quizzical but smiles nonetheless.

Steve:
Well, believe it man. We did it.

Steve looks up  and gestures to the sound of the audience cheering from the ceiling.

Steve:
And we're on.

Ross grins stupidly, jolts towards his Les Paul guitar, grabs it, then follows Steve out the door, they jump up the stairs as the dressing room doors shuts. A moment later, the sounds of the cheering grow much louder, indicating the band is now on stage.

END



--------------------------------------------------­------------------------------
movie could end here but alternatively...

The amp is shown being switched on, and ross thrown the guitar strap over himself and standing there with the guitar. he takes a deep breath and attempts to play a chord, but the guitar is horribly out of tune. He then switcches the amp off and puts the guitar dowwn and the movie goes off at the click of the lightswitch.
all throughout the story ross avoids his actul room, only sleeping in the small front room. At the end he is shown entering the roo, which is full of band posters, musical instruments, pictures of the band, etc, and john stairs at a guitar hanging on the wall, then tries to play a chord but its badly out of tune, he puts it back on the wall before walking out.
J Nc  Mar 2016
Mumbling Steve
J Nc Mar 2016
Way up there
In the thin, thin air
There sits a man
Who laughs and grins
And fiddles with his double chins
A lunatic, if you must know
He paces, paces,
To and fro
Not love, nor hate
Does Steve perceive
But TV programs make him seethe
Xanax, ******, amyl poppers
None of these are Steve's show stoppers
Thorazine would do him good
But he won't take it
Like he should
So Mumbling Steve will grimace/grin
Until it's time to cry again

His mother loved him not a whit
Flushed Steve away, like so much ****
He killed his daddy, uncle, too
He killed that man, with Devil's Brew
Mumbling Steve drank up the rest
Of that that killed the old ******
Then laughed and laughed
And flashed a grin
Then burned off his extra chin


JNc 3-16
Very dark nonsense. This one makes me a little uncomfortable.

— The End —