Your cause for concern is
a cause of concern for me
Its greeted very suspiciously
I believe it to be fictitious you see
Projecting your issues onto me
Like I'm some wide screen tv
Go sort out your own "problems"
Before you come and preach to me
And I'll do the same
I'm tired of the hypocrisy
Neither am I easily deceived
Asking "are you alright?"
When really you're
Asking "are you alright with me?"
But I don't work in-security
Guards up, words no matter how deep
No longer move me
Your fault lines
Causing tremors
when there's no need
But not to worry
I'm lucky
Got those that
support sincerely
And know me well enough
to go about it surreptitiously
Pancake hiding the healthy
Mmm yummy!
Ninja motive, Jackie Chan, Bruce Lee
I aim to Inspire through action (movie)
Cause Advice is the biggest vice (city)
And we're all guilty
Talk the talk
But when it comes to walk the walk
Everyone must be claiming disability!
But Life is no Game-Boy
No cheat codes, No PS3
Bond over passions not problems
And BE Happy
Its your own responsibility

So don't look to me
This isn't Advice, or a Preach
It's a rant, wrapped up in
a Vent-rilloquist, Dummy!

You do you,
I'm just doing me:
Seriously, Silly :)

the anger and sadness inside of us
build up like a brick wall
and eventually come tumbling down
each brick representing a yell of frustration
the sorrow and hurt within us
are filled within a bottle
and the bottle breaks open
as we slam it to the floor
filled with anguish
and each glass shard being one of our many tears
all of these things
and feelings
occurring suddenly and extremely rapid inside our minds
and the baggage of stress we carry
soon completely overwhelm us
to a point where
we can carry the baggage no longer
and we fall to the floor
on our knees
face in our small palms
weeping uncontrollably.


the title of this poem is a feeling that i cannot yet describe.
all i know is it is a mixture of frustration, sadness, stress, and heartbreak
all put into one
what a wretched way to feel.



-a.r.

a balmy summer evening
on a countryside
dotted with villages

a man on his motor bike
100 hp between his thighs
a stretch of straight road
   rare in the these hills

he lets go

he can
he can do it
   tear early sleepers from their dreams
   make people flinch at their dinner tables
   plough through the fairytales for the little ones

he can
he can leave the noise behind
   together with the thoughts
   of his monotonous job
      security night man at the bank
      well paid, though
leave behind the memory
   of the diverted gaze of his wife
   who would gladly trade
   the 100 hp
   for one more room
   for their children

children

just in time
   he saw her
just in time

the girl carefully walking
   over the zebra stripes
with a mug of beer for her father
from the pub across the road

just in time

nothing spilled
   except a little beer
   under horrified eyes

children

another stretch of straight road

he can
he can do it
he can let go

he cannot resist

Make me laugh, and I will laugh with you
Make me cry, and I will tear you
Do me a favor, and I will be a savior
Take rest of mine, and I will devastate your mind

Do your thing, and I will let you in peace
Don't let me do a thing, and I will strip you in piece
Be my batman, and I will be your robin
Poker my life, and I will be your joker

Sprinkle on me, and I will shower at you
Through dirt at me, and I will spit on thou
Be my friend, and I will watch your back
Hold a knife, and I will kick your ***


|AB|

Keyring's clinking on my cut time stride
under lights, buzzing islands in the ink sea night.
Slink away from my murky years,
                  they're piling up
and I'm hunched, walking dumb
          across the hazard yellow lines.

Behind me
          the night just rolls up
almost outruns me to my front doorstep.
                                                The hungry
hills enclose
                    our mid-size
                    opaque town.

Old partners,
          forgotten crimes we
did and left trails of clues, all gutshot
                                       creep hunching
through this skull
                      beneath a
                      fraying cap.

Keyrings jangle like anxieties
in my chest, humming static in the core of me.
Sinking in to familiar tones;
                  shades purple grey.
And it's cold, striding slow
          through the west side warehouse lots.

Behind me
          the teeming sidewalks
shout half-slurred spears at my back retreating.
                                                The half-light
spills itself
                    on wrinkled,
                    trenching brows.

And out there
          the night just rolls up
to darken the mat by your front doorstep.
                                                You're just a
single thought
                    and several
                    miles away.

i practice pulling my bones, at the joints,
little bones out of bigger bones
i practice breaking my knuckles
pulling muscles
pitching forward onto dead earth.

i practice getting myself out of scrapes
even if it leaves me a little less whole
as a person. a ****** laughing mess.
i practice hurtling towards the sun,

i throw myself at you. quickly,
you recoil. you sputter. you spit.
we are flames,
burning out.
we are flames.