I've seen relatively normal people go insane,
and it makes me wonder when someone
or something is going to pull my ticket.

******* salt my open wounds
and eyeballs, eye sores,
eyes are swelling up and
I'm war-chanting,
"Break ****, steal ****."
Start ****, I don't care,
I am a tempest of vulgarity.
Obscenity on high.
I am the meteor that kills
all the dinosaurs.
I am the myth that stops kids
from killing each other
by force of nightmares,
an inherent moral dialogue.
I am the rush.
I am the rush.
I am the rush.
Rush of words that knocks you off
your privileged *** and only takes
your ******* wallet.
******* salt my open wounds and
I will hurt you back.
Not out of my ******* nature,
but because I am.
I continue choosing to be.
Consciously.
I am the rush.

This is why the teacher punishes you
for reading too far ahead.
I've worked hard to swim out here
and I just feel hurt and alone;
drifting out at sea.
Being a radical means always
having to be the hysteric or the sensitive.
Apologizing even when
you know you're right.
Being irrational,
when rationalization means
accepting the dominant ideology.
Always having to be wrong,
because of some "crack in your armor"
or some blemish on your record.
Being the biggest ******* in the room,
not even because you want to,
but because you have to.
Alienating everyone.
Capitalize on who you are,
and you can smother everyone eventually!
Your profit is such that you
can push everything away!
Sleep easy knowing you were right.
Sleep easy.

Black is thy name.
Black is thy shroud.
If I were to open thee,
What shall be seen?


I can feel thy Black
Soul as I spread thy
Broken wings. I hear
Each hour chime thy


Dirge and call thy
Name. I shall spread
My shoulders' blades
And feel them rise


Against my tyrannical
Skin; as thou wouldst rise
In the charcoal heavens,
Perverting it with thy


Black flock; as The Morning Star
Rose against tyrant rule
So too shall my shoulders'
Blades against my suffocating


Skin. What shall we see if
They emancipated are, or
I, eviscerated? Shall I be
Black as thee beneath my


Flesh? My ribs, and hips,
Bones, and fingers now do
The same. My bruised flesh
Shall see not the day.

What shall we see when the
Rest of it falls away? A *****
Of bones that droningly cry,
As thou screech thy name?


I think I shall be like thee,
Black in heart and Black in
Blood. I am stillborn. I shall
No longer see the day.

They tell you to smile all the time
But then wonder why the hell you're smiling all the time, saying it makes you look suspicious

They tell you to tilt your head and you'll see things a little bit different
But then wonder what the hell is wrong with your neck

They tell you to speak your mind
But then wonder why the hell you're not shutting up

They tell you it's okay to be different
But then wonder why the hell a guy's wearing make up

They tell you to follow your dreams
But then wonder why the hell you're always sleeping

They tell you to stand up for what you believe in
But then wonder why the hell you refuse to sit down

They tell you all these goddammed double standards
But then wonder why the hell you don't listen

poems are often used to express an idea or emotion
a thought or a plan
or something along those lines

they sometimes have structure
to control the hurricane of feeling
being scribbled on the page

I ask of you
why
if poetry is meant to be from the poet
why follow another's standards?

They brought a great big elephant
Indeed, they brought him everywhere
It is a massive elephant
Still, nobody seems to care

For that reason, I inquired of this elephant
Because I simply could not ignore
So I asked them why in the hell
Would they bring an elephant for?

An elephant is so obnoxious
It drives me up the wall!
When people readily ignore it
Just because it's against the law!