#villainy
I'm full of myself. Full of my dying
I am become death. The destroyer of worlds,
No. But I would be. This
Is the taste
Of hatred.
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 3:57 PM UTC
She bush-pushed past jammers,
sent bodies spinning like bad coins.
Farm boys waved their caps from the stands,
hoping she’d choose them next
for mercy or violence.
In your dreams, limp-dick!
She would shout,
Molly Magdalene taught her first:
if you’re going to be bad,
live your gimmick.
Juliet listened.
She was Demolisha:
roller derby queen,
brick hips and hair like barbed wire,
lips black as tar,
eyes smoked in coal,
women’s names inked on her ribs and shoulder,
like wounds she chose to keep.
I was just her groupie’s part-time boyfriend,
I was the tool she kept under the seat:
her tire iron,
used in a crisis.
I rode shotgun in her vintage truck
toward Waco,
singing Sinatra off-key
to keep her awake,
scribbling bios for the program:
Queen of Quake! Derby darling of devastation!
Empress of impact, Siren of slam!
"keep at it", she said.
We got to her father’s house
to take the bureau.
Crossed the ashtray living room,
threaded through a cave of trash bags,
yellowed sheets, broken lamps,
into a back bedroom, a hoarder’s shrine
stacked high to nothing.
The heirloom sat buried in the dark,
hard oak, grain heavy as muscle,
the one honest thing in a sour room,
something Juliet respected.
Her father stayed sunk in his chair,
TV glow staining his face,
cigarettes ground into carpet,
nicotine walls dripping beer sweat.
He barely nodded,
muttered bitterness,
as if we weren’t even there.
I knew then-
he had made her a villain
long before Molly Magdalene
polished her into one.
In Baton Rouge, gas station past midnight,
a boy appeared,
a Baby Ruthless shirt stretched across his chest,
skinny arms, John Deere cap.
His mother, pink barbie sweatshirt,
a purse full of pens and candy bars,
watched him hold out
a crumpled receipt to sign.
Juliet bent low,
almost tender,
Then shouted:
In your dreams, limp-dick!
And the boy laughed,
laughed like he’d won a prize,
while his mother burned with fury,
damning her to hell.
**** you, ***** Juliet countered.
Back in the truck
she sipped coffee bitter as ash,
rings rattling on the wheel.
_This,_ she said,
is what lasts.
Not when you’re bad.
When you’re the dirt worst.
Behind us, a past that forged her,
the oak piece rode, ratchet strapped,
to whatever she swung at next.
Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 8:55 PM UTC
(a poem in Senryus)
Let’s rerun the play,
take up strings, so the puppets
can start fresh their dance.
Summon the old ghosts—
Shakespeare’s doomed heroes
—pronounce them reborn.
Recall the actors,
lead horses from their pastures,
raise the curtains.
Pay Shylock his pound
of flesh, give Richard his horse,
let Viola love anew.
Old, ever-hallowed
villainy, once banished,
has taken new stage.
Human suffering,
live—don’t fret, you won’t miss it
—it’ll come to you.
.
.
Songs for this:
Kool Thing by Sonic Youth
End of the innocence by Don Henley
The Perfect Idiot by Fievel Is Glauque
Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 1:17 PM UTC
You’re gone at last, so at last I can think.
Insulting! Humiliating, not to be able to fire back,
As you put me once more on a mental rack.
It’s no wonder that I want a drink.
But by now I want so much more than strife.
I want to scorch your villainy with shame,
To crush your “triumph” and ruin your name,
And make you watch how you poison life.
Yet I am stuck beneath your wealth,
Undone if I demur in the least.
You spring upon me, a mental carnivore’s feast.
While I resort to stealth.
My father watched your villainy from the beyond,
from the so-called “Heaven” in which you planned to meet him,
As if that will ever happen! As if he would want to see you!
Is enlightenment part of the afterlife? You should hope so.
But since you finally let go of your empty life,
I do not miss you, don't mourn you or feel that confusion
That people say I should, that I'd be torn with strife,
No, no! Not at all—I feel nothing at all.
Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 10:49 AM UTC
Who’s a villain?
What makes one so evil?
What purpose does he serve?
Why is he always betrayed?
Why doesn’t he think the right way?
Why is he always different from the good?
Why does he shed painful tears?
What inferno is ignited in his mind?
Why does he always think about vengeance?
Why does he dwell in melancholy?
Why doesn’t he triumph?
Why is he considered superior yet he’s going to die?
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 12:33 PM UTC
Don’t wanna waste my life, writing all these love songs….
Refuse to be wasting away, scattered on this page,
Like a salesman the thoughts of you won't go away,
So I’m stuck thinking about you, night and day.
Then you softly put hand to my heart,
And i fall apart.
Catchy tune, that you’ll fall in love with,
You must be a goddess, of legend and myth…
Because you pierce my eyes, and see into my soul,
And recognize just like a knife I’m dull.
How long has it been since i was sharpened by your love?
But, at least you’ll have me, thank God above….
I really hope you like this part, cause it’s gonna repeat a few times!
Starts writing, from the heart.
Scary reality, nowhere to restart.
If you mess up now, it’s over and done.
But God will still claim you, as his son.
And it's time to make headlines, and big budgets.
The boy forgets about the girl, who doesn't?
The boy sings about being a big rock-star,
Whereas the girl can barely afford to pay the down payment on her car….
It’s all downhill from here.(Oh, it's all downhill from here.)
So, it's almost twenty years later,
The boy never went to college, girl studied the theater.
Now both on even playing field,
Success is by far the easiest shield.
And they meet back up at a high school reunion.
Old sparks fly, brand new tux and gown? Ruined.
Is this love? No, it’s called Teenage Spirit.
They take a break, boy needs a minute.
Girl starts to remember the abortion pill.
And it all goes downhill. (Oh, it goes downhill)
Catchy tune, that you’ll fall in love with,
You must be a goddess, of legend and myth…
Because you pierce my eyes, and see into my soul,
And recognize just like a knife I’m dull.
How long has it been since i was sharpened by your love?
But, at least you’ll have me, thank God above….
Girl begins to cry, alone, in the dark,
Her tears become steadily angrier, gonna go berserk.
Starts remembering every finite detail of that horrid day,
Where Boy drugged and ***** her, and then told her it would be okay.
Because love is forever right? And they love each other right?
This Boy didn’t know love, he just wanted to satisfy his needs at night.
And that's all it takes for the cycle to begin,
A girl, alone in a room, without any friends.
And that's when our story begins.
Boy just wanted to feel, all the power in the world.
Dad beat him so hard, his mother’s toes curled.
And a vicious cycle continues, from Dad, Boy, to Girl.
And Girl had a real shot in life, if only she gave it a whirl.
Life is so difficult now, and she’ll always remember.
What happened, all the way back that September.
Catchy tune, that you’ll fall in love with,
You must be a goddess, of legend and myth…
Because you pierce my eyes, and see into my soul,
And recognize just like a knife I’m dull.
How long has it been since i was sharpened by your love?
But, at least you’ll have me, thank God above….
And we shall never again, truly feel loved.
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
Three thousand children
That have no home.
Three thousand children
Are suffering alone.
Three thousand children
Whose parents suffer
Three thousand children
Missing their mothers.
How many children
Do we now have to feed
When the president said
They’re all bad seeds?
How did these babies
And these adolescent kids
Get accused of what they
Nor their parents ever did?
How can a country that
Brags it’s the land of the free
Perpetuate such a craven
Too Nazi-like villainy?
It squanders public funds
On bogus personal causes
Then hides it's thievery
Inside twisted legal clauses.
Three thousand babies
Locked up like animals
Inside pens like Dobermans;
And they are the criminals?
Their parents broke laws
That are just misdemeanors
So, they are beaten and then
They’re taken to the cleaners?
Meanwhile their children
Are kidnapped and hidden
By a Justice department that
Does the evil they are bidden.
That this kind of sick behavior
Exists in our country’s name
Is more than just our personal,
It’s also our national shame.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 9:10 PM UTC
Chaining any people up,
Beating them with whips,
Reducing their existence
To ugly racist quips.
Treating them as cattle
And selling them the same
Is horror of the highest stripe
And is nothing like a game.
This is sin.
Using sales people to lie
And bring people here
Then making them slaves
For a long period of years
Then giving them land
That was part of the deal
And treating them as people
Who only lived to steal.
This is sin.
Dividing good people into
"Them and us" is just wrong
Claiming your god is right
And they should move along
So you can resell their land
And make them move elsewhere
With your laws and red lines.
There is no good in that anywhere.
This is sin.
Not accepting that a people
Have the right to their vote
Then changing the rules
Is playing the wrong note.
Being the richest around
Doesn’t make you right.
You still send them to war
Then deny them equal rights.
This is sin.
Denying human rights
Can never be accepted.
It’s sickness to watch when
Loving people are rejected
And robbed and vilified,
Not once, but again and again,
And ***** and murdered
For just the color of skin.
This is sin.
Demanding someone will not
Love who they may want
Is not an attribute that
Anyone should ever flaunt.
Pushing your religion or
You thoughts about decency
Is a heinous way to exist.
It’s a horrible kind of villainy.
This is sin.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC