Raindrops splattered across the squeaky window as Lily slipped into a world entirely her own. She found out that the slightly dilapidated beige sofa can provide an alarmingly pacifying dark fortress.
It was the storm in her living room which led her to this point.

Her mother was a peculiar human in the aspect of coping methods. Most would turn to alcohol, but Lily's mother turned to books.

One would think a child of such age possessed great privilege, having such a mosaic of resources on literature, words, and literacy.

Every morning, Lily's mother would slip into a world entirely her own. Some days, her face would hold the cover of a Patrick O'Brian and other sleepy days would entail a bit of nineteenth-century British novels. Whatever the cover, the woman's disposition was also affected.

"Lily, listen to this- doesn't it sound blue?" The woman hoarded phrases from each book, and soon, Lily's mother was an endless world of words. Her mother's affinity for quotes turned into a tasteful obsession. Lily was naive to the abnormalities in associating words with colors; such as ‘nebulous' with orange, and 'surreptitious' with purple. To her, language was rich in color and feeling.

One might also surmise a girl with such enlightenment would take after her progenitor. Lily did not. Though, she was above her class in reading comprehension and competency, the very thought of books sent flashes of buried grudges.

"Everyone needs a therapist. The poor girl's been through so much," they say. 'They' being the individuals at church. After service, the doors would open. Lily would do everything in her power to weave around the sea of meaty vociferous faces. She didn't need their pity. Nothing happened.

'Nothing' meaning... perhaps a little something. Her father died. This, (Lily suspected) was the cause of her mother's book addiction. It must be peculiar for the spectator witnessing the situation from above. As we've stated before: most turn to alcohol.

Years elapsed in which an occurrence she termed, "The Rebellion," began her mother’s book exodus. She was never truly present and Lily desired for her to see the world as it was now- not in a novel or in the pages of fantasy.

The piano rang throughout the room every morning and every night for about an hour. Lily often turned to classical Vivaldi, Yiruma, or a dash of Paganini piano covers. She drank music like a shriveled sponge. Of course, her hobbies would be as far away from books as possible since she believed them to be an obligatory evil.

Tunes danced across her soul like the ghost of a memory almost arising. The voice of a piano carried bursts of purples, yellows, and reds. White and black keys proved unchanging and reliable. Lily latched to the idea.

"I'm going to play her out." The mourning doves cooed in the almost-vacant neighborhood, while two girls of the same height and age were ensconced under a magnolia tree near the street, their legs crisscrossed on grass.

"Too much piano?" Haley asked, plucking a dandelion from its roots while squeezing milky sap from the stalk with her fingernails.

"No, I want to." Lily answered.

A thought crossed her mind. Each book infested mother with unique feelings. Then, Lily deduced there is no such thing as too much piano.











It was quiet in the house as Lily had no siblings and the book-trace rendered mother speechless. Tape recorder near the piano, and fingers at the keys, she began playing au fait on her version of Vivaldi's Spring Season. She kept the imagery of wedding cake and rings in her mind. She introduced the song to her hands by means of segmented versions, leading towards the final masterpiece. Her aural senses acute, listening for the best complimentary notes. Soon, her fingers had written poetry. She liked to think that her left and right hand owned different stories to perform, yet once they met on-stage, they heightened the essence of each other's tales.

Lily played verses countless times until she was out of breath. If someone told her piano was a sport, Lily would concur.












The final piece was recorded on an 'old-fashioned' tape. Heart pounding, she tiptoed upstairs to her mother's hiding place.

"...a thin place where tissue paper separates the material from the spiritual.." the woman greeted Lily. She never looked up from her book.

"Listen, it's white,” the woman voiced hazily. Lily shoved the tape in her face. The mother’s hand reached out from behind the book, feeling the air before finally resting her hand on the plastic rectangle, sliding it into the player

and the music journeyed to her ears.

"Hmmm..." she said. And then all was quiet.










"I've got her." Lily declared in the convenience store on a rainy day.

"With a cake?"

"It was her wedding song. You know- the one playing while the bride walks in."

"What'd she say?"

"Nothing."

"Why can't you just wake her up with some coffee?" Haley suggested as a golden aurora arose from behind the clouds.

Most of Lily’s playing sessions caused her to neglect her own physical well-being. So she rinsed a dusty plastic cup from the cupboard and filled it with water. M&Ms were food Lily associated with her sessions and she couldn't play without developing that deep-rooted Pavlovian response. Finally, in an attempt to be healthier, a plastic water cup was to her right, and M&Ms in a bag were to her left on the piano seat.

But first, a small kick in her belly drove her to a slight guilt. See, she believed in music the way some do religion, and thus, she did what others do when confronted with a critical moment in life.

"I'll bring her out," she began, "and I'll play for the rest of my life. If I can't, I'll give up music forever." She placed her fingers on the keys, completing the oath. And this occurred only because she was twelve and incredulously naïve in the field of religious traditions, that she didn't know that most oaths offered to a deity of higher power involved some form of great sacrifice for a desired result. This meant that her risk was greater than others, as it meant winning or losing it all.

Lily drew a deep breath, filling her nose with the memories of coffee. She began playing. An odd little tune traveling from her brain to the keys before her.










"Remember me, when we lived far away, down in the lonely lighthouse..." her mother chanted and Lily only half listening as she painted the cover of a CD containing her finished piano piece: Coffee.

"The sea air- spill in that lighthouse. The comfort we felt in that lighthouse." Her mother continued absorbing the ink on the pages, "Remember me, when I flew away with that chilling, cold sea breeze..."

Lily clicked the clear cover shut, handing it to the "Collective Works of Julie G." Once again, a wandering hand shot out from behind the cover, searching for the CD. Her mother did not look up.

"Music or an experiment?" she asked

"We'll see." Lily answered.

Her mother raised the CD to her player and inserted the disk, pressing play. Her wandering hand felt a small cup of coffee and as the music played, she sipped it slowly- quite peculiar. Her eyes looking up from the pages as though she were staring at something far away and her face, rubescent.

"Where did you learn to play that?" she said, leaning back and closing her eyes.








Haley and Lily entered a quintessential music store. Guitars lined the walls and classic vinyls were stacked on shelves. Small sleek keyboards welcomed guests as they stepped inside, synchronous to the resonance of a sharp bell.

Lily sped towards the CD section nestled near the corner in the store, while Haley flipped through the pages of violin classics.

"Lily, you're missing something." Haley noted from across the room, flippantly exasperated.

"Coffee didn't work." Lily replied in despair. "I thought I had her, but I didn’t."

Haley walked back towards her friend, new sheet music in hand, "Everyone's heart breaks a little differently and that means every cure must be unique. But there's something we all need- to feel safe. You did that for her."

"Then why is she still gone?"

"Because In order to return, she needs to remember what she lost and she needs to want it again... hold on." Haley held out a piano book in her hands. It was a neat white book with dark blue ink. Lily furrowed her brows.

"Just read it, Lily." Haley urged in the most loving way possible.









She still refused to use the book, diverging more from Haley’s instruction, cajoling her mother by use of classical music, modern music, and healing music. But nothing resolved and it seemed as though her oath to the Greater Deity would not fall in her favor.


It took a graying day for Lily to dig in her backpack and pull out the vile book. Inside revealed crisp white music sheets.

She itched to throw it away, however, something caught her eyes:

Kiss the Rain.

Lily stopped and stared out the window, inhaling to smell petrichor.

"Well, okay then." she reasoned. She pulled out  the piano bench and began finding the first few notes. The rest fell into sight reading. Just as the rain trickled down the living room window, the music trickled into the home's inhabitants' ears. Rain engulfed her soul.

The piece finished with a light touch on the last note. It resounded through the cozy expanse.









"I have something for you, mom." Lily proclaimed, placing the CD in her mother's hand, which then traveled to the player.

The woman failed to look up from her book, only staring into the distant pages as the notes tapped inside her ears. Ever so slightly, her eyes began to close and Lily could see the notes dancing behind eyelids.

"It feels like... rain." she commented. And as the last tickling touch of the last raindrop echoed through the dark room, her mother looked up, smiling at the sound, and her eyes met her daughter's.

"Why, Lily," she said, her voice laced with surprise, "look how you've grown.”

Albert had an ARTHRITIC knee
which gave him curry

The core of a BOIL is oft hard
to extract

Yesterday June experienced
a server stomach CRAMP

Too much dry weather
can cause the outer DERMAL layer to peel

Never read in a poorly lit room
for you'll have EYE strain

After eating spicy pickles
dad had bad FLATULENCE

Some twenty eight years ago
my friend Helen had her GALLBLADDER removed

They say that a glass of water
will stop HICCUPS

From end to end
our INTESTINAL tract is thirty foot long

On Sunday afternoon John
broke his JAW playing football

Some people have
very boney KNUCKLES

One of my work colleagues
is prone to getting LARYNGITIS

Colin suffers terribly
with MIGRAINE headaches

Sometimes people tend
to endlessly NAVAL gaze

A woman's OVARIES need to be checked
on a regular basis for any abnormalities

The PANCREAS secrets a hormone
known as insulin

QUININE once was extensively used
in the treatment of Malaria

Since my sister has put on weight
she cannot find her RIBS

The STIRRUP bone lies
within one's ear

Dan Aykroyd the famous comic star
has webbed TOES

Should you bump your ULNA bone
it may give you reason to groan

The VARICOSE VEINS is great aunt Ruby's legs
were very pronounced

Does anyone know of a good remedy
for unsightly WARTS

At our local hospital
we have an antiquated X-RAY machine

As tiredness and weariness sets in
one YAWNS quite a lot

****** ZOSTER can make
a person constantly itch

How is life on lsd?
Well come on this trip with me.
Drugs are bad kids, they open your mind.
They allow you to reason, and see through the lies,
Losing reality, achieving duality,
The effects might be harsh, cause abnormalities.
Seeing your world and life differently,
Flowing through your brain so quick so swiftly.
When your eyes dilate, you no longer procrastinate
You get to pick between reality and your inner state.
Seeing that the small things are what matter,
Satisfying our thirst, for knowledge over matter.
Because on drugs you might enjoy walking,
You might enjoy smelling the grass or even talking
Expressing your mind, reasoning a thought,
And not being a cynics narcissist while you internally rot.
The experience on it impairs your mind,
And may leave you always behind
Behind with love, adventure, and discovery
Instead of hate, restrictions and agony.
But drugs are bad kids don’t take my advice,
the commoner lowlifes like us will someday pay the price.
The price of thinking differently, and enjoying life,
Walk this amazing world, with no need for strife.
Drugs impair your mind kids they do,
but what happens during them only chances what’s inside of you…

the coopers family, the case of torette syndrome




michelle met young rudy rometon, who was really hard to look after, every time micheele turned her

back rudy will hold a plastic knife toward another patient of the psych ward, because she is really

psychotic, and michelle couldn’t handle her on her own, so she asked sally to help her, and sally

said, yeah, because if we have to help this girl get help we can’t push her away, but the only

problem with rudy is, she feeds the staff with these ridiculous jellyfish lies, that she was kidnapped

by the mafia, and her father was the head honcho and michelle then said, i read about the mafia

and your dad isn’t one, but rudy would get really aggressive on the psych ward medical staff, and

sally took rudy into the room to let her have a yelling match and she yelled out

YOU FUCKEN STUPID ****, MY MOTHER PROMISED ME A TRIP TO WARNER BROS MOVIE WORLD

AND THEN SHE FUCKEN WENT BACK ON HER FUCKEN WORD, SHE ALSO SAID I COULD BE

A BEAUTIFUL MODEL,AND THEN SHE FUCKEN WENT BEHIND MY BACK, AND SAID RUDY, ISN’T

FULLY EQUIPPED, and sally stopped her by saying, with being famous and rudy said, LET ME FUCKEN SPEAK

sally was distraught and felt threatened as she tried to listen, YEAH, SHUT UP, THAT STUPID TWO FACED MOLE

DECIDED TO LOCK ME UP EVERY TIME I WAS TRYING TO ACHIEVE MY DREAMS, I WANT HER TO STOP

BUT SHE WON’T LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU SEE SALLY COOPER, I HAVE BEEN HAVING PROBLEMS, TRYING TO DEAL

WITH MY FUCKEN PROBLEMS IN MY BRAIN, from that moment, sally took rudy in for a brainscan, to see if there

is any sign of mental illness, and rudy didn’t want the brain scan, only because she was too defensives when someone says

she is a mental head and then as david was entering to check on rudy, rudy got her plastic knife, and threatened david, if

she wasn’t allowed to go, david, wasn’t in the losing mood and tripped rudy up and locked her in the solitary cell, saying

i bet you prefer to be here, rather than the streets, cause your mum wants time, cause she can’t except you at the moment

rudy yelled blue ******, saying WHY DON’T YOU FIND A FUCKEN WAY TO GET ME OUT OF THIS DUMP, and david said

if you want tp be free, you must behave yourself, because at present you are menace, menace i tell ya, and meanwhile

at the coopers family clinic john prendth was dealing with a patient who has bulimia, and she was skinny, and this made john

want to get a referral for her to go to a food abnormalities centre, where they only monitor you what you eat, well john was having

problems with her conversation patterns, from positive and negative positive and negative, which made john think there is a little

bit of mental illness, but her brain scan showed nothing, but to be on the safe side, john took a picture of the brain, just to make sure

that there isn’t anything small, and instead of being with sue and frank at dinner, he spent 4 hours looking for abnormalities from the

scan, which shows nothing, and then john noticed a tumor growing, at present it is alright, but it looks like those kind of tumors that

could do more harm if not removed early, so the next day, as david brought the morning medications for rudy and also the breakfasts

for the impatients of the psych ward, john phoned her bellmic patient to come and discuss her results and she vomited in her toilet every

hour on the hour, she was cranky, and finding out she has a tumor, made her more furious, and she said, i want that tumor out of fucken me

right now, while sally was given new words but same guidelines, that her mum is a two faced marta ****, and sally said, here take these ******

because you need to calm down, because, what you are doing is not right, these inpatients are sick, they don’t want some bratty teenager like you

putting plastic knives to their arms and then martin came out and said, why you young ****, get off ya ****, and into work, mind you, sally spent all day

with rudy, because at 3 in the afternoon she was diagnosed with torette syndrome and rudy yelled every swear word under the sun

and the staff said, yeah, you are swearing and you get ticks, david said that you have terretz, ok, rudy yelled and went into her room while the

nurses got the medication, and decided on clonidine, 2 tablets at night and one dexedine in the morning, but david still wanted to monitor rudy

here in his psych ward, cause she has a violent temper, and at the end of that day david, ron and john and sue went to sing leonard cohen’s

halleuiah, in a very awful voice, plus david and jean and jack were telling jokes of their past, while rudy and john’s bulimic patient with a tumor

were understanding, but rudy hit michele and sally a few times, but all in a days work

the end

god is the devil and the devil is bob

god is the devil and the devil is bob

god is the devil and the devil is bob

GOD THE DEVIL AND BOB

today, bob was trying to help 3 people who looks up and around

and the first man tom’s case, it was the fascination with neon lights

this made his head spin around and around, and it wasn’t the usual

headspinning that every adult faces from time to time, it was psychotic

this really bugged tom, and bob said, could this be god annoying you

and tom said, dunno mate and went away singing

god is the devil and the devil is the force moving my head cosmically

god is the devil and the devil is the force moving my head cosmically

god is the devil and the devil is the force moving my head cosmically

GOD THE DEVIL AND BOB WHO IS THE FORCE

The 2nd bloke was harry and when he looked up, it was more weird than tom’s

you see he would look up at the sky saying, take me now, almighty GOD

and bob said have you thought about being positive rather than talking about death

and harry said, shut up, life isn’t working for me, how i would hope, so shut up

if you tell me to live my fucken life, I CAN’T STAND YA

and harry went away singing

god is the devil and death sounds nice

god is the devil and death sounds nice

god is the devil and death sounds nice

GOD THE DEVIL AND THE MIGHTY DEATH TONES

and our final bloke was brian, who was told, he has a looking up disorder, which was so queer

he could have a brain tumor, and brian’s mate suggested that brian goes to have a brainscan

to see if there is any abnormalities in his brain , which could be causing the look ups

and like tom, it was a fascination with neon signs, brian wanted a medication to get rid of the look ups

so he can PARTY, and get rid of this crazy person lookup disorder and bob said it could be the buddhist

god (buddha)or it could be athena working on brian’s brain, it could be the dreaded force, where you are forced

to show abnormalities in the brain, brian went away saying perhaps that is true, and sang

god is the devil and the devil is the look ups

god is the devil and the devil is the look ups

god is the devil and the devil is the look ups

god the devil, and bob,

the almighty bob delahunty

Sculptured Abuser

I’m six years of age and you abuse my body. I’m a child with a fragile body still developing. And you know that but It doesn’t faze you at all.

I’m silly with my school friends. A child heart, Silly brain, I'm sometimes clumsy with what I do
That's just being a normal six-year-old
I’m still learning the basic facts of life, when I’m with you I’m silent and frightened. Does it ever occur to you that one day someone will capture you doing your actions?!

In my mind I would believe what you’re doing to me is the normality of being a guardian.
You know it’s not.
I don't know it's not
But in some ways, I know it's not

The fearful sculptures of you glued into my head
I shouldn’t be seeing you in that way. If I told you, you would enjoy it- if I told anyone they would think I'm making this up: stereotypical thoughts of humans- children like to make out their own stories.
I probably would need psychological help and for a child myself that shouldn't be necessary

I’m not an adult so I shouldn’t be feeling this pain and I shouldn’t be feeling you’re body onto mine.
How does that really feel?!
How does all of this really feels like?!

When I close my eyes it’s not pretty it’s not sunshine and daisies. And unicorns and rainbows. It’s YOU!
Sculptured abuser. If I had to draw a picture of you I would draw a Clown- And not one of them funny clowns either

Midnights have a way of releasing you out of you’re mental cage. Influence of an ugly smell when you're on top of me and not even that when I'm close to you I smell it, it's so dreadful when I taste you're snaked slithery tongue it startles me, makes me want to bite it so you can stop
I will never understand why you treat me like this.
I find it cruel that you even think of me in this way
A ****** predator is your name

You have no idea that this will mess up my physical image of myself and you’ll be messing up my mental mind. Physiological I'm already messed up because this has been going on for years. Abnormalities of a child's mind are playing, building happy memories and watching cartoons.
Defiantly NOT
Getting Abused by their own fathers

Clearly you don’t care!

I’m a child who should be respected not torchered in the way you do to me. Laying in this bed letting you have you’re way with me isn’t what a child should be allowing a parent to do. Isn't something a child should be fearing from

It’s tiring and exhausted that I can’t live a normal life. Especially at night time when I should be fast asleep.

How do you live with you’re self! I truly wonder.
I wonder was this your childhood life too?!
If so no wonder, you would think this is okay
Pretty messed up if you ask me.

Sculptured Abuser
Don’t pick me up from school let me have peace and quiet while travelling to and from school. These alone walks are refreshing- even in school it's safe
You take every chance you can get to be alone with me and to have your way. That's why you jump to the gun went taking me to school and not the others

Why me?!

***** Abuser you should be loving me dearly and giving me hugs to say you love me.

It’s super funny how you have no shame in what you’re doing behind close doors.
‘OH, you won’t be laughing when prisoners have their way with you’. I'll be one laughing

As you know buying me chocolates and talking to me in a creepy way it haunts my nightmares. It haunts me!

Don’t look at me with them spooky evil devil eyes.

Sculptured abuser, I want you to die!
Everypain you will be suffering it will be worth it
And there will be no hand to be searching out for no one will rescue you

You’re a natural abuser and always will be.
You’re funeral will be cold no tears
It will be lonely
This is what you deserve
The faces what you'll be seeing is the faces of the victims you abused.
In my future life to come
I always see you as my
Sculptured abuser
Not my beloved Father

She knew she wasn't like the other pretty girls,
they had words for her uttered in silence not
formed into word other than those on scraps
of paper. For rumours have power not through
voices but images held like a prisoner in he head,

Disfigured were her traits, genetic abnormalities
most were told or as rumors spread. She held it
every year nearly identical such intricate design
that went into this pumpkin head, those of ill taste,
muttered words aloud is that your father as she
rested on her pumpkin patch.

She smiled with all she could, for her deformity
made the resemblance of a pumpkin similar but
for a difference of she had flowing hair. As years
past and the head seemed just slightly different
with each year that passed seemingly the same as before.

But this time the eyes were hollow and inside not seemingly
pungently orange but white and hollow.. this was scarier
as what became before... till a policemen wondered near.
Smelling a stench of not rotting fruit. but something more.

"Child what do you hold on this dark forbodig night,

"Why my daddy sir, I wanted to show the world something
uglier than I, so I held him on hollow's eve to show the world
that there is something more ugly than me,

"Ugly my child who pray tell would say such a thing,

"Daddy did everyday, said I was a seed from the field
and seeds don't fall far from where they fell,

In amazement he looked beneath where she sat pumpkins
from years gone by had rotted and new ones spouted in
there place but each a distorted look as each started to rot
on top other that had fell. beneath he saw what seemed to
be a palm of white holing on to seed a bag of something prey tell.

"What's in the bag sweetness,

"A bag of seeds, from where his hell sprouted and began,

"Each of these you see is a moment a memory of his life,

"And I sit here with his head and then I place him their
to watch what I crush  each formation o thought under foot,

"For each one that grows is a memory and I will crush them
all under my footing till nothing grows here till death is still,

Child why would you do such a thing,
"Do you not know beauty is on the inside,

"I will show you beauty of what you speak,

Following cautiously from what is seen, he should have radioed
in. But she is but a child what can she do. leading him between the
long grass to a garden of illuminated beauty. looking bewildred
at what was and now seen.

"Through the pumpkin patch, that was my place of regret,

"So what is this place child,

"My garden of redemption,

"Redemtiooooooooooo.......,

And those where his last word as she spoke three words

"TRICK OR TREAT....

For he was the treat for the flowers to bloom.
Blood lilacs and roses of the night had a taste for certain
nourishment, and they only drank on each hollows eve...

She smiled as she sat on the pumpkin patch, that hand
of her fathers features just revealing enough for her to allure
the curious to not take her features as a needing for sorrow.
but more of a trick to treat that what thirsted out back..

walk into a bookstore where a poetry open mic is going on. the man previously nursing a lager in the back now has all eyes in the room on, flowin to the beat like drums to a song, this is all he has left that doesn't feel wrong.
"these words are all that matters," he says. " ’cept poetry, liquor, and the duality of man, i confess, these pages store my sanity and reveal my real friends, so i'll keep writing until these calluses have bled."

Lately I’ve been talking to Michael Larson in my head
And yeah, I know it’s a little weird to have a real imaginary friend
But we all need someone to turn to when feelin like we’re burning at the stake
To remind we’re still human and there’s no end; ending’s a mindset you create
There’s not really walls to hit unless you tell yourself there is,
just the narrow hallways in your mind where you lose yourself to negatives
See, you can always bend to be more
but you conceive a break, cause breaking is what you do
when you think you can’t create

and if you spend too much time wondering if you’re a particle or a wave
your thoughts manifest into the mental circles you repave
self fulfilling prophecies are subconscious misbehaviors
ignoring synchronicity in the universe’s behavior,
always waiting there for someone else to come along and save ya
caving in you dig a shallow grave, crawl in, and lay there,
blaming everyone else and yet expecting a savior?
from the wayward pain of exacerbating these anticipated cracks,
you still can’t seem to break, just blister and bounce back.
from this controversy in the name of your unsure authenticity
each flaw you extract from your skin is your own vulnerability
the world is not black and white, flat, or statistical see
just rife with impenetrable culpability
so everyone grows up and grows out with restless mentalities
time and age are isolated perceptions of our static reality,
cause we’re changing and flowing together, and we always will be
the only differences between us all are the ones we want to see
to comfort our dogmas and convictions as we atomize our selves obsessively
what matters are the paths we pursue and the wisdom we seek,
not our genetic abnormalities or the ways that we feel we are weak
when everything has innate duality, there’s no good without the bad
good’s an infallible syllable completely unpaletable til you realize bad
can only be in your heart if you perceive that’s what you have

there’s just your belief that you are either trapped or free
and realizing you want what you always had, eternally
if I’m gonna live this life, I will not sit and wait,
I will skin my knees and bleed and then get back up and create
In public Michael Larson’s hanging in my headphones loving the attention that I pay
Telling me earnestly not to worry, cause everyone is a critiqued critic these days
In burn fetish he tells me, “empathy is the poor man’s *******”
And now Krishnamurti is on my other shoulder repeating once again,
That “being well adjusted to a sick society is completely insane, the end.”
everyone gets nervous on the first dinner date, and everyone craves the safety of a friend who has their back
everyone feels like a literary hack the first time they take a paper to their thoughts and attempt to translate them into rap
we all feel a bit misdirected, and a little bit hated, but collective requires an equalibrium of giving and taking
while these days everyone treats each other as if life’s just about getting your own slice of the cake
and blatantly crazed by the toxic disarray
of our modern society transgressing and yet we just stand by and wait

Michael looked shy on camera as he expressed to me that, “what makes us human
Is how we’re a collection of our mistakes and the reactions that we have”
And what makes us individuals isn’t our lifestyle or to whom we pray
The stratosphere here that stops us from cooking to convection
is just a collection of perfections formed from love within the human condition
the gravity that keeps us from falling, is the art that we make
self actualized individuals, not feeling so lonely or crazed,
because paradoxically, art is also how we all relate.

Theres a circle cycle of sides to the self of me

Standing in the middle surveying my surroundings

Noting each application and the consequences that apply

Maybe I'm simply a hedonist
Weighting for worn out pleasure centers to take a flame

Or an optimistic pessimist
Citing my self for the blame  

My humanistic approach has lost appeal

Defying my superego
And hierarchy of needs reel

Stuck in Erickson stages
A psychodynamic underground war rages

There's a linear graph
Self sided to me

Maybe I'm projecting all my insecurities
And taking my abnormalities
Out on maladaptive poetry

Different;
You heard me,
that's what i'll always be.
Maybe not to my eyes,
but to yours they will see.
Different is the word to describe
the abnormalities in ones self of
individuality.
I' am different because your music taste is awful,
but who am I to judge ones flavor in artistry.
You **** me in and ******* out like a dragons fire.
I' am the girl who you never thought you'd heard.
Different is what they call me, and in some other terms
just a freak in disguise.

Its time, tick tick monster
and me like a lazy pigeon
There're worries inside outside
and me like who's care
Its fear, everywhere
and me like no where
There're hurries up to date
and me like out of date
Its fate, controlling me
and me like out of control
There're doubts polluting mind
and me like I'm determined
Its late, in every hove
and me like still in move
There're routs facing silence
and only me with hue and cry

Set aside the formalities                      
Put behind your brutalities                    
Forget about the finalities                      
Throw away all moralities
Come hide from your realities
Forgive me for my irrationalities
I plea not for practicalities
I know of the abnormalities
Do you know of the totalities
Just listen to the modalities

It's becoming a lethality

I crave the road
All I want is to feel the steering wheel in my grasp,
and smell the gasoline in the air

This town is not my home
Do I even know the definition,
of the word belonging?
Take me to the city of freaks,
where my abnormalities will be embraced

The desire is greatest as we speak,
and you tell me that you taste the road in my name
I want to get away,
and go taste the strawberries in your mouth

Circumstances leave me trapped here,
my bitter tongue cannot yet taste the dusty road
It's just so hard to stay still
when the tip of my tongue can ******* true home

I want to hit the road
Only ten hours away from your arms (my home)
Only five hundred miles from your mouth
(the taste of home my tongue desire)

Motionlessly sitting
Quietly thinking
Head rested on my desk
I put my fears to the test

No thoughts come to me
Compelling advisers look at me
Try not to stare,
Look down and play with my hair.

I burp subliminally.
I smell blood
and coiled in it
was half of my soul.
I grasp to it,
hope I don't breed,
not that anyone will take
any interest in me.

Suffer the abnormalities
of the world so far behind.
Contrary to popular belief,
I was no one special.

So walk for disaster,
smile slyly for ever and after.
No one could be a more
perfect match
than me and your mother.

Cinnamon sonogram

Detect the abnormalities too late.

Morning after birth of

a placebo placenta.

Irrigate the porcelain

of a lost labor laboratory.

Love found not within the arms of

the golem grasping for straws.

-

Wailing a harmony of blue and red.

Pumping panacea.

Steady the pace, you hotheads

with elegant electric veins.

On Monday she sung so sweetly and

whispered her prophet tales.

Saturday appeared as an echoing,

hollow and halfhearted hymn.

-

They retreat in rebellion;

lapping at salt laced lacerations.

Rye, grain, roots, and grapes

for the Baroness of the Barrens.

Weeping waters leads to the

sleeping daughters that dangle

their threats like fishing hooks

off of the edge of a world so flat.

Would you say my words express possible realities
Resulting in different mentalities ?

Or

Are they just written/verbal fallacies
Resulting in abnormalities of letters and words hoping to avoid any literary casualties?

How about both

Sadly, here you can only read it,
So you don't hear it, you just see it, but it's something I'd love for your ears to meet with


Nothing really can compete
With vocal manipulation of speech or how certain pronunciations can proceed

Living through a zub-zero temperature year is what it took for me to be able to reel in my minds cable and see clear
Avoiding a fatal crash I quickly grabbed the wheel to steer
Away from hitting a metaphorical deer

It's not a black cloud that hovers above me
It's god and the devil playing rugby
Every time I try to watch they just stare back and mean mug me

Two opposing forces going head to head?
More like a sorcerer and a sorceress sharing a bed

How many times can a bee sting if it's already stung?
None, it has a single stinger that's the only one
After that, the songs been sung and that bees life is done...

An answer to a question avoiding any deception just so you can understand the expression and find your own reflection

-J.A.M

It was a little insane but who
Am I to judge?
You See ....my friend had a theory
how our world came to where it was

So as he told it to me, is how ill tell it
it to you, but not caring if ur believing
But simply I am just repeating
As I found it oddly intriguing

So, it all starts where a society of
of real gods all live
And their kids are subject to
Learning about their power& gifts

And as an assignment school kids
Were told they had to create reality
On a fictitious planet where it'll
inhabit a species with mortality

Using the knowledge you were taught
In science Eco system building
Using philosophy, math. Art anything
You've learned can help your vision

Now the rules of such a creation
We're to calculate things right
Cause once it's created it's living
And we don't extinguish life

So the teacher explained that if
You create and it goes off course
You can only watch it destruct for
example if u Forget a food source

If you forget to make the
physical bodies of the beings
To be properly resilient enough
to match the environmental skeems

You are forced to watch in horror
As the death u caused slowly comes
And only then will you know
What it takes to be a god, and no one

Will have similar projects so no ones
right or wrong that's why you create
It's imaginative and limitless
As long as u properly calculate

So only a week later long before
the deadline when projects are due
one student who made a planet called earth,
that reflected green and blue

And he asked his teacher if he
Could induce the process of creation
Knowing well, that inducing creation comes
after due date&presentation;

So the teacher replied that
Normally he would say no
But ill be honest im curious to see
if u finished only starting 7 days ago

But before you do. I hope you know
The ethical obligation
That comes with creation, don't
U wanna re work calculations?

Cause they need a way to breath
And have a way that their body
Can self remove or evacuate
And the student said like a hobby

I loved I recalculated made
Adjustment after adjustment
So if I'm missing something I won't
Find it cuz I can't see nothing.

So the teacher said go ahead
And the student left that night
To induce the roots that
Wi grow the fruit of life

So time passes and it's time
To present to the classes
This student presented last&when;
he showed earth all of them laughed

And since there is no wrong or right
The student was puzzlesd
As his classmates started asking
Questions so flaws shoe but subtle

"Why would free will have a need"
When u only need to program
The nucleus to force morality
Now it's on you when your plans

Are wrong, but the student
Explained that he could not plan
Like most others did cuz there are
Copious variables when they can

Make their own decisions and
Be there own gods
So I only gave them
the power and respect that we all got

Cause most of your planets are built
By plans, predetermined by control
Where as mine gives them the tools
Without manipulating them wit goals

Only the fear of survival and a
Heightened consciousness so
well aware before acting on wrong
as instinct warns, so they know

What they should do, and would you
Want a program instead of intuition
Robbed of the right to make decision
cuz in my Opinion that is no vision

of someone creating something livin
So overlooked my pessimism
So existence wit decision prevents
planet prison, think of a mechanism

Something designed to mimic
Life mearly living a planned cycle
So most of your plants are more
Mechanisms then life cause vital

Is the presence of survival so
It can serve as a reminder
That recklessness has consequence
To show control of what transpires

Is there's and with this I moved
On well aware it could end
Badly but sadly the same free will
I gave as a gift could curse them

And that's when his teacher said
Class congratulate earth
As I've never once had a student
Factor in free will which births

Authenticity of life otherwise
Your planet is a replication
This projects meaning is
built around the fact that your creation

Wouldn't really be a creation as
A school would never allow
A class of students to cause
creation with no knowledge of how

Uncontrollable true creation is
And that no creations perfected
And bearing the pain of knowing
Something exists in pain directed

By your creation so be patient
Don't spawn life just to see the odd
So the lesson,its dangerous
playing god so it's important u be a god

That's when the teacher dismissed
The class but asked his student
That created earth to stay after
Class so we can decide who is

Gonna break it to my bosses that
You created life
And when they were alone
teacher said plz fill me in and shed light

On how you got everything cohesive
I had to write a new thesis
Many times and felt so blind even
After schooling to breed this

Planet the way you did, how do
They breath explain
So he said out of the choices I had
For elements the easiest to maintain

So it's constant and remains
Is to have what's needed to breath
Surrounding them and that way the
wind acts to spread what they need

So all I had to do was create
an Eco system that's supported by
The same thing but used in a cycle
Opposite to another, so .....in my

case, earth is filled with What the
dominant and sub-dominant life needs
Just like a fish needs to be in water
Earth uses oxygen as its need

So upon designing plant life a tree
And other plants breath
Out the oxygen the eco system needs
so I hope the environment we

Left to them is taken care of,
So the teacher nods and says
One more question which makes
Me wonder if ur advanced or lead

By luck but what was your
thought process when programming how
A basic nucleus functions you
Added so much detail so now

I'm asking why greed, anger and
Other emotional gauges got
So complicated when these emotions
Develop in evolution with thought

So the student replied, ill be honest
I created earth to reflect me
So now I'm more bonded to my
Creation and empathy from me

Would lack if in fact I failed
To know how it felt
To be lonely. Scared or angry
And despite how there all felt

They make us constantly aware
Of ourselves leading to improvement
On a scale more significant so
They would have to be stupid

To not notice with how complicated
They are by instinct and emotion
That if the environment gets bad
Or poverty is had there's a notion

That nags inside them knowing
Something's Wrong and they'll fix it
But ill let u know as time passes
What happens no I'm sorry it isn't

Allowed to go with you. There's
Many issues, and unwritten law
All creations must be stored with
The proper personnel who log

A the findings as some bindings
Have taught us In the past
That evolution after creation has an
Outcome that is worth to track

Each creation and note the
Changes and evolutions as they
May hold the answer To a question
We won't ask til later so I say

You deserve a pat on the back
But we may very well be introuble
As its my job to make sure u don't
Stumble upon it but befuddled

Am I at how you factored In key
elements we purposely leave out
So when your creations crash it's
No harm some as the lessons passed

Cause reproductive systems are
Graphed and added to the math
When your much older in university
Although they teach in class

To give the female of a species
The means to self conceive
With only eggs and the fathers
DNA but still you achieved

A sustainable process, and
If as a novice u can do this
There's no telling what your future
Creations will teach us, but with

All of this comes responsibility
So lets go call the authorities
And let them know we are in
Possession of an unlicensed piece

Of science and be proud. That
U didn't just play god
You weighed the responsibility
And took well measured steps not

Even taught to you, and even
If earth is not with u
It still reflects how complex you as a
God think,so lets hope earth will too

Cuz any misanthropy is misplaced
As imperfections reflexion
is why conception of perfection
Leaves a contradicting impression

Cuz the same section that's stressin
Abnormalities exist
Is the same formality that makes it
normal so this paradox insists

That something is what it isn't
And it isn't what it is
Like love and hate, a perfect life
needs a nature where antonyms sit

And in essence this is why your
world leaves me impressed
But most ppl dont understand this
Theory and will judge it a mess.....

Watching as all of daylight dies,
a gentle smile hiding a ****** knife,
come and look upon the lord of the flies.

Everyone fell deaf to the hundreds of cries,
the vast oceans filled with turmoil and strife,
watching as all of daylight dies.

A tender kiss for you who spreads rabies,
you who keeps the dead children safe,
come and look upon the lord of the flies.

We celebrate your clear abnormalities,
you who relished burning down that café,
watching as all of daylight dies.

Why should we care for a family of nobodies?
Who received an early trip to the afterlife,
come look upon the lord of the flies.

We watch you, casting away tragedies,
smiling at how you, the simple farmwife,
watching as all of daylight dies.
Come and look upon the lord of the flies.

Camille is purple
tensing her body
feeling lonely
not lonely
enough
to call anyone
all calls are dry mouthed
and stained ***** red
apothic red if you
want her to be
exact although
unnatural
she writes
drunk
and never edits
the words tumble out
of her like kids who learn
gymnastics at a young age
and laugh at her for plugging
her nose when jumping into the
foam pit, so unnatural

Marilyn talks to her and she
feels a little less lonely, and
a little more comfortable in
her abnormalities as she sips
at her glass before chugging
the rest of the bottle while
pondering another until
she realizes that it's no
good for her rethinks
and decides it's a
yes

I do not write my poems,
My poems write me
these boundaries of my body these fingertip extremities are not quills and this liquid velvet this lifeless blood is not raven-colored ink, rather my skin is pages and pages of palpable pulp,
deacrinated tentacle tree branches and fiberless roots convulse and my metal mind seizes sadness and manufactures paper out of the trees growing inside of me
Titanium oxide is extracted from my black eyes while wax drips off of my eyelashes into liquid pools of ebony
My mistake of a mind imprisons abjection and mass-produces ink out of the elements of my soul’s curtain-drawn windows
words and words and words and words fill the spaces between the pores where my hair follicles protrude
Diction dilemmas dip their quills into my eyelids and peirce my forehead until I am scarred by POETRY
Asphyxiating abnormalities write themselves into existence and reproduce in my skull, the fissures of my brain are their nests
Seven hundred million two dimensional letters float into my blood and disperse and and feed on these crimson channels and converge to form three dimensional words to form still increasingly multidimensional sentences and stanzas and POEMS until I am a library of impossible holes in existence, an impossible amount of existence.
I do not write my poems into existence
My poems are my existence.

If I had four feet,
I doubt I'd do much better.
I could run so much faster,
I could balance so much steadier.  
But I wouldn't.

If I had three hands,
I doubt I'd do much better.
I could type so much faster,
I could play so much better.
But I wouldn't.

If I had two heads,
I doubt I'd do much better.
I could see so much more,
More of the world I could explore.
But I wouldn't.

I'd just be stuck
Get me out of this warped body
I would scream
Give me a life of normalcy I would plead
Just take away my abnormalities
Until the world
Seemed less unfair
Rid me of this shame
I don't want to play this game.

I would never stop to see
The rainbow that could be
I'd be the devils work
And nobody would be able to convince me otherwise

So if I had one body,
I guess it would still be the same.
Even though I could have two eyes
My body would still be my demise.

I'd have one body,
And along with it I'd get a mind
That would have it's own ideas
And would forever bring me tears.

noun
the sampling of amniotic fluid using a hollow needle inserted into the ******, to screen for developmental abnormalities in a fetus.

...

Not everything about you
is on that little screen; 
not in your number of chromosomes,
not in your misshapen genes. 

Yet everyone talks about you,
as if they know you:
"impaired cognitive abilities"...
"50% chance of being stillborn"...
"impacts the family unit"...

Your life and capacity for love
will never be defined by your DNA,
but rather by your smile and
your laughter and 
your heart
and
and
and
...

In short, my love, 
you cannot be defined by what is missing
but rather by what you can
and will be when you arrive 
in all your humanity

where are my ugly people?
shuffling with holed shoes,
defunct ****** organs,
crossed eyes.
those whose strides echo their
genetic abnormalities,
a leg an inch longer than the other (like me),
arms fat with blood,
skin resplendent with eczema
boils on eyelids,
dilated pupils,
escaping from the mirror with
horse tranquilizer
and enough ***** to sink
the state of California.
where are my ugly people,
too long under the delusion of
"finding inner beauty"
by the pretty ones;
straight teeth,
combed and styled hair,
brown and ivory skinned
drowning the streets with their
cackling and condescension.
we should scar their faces
with buckshot,
carve those empty smiles across
their high cheekbones
to be an omnipresent companion.
show them a bit of our own
benevolence;

where are my ugly people
like me?

In the part of growing up
I realized that
crying is not a sign of weakness
anger issues are never an excuse
out spoken is not attitude
introvert is not an abnormality
keeping secret is not a matter of pride
being busy doesn't count under fake
choosing alone doesn't mean hating people
being sad doesn't mean you are not happy
and feel of home doesn't always need a house

meaning of words always do differ beyond people
time really do heal everything eventually
choices doesn't count with any friendship
mistakes are meant to be done just to learn
and perfection is almost an illusion

in the way of growing up
I tend to cherish the stays than crying on lefts
love these abnormalities which were always nah's being a kid
feel happy in dark days just remembering
the proud time of future remembering this today
I tend to thank my trauma which I used to hate the most
I tend to accept the reality just while am writing being lost!

To a man
That inspired many
And left swinging
A bolted flaming gate

I took something from you
A thing I cannot name
Though it rests inside of me
I don't know where to rest
Or where to be

Too long have these hours past
As my minds been moving fast
I type to an unseen crowd
Swallowed and in deep dark wallow

A Dark night outside trickles
As well as fiendishly tickles
The fiendish crazed eyes
That never seem to abide

Could it be
That you were the one
I was destined to travel with
Fast and on the run?

No, no, no...
This can't be
There's another task
I was meant to do
Before I met
This lovely flowing doe

Oh the last ray of the shining sun
Left me feeling naked and alone
A child crying loudly in the carnival
Made me feel so naive and so cold

A refugee I became
In a lone bar far past two
I left there nightly
With a sightly cross hair
On a heart I never chased to know

But the temples that many pray at
Are crumbling fast
Because a God they thought they knew
Tested time
And did not last

I dissolve into time
Where parents that bore me
Say they no longer know me

They'll blame the fact
On quick changing images
On absolute divinity
And with frosty smiles
That were traveled lovingly

I ask myself yet I know not myself
So I expect no comforting answer
As Rimbaud
And all the rest
Did the quite the same feat

Lo' I am answered
With oh but a horrifying answer
From a source unseen and unknown
For the life we struggle through
Is a search
For a ball
In white snow

Inspired by the dead
By words that seem oh so real
And a toiling woman glances as she rises
Dressed so serenely
In touched' abnormalities