Don't  believe your ears
Are burning;
The hand-hidden mouths
Aren't whispering
About you;
Rolling eyes are untrustworthy,
And the finger flips
That dismiss are referring to the weather.
The fear of rumors
About your clothes,
Your neighborhood
Or the pimple on your neck
Occupy too much space.
Angst is over-rated.
Take the high road
On feelings of belittlement.
Believe me -
Fewer people speak less of you
Than you imagine.
You're not the centre
Of our universe,
And if you were,
Everyone would whisper
Kneeling at your feet.

You feel you're invincible
being that your sanity is uncontrollable
strolling around with your shoulders past the birds
past the planes
your ignorance succeeds in innumerable ways
your sight is weak
your mind is enable to capture
it's buried under life's adversities and Earth's pleasure
you don't know when to stop so you flood yourself
until you're lame at your ankles
and paralyzed in your emotions

you wend through life this way
well you try
stuck in misery
with no lane to merge
frustration is your best friend
a human is impossible and
incapable of the acceptance
your belittlement draws mankind away
no one wants to attend a pity party
unless their accompanied to your VIP
and to reserve
you are the one to RSVP

Enlighten heads will stray away
pessimism is a curse
rapidly spread by the weak
you have distress and frustration
suppressed
strangled screams
holds your eyelids open at night
deliberations controls your emotions
controls your feet
throughout the day
you are terrified of tangibility
so you indulge yourself excessively
burying your true identity
becoming irritable when bearing your sober mind

if only you knew how divine you are
you would grow to love yourself
in ways incompetent of how you could love so hard
look yourself in your eyes
find who you are
even if you have to savagely search
you'll see the soul people has grown to
love so much
you'll notice your beauty
that covers endless realms
or your strength that could hurl a boulder
No one can help you discover
your destiny
it's your journey you'll have to make alone
but during the expedition and constant footsteps
the process of elimination could be your guide

find your inner child
it can help your prevail that's
where you once had happiness
your joy was established there
because if you continue the silencing
of your heart's cries and
your soul's screams
you'll live a life analogous to hell
and that is

a nightmare's worst dream



                Copy Right 2014
                     ©Patty Ann

“Proof of God’s Love” (Sheep Into Shepherd)

In the past when Mankind were few; it only took one person to govern His or Her people, and they called Him or Her, King or Queen, Chief or Emperor, Ruler of His or Her land, and all those that reside in it. Because they stood and said that they are chosen by God Himself to lead the country’s people, to take care of His or Her Subjects with a Devine state of Caring, Reasoning and Wisdom, beyond all others; with the Devine right from God to exploit, imprison, and to take life, with the Devine right from God to give another the unquestionable right to exploit, imprison, and to take life, with the Devine right from God to give another the unquestionable right to give and enforce unjust order, in the name of God, for Country and Progress.

As Mankind became many; the one became few, still molding Mankind’s Behavior, Beliefs, Way of Life, and the fate of Our World, with the World’s Population unwillingly and blindly, divided amongst them, we now call these Kings and Queens, Chiefs and Emperors Members and Leaders of  Religion, Government, Corporations, Mobs and Street Gangs; soul source of the Manipulation, Belittlement, Harassment, Control and ****** of the rest of  the World’s Population; worsening with Time, Discovery, Technology, Drugs (be it Medical or Social) and the power we let Money have, which all should have been in Mans favor, not reasons for Lies, War, Repression and Killing of God’s Children.  

I asked myself, “How could we (every Generation of the 99% of the World) let these few people (only 1% of the World) do all these horrible things to us, Generation after Generation?”

Hundreds of thousands of people rounded up removed from their land and culture, mistreated, starved, *****, enslaved and slaughtered.

Hundreds of thousands of people rounded up mistreated, starved and then slaughtered by gas.

Hundreds of thousands of families detached by walls and invisible lines made by man to claim land not theirs.
Hundreds of thousands of children turned into Terrorist and Murderers of their own community, only looking for Friendship, Acceptance, Guidance and Love.


Millions of people starving and hungry when there’s food and water being wasted.


Technology that could help start Healing Our Precious Earth, withheld because of greed and lack of Empathy for Our Planet and everything living on it.

We Allow them to put guns in the hands of Our Children. And  we say nothing, when they ship  Our Children over sea’s, to where He or She will become a Murderer, of those whom are the same as He or She…. God’s Children, led astray by those that should be imprisoned for their actions and influence, against  Freedom, Education for All, the Balance of Nature and the usage of God name to help them do so.

We Allow them (only 1% of the World) put guns in the hands of unstable people, and allow them to walk among us, in Government assigned costumes, unleashing their own impurities and unstable mind state on the people they are sworn to protect and serve.

So I asked, “How could we (the 99% of the World, Generation after Generation) let any Man or Woman do all these atrocities to Mankind, Earth and soon Space”.

With God’s eyes and understanding, it became clear to me. It’s been said throughout time as an insult; something that no Man or Woman wants to be call or admit they are. To do such a thing would be like committing treason to one’s self. But it is in our design, and it is needed to run the World smoothly and can’t be denied. Only the foolish, stubborn, and those truly lost will find this claim absurd, because they think or believe they are greater than God’s Design, and I pity that person, for these words and realizations could free us all, every Man, Woman and Child from what we know, and accept as life.

God planted in Man’s Design, a deeply rooted over whelming Sheep quality, that few Men and Women (only the Kings, Queens, Religious Leaders, Government, Corporations, Mob Bosses and Street Gang Leaders) acknowledge and use…yes I said  Sheep, and deeply rooted, because it is needed to run the World smoothly and correctly. These few (the Kings, the Queens, the Religious Leaders, Government and Corporations, Mob Bosses and Street Gang Leaders) that know, are the ones that has been and still are, controlling our day to day lives and sculpting our future using God’s Design to benefit while others slave, suffer and die under their rule.


Then I asked, "Where would this Sheep Like Quality be in God's best interest and so Vital to the Beginning, Middle and End, of Man’s Existence?"

With God's Eyes and understanding, it became clear, God made us (the 99% of the World) so gullible  and so acceptable to the answers man gave, (God’s and Demons at war, stories of destruction and hell, punishment and disease, the killing, slavery and suffering of those opposite of their God’s favor, the killing, slavery and suffering of those in God’s favor) because we were as a people then as children are today. When a child’s tooth fall out, and they ask, “what now?”, Parents across the World tell a tell of a mystical fairy that comes and leaves money, if they put their tooth under their pillow. And that child believes it, because the one telling the tell is the one that shouldn’t and has no reason to lie, when the child is asking for the truth.

So when Mankind began to wonder, take on belief, divide amongst each other bounded by one purpose,  one outcome,  one reward,...Man created ceremonies, rituals, scriptures, lies about others groups, does and don’ts,   outrageous confusing   tells  WORLDWIDE (at them same time) were told and accepted, spread  and practice with full heart, with no questions, even when their evil intent (harm against Man and Nature) were in full view and said aloud, we followed, like children (Sheep).

God made us (the 99% of the World) so gullible  and so acceptable to the answers man gave, because the story of our existence is outrageous but not confusing……to be continued

By: Anthony BamBam!! Thomas

At 7 years old, I told my mother,
"You're not my real mom.
You're my Earth mom,
And at night when I'm asleep,
I go back to my home planet."
As the years sped onwards,
I conceptualized myself as a three headed alien,
A Poet From Another Planet,
Acutely aware of my innate differences.
No explanation had I other than being extraterrestrial.
Those around me, too, seemed to sense I was "other."
Playground insults supported by adults who floated labels like
"Lazy," "Difficult," "Rude," "Deliberately Obtuse"
Over my head as if they were a crown,
Signifying I was queen of kingdom "Unlike Us."
No one looked deeper at the poor social skills ,
The rigidity, sensory difficulties, challenges with executive dysfunction.
It was easier to pretend I was in control,
Choosing the route of difficulty and belittlement.
It was only after I nearly succeeded in killing myself
That someone assembled the whole picture.
My story is not unique among women
Born into bodies and brains whose operating system is Autism.
We are the forgotten, the alienated, and plastered with assumptions,
Lost under the blind eye of those who spin tall tales of
"Only straight, white little boys can possibly be autistic!"
Generations of autistic women have known not a name for their difference,
Bogged down under self-loathing, eating disorders, and suicides,
Anything to cope with a world designed to break them
For the differences everyone noticed but no one could see.
Now that women are finally coming onto the scene,
A subtle shift in the awareness that the clinicians, teachers, doctors
Were missing a whole population of autistic people,
Answers are gate kept behind assessments that are thousands of dollars
And diagnosticians who've yet to see the error of their ways.
Peace of mind seems to be a right only of white autistic men
Who are lucky enough to have the "profile" of autism modeled after them.
It took 19 years, two suicide attempts, including 10 days in a coma
For someone to finally "see me,"
And I'm one of the lucky ones.
Answers were finally mine,
But understanding one's own brain should be a human right.
I think we can all agree:
The price of a diagnosis should not be your life.

Significance decreased as your speech began to reek
with pretentious hypocrisy revealing conspicuous shortcomings
Importunately making conclusions based upon illusions
Spouting lines to save but delirium is all you gave
As if I were seeking your confirmation, salvation, or blessings
I would've asked your opinion if I valued your progression and prosperities
or wondered into a church if I sought duplicitous appease
This unrequited love you deal is meretricious and full of disease
You sell a lie until it's spent then devour what is left of one's esteem
You depend on the humiliation and degradation of another
to accommodate the hostilities you experience from others
Passing off insurmountable grief to save yourself from your own realities
I hope one day you find peace and revelation
Before someone else is enraptured by your false persona falling victim to your belittlement and fluctuations

at curiosity’s urging
he found haven in haiku
a safe place where people listened
without judging
a thread to test truth’s waters
and tell his story
a 5-7-5 sequence as larynx
giving voice to childhood horrors

beaten regularly with a rubber garden hose
that left no outward evidence
bleeding so badly
he lost a kidney
too terrified to tell the doctor
with his father standing right there
it was a secret kept in the family
her verbal belittlement inculcated
“you should have never been born”
“we can’t afford you”
when he brought home all A’s
they said, “your classes were too easy”
his older brother mercilessly joined the chorus
and the torture
with parental approval

still, his eyes saw beauty
they saw river rocks as hippos
submerged in a backyard creek
they watched in awe at the flight of owls and hawks
swooping down on their prey
they described a “sapphire lake”
“so blue it was almost black”
“a jewel in the belly of the Sierras”
they captured trees and blades of grass
and fallen giants in petrified forests
they found a wife who loved him anyway
despite alcoholic binges and blackouts
his poems told of years of loneliness she erased
they spoke of her as sole reason for sobriety
he found peace in poetry
and used the internet to vent his wise *** ways
at times he even spoke of his family
as if they were decent

but every November remembered
his birth month dredging up the past
he wrote of whispering demons haunting his heart
and scars on the soul that never heal
I can’t imagine his pain
or sense of normalcy
they killed this kid when he was little
but it took him four decades to die
last Friday my friend took his own life

he called me a gentleman and a scholar
and formally thanked me
for encouraging his writing
he defended me in the face of trolls
even though we never met in person
I hope he knows how much we all cared
and I hope there’s a heaven
where he can rest in peace

War around me, and it's like I've got a ****** at my back
I'm in his gunsights and he follows me around with no
friendliness how I ever could have thought I could be friends
with this person and I need so much the strength within and I
am standing there and there is no me inside and I can't let this happen
because I am in his sightlines and others, too and it's completely different
a battlefield every day and I can't let myself go, the strength has to stay
and he is only my enemy, trying to shoot me down and I can't
I have to stay and fight because there is no choice and this is
so wrong but it doesn't matter things never matter I am a member
of a much maligned group, and it doesn't help but what I can do
is not lose me. I may go down but I will go down with myself intact
my opinions that I know and not believing their lies which come
flying at me every day now a new one.  And I can hear the disrespect
and sarcasm and belittlement and the value on the stupid and I will
stay with my own thoughts this time.  I will not abandon me and what
I know.  I will not let them take over my mind.  What happens on the
outside I can't control.  But my opinion of them, of what they're doing
it will be mine and it will matter to me and I will believe it this time. I swear.

And the forefathers of
What we used to be are
Breaking apart just like
Moses and His sea

Lost brothers of the pen
Way back when
Holding truth by the neck
Grasping with liquor wet fingers
And beer stained members

We are in the throws of being demolished!
We have recalled nothing and foresee no future!
Lost in a battle we did not begin
And do not know how to end!

Recollecting myself in the grass
Rimbaud comes to mind
The crass genius who wept lucid green
Tears that tore through mens minds like
Knives and bullets through the spine

Chattering bones of belittlement
We have come not a step further to the goal
Which is transparent in of itself!

Where are flowers which have been
Plucked and will continue to be plucked?

Lost in a sea of nameless

Noiseless

Faceless electricity

Our books are burning as are our minds
Time no longer matters for up
Is now down and forward is multiplied and
The minds that will not, cannot, wish not
Praise it like some sort of child minded God
Will be cast out to a bubbling sea foaming with
Mouse pads and the membranes of the ones
Once called "geniuses" and "mad men"

Each tread of my jacket has torn
And the worn out pattern has wilted
I see fog on every street corner like a
Ghost drunk and without a way home

Purgatory is the wail of Davis's trumpet

Life is the teeth chattering sound
Of a typewriters keys against the page
Stabbing the ink like stabbing the man
Who bleeds for you and not for him

Oh I see old times with wisps of relics
Painted in the gold and silvers
Of the God's

How man used to play with their meaninglessness!

How we used to boast our curse, our poison, our way!

A gift clad in clam like stillness
Upended by stormy negligence
Foot note former love affair
She lays gripping the ends of her hair

History in itself
Is an illusion of man
Of life of
The way it was and is

Jack lands as plans stand
On rotting tinder melted
From the fire of the elders

We old rhythms mean
Rhyme to no reason for
Our season for has passed
And the last man has smiled
We are soon to be in the past

An apology from
The eyes of the seer
Who, in seething mass, makes
Out for the entrance hall for
He falsely sees the "all"

Contrary while in certainty
Harmony within chaos
He within her where
Mountains move for no one

A single step is
A single step until
It becomes
Two

Then

It is a journey

i can no longer distinguish pain from pleasure;
abuse from affection; contusions from caresses.
embraces could be delivered in tightly-clenched fists;
words of affirmation in abasement; trust in forced hands.
i can't tell the difference between love and hurt;
dark bruises and soft kisses; belittlement and support.

all i am familiar with now is the aftermath -
the tears, the marks, the aches;
hot showers soothing stinging skin, shaky knees and trembling hands;
the nauseating guilt; encapsulating, overwhelming fear

and the sickening inability to just walk away.

Is this what you call a family?
You cannot demand respect, only earn it.
You cannot say you love, only show it.
Earning and showing
are foreign words to you,
but understood to your daughter.
A stellar student and beloved friend.
Hard working, dedicated, never failing
or giving up, a support for the weak and
a shoulder for the damaged.
These were earned, and now are shown,
but remain invisible to you.
You see your daughter, but you do not see her.
Is this what you call a family?
Hatred, disrespect, belittlement, shame?
You've neither earned nor shown and have failed to see,
you fill my life with **** and misunderstand me.
I am angry, yes, but I am angry at you. Angry
at your inability to practice what you preach,
at your ignorance, criticizing, oblivion to who I am.
Open your mind eyes and you will see, close your mouth
until it says what is true about me. *******,
I don't need you, I'll do this on my own.
You brought this on yourself, and now I'm

gone.

They look at me
through their worn down features.
They've got lines
all over their faces
each a mark of frequented emotion.

Their suits are cut to perfection,
or else they haven't showered in months.
It doesn't make a difference,
this type of man...
are all the same in their bones.

They want my freshness,
the smooth touch of my skin,
the soft curls and curves
that haven't yet been worn rough by age.

They want the twist of my smile
my brightness, my beauty.
They see
untamed, unharnessed, naiveté  
sparkling in my eyes,
and they want it.

They want me to make them happy,
and through our word play
I can see it in their eyes.
The longing, the lust, the belittlement.

The twist of my  smile slowly drops down,
The sparkle in my eye sizzles out.
But my brightness?
It burns hot.

I am not naive, I know that you want me.
I am not yours for the taking.
My brightness burns hot,
and I will scorch you to your bones.

(Parents, raise your sons right)

In case you are wondering, to whom I am addressing
I’ll clear that part for you, so you won’t have to be guessing

Aiming at the racist ones, words are my sole arsenal
And if you’re like them too, go ahead and take it personal

What I will emphasize may look to y’all as history
From humanity’s standpoint; it’s a big shame and mystery

It sure happened in the past, this ain’t a current topic
Or it’s maybe still around, hurtful and traumatic

Man was treated as goods, traded in public auctions
Disgrace was all over with no sign of conscience

Body wasn’t enough, you also wanted mind and soul
Wow! You must’ve paid a fortune to buy ’em all

Please answer me, Dear Sirs. What happened to empathy?
Do you know what the word refers? Taking the fifth already?

You never thought of yourself in the body of color
Yet gave long-*** speeches on dignity and honor

You were rough on the surface, to make them obey
Who knows how rotten in inside. And all that was okay

Captivated a race and gave them the stupid belief
That they were secondary and all they deserved was grief

Motivation was obvious; millions of things to take care
Slaves cost less than anything. You couldn’t even compare

Don’t run away now, we just heated the subject
He is a human being Mister, not a ******* object

Oh, I see, you don’t wanna face the sheer fact
That indeed your cruel ancestors attacked

These innocent African tribes for no good reason
In a barefaced manner despite the Age of Reason

And you’re not ready to redeem their deadly sin
Alright! Stand up and admit then. All humans are close kin

It’s **** important. Do you even know why?
That is to say to residues of racism bye-bye

Opportunity gap, project houses, ****** education
Are the real meanings of the word discrimination

Biased justice with never ending prejudice on Blacks
Are updated slavery forms deserving a good smack

You are mostly haughty for the things you didn’t earn
Race and color are given, but you have yet to learn

No man’s a property for your royal dynasty
Facing and accepting this takes a lot of honesty

Freedom was vague when society was stratified
Where the aristocracy were safely identified

By color, neighborhood, and school in the whole nation
In ******* good-old-days, during segregation

Do me a favor and don’t give me the cliché
That all **** sapiens had an equal say

It is not the truth even nowadays
Let alone back in those dark days

For all the years they have chosen to be violent
Slave owners don’t have the right to remain silent

Before giving me the crap on Afro-American’s wrongdoings
Let’s put you in their shoes and see how you’re doing

It’s not like Blacks need a defense from this ground
To see how they get even with you, just look around

Jazz, rap, hip hop, soul, reggae and blues for that matter
Non-black pants below waist, what a cross-cultural endeavor

Look at youngsters’ hands, when they’re saluting each other
Trust me, there is nothing white, it’s all from Black brother

In return is belittlement, denial, tyranny and attack
All while they are transforming and painting you solid Black

It all began in New York with the Harlem Renaissance
Artistic, rebellious and witty. Possibly the best response

I know what I’m talking about with absolute faith
Once my home address was 135th and 8th

Stop pompously calling this junk as modernity
It’s in fact nothing but big fat white sovereignty

Nonetheless you are more than welcome to anticipate
That in fact communities of color will emancipate

You from yourself in time, if you know what I mean
Too deep to grasp, huh? For what you have been

I can almost hear that you’re constantly asking me
While me being white, oh sorry. A brown maybe

Why on earth am I now irritating the past?
Like what happened back then is not manifest

I’m not even black, right. But in all fairness
I question the past to raise some awareness

I suppose it’s both because of my aching heart
Feeling in the history for this vile part

And also because of my Turkish nationality
That’s Europe’s Black these days, with Asian paternity

Add to that as well a keenness for reality
Truth needs to be cried out, it’s my personality

This way or that way, what difference does it make
Ignore who says it. Embrace the truth for God’s sake

Most great thinkers felt deeply for the human
With their vast and perpetual acumen

It’s not a duty assigned to philosophers only
We must do the same, so no race becomes lonely

There is no other way to the salvation of mankind
Notice it already! Don’t insist on being blind

If you’ve yet to realize what matters the most
It’s your efforts to solve the problem we diagnosed

Make no mistake, we don’t cry over spilt milk here
Action must speak louder than the words to clear

This longstanding injustice along with insincerity
A bleeding wound that is blocking solidarity

Here’s your chance to make it all right again
Treat people equally, I bet you’ll get an Amen

Kindly stop acting like nothing happened in the past
Labyrinth’s says it’s time for understanding at last

March 12th, 2019
labyrinth

The sign of a drunken person is not through the sound of vibrant disillusion shouting obscenities through existential inebriation, but in the length of their face when they wake up one day to that stark realization that whatever once was can never be again.

The eyes become darker, mute and cold, the mind obscured by all the things they probably cared about when they had the opportunity but never merely took; and it is in their demeanor where life seethes nowhere in the voice except where it is merely enough to get them through just one more begrudging day of sinister regret gnawing at their heels every waking moment.

Hollow souls show us what we never want to be but somehow so many of us succumb to the same discrepancies and injustices of belittlement from the world around us: sober eyes and sharp tongues convincing us we are nothing more than what we think we are; and what we are to begin with is nothing, taking shape from the beginning of it all, ready to be molded into something grand and good – we must all start from somewhere, but most are subjugated before any of it can even begin; and ultimately, many of us never truly live at all.

Drunken, with the desire to simply live.

I have never had power
I have had quiet
ears ringing. closed doors. locked latches. computers.televisions. a mind.
I have had loud
ears pulsing. slamming doors. broken latches. heavy breath. a body.
I have never had a voice
I have had waves of screaming. sarcastic laugh. distracted listener. belittlement.
I have never had freedom
I have had you will do this. friends aren't allowed here. keep these things quiet.
I have never had confidence
I have had hidden tortilla chips. body in mirror. seeking another. fear of eye contact.
I have never had calm
I have had lingering rage. harboring fear. persistent inadequacy.
I have never had support.
I have had pick a side. figure it out. go away. get ready. you're fine.
I have never had a self
I have had starving. ***** in showers. lack of opinion. seeking of clues. hiding. drugs. alcohol. friends who accompany my demise.
I have never had a passion for life
I have had unfamiliar bodies. missed classes. suicidal ideation. hopelessness.
I have never had healing.
I am trying to find it now.
I am.

Borne under the good sign,
Or the bad,
If the enigma caught on,
to the trailing self,
it would be a question,
would the superlative,
be monstrous?
Or the make shift believer;
Would it all make sense?
Scribbles...
Either I have signed my life
or destroyed it,
In the pursuit.
It is the mental mind,
That produced this end,
The markings the etching,
That causes a chasm,
It will obliterate the skies!
Magnitude.
The sense of belittlement,
had been extinguished,
The tribes borne of the future,
would marvel at etchings,
Engraved in sand,
The beauty all extinguished,
Among the belittled beauty, at,
simple existence,
of complex life,
The hereditary displacement,
coherent to our establishment,

There is a latency
in progression,
The mixture's
Teeth,
Bind,
Conform
In singularity,
The future forgets itself,
the zen logic is missing,
between pustules,
between synapses,
between the heavy,
and the lucid.

No rainbow can be more colourful than her words
No portrait can be more beautiful than her face
No song can be more beautiful than her voice
No sculpture can be more perfect than her entirety
No galaxy can be larger than her heart

The sun brings light to day
And the moon radiates the night
Whilst she illuminates my life

Some describe their beloved as beautiful
I describe beauty by the name of my beloved
Some say their beloved is perfect
I say perfection is my beloved

I heard them say their beloved's smile twinkles like the stars
I say the stars twinkle as brightly as her smile
They say their beloved is as radiant as a gem
I say a gem is as radiant as my beloved

Many say praise is an exaggeration of one's excellence
I say praise is a belittlement of her excellence

i'm reading all these poems
about how i deserve better
and that i shouldn't be crying
when we're broken apart
but i can't help but weep because
when my eyes met yours with inspiration
yours met mine with belittlement
and i used to search for life's wonderment's
between your arms when you'd hug me
isn't that so beautiful?
that when i was making love to your body
our were simply plowing mine
land that you didn't even plant flowers on
because you could care less
about growing it.
is that what you want to be remembered as?

this makes me wonder how humans
constantly desire love yet
don't take the steps to receive it
don't believe that we deserve it
and instead push it away like the other person
we so desperately wanted
meant absolutely
nothing.

-isn't this how you wanted to be loved?

conceptcollection

If I could go back in time I would
Because reality isn’t the dream I dreamt
And I realize without you this is a show with no end

Days we go questioning that in which we have done
And I can’t forgive the regret I have paid
The belittlement that you freely gave despite the pains we both made
I’m sorry won’t cut it this time

…I wish it would…

But the things we have said
Only opened the wounds in which we had stored away
We can hide them as we please with bandages and sleeves
But we can never pretend that they don’t still b
                                                             ­                        le
                                                            ­                              ed
If I could change time
I would wish for you and me
I’d meet you earlier, not afraid of what could be
I’d give you the stars and the hopes and the dreams that we believed
I’d give you my love
And for the first ******* time that would be enough
**** everyone who says otherwise

The two of us
The story of an endless love

If I could go back and change it all
I’d be your king
*Will you be my queen?

Overcome with pain and rage
You were suppose to be there for me but
You never were.
You claim to love me, but
You don't know the first thing about me.
Mom, yout internalized sexism
Has me constantly on the offence. Bombarded by the constant "reassurance"
Of my worth through the power of my hips.
No power in my lips. No power in my words.
You won't listen, you think my feelings are absurd.
Day in and day out, you pressure me and expect me not to pout.
I'm full of doubt? You want me to know the ***** things I spur between men's ears?
I am disgusted, where once I would have trusted
You. Back again with your defense of man and belittlement of me and who and how I am.
I won't smile and say thank you. No. *******.

Life.
From the sky to every tree,
it encompasses you and me.
It has no end, not for us
but it has an end to those unjust.
Ever so forgiving, yet so bittersweet.
A moral chance to prove a worth.

The cruel,
in their minds they're perfect people.
People who have done no wrong,
and deserve no hate.
We all make mistakes.

Mishaps,
They determine an unknown future;
an accident extended in cause.
Never to happen, always to come,
mistakes to life are 1-1.

Broken.
A window to an unknown sight.
The future to a reader's delight.
Every past problem you've ever felt,
inside a basket of the damage you've dealt.
Damage to others,
damage to me.
Damaging the Earth,
and humanity.

Sorrow.
Regret for the past of a person,
what's the use in feeling it?
You can't forgive every problem,
but you can't forget any trifle.

Depression.
The pressure of a person's feelings.
Raveled up in a box to ship and go.
The constant belittlement of a man,
to overtake him at demand.

Urging thoughts,
from the cruel.
Thoughts of life,
broken and shattered.
Destroyed by a mishap ever so large,
that only others can feel sorrow for the loss.

This just needs to be said, and it seems that the job seems to have been handed to me.  You see, i believe that words and ideas are given to people in order for them to be shared.  So, here goes!

It seems that today there has been an influx of wannabe English teachers. The misuse of  quite a few words brings them out of the woodwork giving them the opportunity to show the rest of the world just how smart they are. Me personally, I could care less. I read for understanding rather than to pick apart another persons misuse of grammatical correctness. Yes, I like trying to use the proper forms of the words to/too/two, there/their/they're and you're/your/yore. Hang on though folks, it's not/knot the end of the world if the wrong form of the word bare/bear or wear/where gets used if you can still understand the point of what is being said. Punctuation is another sore point. If you can understand what is being said in that two hundred and fifteen word run-on sentence, just move on to the next statement. Capitalization, c'mon, if it's missing does it really change the meaning of the word at the beginning of a sentence?  Does it make dover, delaware a different city for the lack of capital letters?

It's time to grow up folks. This is the internet, not a job application for a teaching position.  If you can understand it, quit trying to prove yourselves superior in the belittlement of others.

We made it to the one-bedroom rental that late afternoon without issue. I thought so. Perspective is a lens with many filters.

After a mild train ride from Milan's airport, my pockets filled with nuts and bottled water I felt, once again, on the edge of existence. It had been a long time. One falls into a routine that leads to other routines that, eventually, through the exponentially of love and responsibility, codify you into a malaised pillar of somebody's kid.

The smell of sea salt and exhaust was ripe in the air. I had never seen sunshine like that. My father came to mind. He loved to fish and taught me how to gut them. I tried not to imagine him dying in a beautiful place like that; in a place where nobody in town knew him but he knew himself.

I said hello to the train conductor and they barely gave me a nod. There was no history between us other than their own with who they saw me as. To me, they, the conductor, were the first of their kind; like Darwin on the Galapagos. Their annoyed glint, their tired eye bags, their noncommital guidance. Their belittlement was my nirvana.

Imagine being the first to see nature's creation, while simultaneously not knowing if you were and wanting to reach back to the muted past to validate your discovery.

Mankind is nothing but a series of reaching back, pulling forward, and settling down; happiness is ******.

Before at the bus terminal after arriving from Milan, I kept complaining about wanting to take the ferry for the experience but you told me (you still tell me) it was all part of the experience. The idea of moments became still then and, sorry to delve into metaphor, but like a slug across a windowpane or a car crash at dawn or the birth of your 4th child and how that one never once cried, you remember the intricacies of life's offerings rather than its "normalities".

I will never forget you taking me with the windows open to the view of never-ending mountains, a cool wind on our skin.

We must define the line of the bubble we are all - for better or worse and ultimately distance us - in. I wrote this down as an old fisherman, their pole and tackle tucked between their legs, half-dozed as our bus narrowly slammed against the rock wall separating us both from certain death. The bus driver, from what I could see, was entirely indifferent to his or our mortality. It was just another Tuesday. Perhaps he was thinking about what could have been done differently with his time. Or maybe, he was thinking about what he would be doing differently, tomorrow. There is always tomorrow. Action, in the non-contextual sense, is relative anyway.

You asked me if we were going to be ok and I told you of course. Why? you proceeded. Because people in love rarely die tragically. Why? you asked again. Because they were in love when they did.

You scoffed, slipped on your sunglasses, and asked for some water.

Do you truly know how it feels?
Can't you see it?
my pain and anger
my joy and happiness
the one thing that try so hard to hide but cannot
my emotion
can't you feel them?
the tears that flood
my heart that grows cold
my voice that lacked life
aren't you worried?
for I am dying on the inside  
and barely have the energy to survive on the outside  
I try and try but it all in naught
do you know how it feels to be bullied by your own subconscious?
when both your mind and heart tell you that your trash
when your body is some numb that you just can’t even shield your ears anymore
do you know how it feels to watch yourself slip from reality?
to see the people you care for laugh as you slowly lose your mind
when insanity becomes justice and you start to question existence
do you know how it feels to wonder if relief is a myth?
to be in so much pain that it’s now all you can’t recognize
to no longer see the world as a mixture of emotions
but instead a rock filled with hurt
do you know how it feels to find excitement in the flood your blood?
to watch as your bodies messengers exit through your skin and feel relaxation
do you know how it feels to fully evaluate what living means?
to be told constantly that you have no purpose  
that no one cared for a single fiber of your being
to be made into a tool for the sake of jokes and belittlement
to truly believe that the purpose of your life is your death
and so I again,  
Do you truly know how it feels?

Let me see if I can put my feelings into words . Words that would describe me living in two different worlds . Always waiting patiently, for these moments to unfurl. It was never meant to happen, but it felt surreal. Every emotion genuine from the next . Now an days I'm still looking at my phone, for some kind of text . But my bet , it won't happen like that . I'll still be as empty as you made me , wishing you'd call me back . Turning all my thoughts into how you'd react . To the facts , to everything you said I lacked . Confidence , belittlement, everything you put on my back , you will never say you relate to my feelings of that . It's beyond the love an the hate, it's about those two beings pro-creating . Making a new face in this world of our fate. But your loyalty just couldn't relate. And I still ask you today , for what you have to say . Still receive no response , your loveless, your devastation in it's wake. Your love for so many years I feel was faked.  Even now I feel I'm on a time limit , and I've always been to late . Quite frankly I don't know how much more I can take.  My river of tears have now become a lake, leaving craters in their wake . I've lost the way to recuperate. I'm broken over the lies you fed me day after day . And in my poems , I can only find these destructive words to say . Beyond imaginable , I'm not okay.
Raining , pouring, carrying to much , I'm full . Feeling hot tearing , mind manipulating, deep inside my soul . Open doors apon doors , and still end up in a box with to many walls .in my mind's eye , I'm searching through these halls . Filled with shadows , but Meadows of metals. Not a single scent comes to mind at all . I'm anxious , I'm worried , I can hear it calling . The very moment I forget myself and I fall. Library of books in my dreams are hooks , casting bad memories from my past enemies. And yes my life is this dull . Vivid as black and grey , a screen shot of my emotion just gone and faded away. I'm awful , horrible as they may say . I'm now that guy who drowns in the pain , expecting voids with no change . My days are on repeat , I feel insane.