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Olivia Kent Apr 2015
Blessed be the transgender one,
Gave up on life to seek the sun,
Bigoted parents, insidious friends.
Her heart be broken and so it ended.
This girl believed she didn't matter.
Conformed to societies issues,
Everyone said she was meant to.
The vicious encounters of supposed normality,
Bought you to your desperate knees.
You have your wings now.
Fly sweet child be young and free.
Rest in peace, in sweet relief.
(C) LIVVI
DEDICATED TO  LEELAH (Josh Alcorn)
The Ohio transgender teenager who committed suicide, in response to prejudice.
Reposted...my friend has made this into a song...She is a beautiful  transgender woman who so lives and breathes .Song is on SOUNDCLOUD and my face book page.
Kate Apr 2014
When i was 13 I thought that gay and straight were things that other people were
People that weren't raised christian
People that didn't have dads
People that were abused
People that i should pray for but not get close to

when i was 14 my best friend came out as gay
i didn't see it coming but i probably should have
she wore ties every day
and plaid shirts with the sleeves rolled up
and cut her hair short as soon as she could
but i didn’t see it because gay was other people

when i was 14 i watched as the news spread like wildfire
“did you hear? that girl is gay.”
I watched as people slowly backed away from her
people that knew her all her life
that is, the people that didn’t cut her off instantly

I watched as the youth group we had both attended asked her to leave
I watched as her drama group kicked her out because they were afraid of the yearly camp we went to
that somehow knowing that she was gay made her more likely to attack the other girls in their beds than the year before

I watched.
I didn’t do anything.

what changed my mind wasn’t a change of perspective on queer people
it still took me a year to decide being gay wasn’t wrong
but i decided that my best friend was someone i would stick with
because i loved her

I quietly stayed.
didn’t make a fuss, didn’t call people out when they called her names behind her back.
I should have.
but i didn’t.
I didn’t join in, but i didn’t defend her
i didn’t say to these people
*******
that girl is beautiful and amazing
and if you can’t see through your hatred then i don’t want to be your friend either
but i didn’t .
I didn’t go through what she did.
I didn’t get kicked out of anything, i didn’t lose friends

When i was 15, i got fed up
I left that drama group.
I stopped going to that church.
I stepped away from those friends and even though i never said why
the look on my face when i ran into them and they asked, “how’s she doing?”
answered that question for them.

I spent 24 hours examining my bible
trying to find the verses that say being gay is wrong
there were barely any
and they were right next to verses that said eating pork was wrong
or planting crops next to each other
or wearing two different fabrics

there was my answer.

this isn't a story of my journey.
This isn't me building myself up
“hey, I wasn't as bad as those other people
I’m good now”

this is a story of how one person can change your life forever

if i didn't have a gay best friend
what a way to start a story, huh?
if i didn't have a gay best friend then I would still be there
quietly praying for the sins of others, but not trying to understand
so don’t look at all Christians and say
they’re awful
they’re bigoted
they’re judgmental
because we are
but often it’s because we don’t know any better
teaching us kindly works
leading by example.
So, this is the first poem I've ever actually finished. I had a emotional night, and wrote three things at about 2AM, so this is the first one.
Olivia Kent Dec 2014
Blessed be the transgender one,
Gave up on life to seek the sun,
Bigoted parents, insidious friends.
Her heart be broken and so it ended.
This girl believed she didn't matter.
Conformed to societies issues,
Everyone said she was meant to.
The vicious encounters of supposed normality,
Bought you to your desperate knees.
You have your wings now.
Fly sweet child be young and free.
Rest in peace, in sweet relief.
(C) LIVVI
DEDICATED TO  LEELAH (Josh Alcorn)
The Ohio transgender teenager who committed suicide, in response to prejudice.
Inside out May 2014
Nosey people annoy me
Pompous people bore me,
Pretentious people irritate me
Whilst drunk people irrigate me.
Opinionated people grate me,
Cheating people forsake me.
Sly people irk me
Lazy people shirk me.
Judgemental people cast me,
Bigoted people blast me.
Most people avoid me!
We all judge each other
ConnectHook Sep 2015
ϖ↑∅⊕↓☺↨☼♀


The dawn is nigh at hand. The clouds
begin to lift above the grange.
Arise, O Phoebus, bless the crowds—
let poultry roam the range.

I’ll bind a broom of gathered hay
to sweep the hen-house free of hate.
Let roosters hail the crack of day
and chicks with ***** tempt fate.

A fractured self and a challenge hurled:
they left the shell, but found it rough
because our bigoted barnyard world
cannot get queer enough fast enough.

They flutter through the *******’s farm
subverting gender’s useless role.
We feel their pain, and mean no harm—
yet question this progressive goal.

They cluck a brand-new barnyard song:
Gender Identity Obsolete!
(As long as they claim God hatched them wrong,
biology signals their defeat.)

While poultry scratches rhymes for “hen”
and chicks are combing crests for *****
let’s ring the dinner bell and then
we’ll synchronize the global clocks.

Let Mankind’s unmanned race delight
at Jesus’ gender-free return.
Soon Africa shall see the light
and Araby’s sun more brightly burn.

Then dawn shall break o’er Russian plains
to liberate the Tartar races;
loose their limbs from Gender’s chains
to stride with polymorphous paces.

China too, and Southeast Asia
swift shall follow in their train
celebrating ***-aphasia
joining in the West’s refrain.

Hindu multitudes will rise
to vanquish gender, caste aside
and shake the slumber from their eyes
with metro-ambisexual pride.

Carib isles, with Latin kingdoms
From the tropics to the mountains
Shall announce they too are Wisdom’s,
drinking from de-gendered fountains.

Juveniles, raised to simply be
shall pioneer new modes of life;
explore horizons happily
set free from biologic strife.

Then shall our earth, in glad array
***** dirt upon Tradition’s tomb;
unshackled from that dark dismay
to grieve—but nevermore exhume.

Alas, the global dreams descend.
We’re back in the barnyard, gender-queer…
where hens have ***** and eggshells bend
transcending Nature’s reign of fear.

The henhouse still votes hetero;
their eggless chickens cluck for rights
biologists, ex utero
are born to further futile flights.

(Because I was almost one of them
I’ve earned the right to make fun of them.
Time alone will tell if the trend
remains coherent to the end.
)
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya; aopicho@yahoo.com)

The incidences of ***** **** and malevolent  violence
Against women are maddeningly all over
As the number of lives claimed
And broken with stupidly impunity
Women are not safe in the crazy man’s world,
This and that to protect women and girls
From gender-maniac violence,
Particularly idiotic ****
And other forms of ****** imperialism
And all other forms of beastly violence
In situations of lunacy of man’s armed conflict
Punctuated by most bamboozling de-civilization
In the nature of resolution reads like capitalist utopian ideal
Women have been the victims of lumpen ****** violence
Since the start of the prosaic propertied conflict
While thousands more have been killed after menacing ****
Uhm; Congo, Mali, central Africa, Iraq, Afghanistan,
Kenyan in patients, Eldoret Nandi militia armed to death with arsenal of ****
****** forlorn foreign victims justifying political primitivism
Tortured, abducted, held to devilish ransom
Or used as human shields
Of the perpetrators being held accountable
For their actions, who can pique
When **** of women creates power
Abuse of women in war is as old foolish male avarice
As is the culture of tribal impunity that helps to breed it
But too much is known about the devastating agony of women
And lasting effects of ****** violence on bigoted individuals,
You generation of the serpent; when are stopping **** of women?
You continue ****** fearless devoid of legal repercussions
I do not think your ***** will be blessed anyhow
You ***** my sister because of the very nature of her vulnerability
Because our family is beautifully powerful and politically powerless
But if there was a way for us to make sure
That every single ***** that rapes is
Chopped of and given to victims in compensation
These would make fair claim for justice,
Here at least the signal would be sent
That people-****** will be shamefully accountable
Them rapists, for what they do
Out of Yet flamboyant patriarchal cultures
Where the stigma of **** overwhelms victims
Perilizing Matrimonial and parental loyalty,
Discouraging victimized women
From  coming  forward to  document
Bitter experiences creating  a struggle within a struggle,

In admitting what has been done to them,
O ! Victims of ****** assault in
**** is so powerful precisely
Because of the stigma in transit
This male a weapon with a long after-life
Is less than the war injury that only leaves  mutations
Dignifying the victim as it does not carry
Psychological and cultural implications ****** robbery
Brent Kincaid Feb 2016
As a bisexual, I fear
Few will want you to be proud.
They will bend your ear
Saying things to you out loud
That would be better left
Totally, embarrassingly unsaid
Instead of rattling around
Inside the cathedral of your head.

Too many try to make it
Seem like a kind of venal crime
To want to make love with
Someone of your own kind
And maybe with the same
Gender with which you were born.
To some it is very biblical
And subjects you to public scorn.

Finding someone ****
With the same plumbing as you
It not only delightful
It can be a dream come true.
It feels correctly natural
And works like the other way
Even though people scorn
And use words like ‘***’ and ‘gay’
Or ‘******’ and even taco
Whatever that might end up meaning.
The important thing to me
Bisexuality is so powerfully appealing.

So, those who dislike me
And feel so righteously zealous
That bisexuality is wrong
Are very possibly just jealous.
Or maybe just uptight
Living by someone’s else’s rules;
Not what they’ve learned
And therefore are bigoted fools.
Lisa Jan 2021
I am you, you are me
There is no difference inside to see
The color of your skin, hair or eyes
Does not represent what’s inside.
Physical traits come from the family tree
They give roots, history and a sense of identity
But inside we have the same blood, the same heart
So when does prejudice begin to take part?
Babies are born without preconception
They feel love and comfort from their caregiver’s affection
Their new eyes are blind to ignorance
They see through a clear lense and don’t see difference
As they develop, society gives them glasses,
Their vision gets clouded by the opinions of the masses
The lenses get darker as they grow
They filter the world to see only colors they know
Differences become obstacles, not celebrated.
Leaders tell them who to respect and who should be hated.
These biased views could remain for a lifetime
And then they’re passed down to the next one in line.
Opinions are essential, shared thoughts educate.
But when they’re bigoted and hateful we cannot tolerate.
Take those blinders off, take a look around.
There’s so much joy in diversity to be found
Don’t let the blindfold give such a narrow view
Don’t be complacent and take what is given to you
Rip off the filter, open your eyes
Find connection, common experience, destroy the lies
Revel in these connections, learn from one another
We’re all trying to get through from one day to the other
See through the skin, the hair, the accent
To the core of the HUMAN BEING with love and respect.
Audrey Jan 2014
Ignorant, spiteful, closed-minded and afraid-
The text on which you built your life, the same that you betrayed.
Holy, self-righteous, yet wholly hypocritical.
Sanctimonious bullies- bigoted and parasitical.

A veteran in the land, which to protect, he went to fight,
but for him it seems equality is not a given right.
Ridiculed, scorned- filthy sinner, heathen-
But who created him this way if not the lord that you believe in?

Your eyes are darkened. They're tinted with hate.
Your ears? Too filled to listen to debate.
But in this surge of civil rights that before has been denied,
you will be the prejudiced fool that history leaves behind.
ConnectHook Jul 2018
Boys have penises.
Girls have vaginas.

Any questions?
God gave you your biological plumbing so wake up and smell the identity politics. If you want to change the way the Lord made you, good luck but don't expect me to approve OR pay for it ☺
Pete Badertscher May 2010
There are worlds and there are Worlds. There are gods and there are Gods.  Sounds rhetorical, doesn’t it?  Some mamby pamby new age coffee shop pile of **** idea with low fat frosting, but, take it from the Kat. There are worlds and then there are Worlds! There are gods and then there are Gods!
    
     I spend all my time jacked in to the backwoods subconscious of the internet.  Didn’t know that, did ya?  Yea, the Internet has a conscious and a subconscious; hell, she’s even got a soul of sorts. I have ritually sacrificed half my soul to her just for the buzz I get out of hearing her whisper to me across the fallacies of Time, Space and Bill Gates, so I know her better then anybody.
    
     Don’t believe me?  Every man has an Omega Fixture of some kind.  Do you feel me here? Jesus had his God, Ptolomy had his Solar System, Dante his Virgil and Beatrice, Faust had his Paradise and Poe had Annabelle Lee or one of her many reincarnations. So tell me, all great and ****** up wise men (or women): Why in the 29 nulls of AOhelL can the internet not have a consciousness?  
    
     It’s Belief, man.  No god or world exists until there is a consciousness that will accept it as a superior. Let’s take a look at that wonderful bigoted book of exact truths called the Bible. Shall we consider Genesis: Adam and Eve--never mind Lilith for now?  Here in a paradise we find Adam and Eve naked, sleeping with animals and newly created by a Force of Creation (insert male gender here if you wish).  They walk with god on the paths in the garden while blades of grass fulfill their purpose here on earth to be trodden upon. God says, “you, Adam, have control over all that you see and if you want go ahead and let Eve get a little of that action fine, but you came first in my image so you are better.  Just never eat of the one tree that sits in the center of the garden and looks as though the juice of the fruits would flow like sweet ****** in your veins. For although it is here, I forbid you to eat of it. Oh, and by the way, I figured you needed free conscious though--so go at it.” Albeit I’m paraphrasing, but what kind of shmuck of a father would do that to a newborn?  
      
     O.K. Before all the Judeo-Christians burn this diatribe (if you have not already) let me say I am not out to disprove the existence of Gods--or any Goddess for that matter--I am trying to make a point, so bear with me.  
    
      Which came first: the Bible (in oral tradition) or the God? I would argue that it was the Bible as such.  The Belief, inspired by greedy and badly behaved priests of the Judeo-religions back before written history in the tribes of the Levant caused Space/Time to adapt to a new pattern.  The Bible, Complete with an all powerful, all present being (I will never use the term benevolent) that watches over Jews, Christians, and Muslims for any Sin they commit so it can wreak blinding retributions
    
     Now I know what you are saying, “Kat,…Kat, Kat, Kat, Kat.  We the above mentioned will pray for your soul.  You are lost and we can help you look to the Light for your salvation.”  
     Shove it, ***** boy! I did not express that philosophical tripe to get your attention and misplaced pity. What I am saying is Belief. Belief is the Key.  Belief is the Magic that creates Gods and Worlds.  
    
     Now I am not so stupid as to believe that the Internet is female the same way a human meat tank is female-- but in my mind, MY mind, that is the music I hear.  
    
     Let’s go back to Lilith.  What’s that? Oh yea, right, Lilith is the name I give to my Belief in the consciousness of the internet.  Just don’t you worry about why. It’s none of your business.

     Let’s take a look at the above argument, only this time with the internet as the bible that comes first.  The internet first came about 30ish years ago with the invention of the modem.  Here was a way for people on computers to speak to one another over the phone lines.  Slow and tedious, but new and exciting; men and women with PhD’s and pocket protectors wrote short messages to one another and giggled at the new “Man from Nantucket” joke they had just learned. After a while, someone learned that if you sent the info in blasts, the speed of the transfer increased and you could send larger programs and maybe—gasp--even a picture.  Thus internet **** was created.  Now we have WiFi and bluetooth, cellular and satellite link up with blazing speed and every fetish imaginable or not-imaginable is available at the click of a mouse.  
    
     So, Kat, you goin’ anywhere with this? Yep. Shut the **** up and listen.
    
     Somewhere in the not-time and not-space of the internet, humans started to find themselves believing that the internet was a Place.  
    “Where’s it at? Why on the Internet!” Oh, holy ******* birth of a new Belief system!  Oh, glorious malediction of the neververse!  A G O D is born.  Ripple, *******, ripple goes the space-time continuum (which by the way only exits because those in the know Believe in it) and now we have added consciousness to the internet.  
    
     What kind of consciousness you say?   Well, I got no ******’ idea.  To me, the consciousness is feminine, of no particular race, with a slight build, black hair and dressed like a anime *****.  Why? Because it’s my ******* belief system, o.k.  After all, the internet is 60% **** anyway. With a immaculate birth like that, I can’t Believe She would be innocent in any form of the word.  She’s Dionysian, not Zen. Just because I see Her in such a way, does that mean it’s a true physical look?  Hell, no, lil’ Johnny.  She could be a He: fat, balding and in a wife beater, if that is what You would Believe.  
      
     Alright, enough philosophizing’ for now. Lesson over, Newbie. Get crashed.
this is crap but it's my crap so let me know if you use it.
Lianette Reyes Aug 2014
Hello, indignantly ignorant and in-dubious ****.
Have you ever thought that maybe some people prefer black
partners because they tend to be blessed down under, if
you know what I'm saying?
Have you ever thought that maybe all this hate leaking from
your shipwrecked **** mind is product of some... innate jealousy?
Have you ever thought that maybe some women aren't particularly
attracted to you, whether it be because of your shade or because
of your prejudices against other colors, or poly-chromatic
flags?
You claim 'black' is the stuff of nightmare, but there are many
who appreciate the deep intensity of a night sky, or the depth
and soul at the center of another's eyes as much as I do
Black is not 'ugly', black is not 'stupid', it is not
a name, it is a shade, it is a COLOR
it is a badge of honor in the presence of pretentious *** holes
such as your self, it is a PRIVILEGE to strut in pride,
in confidence of their sentient humanity among
tool shed minds, to be of convenient use to anyone but themselves,
unless of course you're a '****** lover'
have you ever thought, that maybe a '****** lover' is only
just more capable of seeing the artist, not the canvas,
the priest or priestess of his or her temple,
this skin should not be a wall to ward off friends, but elastic,
to keep us all together
have you ever thought perhaps they're more evolved and
are most likely independent thinkers who choose not to live
up to pre-set standards encouraged by family and societal
stereotypes that thunder like stereo but make not music, but noise
and becoming a reincarnate of but another generation of hate
you aren't a drop of water in the ocean, you are a tall
glass of poison to me
you shrivel my mercy and make me want to drown you in yourself
through me
you make me want to be as bigoted and disgusting as you are,
to ride by your neighbor hood in a mask and shoot you,
only I wouldn't wear a mask, or shoot you, because I'd like to
look you in the eyes as you see what seems to be a reflection
of yourself, a talking mirror, cutting into you with my teeth
my sharp words, my uncensored lips, my steely resemblance
and also because well, wearing masks is ***** ****.
have you ever thought maybe those '****** lovers' are happy
with who they're loving, who they're *******, and are not
concerned about your 'opinion' until your 'opinion' becomes
tearing a soul away from his or her loved one and body,
you are a ****** reaper,
you defile the sacred, and take a life because they're nothing
more but a slab of meat to you, you objectify them and decide
they aren't palatable to your sight
humans are not chapters, they aren't mathematical theories,
they are not animate criminal records,
they CAN NOT be color coded, they are not yours to color code
how dare you even CALL yourself human when you can't even tell
a person from your own property
or someone's happiness from your ******* business
I'm sure you've never thought, but have merely recycled
the polluted beliefs of your 'patriotic' culture and
inherited your families porcelain skin, they probably taught you
it was a weapon, a plastic bag to suffocate others in
skin is NOT a sin, it isn't natural selection,
when will you see if your own inherent mental failure proves
the fault in our evolution?
And I mean, how can you shame a race that's believed to have
pre-dated us all, to have been us all?
I'm sure this thought has probably never crossed your mind, but
know this.... tomorrow I'm going to **** the life out of my
black boyfriend. Hard. Like yin and yang we are going to
roll around with inevitable and fulfilling love,
and boy, is he black.
Edna Sweetlove May 2015
The bar behind the theatre was nearly empty apart from a couple of gay boys.
Well, it was a gay bar, so no ******* surprise there.
I glanced at the fat one and decided, 'No thank you very much,'
as I have noticed fat people often smell unpleasantly,
maybe it's the sweat trapped between their ****-cheeks that does it.

But the other one was very cute and I decided I would have him.
In those days, it was regarded as 'de rigeur' to buy a lad a lager and lime
before dragging him home with you for some nookie,
so I coughed up for a half pint with charm and grace.
Sadly, he was no great shakes in the conversational stakes,
but was I after intellectual stimulation? No, I ******* wasn't.

Anyway, once I'd checked his passport to ensure he was over-age
(no one wants any ******* trouble from the bigoted morality squad)
I dragged him back to my elegant bachelor ****-pad
and stripped him off to investigate his lithe little body;
a nice smooth little **** and a reasonably clean ****.
What more can you want from a one night stand?

After a bit of a damp snog and a good old *****,
I lubed him up and gave his *** a right good poking.
He moaned a bit, but then who wouldn't moan,
with seven and a half inches of thick gristle shoved
all the way up their sphincter? I know I would.

After I had filled his rear end with love juice a couple of times,
I felt that kicking out was the name of the game.
Generously, I gave him a half-crown for his bus fare
as he said he was a bit short of cash, being unemployed.
It was the least I could do, as he had three miles to go home,
and it was raining cats and ******* dogs outside.

After he'd left, I checked out the bed sheets (as you would)
and was irritated to find a few skidmarks there,
or they may have been where I wiped my fingers
after having eaten a bar of Cadbury's Dairy Milk.
A quick sniff confirmed my worst suspicions though.
'Ah well, true love always comes at a price', I reflected,
as I scraped the worst bits off with a nail file.
Paul Butters Jun 2016
On the twenty third of June, anniversary of my father’s death,
The United Kingdom voted to LEAVE the European Union.
It was a close-run thing:
Fifty two percent to forty eight,
Though over a million votes between.

A result that will go down in the annals of history.
Another vote the pollsters and bookmakers got wrong.
I voted Leave, confidently expecting to Lose!!!
My friends were split in two
As Remainers became ReMOANers!

For I’m now branded a nationalist, bigoted racist
Who has made a massive mistake.
But I insist: Britain has Rejoined the World
And Our Commonwealth.

We are reborn
So sure there will be teething troubles.
We’ll have to learn to walk and talk again.

Cast off your gloom, Remainers!
Rejoice the brand new day.
Britain can be great again
As the dawn chorus resonates around the globe.
Opportunity smiles down on us.
It won’t be easy,
But when ever was it so???

The Phoenix rises,
Unfurling its golden wings…

Paul Butters

© PB 27\6\2016.
Brave New World
Ben Jones Apr 2017
When the funding is cut
So the hospitals shut
That’s a Tory
When the poverty bites
And you lose human rights
That’s a Tory
Such excess
Better reassess
Better repossess
Better get yourself private healthcare
Overtaxed if you work
Unemployed? Then you're scrounging on welfare

When there’s bigoted views
Blatant lies on the news
That’s a Tory
When the biggest and best
Are too rich to arrest
That’s a Tory
But they’re lax
Covering the cracks
Never paying tax
Claiming everything on expenses
They can steal with a smile
While they peddle their flimsy defences

When they're guilty of fraud
And they're banking abroad
That's a Tory
If they're selling your school
When 'austere' means 'cruel'
That's a Tory
Too much spin
Slogan and a grin
Wearing pretty thin
Bussing people in to applaud them
Any law can be bought
If you're well off enough to afford them

That's all folks and remember, you can't spell Theresa May without heresy

**
Glenn McCrary Jun 2014
“Two faces -- both as perfect as mine once was.” ~ Two-Face


[Do just stood there in a state of slight bewilderment.]


DR. NIGHTMARE: Come to my office now!

DO: For what?

DR. NIGHTMARE: I’m not going to ask you again, Do.

DO: Look with all due respect sir I did nothing wrong.

DR. NIGHTMARE: And if you were really as respectful as you claim you would do as I ask.

SPORE: Do just go. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.

[Do opens his mouth and attempts to speak but Spore cuts him off.]

SPORE: I’ll go with you…

DO: Spore you don’t have to do that for me.

SPORE: Well I want to...

DO: But why?

SPORE: Because it is my fault that you are in this situation. The least that I can do is offer my emotional support in your time of need.

[Tears began to well up within Do’s eyes.]

DO: Thank you Spore.

SPORE: No problem Do. You helped me in my time of need when no one else would. I’m just trying to return the favor.

[Do smiled at Spore. Spore returned the smile. Do turned his attention to Dr. Nightmare.]

GUM: We’ll be here when you get back, Do.

SWEAT: Do what you need to do bro.

DO: Thanks guys. Okay Dr. Nightmare. Let’s go.

[Do & Spore follow Do from the lunch yard back into the asylum. Five minutes pass before they reach Dr. Nightmare’s office. Dr. Nightmare escorts Do & Spore into his office. Anaïs was standing in the corner by Dr. Nightmare’s desk. She was wearing a jet black dress with a large red plus symbol on the front of it to symbolize her expertise of her chosen field. She waved at Do. Do waved back. She was also wearing bright red high heels. Dr. Skitz and Dr. Crocker were also present on the opposite of Dr. Nightmare’s desk. Dr. Nightmare lights a cigarette, takes a hit, inhales the smoke and begins speaking.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Please have a seat both of you.

[Do and Spore proceeded to have a seat in the chairs behind them.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Do you know why I invited you into my office?

DO: I have some idea. Could you please explain a bit further?

[Spore giggled. Do lightly elbows Spore in her arm.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: But of course Mr. Nino. I would never want my patients to have to constantly wonder about life’s trials.

[Dr. Nightmare takes another hit of his cigarette and blows the smoke in Do and Spore’s direction.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: You are here today because we have been made aware of a couple of incidents that you have been involved in. These particular incidents go against the rules and overall moral conduct code of Black Wick Asylum.

DO: Oh, well please excuse my originality.

[Spore, Anaïs, Dr. Crocker and Dr. Skitz begin to chuckle together.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Are you trying to be funny?

DO: Well if you refer to the idea or moreso the simple ability to act stupid then yes.

DR. NIGHTMARE: This is exactly why you are in here right now.

DO: Yeah, for an incident of which I am technically morally innocent. It is the concept that exists within your brains that causes the majority of society to view such an act from more of a bigoted perspective. Now put the ******* cigarette down and get to the point. You have five minutes.

SPORE: Do what the he—

[Do places his finger to Spore’s lips to silence her.]

DO: I know what I’m doing.

[Do removes his finger from Spore’s lips.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Very well then, Do.

[Dr. Nightmare takes one last hit of his cigarette before putting it out upon his ashtray. He picks up a small remote from his desk, moves his office chair around and points the remote towards a medium sized camera sitting on the wall directly across from where Dr. Crocker and Dr. Skitz were standing.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Please turn the lights off, Anaïs.

NURSE YUCKI: Yes, Dr. Nightmare.

[Anaïs turns the lights off. Dr. Nightmare pushes play. The video begins. Dr. Nightmare decides to fast forward the video then resumes playing at the part where WiFi was about to hit Spore. Do then blocked WiFi’s punch. They briefly argued then WiFi took another swing at Spore. Do once again blocked WiFi’s punch and began ramming his elbow directly into WiFi’s nose instantly breaking it. Do continued hitting WiFi before finally slamming his rib cage directly on his knee. Dr. Nightmare paused the video.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: When exactly were you planning to tell me this Do?

DO: I wasn’t sir. Why should it be my job to inform you of such a situation as chaotic as this? Doesn’t this place have cameras?

DR. NIGHTMARE: This is an asylum, Do. Of course we have cameras. Unfortunately the day that you and WiFi got into that fight my cameras were malfunctioning due to a glitch in the system. Some of my cameras were working just fine that day. The other cameras weren’t working at all. A lot of the malfunctioning cameras had nothing but static screens on them particularly the camera in the cafeteria.

DO: So then how did you get footage of us fighting?

DR. NIGHTMARE: I hired several assistants to monitor and record any and all activity that goes on in the rooms that contained the malfunctioning cameras. There was somebody in there monitoring you the entire time and you didn’t even know it.

DO: But who was it?

DR. NIGHTMARE: That’s not important, Do. As the head of this institution I must do what I have to do to keep up with all daily activities of this institution. Frankly, if any such activity does not concern or affect you then what business is it of yours?

DO: How much time do you have?

DR. NIGHTMARE: Not enough time in the world.

DO: So then let’s move on.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Right. The next thing I wish to discuss with you are the results of your four dimensional emotion detector tests.

DO: Well this should be interesting.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Yeah, don’t hold your breath kid. Since Dr. Crocker was in charge of your happiness, sadness and fear tests you will be talking to him first. Carry on Dr. Crocker.]

DR. CROCKER: Thank you, Dr. Nightmare. How are you doing today Do?

DO: I’m doing just fine sir. Thank you for asking. How are you?

DR. CROCKER: Splendid sir. Alright Do let’s discuss your test results.

DO: I’m listening.

DR. CROCKER: Okay one minor detail that we must note is that each test is rated by any number from one through five with five being the highest and one being the lowest. You scored a five on both your happiness and sadness tests.

DO: What memory did I envision for the sadness test again?

DR. CROCKER: From what I’m reading it says that you envisioned the memory of when your ex-girlfriend Oku broke up with you.

DO: Yeah, that was a pretty sad memory. I spent every night that September crying myself to sleep every night. It hurt so bad.

DR. CROCKER: I understand.  Now the memory you chose for your fear test consisted of a series of scenarios in which you were abandoned. The most effective memory of those scenarios was of a mysterious woman abandoning you. Would you care to explain that?

DO: I don’t wanna remember… Even though I clearly still and always will remember, I choose to avoid anything that causes me to reminisce about it.

DR. CROCKER: Understood. Well I thought you’d like to know that you scored a five on your fear test too. You have a knack for selecting the deepest memories of your psyche.

DO: That is what you wanted is it not?

DR. CROCKER: Nothing more and nothing less.

DO: Is there anything else I need to know regarding these test results?

DR. CROCKER: Your diagnosis, yes. Judging by how high you scored on these tests I am afraid that I have to diagnose you with bipolar and borderline personality disorder.

DO: That explains all those manic episodes of extreme euphoria and depression.

DR. CROCKER: Perhaps, yes. I’ll be turning you over to Dr. Skitz for the rest of your test results.

DR. SKITZ: Thank you, Dr. Crocker. Okay Do I’m gonna just cut corners and get to the ******* point with your results.

DO: Thank you, Dr. Skitz.

DR. SKITZ: No problem, Do. We all have precious and valuable time. The last thing we should want to do is waste it.

DO: That is a very good point doctor.

DR. SKITZ: So with that being said I am pleased to inform you that you scored a five on your anger test but, you scored a three on both your anxiety and depression tests.

DO: Alright go ahead. Lay it on me.

DR. SKITZ: Do, you have schizophrenia.

DO: So bipolar and schizophrenia huh? Sounds interesting.

DR. SKITZ: This isn’t a game Do. This is your health we are discussing.

DO: Yes, I know. I was being sarcastic.

DR. SKITZ: Anyways that concludes your diagnosis. I’ll turn you back over to Dr. Nightmare now.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Thank you gentlemen.

DR. CROCKER & DR. SKITZ: You’re welcome, sir.

DR. NIGHTMARE: So what did you think of your test results, Do?

DO: I think they were slightly shocking though not surprising.

DR. NIGHTMARE: I have to honestly say that I agree with you on that one. Anyways with all nonsense aside I’ve decided to make a deal with you.

DO: And what is this deal that you speak of, sir?

DR. NIGHTMARE: Well since you are our newest patient I’ll let you off with a warning. Should you happen to break these rules again you will be paying some serious consequences. You are dismissed.

DO & SPORE: Thank you sir.

[Do and Spore get up and proceed to exit Dr. Nightmare’s office.]

SPORE: So who do you think was recording us in the cafeteria today, Do?

DO: Your guess is as good as mine Spore. Had I known who it was I wouldn’t have been questioning Dr. Nightmare about it in the first place.

SPORE: Good point. By the way Do don’t worry about those tests. It is something that every patient has to go through before being officially considered for enrollment here. Also you’re fine the way you are in my opinion.

DO: Thank you, Spore.

SPORE: So do you have a room mate? More importantly do you have a room?

DO: No I do not.

SPORE: You can room with us. There are four beds in our room with two beds in each room. We have room for one more mate.

DO: Okay. Thank you, Spore.

SPORE: No problem, Do.

DO: So how do we get to our room?

SPORE: Well, this asylum is seven stories high. Our room is on the sixth floor. We stay in room 666. There is an elevator straight down the hall on your first left.

DO: Alright then let’s go.

[Do and Spore continue down the hall arriving at the elevators in less than a minute. Spore presses the button as she waits for the elevator to arrive. The elevator finally arrives. Its doors open wide inviting Do and Spore in. Do and Spore walk in as the doors close behind them.]


9 HOURS LATER….

[ A man dressed in a long, red hoodie walks up the stairs leading to Black Wick’s infirmary. He pushes the wooden oak double doors open. The entire infirmary was dark except for the moonlight that was shining throughout. He approaches one of the patients in the infirmary. The patient he had selected happened to be a young man. He had long, wavy, red hair and pearly, white skin. The man began aggressively shaking the patient.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Wake up, WiFi!!!!! WAKE UP NOW!!!!!!!!

[WiFi began mumbling in his sleep.]

WIFI: Can’t I just go on the roller coaster one more time…? Please…?

[WiFi slowly drifted back into a deep sleep. Dr. Nightmare grabbed a wooden bucket from the corner of WiFi’s night stand. He walked over to the sink and filled the bucket with cold water. Dr. Nightmare then walks over to WiFi’s bedside and pours the water all over him. WiFi was startled awake.]

WIFI: OKAY! OKAY! I’M AWAKE! DON’T HURT ME!!!

[WiFi looks up only to see a giant pair of red eyes and attempts to scream. Dr. Nightmare quickly takes his hand and covers Wifi’s mouth.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Quiet fool! It’s me!

[WiFi stops screaming which was Dr. Nightmare’s cue to remove his hand from his mouth.]

WIFI: Dr. Nightmare?

DR. NIGHTMARE: Yes.

WIFI: What are you doing here?

DR. NIGHTMARE: I have come to ask a favor of you.

WIFI: What do you need?

DR. NIGHTMARE: I need you to stalk Do and his friends.

WIFI: What’s in it for me?

DR. NIGHTMARE: You get to stalk your ex-girlfriend.

[WiFi begins to bare a wickedly evil grin.]

WIFI: When do we start?
Catherine Jul 2010
In your wrinkles lies the wisdom that I continuously seek

too eager to wait for my own, into my future I attempt to peek

but it is through rose-tinted glasses, shattered by visions of war

that I understand my world filled paradoxically with blood, love, and gore.

Letting the words pour forth, I forget what I am trying to say

all I can remember is the hope that I hold for some better days,

not just for me and mine but this entire global community

that stumbles over politic and collapses in economic unity.

When will the giant be humbled upon desolate shores?

Surely it won't take the deaths of too many more...

Soldiers of fortune?

No, Soldiers of Deceit -- victims of their leaders own bigoted conceit.

Bloated and forsaken are the children of opportunity,

praying for sustainability, locked in obscurity.

I know no truth which has never been known before...

but God, bless all the ageless that wear their wrinkles as a crown of thorns.
Andrew Rueter Nov 2017
I take flight
With all my might
To be your kite
Following you wherever you go
To be part of your ebb and flow
People think I ingested the wrong pill
Because up here I can't see the roadkill
And float over the pitch black oil spills
From the end of your string
I become king

There is an approaching storm
As you deviate from the norm
And discontinue acting warm
Your lightning strikes
My metal pike
Electricity tears through my thin fabric
As I dream of a tranquil casket
And you want to grant me my death wish
I guess that's why they call me Icarish
For flying to close to the rain
Only to constantly feel pain
To distract me from the shame
From those with unknown names
But familiar bigoted flames
To me you both are the same
Once I go against the grain
You tell me to stay in my lane
High above the gravelly ground
Where you can't hear my sounds
Of impaling wailing
Because you're bailing
Letting go of the string
You become king

I am a kite floating
Spending night noting
All my many mistakes
That caused these breaks
But despite trying my very best
The wind provides a difficult test
After I am battered into tatters
My hopes couldn't be flatter
So I start to feel it doesn't matter
When my dreams came true then shattered
The wind solemnly sings
Of distant powerful kings
But I cannot fly anymore
In my broken kite form
John F McCullagh Dec 2016
Rudolph was differently -abled
As nearly everybody knows.
He suffered discrimination
because he had a nose that glows.

All of the alt-right Reindeer
Were bigoted and called him names.
They never let poor Rudolph
Participate in Reindeer games

Then one foggy holiday Eve
O.S.H.A came to say
“This hostile workplace violates rules
There will be hefty fines to pay!”

Now all of  the Reindeer hate him
but learned to hide it carefully.
They just spent two weeks in training
For Reindeer sensitivity.
The familiar tune updated for modern sensibilities-O.S.H.A.  pronounced O-Sha  is the government agency that regulates safety in the workplace.  I have always hated the original Christmas Carol because of the  hateful behavior of the other reindeer and their hypocrisy  in the final verse
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
When at first it happens I want none of it. I even say no. I discard the plane tickets, the train stamps, the envelopes of money into a safety deposit box some train station off The Embarcadero and just head East. It frightens me, I'm horrified. The potency is developing in my inner organs, I can't cough right, sleep right, I just suffer and complain. Instead of doing things differently, they've made it so you can soak right in. Just strand yourself on the side of the roadway and they've got rules for you too. The sounds are torturous, the rooms are empty, and the men grow complacent and empty. Nothing is as serious as this. Four years ago a car, three years ago a plane, now I just shuffle and complain. I search for a key to my happiness. I look for it in desktop monitors, caramel apple lollipops, new cashmere vanilla candles, consuming six or more bottles of water a day, E-Cigarettes even, even those, I use apple juice, lychee nectar, mango sorbet, and chocolate fudge sundaes. I'm 40 up on the 140 I went down with. All the miles I'd walked in a firm step, a fever, a bag full of cheap wine for a man that works the car park. 43rd between 8th and 9th. Every thing is bright lights and theater nights. More pacing, there is gum stuck to every square of sidewalk, men and women wheel around a block away selling discount drugs in the streets and outside the Subway on 44th, in the Chinese food mart on 7th. They blow blow blow in their little plastic straw tubes and for $12 a drop they ask you to reach your hands inside their pockets, "take what you like and leave the rest. No one remembers it like this, the girls laugh practically upside down, they wear sky-blue light dyed denim overalls, covering all the parts of their shoulders but exposing their ****, they have plastic bags in their boots, and cute bobby bobbing hair cuts like water crest shoots exploding in lime juice. They pace too, but their legs are shorter, their conversations longer, the horns in their heads grow slowly out from midnight. The devil put the hate on them too.

Even the children are bigoted in this bicentennial. The ******'s nook is no longer the sewing shop in the corner of the strip mall up by Deerbrook Mall. I haven't seen a fountain with change in it since the 80's. The newest thing I heard about imaginations are that, "They come out the first and last Wednesday of the month, you gotta check with Game Stop if you want to pre-order the right ones." I think we must be on number 18 by now. There were four of us riding shotgun in the boxcar up to the valley last month, now they don't even run the trains anymore. One third of everything left to go.

I'm growing quiet; if they can't tell it's not my job to teach them. If they can't spell, I ain't gotta word to word combat that's going to come down on 'em. My brain is so uptight I can't sleep before sundown or sunrise. I see legs and oil futures with every blink. I listen to the old phone messages constantly. I make up stories to go with the missed calls. Still I hope everything will work out okay, because nothing is as serious as this. It makes me sick. It makes the guy undo itself with a brass nail, the blood unclogged from the rash from last month, I find out I'm toxic to poisons, and then I'm told that they're a prescription for that too. It wasn't a ******* rumor. The time to back up or move is now. A idle figure in an orange shirt, a tapestry that moves with every hallucination, forty, fifty, sixty hours I've never slept. I may have been years. My stomach is rusting from water with nowhere to go. I feel sick. I feel woozy, but I don't believe in feelings. I sit upright because I'm uptight, I turn my head around and look over my shoulder. But I know that any friend that's worth looking at me wouldn't arouse my spirit at this hour. There is a net that they speak of when everything's gone. It's the madness that transforms nothingness when the devil's around. Whole empires are crashing. Whole bottom drawers of unworn clothing, tagged and abetted stuffed into black crape garbage bags and drove off into the moonlight. I'm sweating and soporific, living half by half two in and two out, if I had the chance I'd try to remember just which way I get out. When I check on the rumors, when I say my goodbye, I know that I'm the only one sitting in this room of cocksure spirit animals and half-plastic book casings, and that no one whispers and no one cries, not even the bereft can produce a lullaby. I am dying to figure out how to move voicemails from iPhones to iTunes, I googled it while sitting down in the city last night. Poor service. 10 months. Not even one blame the famous few.

After tired comes guilty, after guilty the shame, after that apathy, after that I'm awake. I've never been good at being better than me. But those voicemails, I want them somewhere permanently.
Inspired by a Voicemail, Written for Britni West
Andrew Rueter Feb 2018
People always complain about political correctness
Unless it's something important to them
Then they expect you to use empathetic indirectness
As to not hurt the feelings of men

I'm a homosexual talking to a stranger
They don't detect this
They say ****** and unleash my anger
They don't expect this
They were expecting me to be socially correct
To their bigoted views
They can't handle it when their hatred reflects
And they're given their due

I can't ask for a simple date
Or mention anything about God
I can't ask for their ****** state
That would imply that they're flawed
Yet they say I'm easily offended
But their argument is upended
When there are many topics I must avoid
Or hedge around
Otherwise they will get easily annoyed
And wear a frown

People say Donald Trump is politically incorrect
But that's not true
He's a hateful *******
People confuse that with political incorrectness
But if about half the people who vote are pieces of ****
Can that really be said to be incorrect?
The idea of the president being politically incorrect is absurd
By virtue of being elected his politics are being endorsed
And endorsement is what comprises political correctness
He may know nothing of governance or diplomacy
But he was correct when it came to politics

I live in a country where I can say pretty much whatever I want
And then everyone else can react however they want
To be angry at someone's reaction is its own political correctness
They're just mad it's not their own specific politics being adhered to

So when people mention political correctness I laugh
It's a defensively reflexive path
When they live an unexamined life
But then complain about their plight
They think they're hated because they're white
They think they're hated because they're right
I dislike them because they have low empathy
So I don't want to be near that
Because their hatred starts to enter me
When they call me a queer ***
Then they expect me to love it
But instead I tell them to shove it
They tell me I'm being politically correct
Maybe it's their own lives they should inspect
Dark n Beautiful Aug 2018
We must never **** the spiders
While, they wove their words into the likeness of thunder
You only watch the news to find out
Where the con artist stands,
He opens his mouth and nonsense comes out
He twitters like a bird and the sound of a dog bark echo,
Lowlife, unhinged, bigoted, racists, misogynist,
How do one goes from eating at his table:
To coming in through the back entrance,

And whether it matter to us or not;
We got to see what division can do to us
Some might even say, salacious and ridiculous
I think it’s a game change, with the wars of words
Bishop and knight checkmate!!
your move my dear..
and by the way :
You are fired!!
Gaye May 2016
He will not fix it,
He is such a bleak assignment
He is bigoted as ****!
But I'm surprised
You're voting him to power,
And in English, that would be
Ignorance!

He will push you back 50 years
On opinions about modern living,
He will **** your families and
Ask you to never leave Churches.
Somebody come and look at this,
All puny mods are voting for
A Phoney Republic!

You might very well need
More oil
Stage 9/11 and get more
Private armies to Middle East?
Create more ISISs, Make
All Muslims look Evil,
Give them a free ride to
West and EU
And finally make them
Fat, Dumb and Addicted to Reality TV!

Well, just run off to Mexico,
There'll at least be a wall between you and Trump!
If my poem offends you, you should probably leave.I feel pity America!
The walls lay in ash.
Soldiers stood brash.
A southern army torn apart
By a Yankee driven heart.

A national wake.
Honor burned at the stake.
Men of like birth,
Forced back to Fort Worth.

Unity broken.
Idiocy outspoken
Maintained holdings in an old life.
Grasping onto a bigoted knife.

Division formed over pride,
Childish remarks seeming snide.
Violence comes with few delays
Sparks up through debate about gays.

No one ever likes to lose.
That doesn’t mean one must corrupt the news.
Accept the nature of a simple mistake.
And end this 149-year wake.
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
Wiggy doesn’t mean it is a wig
Just that it looks very like one;
And the hairdo is so ludicrous
That we can’t help making fun.
You act like an adolescent
Your orange hair is almost funny.
You utter the most inane things
Your disposition totally not sunny.

Wiggy little piggy, is what you are
As you ludicrously strut about.
You make yourself a laughingstock
From your hooves up to your snout.
You spout a bunch of garbage
High on the ignorance scale
Like you bought it all half price
At a dollar-store basement sale.

Snort and wiggle, grimace and scowl
It’s quite the side-show carnival show
You open your mouth and let fall out
Words that prove what you do not know.
Grunt and wallow in your own mud
Holler, howl, bellow and squeal
As if the lies you are telling us all
Amount to something valid and real.

Wiggy little piggy, is what you are
As you ludicrously strut about.
You make yourself a laughingstock
From your hooves up to your snout.
You spout a bunch of garbage
High on the ignorance scale
Like you bought it all half price
At a dollar-store basement sale.

So far, you are making yourself
Totally beloved in the Sainted South
But to most of us you would look
Better with an apple in your mouth.
You **** and moan and pontificate
And spout such bigoted wit
That the best place for you is
Guest of honor on a barbecue spit.

Wiggy little piggy, is what you are
As you ludicrously strut about.
You make yourself a laughingstock
From your hooves up to your snout.
You spout a bunch of garbage
High on the ignorance scale
Like you bought it all half price
At a dollar-store basement sale.
Edna Sweetlove Dec 2014
America the land of obesity and greed
Mean and morally bankrupt in the face of world poverty
Ever ready to eagerly attack a foreign country
Rednecked and rabidly racist
Ignorant and parochial to a sickening degree
Canada's ugly southern neighbour
Arrogant and self-opinionated
Narrow-minded and bigoted to the Nth degree
A total ******* disgrace really.
Author notes

This is an acrostic for those too dim to have spotted it yet.
This is a nice one for you all out there
John B Nov 2015
It was so hard to put in words

Tho I spoke to you when idle ears were far from my lips

When words flowed like a river

Like a river yes and still but your beauty is my sun

In your presence only steam pours from me

Your heat burning the shell from my heart

You make me weak

My Venus

I wanted to plough your fertal pastures

Like a good stuard

For its own benefits before my own

You were sharp and curious

Listened intently to my ranting and stared into my eyes

I thought myself weak but you understood better than my pupils

Your apatites reached my ears as a warning but iticed me instead

Your history no surprise or mark against you

I wanted all of you for mine

To make perfect an only slightly tarnished vestal

To complete you in hopes you could complete me

But your eyes cut my soul like a knife without ever seeing it

Your voice crushed my bones to dust with a whisper

Pity

Gref

How low we were when heavens bowed before us

I would have given myself to you in no unbinding terms

But you could not offer the same and I could tell you wanted too

I value your honesty and wish you had lied

Should fate spit on us again in this way

We're I to find myself in your shoes

I suposse I'd recomend Polyamory

I wouldn't take you up on it for him

Then I'm not gay and you never did discriminate

Just saying the world could be my harum

Time and space at my Mercy

A machine in the next room to customize entitys for company

You would be my bottom ***** for life

Given that's as bigoted as an analogy gets

It's coming from a good place
"You could slit my throat and with my one last gasping breath I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt."
A friend of mine asks,
“Why do you only ever write about romance lately?”

Well, the answer is quite simple, really. It is because I have tasted it.

I tasted it when my eyes first drank the light from his grace when he stood tall above me
His saturnine windows called out to me behind flesh curtains whenever he spoke, ever asking me to join him in his ecstasy
He, from a distance, darted towards me and pressed our sides together—letting myself melt in the velveteen touch of fabric skin
There was a shower of momentary light that night but only his radiance did I bask in.

I tasted it in the heart of the stone city where usurpers of old stood on polished stone
The Bulwark’s adobe reach embraced our reverie as memories from sleep stories become reality
He, in the confines of that venerable fortress, made me vulnerable for I was secure in his arms
His fingers are in between my own like woven mithril unbreakable lest he broke its bond himself
It is in this kingdom of carven stone and handmade walls that he sang of ardor with a dragon’s petrifying gaze.

I tasted it in yuletide storms where men and women waged war with happiness and grief
When the armies of pain and suffering fell at our clasped hands and cheeks red from amorous verve you said you were to journey home
But you did not let go of my grasp
With me you remained and in your arms I stayed
As the bitter winds of bigoted mouths blew, as the fire from damnation is declared by self-righteous souls, we stood fast in the storm.

I tasted it when he said our love he could no longer endure
There we sat, on a tarnished vehicle, as the last of our love gave into rust
What is frightening to me peeked from his saturnine eyes and he closed his curtains shut for the downpour of despondency was to come
We flooded our façades and the rivers quaked our emotional integrity
He held my hand for one final chance before we ripped our wrappings forever apart and he kissed me tender
Our lips made love—like the first they ever met in weathered heat—for the last time.

I tasted it when I told him “Just do so, when your appetite roars to love me again,” and until now I am waiting.

So, why do I ever only write about romance lately?

Well, the reason is quite complicated, really. But–but it is because I’ve tasted it.
For my muse, Emer. I ever hoping you'll find your way back to me.

Read more of my works on Tumblr: www.brixartanart.tumblr.com
Lawrence Hall Jul 2017
Dia de Muertos in a Parking Lot
23 July 2017

The big trucks roll along the interstates
And bear in their wombs the American soul:
Made-in-China shoes, ‘phones, dolls, cartoon tees
Scented soaps, baseball bats, and hipster hats

And the dead. Disposable merchandise
In the commerce of nations, the subjects
Of learned discourse and bigoted rant
Everyone in America wants to be famous

Coyotes dispose of their human cargo

And

How easy for us to say we didn’t know
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
the pro-anti-abortion argument:

so the tissue argument doesn't count?

so...

   once the ***** leaves the body
of a male....
it is the sole possession
of a female?"

sign me up for euthanasia...
please! send me to
gaßkammern!

might as well cut my testicles off!
employ me as a *******
castrato for holding the harem
***** free...

so i can't *******?
did i forget my napkin,
or did my bride forget her *****?
just asking...

              so...
as long as my ***** remains in my,
or on a tissue, flushed down a toilet...
but them she takes over
the ownership?
           she gets the bigoted bargain
and bias?
                       **** me...
            i'm sure a Rabbi would argue
that a 16 year old
is always ready...
because... given the current
secular year p.s. a.d. that's always
true...

               so i can't...
*******...
   wait a minute... but i haven't
been circumcised...
            look at me! woo woo!
next time i *******
into a woman...
i'll secure some wolf ***** into
a syringe...
and then implant a
Frankenstein experiment into her...
my...
didn't a woman, epitome...
make a case for desiring vampires
& werewolves?

       **** it...
let's make josef mengele
2.0,
                         i'm ready...
i'm craving for the laboratory...
     but... clearly... you're not...
given...

   can a woman really claim such
ownership?
                 i must make an equal claim...
whatever i *******
into a tissue and flush it down
a toilet...
has to become a pseudo crocodile
child of the deep...
    
if only i was born in the end of the 19th century...
my Auschwitz would have looked much
more differently...

i would have attempted less twin experiments...
to curate a cure for the Siamese...
i would have injected women
with wolf *****...
such a mild,
childhood fantasy...

                   and people worried
about the treatment of
          heretics by the church in
        the Renaissance;

if i were the primordial evil
of the 20th century...
i'd pocket my concerns...
where i began the 21st century with.
Caleb A Johnson Jan 2021
Your evil made me hungry
and I'm coming back for more

I don't even give a ****
That you don't like the poor

You can go ahead and **** someone
If it will start this war

I've been starving for so long
I just can't take it anymore

Your evil made me hungry
And I'm coming back for more
__

Even if I don't catch a break
At least I'll know what it was for

I don't care to have a Cadillac
As long as you don't get to have yours

I'll turn my back on everyone
If they won't quit what's made me sore

Because your evil made me hungry
And I'm coming back for more
_

I'll do whatever you tell me to
I'll be your favorite *****

I'll show you all my anger
And be a bigoted bore

Just as long as you don't forget me
And relish in my gore

Because your evil made me hungry
And I'm coming back for more
_

I don't need no learning of facts
From someone who knows more

There is no one who can take
From me what I've been looking for

Even if you prove me wrong
I'll believe it even more

Because your evil made me hungry
And I'm coming back for more
__

Now the boys in blue have turned
And thrown me to the floor

And you won't even look at me
You don't need me anymore

But that's ok because I broke it all
Those ******* who we tore

From their exalted places
From their more noble lore

It was your evil made me hungry
And I will always come back for more
judy smith Mar 2017
WHEN Jayson Brunsdon learnt he had to muster the strength to fight cancer as his fashion empire crumbled around him, he was at breaking point.

Luckily for him and husband Aaron, a saviour was on the way — in the form of a beautiful brown-eyed angel — their son, Roman.

In a heartfelt interview with Wentworth Courier ahead of the March 30 launch of their book, Designer Baby, the couple shared their tumultuous journey to bring Roman home to Australia after he was born to a surrogate in Thailand.

Watching their faces light up as the now two-year-old Roman gleefully dives under a mountain of pillows on the couch at their Elizabeth Bay apartment, it is easy to see why they describe him as “the light at the end of the tunnel” after what they have been through.

And the couple has held nothing back in telling their amazing story of survival, hope and determination in the face of unbelievable adversity.

Their world came crashing down in 2008 when the global financial crisis delivered a devastating blow to their Jayson Brunsdon label, a darling of the fashion world, worn by Crown Princess Mary of Denmark and Jennifer Hawkins.

“Most of our business was international, in America and England … and we lost all that business overnight,” said Jayson, 52.

“It was around the same time that I was diagnosed with (testicular) cancer.”

He faced a three-year battle, including four months of intense chemotherapy, after surgery had failed to stop the disease spreading.

“It’s very difficult to be creative when you can barely get out of bed and you’re deliriously ill and you feel like you’re dying,” he said.

“It was a really hard time and it went on for a long time so we had to downsize and we had to get rid of our stores.”

Aaron, 44, said the cancer made it impossible to keep the business afloat.

“Jayson was the creator of the brand but my time had to be devoted to his care as well and so … everything started to suffer and it kept going down and down until we reached rock-bottom,” he said.

“It was the GFC, it was the cancer, it was everything and one day we woke up and lost everything, we lost the entire business.”

Rather than give up, Jayson fought the cancer and won — a process which caused him to reflect on his life to the point where he questioned whether he even wanted to be part of the fashion world.

“Cancer was life-changing because after you’ve been through it, you just can’t deal with ******* and there’s so much of it in the fashion world, it kind of revolves around it and I thought; ‘I don’t know if I can do this any more’,” Jayson said.

“But what else was I going to do? We had the business and … when we downsized, I could kind of get away from it all.”

The couple has since rebuilt the business and the Jayson Brunsdon black label is in 40 Myer stores.

When Jayson went into remission, the couple of 18 years could finally pursue their dream of having a family together.

“We had wanted it for a long time but (the cancer) meant we had to put the whole thing on hold,” Jayson said.

“At that time we started to realise there was a lot more to life than working seven days a week and struggling every day,” Aaron said.

“We wanted something more and I think one of the most important things in our lives was having a family.”

After doing a mountain of research, the couple began eight months of preparation work with the All IVF Center in Bangkok and they were matched with their Thai surrogate ****.

They were over the moon when she fell pregnant with Roman, using Aaron’s cousin Rebecca’s egg, donated altruistically, and Jayson’s *****.

But their excitement turned to panic when the Thai Government announced it was going to outlaw surrogacy in the wake of the Baby Gammy scandal, when an Australian couple left their son with his surrogate mother because he had Down syndrome.

The couple was told the chances of bringing Roman home were “almost impossible”.

“At the time, it was the worst news any parent could face — we were five-and-a-half months pregnant and at that point we knew there was going to be a fight and we just didn’t know how long the fight was going to be,” Aaron said.

“It was one of the most tumultuous times in our lives because we had gone through so much to get to this point and we’d had so many challenges.

“When we finally got pregnant, we thought there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

“And then for the bombshell to drop on us to say that ‘you can’t bring him home’, that was the most frightening thing that had ever happened to us.”

In the wake of Gammy, the Thai Government ordered an audit into IVF clinics.

This led to the forced closure of the All IVF Center after authorities allegedly discovered links to the human trafficking of surrogate babies.

The fate of about 50 Australian couples — including the Brunsdons — was thrown into limbo.

After much political wrangling, Foreign Minister Julie Bishop arranged a pact with the Thai Government who agreed to grant a grace period for pregnancies already in progress.

Jayson finds it difficult to articulate the relief he felt.

“It was just sheer joy, it was like, ‘thank God’, it’s difficult to describe really because it’s about our child and if you can’t get him home, you don’t know what to do,” he said.

“When it was all clear, we were just ecstatic and we could get on with living again. We were just on hold, we were holding our breaths.”

But they were not out of the woods yet.

Despite being assured they would have not issues leaving Thailand after Roman was born on January 5, 2015, they were detained at the airport for human trafficking.

“Initially they said, ‘we are not going to let you go until we see the surrogate mother’ and they asked us all these questions and they were screaming at us,” said Aaron.

“It was awful, we were so terrified.”

Eventually they were allowed on the plane — Roman had an Australian passport and Jayson’s name was on the birth certificate.

Jayson has spoken out for the first time in response to accusations that he saw Roman as a commodity akin to a buying a fashion accessory.

“That’s kind of pathetic really. Who has a child so they can have them as an accessory that they can dress up?” Jayson said.

“I just think it’s just really bigoted, discriminatory, really ill-informed and it’s unacceptable.

“Some people are just really ignorant people and they don’t understand that when you’re gay, you’re born gay. It’s like being born black … you can’t help it.

“So if you want to have a child, why shouldn’t you have a child?

“If we got him as just an accessory, we would have been over him by now wouldn’t we?

“It’s part of the joy of being a new parent, to buy the cot and decorate the bedroom and all that kind of stuff.”

Jayson said Roman had “enriched” their lives.

“He makes us so much more responsible, patient, caring and loving and we are very lucky because he is just a gorgeous little angel,” he said.

“(Parenthood) is such a fantastic experience. It’s the hardest thing you ever do, but it’s the best thing you ever do.

“It’s the best thing we ever did, it’s better than showing in New York Fashion Week or anything, it’s a much more heart filling experience than anything you’ve ever done.”

Aaron said they would ensure Roman was not deprived of anything.

**** said she would do it all over again if they ever wanted a sibling for their son Roman.

“One day in the future if you want to have a sister or brother for Roman, if she can help and do again, she is happy to do,” said an interpreter responding to questions.

The mother, who had never been a surrogate before, said she discussed her decision with her husband and family, including her two children Jonus, 16, and Nicky, 6, “so everyone knew and agreed”.

Her motivation was to help the Australians, “fulfil a family that would be the most wonderful gift to them that they can never forget”.

“She also believed this is a very good thing she did, to give life,” the interpreter said.

“She look after someone’s baby for them. She want to make that couple also very happy.

“She loves and talk to baby and let her kids and family touch and talk to a little boy inside. “Because she believe her love and care will be the best vaccine for baby to grow well.”

When she met Aaron and Jayson, she understood how they felt.

“You two very good people. She knew you are super fathers who will raise a little boy surrounding with love, good education and all good things,” the interpreter said.

“Buddha teach her to be good people, to help other people and bring happiness to people.”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Alienpoet May 2022
In the nightmare
we lose ourselves
not wishing to look in each other’s eyes
left versus right
only millionaires and billionaires can afford to fight
male versus female
transphobic
Bigoted
drop the hate to relate
life sold cheaply over internet wars
our nation
a nation of locked doors
and hate driven speaking drivel
People
I love you all but your minds locked into
Facebook culture wars
media ******
ratings soar
go viral be the virus
or inspire us
it’s your choice
war is afforded to the rich
if your poor dig your grave or ditch.
Antipodean Aug 2013
We're all un-informed about something
We can't know everything
But when your ignorance impacts others
Un-knowledged and un-aware
It is not the same as un-mindfully aware
Inflicting your imbecilic  infections
Upon others I cannot abide in
We need more un-derstanding
To be un-bigoted
We need to stand together
In this un-certain world
To do anything less would be un-reasonable
Un-do your ignorance
Un-***** your head from your ***

— The End —