I remember that day like it was yesterday.
What happened, you claim, was barely horseplay.
Will you ever comprehend,
That what you did, I didn’t “misunderstand”?

Perhaps you’d like to blame it on your upbringing,
Because your dad taught you to control a woman who doesn’t have the “right” thinking.
Mexican patriarchy is ******, but it is you who chose to comply with it.
So don’t claim you aren’t responsible for the sins you commit.

Today I speak,
For I refuse to be weak.
Today I’ll unfold the truth I never wanted to accept,
When I was just a little under 15 and felt completely wrecked.

I stand today to expose you **** as I’ve been,
A monster in full shape and form, guilty of ****** while you grin.
You’ve kept your eyes shut to my dreadful sensations,
But today you will listen to my crude allegations.

We were in your house in Mexico where you locked me in the basement.
You claimed you wanted privacy, but only offered me enslavement.
Maybe it really was my bad luck,
When I believed you when said you loved me, but didn’t realize you only wanted to ****.

A monster, you pinned me against the wall,
I hit my head and cried, beginning to feel like your personal doll.
Touching my head where I discovered that I bled,
I reached for your hand, but you only grabbed mine to throw me onto bed.

When I was five, mother told me monsters don’t exist,
But today I am a witness to the contrary, as I know angels and devils coexist.
You are a monster for what you did to me,
For you pretended not to hear my plea.

A monster, you tied me onto your bed,
And ripped my clothes until I was left with nothing but a thread.
I begged you to stop and pushed you away,
But you slapped me and pressing your body against mine, told me you were here to stay.

A monster, your tongue against my breast,
And I completely undressed,
I watched your face transform,
Like a caterpillar taking its new form.

You, a monster, a demon, and a coward,
Faced a broken soul who had not yet flowered.
You took your hands and forced my flower to bloom,
Though it did not unfold with pleasure, but with fear of ending in a tomb.

And like a painter facing an empty canvas,
You traced me from head to toe as I lay nearly dead on the mattress.
You carved your name onto my body and robbed me of my innocence.
A monster, you obliterated my purity, leaving bruises as evidence.

A monster, you watered my flowers with the filthiest juice,
Not with God’s purest waters, but your own waters of abuse.
I weeped and screamed and in that moment begged for a God to exist,
I even prayed, but found no angels to untie my wrists.

If you really loved me, then you would look past your lust,
But you never did and chose to break me with each and every ******.
Rocking back and forth I was controlled by you, a monstrous puppeteer,
Your *** danced down my legs as I watched you cold and with fear.

A monster, you carefully tamed me to satisfy your *** drive,
Never did I imagine I would go to Hell and come back alive.
Today I stand a witness of your repulsive proclivity,
Penetrated by a monster who awaited for the trophee he believed was my virginity.

It wasn’t just a simple “quickie”,
The way you threw me around and used me.
I may have stood still and allowed you to profanate me,  
But I always threw up once you finished touching me.

People say our dreams are reflections of our memories fused with fantasies,
But there is no magic in the nightmares I regard as tragedies.
I’ve spent four years feeling entitled to nothing but pain,
And stay awake fearing my memories will haunt me, crashing into me like a train.

I wash my body once, twice, and thrice to flush away the picture of your fingers,
Scrubbing and scrubbing to ensure I numb my skin from your smell that lingers.
Your colossal hands a million times larger than the girl they groped,
Remind her of the million times she was choked.

I only wish you could understand what it feels like to be someone’s puppet,
A doll you can pull, stretch, bend over backwards and play like a trumpet.
It’s difficult to accept I’ll always feel possessed,
That the monster who injected me with his poison jerks off to the thought of being caressed.

You are the reason I’ve sought the sharpest blade,
To slash my skin and mark your cannonade.
But I can’t slice you out of my body,
As slicing my skin with glass won’t provide me with an antibody.

A monster, you conquered my body with a single purpose,
You kept me in the darkness to guarantee your coitus.
I’m sorry my ******* wasn’t as **** as your *******,
I blowed as fast as I could to prevent a flatline on my Electrocardiography.

I’m sorry I had to fake an ******,
But I had to escape you once you threw me into a chasm.
Navigating in the maze where I was constantly abused,
Was difficult having no compass to pretend I was being seduced.

I spent years looking for an exit out of your maze,
Taking too long to realize this wasn’t only a phase.
Some blame me for being too oblivious,
For wearing a blindfold and perceiving you as chivalrous.

And perhaps you blame me for being too naive,
Because I wished for you to change on New Year’s Eve.
I sought a fairytale, forgetting Cinderella did not meet her prince,
But a wolf who impaled her with his claws and abandoned her since.

I was your slave for two long years,
And you, a monster, showed me each and every one of my fears.
But I have lived in spite of my trauma,
And today I stand to scold you for this drama.

I no longer fear the monster inside my head,
For I understand many others will dwell ahead.
But my monster will no longer haunt me in my sleep,
For now I sleep knowing I have my body to keep.

I am strong, proud and bold,
And I have found my place in this world.
No longer will I let you win,
For it is you who reeks of sin.

Does it make me sick to empathize with your situation?
To feel for your pain and share your deeply held frustration?
Is it you who is wicked for being a pervert?
Or me for wanting you to hurt?

How can I wish you the greatest agony,
When I would never want anyone, not even my monster to experience my tragedy?
I am being torn in different directions,
But I’m no longer tied down to successful erections.

Monster, I thank you for your rotten kisses,
For the hundred bruises and tight stitches.
I now know my body is a shrine,
And that I am my own lifeline.

No longer will I feel soiled by your hands.
For I have built new dams.  
I now look at my own reflection,  
And see a figure composed of fascinating lines shielding me from your infection.

I am on my way to finding my peace,
But need to put my thoughts together to find my release.
It may be forgiveness, prevention or punishment,
But no longer will I undermine my own torment.

It may sound funny when I say I wish I was a superhero,
So I would know when a girl is in danger of touch and close to Ground Zero.
I’ve lived my years carrying the guilt of watching women fall one by one,
Of never being able to prevent another unwanted son.

I now understand there is only so much I can do,
For I am an ordinary person with a big heart turned blue.
I only wish my words will inspire, the victims of this fire,
To embrace their burns and wear them as an iron attire.

My growth and strength came as a result of patience,
It took years and tears to show me a way out of complacence.
But in an effort to give you a lift,
I have found myself adrift.

I have tried to be a saviour,
Forgetting to save myself before and bring myself to shore.
Today is the day I become my own light,
And fight to stay bright in the night.

Monster, you may now live in paradise,
Walking around as the devil in disguise.
But I believe in divine retribution,
And live in peace knowing you will get your fatal conclusion.

You are a monster, and I was your prey,
But today, I am no longer in decay.
With these words I purge myself of your touch,
For I’ve released my demons back into Hell and no longer seek a crutch.

Embrace the madness watch what you become
A being of light radiant like the Sun
Witness empires fall..Kingdoms come
Tell the tales of humanity the wicked ones
No heaven can hold a heart so bold
Space I fold when tales are told
Chop it up..clean it..nicely rolled
Inhale..exhale..now I'm blowed
Witness the magic without the rabbit
You may not see it best believe I have it
Eat up Demons devour bad habits
Visions of violence taste the tragic
I have no limits I wear no chains
Not held back by illusion or mental strain
Pull plug on sorrow let it drain
Take every pain make it a gain
You see insanity has its perks
Mastering moments doesn't always work
Yet to try doesn't hurt
Possibilities are endless so I flirt
You see I can ramble on for days
Share Vibrations to get a raise
Combinations come in many ways
Tapped into a song that always plays
My soul is thirsty I need a drink
I look..I see what people think
Of course it's insanity I live on the brink
Only few get my Devils wink
So I sit writing lines
Dropping my thoughts like land mines
One exploded in the rhyme
Memories splattered throughout time
For once let the madness take control
Evolve pass boundaries of your soul
Embrace the obvious that makes you grow
Unlock hidden knowledge you already know..

Pennarby shaft is dark and steep,
Eight foot wide, eight hundred deep.
Stout the bucket and tough the cord,
Strong as the arm of Winchman Ford.
'Never look down!
Stick to the line!'
That was the saying at Pennarby mine.

A stranger came to Pennarby shaft.
Lord, to see how the miners laughed!
White in the collar and stiff in the hat,
With his patent boots and his silk cravat,
Picking his way,
Dainty and fine,
Stepping on tiptoe to Pennarby mine.

Touring from London, so he said.
Was it copper they dug for? or gold? or lead?
Where did they find it? How did it come?
If he tried with a shovel might he get some?
Stooping so much
Was bad for the spine;
And wasn't it warmish in Pennarby mine?

'Twas like two worlds that met that day--
The world of work and the world of play;
And the grimy lads from the reeking shaft
Nudged each other and grinned and chaffed.
'Got 'em all out!'
'A cousin of mine!'
So ran the banter at Pennarby mine.

And Carnbrae Bob, the Pennarby wit,
Told him the facts about the pit:
How they bored the shaft till the brimstone smell
Warned them off from tapping -- well,
He wouldn't say what,
But they took it as sign
To dig no deeper in Pennarby mine.

Then leaning over and peering in,
He was pointing out what he said was tin
In the ten-foot lode -- a crash! a jar!
A grasping hand and a splintered bar.
Gone in his strength,
With the lips that laughed--
Oh, the pale faces round Pennarby shaft!

Far down on a narrow ledge,
They saw him cling to the crumbling edge.
'Wait for the bucket! Hi, man! Stay!
That rope ain't safe! It's worn away!
He's taking his chance,
Slack out the line!
Sweet Lord be with him! 'cried Pennarby mine.

'He's got him! He has him! Pull with a will!
Thank God! He's over and breathing still.
And he -- Lord's sakes now! What's that? Well!
Blowed if it ain't our London swell.
Your heart is right
If your coat is fine:
Give us your hand! 'cried Pennarby mine.

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? Jeremiah 17:9

Also from experience but through revelation
The heart of a man can hold great devastation
A man gone wrong can drain the soul of another,
Contaminate the soul of a mother
And change the mind of a child
Hate in daddies eyes, as the baby cries….
The Devil sat back and smiled
This morning the news said our future looks bleak,
No one can find what they seek
And I thank God that I know love
What chaotic life can be made when hearts of stone have been laid……..
As a foundation for our youth, and the children we dispose of
Our children are dying but our mothers aren’t crying
Because they are the cause of the needless pain
The children are misused and their bodies abused
And really it’s all in vain
The sickness within has spread like disease
and infected the general population
Now these children are grown and the seeds have been sown to carry on a mental devastation
Rumors of wars and personal vendettas in store from the people who lead you to hell
The path is narrow but the gates are wide
and my soul is not for sell
They say money is the root of all evil…… but really it’s the hands that exchange
The TV says *** sells and to look towards fame and glory… that’s not my story
And I am starting to think I have been short changed
The TV sells lies that are cleverly disguised
and I worry about my child’s perception
In the mind of a child is the twisted reality
of this world’s perverse deception
I wish I could cry but my emotions are dry….. I have been desensitized
And every time I turn on this **** TV… the chaos… has me mesmerized
I want to know what happens next, my mind is oversexed
and I am being told I need a drink
I used to believe it was easier to just get blowed….I didn’t have the energy to think
Well there’s a pill for every ill and a drug
for every memory I would like to erase
I wonder sometimes, while I am forced to commit crimes
if one day I will be free from this place
But my child has to eat and I won’t accept defeat……. I am also on the paper chase
I have hope still that the people’s free will can lead them to seek God’s face
Hope in a hopeless world is a danger all in itself
Passion, Empathy, Loyalty and Love
Exchanged in the place of wealth

While I grow older, heart’s of men grow colder
But I understand….the weight of the world can be profound!
If I could cry for the pain of the world,
By now I surely would have drowned
There is no true relief from this constant disbelief,
My head to the sky and my feet on the ground
I hope my daughter knows love and I am forgiven for my ultimate sin
Taking another life to avoid this world’s strife
And escape the hearts of men

Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save. Psalm 146:3

I came across a terrible road,
Too damaged for one to walk.
I watched the leaves as the wind blowed,
And suddenly came to a stop.

Within the crack of the crumbling rock,
A single flower now grew.
Who knew that healing would come so quick,
If that healing was coming from you?

Eish i see stars in the day  
moon in mid day. My frnd sometimes u a bad sometimes  u a gud to me


I give up  give up  marijane
you make  high like highest paid
president obama
i feel   so high  tht i could talk to GOD to came
u a not meant for the youth
one puff blowed my
head up

Every time it goes, that snow blows.
But the time it comes, who goes to blow snow?
The times have gone, that snow blows.
So what time will come, when snow is needed to be blowed?
And when the time comes for these snow-blowers to go blow snow,
Will it be time for snow to be blowed to make it go?
When the time comes for these snow-blowers snow blows to go,
The snow will go, as time blows.
Every time it goes, that snow blows.

The boy, shaking with excitement, nervously bangled the key into the tiny obscuration, just as he sank it deep in the purse and twisted it began to give as if to break and he stopped. The wretched key would not turn no matter which way he fumbled it into the opening trying. He, puzzled, sat back on his haunches and squeezing his countenance…carefully, slowly, measured in his way, he slid it in without a waver and sank it into place. A foul wind blowed and forced his cough but with it came the flutes…and just then, as if by magic, a voice so resolute;

“Heaven’s treasure cannot be seen or known except in heart’s desires,”

“And certainly never be known by a farmer-boy or filth-trodden squires!”

“For ancient sealing of box so great withheld Pandora’s fires!”

“…but listen closely for a truth is hidden in conundrum,”

The little boy gleamed with excitement as he dropped on his hands placing his ear to the keyhole whence the fluting and cherubic voice extruded…though nothing came forth? Try as he might, the key again and again, there was nothing more to the magic of the box. Though he was sure that in this box a treasure was to be found, in all his days, the many numbered, never did resound, never did the voice again give instruction to propound, never did it give again to magic thus profound and never did he figure out, the mystery which did confound!

  To wit the newest little boy said;

“But grandpa how does the story end then?”

  Without haste he replied to the child;

“Never want-for, nor ask, nor seek out, all the paths of heaven’s fortunes,”

“Never covet sacred knowledge or doubt the god’s contortions,”

“Forever all will be as well as good as you can be, if you can be a richer man when giving other's portions…”

  With that said the old farmer died. His daughter and the child’s mother, tears streaming down her flustered cheeks, grabbed him up and began to say a prayer for her dead father while unbeknownst to the family; a troupe in their employ had been employed by someone else and that someone was waiting for a signal. At the moment of the man’s passing the horse-hand ran from the sprawling estate to a well at the fork in the dirt road leading to the local town. There sat a traditional well and bucket with a large copper bell at the top and he rang it with a fervent vigor. The black horses in the thickets past the field bellicosely retorted as they were whipped into an action. Then along came the banker’s chariot, filled with three men in black, riding quickly to the manor’s door;

-judge, pastor, banker.

  Storming into the home the pastor ran to comfort them and strutting-forth, so the banker and his judge in stride comportment too. Slight his pause and nary couth the banker announced his judge and from his handbag produced a document, an unwieldy scroll of parchment…

“Alas my dear and sorrowful child be happy for this great farm! Your inheritance is more than most and do not be alarmed! For we have come upon the courts with documented trust, read this here then sign away to keep the farm you must! For all you see and gathered to you, bought upon agreement, that on thick trunk with gleaming content be exchanged to me for deed it seem-med!”

  Shocked, the woman protested;

“Never nay, what’s this you say? The box his greatest treasure…he would not have done, no this cannot be, sold it without inform me and in measure, for he hath had this since a boy of youth collecting wood in winter’s cold displeasure?”

  The judge stepped forth to conclude the matter and gave her some, though curt, respite;

“Now, now dear we feel your loss but see these lines and see these costs? Chickens, horses, sheep, a wagon, seeds and stock and land, a home, -the lumber, nails, the roof of stone? O’er the years buying more and more, whilst only for once to settle this score, upon release here is your deed, give us the box for which you have no need, this is not a matter of one man’s greed for it says in payment here and here, collateral, that box was dear!”

  In came the horse-hand with axe and fury, chopping apart the bedroom floor, -and in such a hurry, the four they cooed and sighed aloud, as a gleaming treasure chest appeared before the crowd, dropping all the four to knee as banker cried his rapacious glee;

“All these long years did I thus wait and now will find the heaven’s gate! Load it men, the treasure ours, the moon and sun, the awesome stars, the untold secrets of millennia past, we are rich as all the ancient Kings at last!”

Before they left he turned to her and proudly presented his palm extended;

“The key there deary…”

She begrudgingly removed the necklace about her neck and handed it over…after the men had left her little boy said;

“Don’t cry mom and don’t worried, boy have I got to tell you a story!”

The End of the Golden Key

We'll be well cabbaged
before we're spring greened,
snowed on, blowed on,
Christmas glowed on.

Out of our walnut shells we'll come,
cycling for pleasure, recycling
for good measure, joining
the cycling chains of life.

His eyes sparkling
      with fear,
Because infront of him
       was a spear,
As he moved back,
        his neck,
Touched the door,
   He couldn't move back more,
He tried the handle,
And the swish of air blowed the candle,
All went in vain,
  He screamed with pain,
BC spear went straight into his chest,
  Oh! What , i can't do rest,
Further he thought,
   It was a nightmare i ought,

It begins from the red gem.
It was created by the glittering stone.
The stone turns yellow, orange, sometimes red.
Color changed by the force of wind.
The stone breathes so hardly.
It breathes out black air.
It was dying and was having last breath.
Stone's expiration was much slower, thick white air.
The housewife forced it to glow.
But it was its last effort.
It was its maximum.
The red gem gave its life to
the one next to it and
Finally the images became blured...
And the stone closed its eyes.
The last breath of the burning coal;
the smoke, began to rise in the air
Its hands were longing to touch the sky
As the wind blowed it faded away,
May be melted, in the air
and it vanished away like a ghost.

The first time I saw your radiant glow
It came from those globes you call eyes.
They took me around the world, to places
Neither discovered nor explored.
Through hell and back,
I slashed and hacked my way
Through vine and brush
To see your light
Because it was more beautiful
Than the glistening river that ran
Through the valley below me
And the sparkling snow
That fluttered and blowed
At the summit above.
Your light was warmer than the breeze
After I dipped my body in the
Crystal clear tides of the sea
And it was more brilliant
Than the silhouette of galaxies
I saw in the sky before I slept.
When I finally closed my eyes
I couldn't see any darkness
Because I dreamt of you.

Alas, there he stands
Far above ocean sands,
The eyes close and ears have opened
To the world of sound around him.

Far could the eye strech out
Across the ocean in the sun's route,
No land can be found upon the horizon
Except the rock below his bare feet.

Each and every cresant wave,
Break above what he sets to brave
And covers its depths in uncertainty
To force the truth to be unknown.

And high above these waves below
Off an end of the ocean plateau
He leans and lisens with eyes closed
To the crashing of the waves underneath.

The birds echo through the sky
And do echo the waves' war cry
For he stands unclothed and silent
Preparing for a dive of faith.

The springs of his ankles unload,
And in hair and ears the winds blowed
His linked hands and fingers led the way,
And his closed eyes trusted the future.

Faster, more does his speed quicken
The mist of the waves does thicken
And louder the wind whistles, the waves crash
Although no drops of fear pour from his soul.

Plumitting to the depths at last,
Into the waves comes a decisive crash,
And now the test has arrived at his hands,
To dive deep for devils and their secrets.

Written: July 3, 2006 @ 11:35 PM CDT

Old Anchor

An old anchor rests on a peaceful bay dock
Sixty years he has been aweigh
His iron is rusted from crown to his stock
As he dreams of his shining day

When his metal was young and his arms were strong
And his flukes and palms were grand
He steadied his ship and her souls the day long
As she docked in many a land

He knew many a rode and by cathead was stowed
As his ship traversed ocean and sea
And when mighty gales blowed, he held tight to his load
Making sure she would never break free

But with journeys and age and the turn of the page
Every story must come to an end
And this anchor, though sage, earned his pensioner’s wage
And now dreams on this dock, my friend

© Victor Fuhrman

it is quiet now.

when you reach out for me,
you grab my attention.
you let me know it is real.
those moments of clear.
purely cleared. where the fingertips
come in the form of pictures my brain
cannot ignore.
these pictures are attached to feelings of One,
and I hold onto these moments.

I think of them, under the vast blue sky.
how the mountains moved with me.
how the freedom felt in front of me,
beside me, behind me. I was free to roam.
free to chose which way, again.
those moments, these were the ones
I would reload.
it is quiet out there.

once, in the middle of no where,
there was a storm.
the lightening struck down all around,
my fists clenched the wheel.
the desire to go home was pulsing
through my knuckles.
I only moved forward.

once, in the middle of the winter,
there was a storm,
the snow blowed and the road
was inches thick in ice.
my fists clenched the wheel,
I felt free to live.
I knew life would meet me on the other side.
I drove slow, and allowed the embrace.

this gypsy soul knows no home.
its the road, the path of my feet.
the beat is kept by the breeze and the free.
to explore this space might be home.
the searching for the next new moment.
learning its tone, then on to the next.
leaving bits behind.

its so quiet, the silence might be home.
I would moan into the quiet,
piercing its peace.
low, slow rolls of me.
these are the points where creation speaks.
in these quiet, lonely places.
the voice comes out on the wind.
my heart breaks free, quietly.

and again,
the blue above guides me,
I listen and fall in love over and over and over...

There was a mountain across the grill
Long and far
It stayed there still
There was a rising view of colored hues
And magic breeze
It blowed gently for miles
There was a book lying upon my desk
With a thousand notes and thoughts untill
The pen that wrote the mighty words
Of the glory days fullfilled
I sat there gazing and wondering why
The cold was dark and blue
The sky was mist and winter chill
My eyes were painting hues
I penned some words
Of tress and shrubs
Life living the mountain ways
I made some tea
With warmth and feel
And a book indeed to read
Realizing my ways
Not all is lost
His ways are still unclear
He has your back
All you need is to start
Coz Not all views in life lead to a journey
some lead to your heart❤️

She was their World,
Her presence made their hearts run wild,
Her smile melted the iron bars,
Holding power to manipulate time.

But she slept,
For eternal rest.
Leaving behind all her memories,
Eloping to a World,
That cannot be approached, without pain.

The red rose in her garden,
Shed tears every dawn,
Wanting the touch of a hand,
That caressed its petals,
With deep love.
Every dusk it cried,
'Come back! Come back, dear.'

The old tree that stood for aeons,
Withered its leaves,
As if eager,
To reach a destination.
That would make it,
Meet her.
Acknowledging that actions were
Futile,
It said, weeping,
'Come back! Come back dear.'

The dresses in her almirah,
Stood still,
As if lifeless.
They didn't move,
Not even when winds,
Blowed,
Still shocked,
That she left them,
Not even a tear dropped down,
But they quitely prayed,
For her to come back.

The house was dull,
As if blood was,
Withdrawn from its body.
No voices,
Only eeire silence of longing.
The incessant darkness,
Inside it,
Only wanted her light.
And it wished,
For her to come back.

Then were they,
In the niche,
Crying for what they lost.
She was their blood,
Their soul,
Her smile made them smile,
Her pain made them frown,
Her worries made them worried,
Her satisfaction made them satisfied.

But she had left,
Taking all their emotions,
With her.
Only leaving them with,
Unending tears.
In their hearts of hearts,
They wished for her,
To COME BACK.

Dreams of lost freedom
and unreal happiness
grew in her broken heart
to be blowed away
by someone else's hands.

Empty soul and empty life
without path she goes.
Day and night went by
and nobody realised
her rainy eyes got greener
in her rainbow-skin.

No wish to show
what she got after all,
everything is covered with lies
and empty smiles.

There's no other sign
but her honest eyes
which get greener with the rain
from her stormy heart.

Old hopes will never come back;
all dreams've been broken apart.
No place to go, no one to talk.
No peace was made
for her forgotten soul.

She walks alone. Her mind's lost.
She hears a call, turns and falls.
This is the end. Her eyes will close,
greener than never before.

Providence the dreadful mystery;
The impeccable dignities and places
Sweep in spirals, from the sand;
that blowed And licked at your feet
The world Conceived before those hills
Foot-fast; Look, where He strove to get at.

Maybe I should of ran, and dashed
Grabbed your gun, when I had the chance
I'm trying to keep the burning tears behind my eyes
Trying desperately to maintain my disguise
I know you don't see what I really could be
Or loaded guns you wouldn't have left with me

My actions where becoming feral
As I put in my mouth the cold steel barrel
But this being your gun, and the blind trust you showed
You seeing me with the back of my head blowed
Pieces of me
All over the trees
Well.....I couldn't let that be
So I removed the gun from my mouth, put it away
When you came back I smiled like it was just any other day

I went to see the winter sky at night.
I was in the hills, and the wind blowed ferociously.
The stars looked so bright, my eyes-
They could almost see myself in that light.

I was so dead when I was in the hills that night,
I couldn’t feel anything except for cold numbness in January.
I slithered out lies
When they asked if I was doing alright.

I felt like a black hole amidst heaven’s bright.
I stood in the balcony to listen to animals, calmly.
But I couldn’t hear them over the sound of my goodbyes.
During those dark and numb winter hours, I lacked sight.

I was dead back then,
I am a little less dead now.
I hope I am alive someday.

Really scared of knowing
Wether there is a second life
Where do I go?
Will my conscience wander or
be imprisoned in my rotting and lifeless body
Will the pain fade like dust blowed in the table?
Or will be chained in my soul

In my slumber, will there be guest?
If they visit, what are their purpose?
Are they here to criticize my clothes?
or here to **** the design of my coffin?
Are they here to taste coffee at bread while playing cards?
Or just visit to celebrate with joy for I am gone
I'm afraid to know

In reality
Im not just afraid of this inevitable day.
But also on the regret on my left loveones
the regret that I will carry on failed expression
of how they are precious to me and I'll be going
For the most painful farewell are those leaving that are unsaid and unexplained

Oh seismic Kate, why can't you wait until I get home from the fields
the corn's turning brown and the rain's hissing down and the cat doesn't mind
she's indoors.

But I'll be beggared and blowed if this road doesn't end at the end of my nose and tha' knows that it's none to the wise if thee don't open thar eyes,
thee might as well skate on wet fish.

Their Trumpler wags his finger, pounds his chest, does abhor and detest, yet,
Unlike the rest, I refuse to protest the pomposity of his demeanor, regress.
For, as I wrote three decades ago, they think with spooned nose, speak with
forked tongue, yet, '...we(e),...', will not be undone, only if you still will.
A nation's youth sacrificed to the dogs of war, and it's keep, plundered deep,
can give no more to ravenous avarice ******, the global oligarchy, seated,
then entrenched in our Gov't's executive branch, dismissing all who won't cower.
In 2016 you couldn't throw a rock without hitting a revolutionary or radical,
because 'Hillary wasn't pure, perfect', their excuse for helping install Trumpler
in the Kluckahouse, now where's their sound and fury, their installed feurher
states, African countries are 'shitholes', now, immigrants are 'animals',
our nations heroes 'aren't', ad infinitum, where's the 'Bernie or Bust 'Bots'
'revolution', declared in the beginning of 2016 by him, now. The dinos, sinos,
linos, ginos ainos declare their allegiance to the illusion of non-violence,
steadfastly, as it's evidently better than the delusion of violence, while their
invisible coup's installing the king kong sized terrible two as emperor, along
with the FBI, NSA, CIA, NSC, Assange, wikileaks, hackers globally, remocrat
Conspiracy, immoral minority, Putin's puppets All, is the most violent event
purposely unprevented since the levees in NOLA were let fail, the unnecessary
unending war in Iraq started, and king george and his ****, cheney purposely
didn't prevent the attacks on 9-11-01, with the republican conspiracy elite.
Cloven covens of their actual religion of materialism, which they all practice
behind masks of 'used' religions, worldviews, spiritualities, clustering in
their conclaves, meet, with unremarkable tidings, the time is neigh for all
to die from climate change, decimated environs, undrinkable water, unedible
food, unbreathable air, unarable land, their 'final solution', ending humanity,
is at hand. Still, the machinations of our technocracy's machinings of human
beings, succeed in their device's designs, bring us ever closer to their
extreme narcissism's lack of way, nihilism, their lifeless choices, hedonism,
and their self-possessed, la machine's, language of 0's and 1's, always tolling
for their bottom lines needs, exigency replacing humanity per force of self-
programming, tragically, no? Does the fiber of your being, the sinew of it's
meaning shout, as to forever echo on, no? Whilst words, symbols, also being
paths of study, can't lead to self-emancipation, for the intellect can't lead,
as the life does not follow, if one allows questions to be, until answers evolve,
they can inform perception's growth, to signs and meanings along the way, uplift
vision. The corporate structure's convolution, and it's devolutionary direction,
proffer otherwise. As his heart's being ripped from the heart in the heart
of the heartland, in his mind's eye, she still stands, hair as if ablazed by
the truest wind that e'r blowed, her hand ever unwavers, raised, with it's torch
yet unschorched, it's light still a beacon of hope and the liberty that birthed
it, to all entering our NY's harbor, if death needs be proud, then let it be, now.
As vernal, the melodies of nature evolve us, let's not forget, urgently separating
the real religion which all religions, etc., are a front for, avarice, from the
State, as dictated by our Constitution, must be done, if not humanity's extinction
will result, and almost all until then was just the premeditated mass-****** of
7 billion in ever more various and myriad forms. Viva la evolution.   reality

With you is like, with Love
Your glowing orange,
Or is that just your aura In my mind,
With you I feel like I'm blowed
Out my mind
But the blunt was never sparked
So its you who had me feeling
Warm feelings drinking cold wine
Not enough time
To write what's on my mind
Because I know
My thoughts are intangible
And my dream are unimaginable

“I sure like your blowed-up hair!
A lovely day!
A lovely day!
Let’s light a candle for your blowed-up hair!

No ideas for being locked in for a week!
It’s later!
Play with the peacocks and the monkeys yesterday!
Play with the peacocks and the monkeys yesterday!

Well y’all have a blessed day! A blessed day!”

A kind voice from the next booth: “Bless her heart.”

                                 Amen