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Dorothy A May 2016
They could practically be heard arguing throughout the whole diner, but they were oblivious to their small audience of onlookers in the heat of their conflict. Tori stood there with her hands on her hips as her husband, Hank, made himself clear that he was upset. He was sitting up at the counter on one of the barstools eating his chili. On the other side, Tori poured herself a much needed cup of coffee.

“You’re a waitress, not Mother Theresa! A mother with two hungry mouths!” he bellowed out to her. “That’s less money that goes into our pockets! What the hell were you thinking, Tor?”

“Was only helping a poor guy out!” she shot back. “He looked hungry and—big deal—so I bought him something to eat! So forget it, Hank, cuz I’m not sorry!” She remained defiant in her stance, unapologetic in her Good Samaritan role. Her boss never allowed her to give free food away, so the food was on her. It was a hot dog and fries, one time, some bacon and eggs, another.  She got the man bagels, donuts, toast, oatmeal—whatever she could supply with his usual cup of coffee he ordered. It was obvious from the word go that he had little in his pocket, and he could barely put a tip on the table—usually a nickel or a dime, sometimes a few pennies. He wore the same shabby tee shirt, flannel shirt and bummy jeans. And those pitiful shoes—with his dingy white socks poking through at the big toe of his right foot—that was pitiful.  So what if she had two young children? Nobody was going into the poor house because she bought a poor guy a few meals.

“Well, stop buying him food! No more!” Hank commanded. Tori gave him her best you’re not the boss of me look as he put his spoon down and walked over to the booth towhere the man with unkempt, silvery hair, and an untrimmed beard, sat.  That was his usual spot, and that was Tori’s booth to cover.  

The man just stared at him, not seemingly startled by the younger man who boldly confronted him. “Hey, look!” Hank said, lowly, yet sharply, “Straight up and no *******. Get a job. Get a life. Just quit taking advantage of my wife. Got it?”

It didn’t seem like the intimidation was working. The man just stared at Hank, his deep, soulful, brown eyes could penetrate right through him, and Hank wanted to shift his gaze away. He didn’t though, for that wouldn’t have given him the menacing upper hand. “Well!” he demanded, fidgety and frustrated, “What’s your problem?” The response was simply the same silent stare and Hank blurted out through clenched teeth, “Don’t take nothing no more from my wife!”

Unexpectedly, the man placed his hand upon Hank’s and said, “My son, don’t be angry. Sin no more. I give you my blessing, and go now in peace”. Hank quickly pulled his hand away, his face burning with embarrassment. A few guys at table nearby snickered at the sight of the pair.

“The guy’s nuts!” Hank got up and moved back to the counter. “What does he think? He’s Jesus or something?”

“Hank, quit stirring up drama or you gotta leave! You’re gonna drive out business!” Al chimed in. Al was in the kitchen helping the cooks in the back to get out orders. Now if anyone had a right to kick Hank out it was him. He owned the place.

Hank, still enraged, pointed his finger at Tory and promised, “We’ll talk later!” He quickly stormed out. Tory was not to be dictated to, feeling vindicated for her kind actions.

Well, everyone thought the man who tried to bless Hank was harmless, off kilter, maybe, but harmless. He didn’t seem to cause any trouble, and he minded his own business—only spoke until spoken to, and it was always with grace. Was there something special about him? It was only Tori and fellow waitress, Bonnie, who put more stock into this than anyone else would.

“And what if he is God?” Bonnie asked.

Al scoffed, trying to keep the conversation at a low minimum.  “You sound just as loony as he is”

“Well? And what if he was?” Tori backed up Bonnie. “Or maybe even an angel! You know they can come in many disguises! Maybe God is trying to test us to see if we really give a ****. Did you ever think of that?”

Al shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “Test us?” he asked back as if Tori had no sense at all. “You’ve watched too many TV shows!” He raised his hands up in a grand fashion of showmanship, knife in hand,” Or maybe I’m not the owner of Al’s Diner, but I’m really God myself”, he mocked.  “So, as God, my dear little children, I command you back to work! Come on, now! Chop, chop!” He started to shoo everyone away. “How you think we are going to feed the masses, huh? With loaves and fishes? Customers! Customers! Get those orders moving!”  

The smells and sizzling sound of hamburgers on the grill were enticing to the senses. Tori and Bonnie went back to busily retrieving orders, and Al went to chopping some tomatoes, but soon he was playfully tapped on the shoulder.  It was Amber, another waitress who never seemed privy to the conversation.  “You remember this song?” she asked him, singing the tune in an off-key way, “What if God was one of us, just a slob like one of us….”

“Just a stranger on a bus, trying to make his way home…” Tori sung along, cheerfully moving about, adding a pretty, more melodious tone to the song.  

“Exactly”, Bonnie exclaimed, enthusiastically. “Like God’s gone undercover!”

Al rolled his eyes, for he thought he made himself clear he was done with this talk. But he couldn’t help but get a kick out his quirky waitresses. “Sure I know that tune—a few decades back—blonde chick—what’s her name?” he asked, smirking.  

“Joan Osborne”, Bonnie proudly stated. “Cool song, too. Makes you think a bit…at least for me.”

“And so why not ask him who he is?” Joey asked. “He’s got a name.”

It was like everyone forgot Joey was in the room though he was busily busing tables and sweeping floors. Tory, Bonnie and Al stopped what they were doing and intently looked at the teen. He seemed to ask a sincere question.  Al burst out laughing. “Now someone’s talking sense, and chalk it up to the kid with good wits. Yeah, Joey, these ladies just want to exist in fantasy land. Go, Team Al!”

Joey shook his head and said, soberly, “Not taking anyone’s side. I just think he’s got a name and he’s got a story behind him…and it isn’t what you think, Tori…or even you, Al.”

Al waved his hand to dismiss the whole thing. “Yeah, his name is probably Ralph, or something. Even then, I bet Tory would believe he is the Almighty right there in the flesh!”

“I would!” Tory shot back. She looked at Joey and answered, “Maybe you do think I’m as bad as Al does, but you’re too polite to admit it…but…yeah…I did ask him his name.”

“And, so?” Al asked, pretending with wide eyes to be full wonder, like he was clinging to every word, anxiously. “What’s his name?”

He was simply finding humor at her expense, and Tori wished she never said a thing. She reluctantly replied, “I am what I am.”

What?” Bonnie asked. “What does that mean?”  

Al replied, “I am what I am! Well, that sure don’t mean Popeye, sweetie!” With a comical, gravelly voice, he did his best Popeye imitation, “I yam what I yam and that’s all I am!”, squinting up one of his eyes he teased Tori, “Got that Olive Oyl?”

Bonnie and Joey laughed along at the sight of him, and Al added, “Look! I may be practically an atheist, but I’m not ignorant to the bible. That’s just what God said to Moses when he asked the same question!”

Tory defended the poor man that she so proudly helped. “So what if he does think he is God? He’s not doing anyone any harm, is he?” Al completely ignored her, so Tory to turned to Joey, and asked again, “What harm is there in it?”

Joey slightly smiled at Tory, trying to remain respectful to her beliefs, and said, “Truth be told, I don’t know much about God. I’m not a churchy person. He pointed over at the poor man in the booth and said, “I just know if God existed, it’s not him.”
  
Tori was saddened by Joey’s words. It was not that because he didn’t believe her ideas were feasible—that maybe God was testing them—but that he didn’t even know if God existed. The youth nowadays—who did they have to look up to?  Who guided them? The internet? Their cell phones? So many people seemed to have walked away from their faith or had none at all. And Al reminded Tori so much of her own dad. She grew up in a home without religion. Her mom had a vague notion of God, but her dad was a huge skeptic that had the same mocking spirit that Al had. Neither her father or Al were bad guys, but there were no miracles in their worldview. There was nothing divine, and everything was so ordinary and practical.

But Tori always felt awestruck by the world, nature and the animals, a curious minded child. She was the one who had that childlike faith—even now as a grown woman—and she yearned to know God, personally, not just know about Him. She just had to believe that this world and the universe were not all just for nothing, not at all a happenstance, not a just a brief journey on this earth and then that was it. It was after searching and yearning that Tori went to her friend’s church, and soon became a Catholic. She might have been alone in her family in this endeavor, but it gave her life more meaning.

Tori would look at the figure of Jesus upon the crucifixion and oddly was comforted by the sight of him that might bring others revulsion or doubt—the nails piercing his hands and feet, the thorn of crowns, the blood, the tragic sight of his lifeless body so cruelly tacked up upon the cross.  She raised her own two children to know God, and Hank’s lukewarm feelings did not match hers. He wasn’t much help in that department at all. But she knew by looking through the bible that true life was about helping other people, that God loved the poor and the downcast. To find your life, you had to lose your life. To feel exalted, you had to humble yourself. To give your life, to save someone else’s—well, that was the greatest gift you could give. That means you gave it all.  She might not have been the smartest person in the world, but she didn’t need to be bible scholar to figure such things out.  

Well, it would be a while before Tori would see her special customer again. But one day she ran back into the kitchen and told Al, excitedly, “His name is Bill!”

Al shot her a strange look, and then he got the connection. “Oh, so that’s God name?” he said jokingly.

Tori pulled him by the arm and took him out front, summoning Bonnie and Joey over, too. Bill was sitting in the same booth he often did, but there at the counter stool sat a petite, sixty-something-year-old woman whom everyone was about to meet. “Al, Bonnie, Joey, this is Bill’s sister, Mary”, Tori introduced her. “She shared with me about Bill’s story, and I think you should know, too.”   She looked like Bill, but had black dyed hair and was better put together. There was a warm and gentle way about her that intrigued Tori. And she sat there to shield her brother by keeping him out of the conversation, for she didn't want to upset her brother by mentioning something that might cause him pain.

Actually, they all were intrigued by her story.  Mary had told them that Bill once had a family, a wife and two sons. He couldn’t keep a steady job, though, and he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. His wife divorced him years ago and moved out of state with their two boys. His sons never tried to contact him, and he hasn’t seem ever since. For quite a while, Bill lived on his own, but he didn’t take good care of himself. He was living more poorly than ever—not eating right or caring for himself, erratically taking his medication, and so it wasn’t a surprise that he lived a deluded life. “He does strange stuff like that, think he is God”, Mary admitted to Tori. “He’s been made fun of a lot for acting that way, and it’s my job to watch over him and see that he is safe. So now I help take care of him, and he lives with me. Bill’s always been too proud to accept my help, but the doctor says being with me will help to give him a better life”. Mary was a widow, and she didn’t have much money herself, but she did what she could to protect her brother.  

Al looked embarrassed, knowing now the truth about Bill and realizing he was making fun when he should have known better. Mary gave Tori a huge hug. “And thank you”, she said to Tory, “for looking out for my brother, too.”  Everyone, even Al, was deeply touched by their embrace.  

“You know that Tori is a saint”, Bonnie bragged on her behalf to reiterate the same sentiment. “There should be more people like her.”

Tori remained humble and disagreed, “No, I’m just doing what we should all do in this world. If anything, it teaches me that we should all see God in every opportunity.”

Al whispered into Tori’s ear and told her, “You want to give him something to eat again, well now don't bother paying for it. It's on me”.  She smiled at him like was ready to give him a big hug, and he added, “Don’t think this makes me all buying all this God stuff—or anything”.

“And why not?” she asked.  

He replied with his own question, the ultimate question that people have been asking for ages. "Why would any god allow a man to suffer like that? Just look at him! How could that happen and you still think there is some guy in the sky that's all warm and fuzzy, like some invisible Teddy bear?"  

"Oh, you mean so how can God be loving, fair and merciful?", she snapped back, hurt that Al would make faith sound so childish and idiotic. Tori thought a moment, and simply replied, "I could ask the same question. Is life fair? Is it just wishful thinking? Actually, all my life I've wondered such things. The difference between us though is I don't know all the answer any better than you...but I still believe."

Al waved his hand away at her, "Whatever..."

"Wait!", Tori commanded him as he walked away. Al stopped and turned to face her like he was more than through with this conversation.  She said, "Maybe if us mere mortals did our job on earth of helping others, it would better a whole nother story. You'd probably have a different point of view, Al."

She didn't expect Al to have some bolt of enlightenment when it came to God, but before he went back to the kitchen he left her with words she wished he didn’t say. “All those people way back then…all those prophets and saints…supposing they were around today. You think they'd they stand up to today's world? I don't. Wouldn’t they on meds, too? I'd say we wouldn't see them any differently than we'd see Bill.”  Blindsided, she never did know how to follow up with all that. Al just knew how to rain on her nice parade.

Joey never said anything about that day, but when Bill came in again, Tori surely took special notice of them sitting together for a while. When she passed by the table, Joey was watching Bill walk around, and she quickly noticed the new black and green athletic shoes on his feet. Even on him, they looked sharp.

”They fit alright?”  Joey asked. Bill nodded, and shook the boy’s hand. He never said anything about it, but his silly, old grin—along with a few missing teeth—was priceless. He truly was happy to get those shoes. The old ones, with the hole in the toes, remained on the floor to be pitched out.  

Tori had to ask Joey, “You bought those for him? That’s so sweet of you!”

Joey smiled. “I just never could stand those beat up, old shoes”, he replied. “They are a good brand, but didn’t put me back that much. I’m not making a big deal about it, though. I’m not even going to tell anyone I did it. Only telling you, because you asked.”

“Makes you feel good, doesn’t it? Like it really makes a difference”.

“Yeah, it does. It’s like buying God a pair of shoes.”

Did he just say it was buying God a pair of shoes? How odd to hear that from Joey, but how that statement impacted her, and Tori would never forget that.  She gave Joey a peck on the cheek and a hug. He was like a little brother to him. She didn’t feel old enough to be a mother figure, but she felt some kind of sisterly feeling for him.

Joey went on to explain, “Yeah, I’ve been thinking a lot about Bill, lately. He lost his job, his family—he lost everything. No, he’s not God, but I was thinking…though I don’t know that much about religion or God, I thought that if you do
Muyi Jun 2017
I love ****** girls wit no rubber n robbing ******
These ******* aint on nothing
Can't rock wit the flagging ******
Im riding inna steamer
Im focused
Im watching ******
Them bullets hit yo femur
Them shells a be dropping ******

I hop out
Stand over buddy and letem have
U stupid ****
Swear I done told u about the static
His soul rise
Frozen n still as his cold eyes
His bros cry
Begging n pleading like don't die

Its funny 2 me
****** is sweeter than honey 2 me
My homie quarterbacking
Im thirsty
So run it 2 me
U ******* tryna stick me
Im witty
U dummy 2 me
U selling ***** d but Im pottie
U bummy 2 me

The beef I tried 2 squash it

But shorty said **** me

U blood related 2 me count yo blessings
Boy u lucky

Tryna war wit me

It could get ugly

****** in the field coming at u like its rugby

Deuce deuce make the biggest killer turn *****

School a hard knocks
Man u ****** playing hooky

How u tryna flex like u talking 2 a rookie

Stove on my waist
Chip a ***** like sum cookies

Caught a ***** slipping but my lawyer knock the case off
Nana clip
Raaat!
Peel his mufuckin face off
Snub nose
Pap
Take a mufucka face off
****** in the field
They just tryna get the base off--

I never really gave a ****
What's the point?
Lifes a gamble
Never crapping
Rolling 6
That's a point
Bro can serve u
What u need?
Gram a piff
That's a point
I aint joking leave u smoking off the rip like a joint
Awh man--

Tell me getem
N I gotem

****** missionary
N I think I hit the bottom

Bugging *** ***** on my **** so I swatem

Travel round the globe
No flex but I trottem

Double teaming hoes
We the tag team champions

Lucki Eck$ playing in the back Cuz its ambient

Going in her front
Fam coming thru the back

Fiend 4 the D
Yeah she craving 4 the sack

**** laced wit coke

Molly n a acid tab

Homie u is trash
We should throw u inna plastic bag
Homie u is *** n ***** so u gotta rash
Blowing money fast
Take a stash then I do the dash--

Poison in my veins
Baby I am so insane

Better watch the fangs
Shorty this is not a game

Devil on my shoulder
Angel scared 2 show his face
I would let u in my head but u can't relate
When Im high I think weird
Brandon brown Oct 2013
Never lived in the hood, I been good
Grew up in Glendale cuz pops did everything he could 
To keep this big roof that covers everywhere I stood
And keep bills paid so the house work like it should
But, that don't mean that I ain't live with no problems
I grew up liking girls and all I tried to do was holla
From 05 to 09 I used to always pop my collar
And walked up to see what a chic would do for a dollar
But come 2010 I learned a dollar doesn't get far
Start asking pops for money, he said what you need these bills for
I said just to have cash so I can buy stuff myself 
He said how is it yo self when it's coming from my wealth 
And in the end he was right so I ain't ask for no more help
Got a job, got paid, getting green, sea kelp
And well, I guess it all turned out great
From 210 to 2 now I been working for the cake
More hours, more pay
Is what I always say
Just to go and motivate
So I can get through everyday
Man I do this for thrill, I don't really need this money
And stop mugging me down, I ain't tryna take yo hunny
But please don't get mad if she like me cuz I'm stunning
And you dressing kinda bummy
Man yo breds ain't even gummy
My high tops get their own box
And my boxes reach high tops
My collection's a high top
You can't even make gumby
You funny
You mad at me for what ? Yup, nothing 
But haters gone hate so ill let you do what you does see
Cuz time don't ever stop, matter fact it's running from me
And I'm tryna catch up cuz less time means less money
So you go do you, and I'm gone do me til I'm done g
Cuz I ain't wasting sand in my glass if you don't love me
And don't be fake now, I don't want you tryna hug me
Cuz you know germs is germs and haters be on that *****
Yeah im nerdy, I'm smart
I'm a walking piece of art 
And I write these rhymes for fun
But it all comes from the heart 
I keep hundreds, yes hundreds of poems inside the dark
And more hundreds, maybe thousands get lost before they start
You know how you at the store putting stuff in yo food cart
Then get home and wonder what you bought all of this food for ?
Yeah these poems fill hunger that resides deep inside me
They are not just fun, they have now become a pride for me
And maybe it'll be more, maybe this pride can make it shine for me
Maybe all these girls around the world will build shrines of me
But now I gotta go, cuz you know how time can leak
Plus I don't want y'all think that y'all know what defines B. 
But I can't stop there, it's unfair to the public
And I know that y'all like it but I dare y'all to love it
Cuz if you love it then I'll keep going
Till it start snowing
And you knowing
Even though it's snowing
It ain't never boring 
Cuz these bars wasn't meant for snoring 
Meant for adoring fans
That'll still love me when I'm old and I'm done touring
I could do this for the rest of my life
I just love it, it takes pain away and dries every eye 
With out poems, I don't know man I just might die
This is real, when I write I just cannot lie
So, you can catch me in my notepad writing 
I'm tryna make this gold, y'all tryna start fighting
And to me that's motivation, I ain't saying that I'm liking it
I'm just saying if it's there I might as well get insight from it
And it's crazy, I just noticed that I can't lose
When it's bad I'm still good, when it's good I cruise
I'm sorry that it all happens at the expenses of you
But you can't stop my grind, imma do what I do
100
I'm tryna make it from the mil to the summit
I heard it's all lonely but the top is my abundance
So I'll bring who I want I don't care what the rules say
Chillin above the competition straight playing 2k
That dream will never fade in
That's why I always stay in
Cuz I wanna see the day where I can say that I made it
And they love me
I see the finish line so I'm running
Got a talent and a dream and you can't take that from me
No obstacles can stun me
I don't care about who judge me
I got my mind set so just tell the top I'm coming
Cause I am
Andre Baez Feb 2014
Four walls are screaming...

Lying here awakened by the deafened sound of silence
Casually existing in a manifestation of neighborly violence
Is a martyr of selfish explanation and station
In the mix for chairman on the way the satan
Gates open for him when he travels from his lair,
But travel comes in spurts of gravitational voids,
Filling up with meals as they enter without choice,
Or any sense of repair for what's there,
Entering crevasses and other openings along surfaces,
That allow one to feel worthlessness,
Never hoisting the trophy given to those whom represent perfectness,
Perfectionist can't resist the temptations to conjure mist,
To make sure and valid that works of art are works of fact which exist,
To be or not to be or create or mislead,
Proceeded by apologies that mislead atrocities,
Across cities so wickedly the deadliness of it all is least thrilling,
As a result of the bland toast experience that leaves most chilling,
Spine tingling, neck wringing, spinal tapping, and wired napping,
Saran wrapping over mouths made by ACME,
Causing destruction much like what's seen on TV,
And bought at your local pharmacy,
Where they farm human beings much like cattle, count the sheep?
Because you're snoring, sleeping through class again and looking bummy,
Roaring is coming from the bottomless pits of your tummy,
You devour the tiniest bits of crumbs and feeling crummy,
Misused sense of self existence is persistent to make you nothing

Because four walls are screaming
The world is yours
The world is foreign
The world is burned
The world is corse
The world is hoarse
The world is worse
The world it turns
The world it yearns
The world is yours
The world is yours
The word is yours
The word is yours

Shadows in the brightness of the dark,
Spread across expansive spaces of empty walls,
Suffocating the echoes formed by creaking halls,
Hand rise and fall while final gasps are drawn,
Choked sounds leaving as they enter withdrawal,
Enter into my senses stating that the beauty lies in dawn,
Drawn faces lie on skulls where lines are made of chalk,
The rest of the skeleton remains but must be bought in bulk,
Off branded and made by foreign nations,
Easily paid for with easy to find replacements,
The mind is not a terrible loss when you've only ever had half,
To lose another half would only be half as bad,
Half as much mind to get up out of the shield of bed sheets,
Half as much mind to walk, any given day, across any given street,
100% percent chance at the fate which awaits me,
Yet the safety net in place fools me to believe,
That a life without risk is worth living,
As ant piles form in any which place along the floor,
And the handles continuously fall from the doors,
Clothes, dishes, and homework, pile up into chores,
A fatal scene of tragedy reminiscent of noir,
Ambiguity remains in what lies just beneath,
The surface as the crust of earth acts as a sheath,
While the remainder of it grows rotten due to the cheats,
The liars and the friars who act as moonlit buyers,
Of incomplete factions and fractions of complete mishaps,
Perhaps an axe to the frontal lobe would loosen up control,
My eyes are scar filled and leaking massive amounts of soul,
The soil is darkening with fertilization,
While the source material is dying from being wasted,
It's the typical atypical response to taunts and trails of peril fraught,
With sounds emanating explaining the cause of a shot,
Straight through the heart piercing through the rock,
Cries to forget everything that's been taught, "it's a crock!"

Because four walls are screaming
The world is yours
The world is foreign
The world is burned
The world is corse
The world is hoarse
The world is worse
The world it turns
The world it yearns
The world is yours
The world is yours
The word is yours
The word is yours

To be happy or give family,
Satisfactions of being right you see,
Interactions of puppets tied to string,
Tears next to taxes they're filing,
Humming songs meant to sing,
Has long been the main thing,
To act yet never do the real thing,
It's a monstrosity of honesty,
Honestly saying you are not a thing,
You have no talents you aren't interesting, it's sickening,
That it's truly what they believe,
And thus extend it to fresh psyches,
Of their children like Socrates,
Faith in their words is philosophy,
Till one broke away from topography,
Stopping streams of tears in their streaks, it's done, it repeats,
But all in all is all that he needs,
To defeat the menacing grins to have them at his feet,
Groveling knowing in time that he'll be king,
The sequences flourish from new daisies to trash heaps,
It's a lion stalking and napping among sheep,
The bygones are gone by yet the goodbyes never cease,
The will of the strong is hoisted up by the weak,
But the weak were those who made up the soul of the strong,
The weak were once knights but turned into pawns,
To check into their mates and remain on call,
To stir up disaster by setting up the alarms,
Their charms through voice never lent psalm,
Through all dampening storms he always remained calm,
Even within the shelter of his apartment home,
Ignorance of the outside world didn't disperse of his wounds,
The shreds of skin, metal tasting flesh torn,
Separate the ligaments of the clothes worn,
Mercurial mental in the midsts of complete war,
Picture frames crowd around on the floor,
Commodities in short supply have dissolved,
A death will occur in a mystery solved...

Because four walls are screaming
The world is yours
The world is foreign
The world is burned
The world is corse
The world is hoarse
The world is worse
The world it turns
The world it yearns
The world is yours
The world is yours
The word is yours
The word is yours
There was this kid in college
pursuing his growth with knowledge
Towards elders he payed his homage
although troubled inside ;

Everyday after classes
fraternities caught em slackin
They told em he should be packin
he should not hold no pride ;

He questioned why they aint like em
they beat em and tried to sike em
Quit often at school he's frightened
out his mind he would go ;

After he called his master
jehovah many don't know off
The holy among the holies  
he would cry for his help ;

Why do you let them do this
they ruthless
Beating me toothless
he knew this but he said nothing
It was all in his plan ;

Walking from class and thinking
he saw em tried to avoid em
They followed to leave em hollow
he was angry inside ;

They smacked em
about the action
One had a bat and swung it
they took his bag and they flung it
He type wanted to die ;

Now months had passed he was enduring the stress
grades declining
Sorrow climbing
wasn't doin his best

Oh how could he achieve
soar and reach for his dreams
When these ******* kept him under
forced a trick up his sleeve ;

It was sunny-
he was bummy as he usually was
He approached em after class
they where they usually was
They had laughed in his face ;
called em broke and a ******
Wasn't laughing for long
since he pulled out the matic ;

Sporadic they started movin
the fear in they faces soothin
He told em you try to run
im puttin lead in you all ;
One pushes his homie forward
while falling hes contemplating
Debating why they had caused this
bullets fly out the gun ;
He wet up the one who fell
they others had tried to scatter
A marksmen right at that moment
he had aimed for they heads ;

Laughing while he had killed em
four out of the five had fallen
The last of em slowly crawling
he walked up to him fast ;
Crouching he looked right at em
he pleaded we were just joking
Fun poking he said he's sorry
Jacob laughed in his face

Last of the fallen bullies
was crying as he was dieing
Delighted the bummy murderer put two in his brain ;

He said look at you now
i will not be destroyed
By the likes of you all
the police had been called ;

The sirens he heard em comin
he figured no sense in runnin
Since god had never responded
**** this life aint my own ;

His eyes had looked upward gazing
he felt his sorrow degrading
Visions of success fading as he let himself go ;

With the gun to his head
tried to finish himself
Heard it click several times
their were no bullets left ;

Now the cops are arriving
his heart was dropping and diving
His bravery was comprising of the bullets he had ;
figured jail was no option
They'd **** em
he couldn't stop em
So thinking quickly decided he would die by the ops ;

Their screaming telling him freeze
no time for buckling knees
He bolted headfirst at cruisers screaming top of his lungs ;

The officers open fire
fulfilling desperate desires
His soul would have raised higher had he tried something else ;

Now wet up he couldn't get up
but happy free from his burdens
His parents died long ago so he had no real regrets ;

DMT danced inside him
it took him to early childhood
Remembered when his parents had been loving him so ;

Toward fire he was descending
escaping is now pretending
While burning he saw the bullies he had sent to this place ;

While tortured they chained together
their skin was hanging and tethered
No laughing no getting over what his life had become ;

No resolve but the truth  
their was no going back
If your seeking revenge
you should prolly relax..
probably the longest **** iv written on here, gomen.
Taylor Henry Apr 2013
A message for you young truckers,
You long lovers,
You schmucks, *****, and go-getters...
This is as good as it gets.
The truth is, school *****.
And so does your 9 to 5 part-time job,
But this is the time to find prime opportunities to get carried away and run
To say all the wrong things at all the right seconds
And to never, EVER get caught drinking your parents' ***.
Be bummy, be a druggy, be a top score, or be the eye sore of the student body
But you will never be nobody...
You will NEVER be nobody.
Let somebody tell you they don't remember your name,
Then give that chump a reason to never forget
Because in this game of high school social status, there's no such thing as a winner
And you deserve whatever respect you let people neglect you of.
**** 10 year reunions, that cute girl in math class still won't think of you
Unless you act now, before you're ten years too late.
If you want something, you better learn to work for it,
Because these are the easy years, the queazy years, the "let's ditch and smoke a bleezy" years.
And before you know it, you'll be tap dancing on a keyboard when you should be working
Warning the youngins that their glory years are just about done.
Robert Gretczko Aug 2016
Bummy, Dodie and Leo Temple Step nose
in the Charlotte Street parlance, that's how it goes
there's Gibby and Tad and Scotchamarra too
a stout crowd, mixed and matched like the zoo

Here in these streets of cobble-****** walking
It's fearless mouths that do all the talking
Upstarts and startups were birthed from this place
Ever so measured, all joined the race

Find them anywhere you travel or happen to be
There is a Bronx brother or sister easy to see
With that particular accent, pinched and plain
Welcome sounds that seem so germane

My mind wanders back to those black and white days
When all we could see was this intricate maze
Speaking from all parts and places
Faces in colors, religions, and races

A happier time perhaps we lived through
Hard to tell considering now, what seems due
For all of you, from wherever you start
Remember, the whole is more than the sum of its parts
kirklefrance Feb 2013
roses are red...violets are blue...sugar is sweet.whats that got to do with you?your more like honey add grahams and your crummy..its a bummy poem..cause i aint gat no money..no dough for a bunnie a sure no show for the cunn*..as u lay in bed at least let me rub up ya tummy..instead u call jack..**** this girl slack..this was pose to be a happy valentine..but obviously i've been stabbed in the back...Love?I must be on crack..if it knocks on my door i take the broom and give it a wack..and while its on the floor set my dogs to attack...love flows from my paper stack so the more it grows the more i feel intact..real recognize real..telling you how i feel bout dat...so to love maybe one day riding the backs of a dove..or late night / early morning after the club drunk and hi with no glove..however i am to again become entrapped..not worrying about stray arrows from cupid..this time im strapped...leave him on the floor dead..the day love died is the day an angel bled..yet still I'll love you forever despite all ive said...i'll love you forever or unleast until were dead
Mark Apr 2020
I waz hip-hop since I b in mi mamas womb  
Spittin’ sum rhyme, will give u dat tune  
Yo, he spit da raw  
No need 2 prove anymore
I’m scratchin’ ‘bout, I’m bummy in a downtown shelter  
No use complaining ‘bout wat life I’ve been dealt, nah  

Hit em hard, every generation gotta do wat ya do  
Cuttin’ up fresh is da word, new kid on da block, could b u  
It’s how u survive in da hood  
No layin’ ‘bout, stand up like a real man should  
Don’t want 2 sleep on no choo choo train, no more  
Then get off ya RRRs, do sum thing like neva b4  
 
From da Juice Crew 2 Mr Magic, down in Boogie Down Bronx Queensbridge is da place 2 b near, it all interlocks  
More MCs drank da water drippin’ down from around here  
Than any udder crib, in da hole ******* world, ya hear  
So trekkin’ from youth, 2 B.ing @ 1520 Sedgwick Avenue  
I’m now livin’ in fcukin’ Wonderland, if only Alice really knew
sapthepoet Sep 2013
Gotta make that money
Till it' sunny
Cause honey doesn’t
Want to be with no brother that’s bummy
But once you go black you never go back cause
I got more Mack that a apple computer
I just have to stay
Hungry, humble and honest
And my future will be brighter than the moons of Jupiter
Gabriel Ibarra Dec 2018
My forevers last half the time
So I hope you won't be mad if I
Give you all of me so that you can see it all
Every laugh line, broken hearted, altruistic flaw
My hopeless romantic, spastic, haphazard philosophy
Cluttered, caustic, over-cautious  thoughts that always bothered me
The way I hide behind these platitudes
And my off and on bummy mother ******* attitude
Maybe shed some light on my enigmatic self esteem
Like how I want to be somebody else but not if that somebody isn't me
jessica m Sep 2013
My heart aches
My body is sore
I lose sleep
Or sleep more
It makes me sick to my tummy
And I'm so tires of always felling bummy
With all this added stress
My world is a huge mess
What is this that I feel
And why don't I seem to heal
sayona Feb 2014
there's always something
at least one thing
that i do, or say, or think
that someone else finds
morbid, or off-beat or odd
why does it matter to them?
why must you announce it to the world
like you have the authority to do so?
because let me tell you,
you don't
but you still have the raging audacity to do it

so what if i like staring at the moon
and telling it
my life goals and dreams

          no one else cares enough to hear it. i can't just let it sit there and not be known. someone has to hear me out. so He mind as well.

so what if i happen to bite my lip so hard
that it bleeds a little and i always fidget with my necklace and ring.

          i'm nervous. i'm anxious. i have anxiety! i can't help it, and i don't even notice when i do it.

so what if i stick to myself a lot. and i'm often quiet and dress comfortable and "bummy" sometimes.

          i come here because i have to and for myself. not for you to ridicule me because what i'm wearing this certain day. because news flash, i honestly do not even remember you guys have a class with me until i see you again. i honestly don't care and i'm not trying to attract you, trust me.

and so what if i tend to cover my arms a lot! and always wear jackets and sweaters and such.

          why does it even MATTER to you?! it shouldn't. i have a skin condition and sometimes i don't feel comfortable. you don't even stop to think about that, but it's okay. i don't even want you to consider it.

my words should not concern you
unless my lips speak of your name
or if something about you happens to
tumble out of my mouth

my actions should not concern you
unless i am physically or mentally
hurting you
or another being

and my thoughts definitely should NOT concern you
because i definitely do not really think about you
when i leave
anger at its finest, definitely.
CB Hooper Jun 2017
i’m the queen
of the piece of *****
with unlimited potential.
they line in my court,
mostly bummy musicians
with their ****** guitars
and voices smooth as silk.
some wear glasses,
books tucked under their arms,
Nietzches rambling about
the death of god.
others conceal lighters
in their ***** packs
along with keys to old subarus
with kayaks on top,
and a stash of grass.
i knight them
in parades-
the gentlemen of
the modern age.
Karmen Jul 2018
It's really fucken bummy
beautiful writing developing in mind
feeling sparks in heart
knowing people will relate
expressing yourself, speaking in general
or so you'd hope

once your hands taken off
your pen becomes lost
scribbling its own thoughts
nothing like you even thought
ending up a writing , that was meant for anybody
to a writing involving our times together
feelings and memories i thought had passed

lighted eyes, sparked mind
feelin hurt to discover im not really over
thanks to my hand taking over
telling what my heart is still mourning over
thought i lost this heart ,
but my hand reveals its still in place
writings always becoming you
****, im such a fool
journal entry to many . soon to be book .
Gabriel Ibarra Aug 2018
I'm sad. But it's like the sweetest feeling
Revel in the fact that my hearts still beating
Even though it's not the same, lost some pieces I can't replace
Know it's a hefty price to pay but still I can't complain
Finding hope in conjecture of stories I never got to see through
Lonely nights, grasp at straws, but still can't reach you
Why can't I seem to find a balance between bummy and never been better
At times my mind does wonder to days when it didn't take so much effort
To sleep, to breathe, to wake without this emptiness
Trying to find some light, searching for the brighter side if it exists
A path to whatever it is I'm destined for
with each day that passes my will seems to lessen more
For what it's worth, I don't have means to cope with it
Just take it in stride, fake a smile, on autopilot for most of it
Still borderline hopeless, and I do my best to keep on
But as of late I've found it easier to keep strong
What you know about growing up being a disgrace to your family
What you know about hiding in your bedroom cause you’re scared of the reality
knowing your dad never gave a **** about you & left you behind
but as a youngin’ in this cold world, you’re naive to the signs
So you watch thru the window or checking thru the mail for a letter or birthday card
from the one person who never said goodbye or even gave you his best regards
What you know about feeling like the laughing stock of the high school
trying to act tough like your friends but you do nothing but make yourself look like a fool
being called names everyday so at night, you think about bringing that tool
to school & unleash madness on all of those fools
who made your days hell all because they thought it was cool
to pick on the kid wearing bummy clothes & those same run down shoes
& wanting to stand up for himself but in a fight, he’ll lose
when he stands toe to toe with the bullies only to be knocked out & talked about in the news
What you know about having a razor in the right hand & a gun in the left
looking for that shoulder to lean on but you ain’t got nobody else
who gives a **** about you enough to watch your back
& although God granted you life, you beg him to take it back
so you’re on your knees every night hoping to die in your sleep
just to wake up the next morning mad because you’re able to rise to your feet
confused as to why you’re still here & not deceased
just because the good Lord didn’t end your journey even if you did say please
What you know about depression?
What you know about built aggression?
What you know about looking at your mother to realize you’re her blessing
cause you’ve never been arrested or been out late & had her stressing
not knowing if she’ll get that call to hear you’re locked up or dead
from being in the streets, mixed up with the wrong crowd, & shot in the head
by another brother filled with rage but you weren’t involved
in yet another cold case that’ll probably never be solved
What you know about looking at every other guy & wishing you was him
just because he gets attention from the ladies & they’re attracted to him
then you ask yourself, how can I be like him
dress like him or even get the ladies to like me just like him
how wear my clothes a certain way just make them smile like him
& it makes you even more jealous when you know that you’ll never be like him
What you know about writing your life in these poems
just to see if someone can feel it like they feel those heartfelt songs
to the point where they shed a tear over your words & your voice
then you think about quitting all because you don’t have that voice
to bring your writings to life so they’ll have a deeper meaning
but you know your work to serve so you keep me believing
that one day you’ll be the one to bring change
to the next soul that you’re meant to save
- Poetic Venxm
Definition of chaotic order.
A slave to *******
Made to order.
Comes by way of border...
I dont like this pain I snort up...
Sort of rage.
The famous sort of
Plague that takes frodos bags to mordor...
No more...
Looking like a bummy ******
More like something from me...
I got down on one knee...
And made that ring. My waking money hungry ******* nothing...

Laxatives. With irredescant tubs of honey....
I think that means my **** glows
Thats the buzz or something...
But lovely type of roses...
Smell like heaven
As it discloses something...
As long as I'm not hungry
I'm clothed and I don't
Have to take them off for money
I'll be happy as a pig in ****...
Cheers to the mess you know and still ******* love me....
oUt Of sYNc Jul 2021
Hi
Hi, says the girl with the right eyes
That pairs pretty well when she hits you with the soft smile
You can kind of tell that something's going on, but
She's like a Skrillex song that never drops, she'll never talk
She'll never talk about the feelings that she felt today
Better kept inside of a fence, inside of a cage, inside of a safe
That's safe for her, 'cause they, they just hurt
And she don't know why that God's on dirt
I hope he's trying
She said, she said, she said, she said
She said "I hope he's trying"
"do you think he's trying?"
Then I said "I don't know"
But I asked her "What's wrong?"
She just nods her head
And then I asked her "What's wrong?"
And she said
He was the picture, perfect person
Loved my mother, oh, so dearly, you could
Feel the love reverberate whenever in our building
If it'd feel the same today, I wish I'd know, but
Sometimes you drive a car and lose control
Into poles, hold me closely
I don't think you should love me
I always feel so lonely, knowing that nothing will ever last forever
Sorry, you're much too late, much too late
Sorry, you're, you're much too late
Much too late
Hi, says the girl who doesn't have time for relationship advice
Rather relationships at all
She holds her breath all day and ******* gasps for air at night
She promised she would love me, but only 'til the morning time
The more that I engage in it, the more that I am mortified
That I'm like every other ****** guy
And then bye
Says the girl who doesn't have time for relationship advice
Rather relationships at all
I asked her "What's wrong?"
I asked her "What's wrong?"
And she said
And she said, she said
He's such a bummy, crusty, cruddy, father
******* every girl he takes to coffee
He lied to mom in holy matrimony
Hold me closely
I don't think you should love me
I always feel so lonely, knowing that nothing will ever last forever
Sorry, you're, you're much too late
Much too late
I'm sorry, you're, you're much too late
You're much too late, you're much too
Sorry , you're much too late
Do Not Copy Away From This Site
idiosyncrasy Mar 2020
i sold my bummy
to the devil
for some money
ALExxIXSSS for daaayyssszzzzzzzzzzzzzz

— The End —