You ensnared me like a dog in its cage
Locked me down in your cellar
drove to my estate
told my son it would be okay
Massacred my family with my face
And made sure to replay it for me everyday:
recorded the depravity so I could see it on tv
-Said to me:
"I know your heart is bleeding.
I will set you free when you watch,
Without shedding a single tear."
-I remained locked up for close to a year
I needed to know why you would trap me here
just to let me walk away
when you finally released me at gunpoint;
I learned to keep my tears at bay
Your response when I pressed for a reason:
        
               "...its just a game I play."

You set lives on fire then set us free
How many suicides have you kept as trophies?
Does it tingle like a wet tongue on your neck,
When you rip a life apart?
Presenting to us the imploded pieces
Like a perverted work of art?

You psychotic shapeshifter you sicken me
You serial-stealer of sacred space
You think the human race is a plague
So you became, "The Locust-Eater"
Playing out macabre fantasies
With such swift shifts of physical features
You delight in deriving such clever machinations
To deceive us ...
...but can you deceive yourself?
Underneath the bone and sinew
- you are still just YOU
...even though you masquerade as everybody else

How can I spot a chameleon in a kaleidoscope?
Belay your false colors.
Show me your true shade.

I studied you
Created a secret space- like you
Where I could stash you safe
Poured through claims of being kidnapped
By a being who could change its shape
Corroborated their claims-by the dates
Of misdeeds they were framed for
-And when they took their own life
In my research I found a smoking gun
-In your case your kryptonite
You must regress to your real skin
         once every month
So i set out ...
picked just the right target...
...and started to hunt

To lure out the chameleon...
I captured something...
      
        That I think you might love.

You wore Anessa's life like a glove
Was she to be your masterpiece?
You committed a crime so brazen- as her
it went viral within a week
you stole her child in the darkness of night,
Anessa's husband- that child's father
Must have been filled with such awful fright
He called authorities, you fabricated stories
you turned the victim into a suspect
Over a single fortnight
Not long after he was killed
in a drunken bar fight

As Anessa you were spotted months after
Ignoring a green light of a busy intersection
Parked in the middle of the road
Placed their child on that busy street
Then sped off in the other direction

Anessa was blindsided when you finally
let her go
Oh, i bet you waited with bated breath
For her self-removal from the world?
You ensured she would never again
Get to hold her baby girl
But Anessa never gave in
Did her steadfast resolve
feel like I rash upon your skin?
Where it festered forming feelings foreign
to a fiend such as you?

You scratched that itch
Began by sending her anonymous gifts
Even started shifting into her too
Stalked her waking moments
by engaging her as a stranger:
all the while unaware your sick infatuation:
Had put her in danger

I'm counting down the clock
I kidnapped maybe her or You
I left my address at Anessa's house
A note saying, " this is a game I play now too."
Soon now: a month will have passed
And it all comes crashing to A head:
at last.

So shed your skin
Prepare to fight
This vendetta ends here:

Tonight.

There is a lighter
          
           Just

waiting to ignite.

A knocking at my door
A knot in my stomach
Anessa...( or is it You)
bound beneath my floorboards?
I peer in the peephole then pull You (Or Anessa) out of that hidden hole
I drench us both( for every second You stole)
I  pour it all over
( my life will never be whole)  
I douse everything in here in gasoline
Confess your sins
(before the fire finds them out)
Its time to come CLEAN!!!

And it seems:
I will be dipping my hands in red tonight.
This will all end in the worst way.

I open the door
let Anessa( or You) In
She runs to my captive saying,
"Where do I begin?"

"I made something of my life
after it let me go
At first, it caused the Locust-Eater misery
You see it toys with humans:
ones it knows are weak
I was so meek and feeble before we met...
Yet,I'm the one person it failed to defeat
Its game gave me strength i never knew...
... resolve had always,somehow,eluded me
I do believe its games are vile...but,
They are necessary?
Please,**** me instead
"...but let the Locust-Eater free"

the captive Anessa(or You)
begins thrashing their feet
I yell," which one of you killed my family?!"
They both calmy respond:

" Me."

The lighter flicks in my hand
I'm unable to speak

A month has passed
Which one is the one I seek?
They both insist I let the other go
And you should know:
it slips from my hand
The lighter(like my grip of reality)
falling faster with exposed flame
adhering to the clear rules of gravity

The two Anessa's embrace.
They both begin to burn.

False colors from the chameleon fade out.
Hungry flames swallow me whole.
I am( am I?)...
seeing the Locust-Eater's true shade:

This is how I take control.

-

The road seemed to never end. But these frnds were having fun walking together. Sweeto said, "the aroma in here is beautiful"..
Rudy said, "well I think you are just overreacting"
Friendo said, "Hey rudy, just stop acting rude, we are together here on the road, just live the moment.."
Rudy said, "yeah yeah, it wud have been better to sit at home doing nothing than to be here".
Silence there gave a sad frown which no one noticed..
Scary repeated the sentence, "uhh, all of you plz listen to me this road is really not meant for us, anything may happen there at the end, there could be ghosts or zombies or thieves, we cud get killed."
Bravery said, "Dont you worry guys, Until i am there no one can ever harm my friends."
Happy was happy cuz he had his dreams come true on this journey.
While the Jealousy was surrounded by the smoke of restlessness, both of them together creating partly dull atmosphere..
Excity was hopping like a small girl skipping but was losing its track from the others..
But Controller had got his eyes on everyone so it didnt matter when he was around, excity wud be fine..
Confidence with stability walked in the second row to guide all the others behind..
Angry was getting red cuz he thought what is the use of thus journey when this cud have been simpler and due to this Saddy was losing hopes..
But calmy placed his hands around their necks and said everything happens for a reason..
Strategy was guiding everyone in the perfect manner..
Striding at the front was love with its sparkling aura, since it had won, cuz it was stable after being angry and then sad, before which he was excited and controlled, even before which he was brave to be a friend which taught him to keep calm when there is sadness and use strategy and confidence to fight jealousy and restlessness and be happy.
But walking just beside Love was pain which said, "Dude, Let us see who wins."
The wise road of Life simply smiled..

The past few weeks have been mounted in hot pink and mahogany.
Hot breath; sticky and drooling,
dogs up the glass and
I resist the urge to
outline my name in a one-finger, window-fade, Arabic script-
I can’t keep my giddy heat
and roasting hands to myself.

My thoughts pirouette a coconut,
slippery-sweet meld of dazed concentration while I leprechaun-leap over cool evening sidewalks
and tip-toe in stairwells for that
last fevered kiss
as the heavy door
crashes shut and we're still alone.

The hole in my boot sole
grows with each step;
I feel the full magnitude of
each drying leaf as I go forth and pulverize.
I don’t think I can help it-
The leaves fall and the fall
falls and I might be falling.

These days have been oil paint
thick and layered inches high
on expensive canvas, on the
cardboard I've plucked from the
dumpster at work.
The smell of thin trees
and bright fields;
combing out and
rinsing off
and tucking
themselves in for winter naps,
cradle the breeze and
bellow a
proud conquest with its sweet,
smoky hum.

My own long, dark,
hair is lured up and around by grinning wind.
Earth waltzes with the bits of me I've let grow.
Hair is dead, right?
(and the longer the deader.)
In my long, soft, dead parts I am waving free-
finally free and laughing.

I’m laughing because nothing is tangled;
nothing stings yet.
I’m laughing because if--
When,
this ride crashes
I can't imagine how I'll
survive the wreck.

Because I'm caught on the details;
the tiny everythings that get me.
The little choices made
(but so sweet-muted,
they're not printed in the script.)
They are dull-pencil-scribbled in later
by an actor who’s fading fast into
a calmy, balmy, dreamless sleep.

Still, they're the bloom-blushing afterthoughts that catch me
off guard and whip my guts up
warm and oozing.
They stick in my throat horizontally,  clawing and breached.

I acknowledge them softly
and play like this easy
kindness is not
completely foreign to me.
I’m carefully absorbing.
I'm mutely, blinking back
slow-welling eyes
because this feeling of unworthy
coiled deep in my bones
is too rooted, too tangled,
too stutter seep quaking
through my marrow
to just shake off.

But I am trying.
I’m quietly,
radically,
hiking a mountain to
meet him halfway-
desperately hoping he won’t *****.

I’m dizzied and melting to the throwaway habits I’m
beginning to crave.
How his fingers pray the rosary
on each bead of
my cracking knuckles.
How he kisses my head when I'm looking at my phone and thinks I don’t notice.
How lately, the sleepy way
I let my posture disintegrate into his body,
(a place that's sun-stained and velvet.
a place that's formed and transformed endlessly across decades and continents)
feels like graceful landing after so much turbulence.

I've met moments of calm locked in limbs and new security in the shapes my fingers find tangling with his.

Even glances can anchor me. A sip of his eyes-
eyes that have shown him so much of the world;
the bright corners and ***** streets,
the graveyards and parades,
the sidewalk saints and stumbling souls,
a world he knows can be beautiful and horrific
and both and neither all at once-
those glances manage to steady the sway
of my tangled body and droop-heavy soul.

and okay, I don't see poetry in
the way I swing myself up;
arm, leg, arm, leg,
into the front seat of his truck while
he closes the door behind me-
(my own faded muscles stopped atrophying
months before I could even remember his name,
but calves and obliques still recall the sensation
of ripping, pinching and splitting
like raw cotton in the presence
of heavy metals and four wheel drive.)

Still, there is something
almost too easy to weave
into words about the
smell of soap on his chest even
late at night and how there-
right there,
is a small island
to double over in laughter
or sigh your stress aloud.
With the tiny details
and subtle quirks I’m
shorthand jotting and jacket-pocket folding
it'd be too easy
to fill a notebook.

And though I'm still treading lightly,
I think if you asked me
to describe the word ‘worth’
right now,
I’d probably tell you about the way
I can pull away, look up and smile during a kiss
and find his eyes already in mine,
smiling back.

I'm flipping through the vinyl at the vintage record store even though I haven't a penny in my pocket to spend.

The owner doesn't ever seem to mind that I am all the time hanging out there browsing.

All the music of my life is there.

Sometimes it makes me sad;
Sometimes it makes me happy.
It always makes me feel something,
But it never fails to quiver my eyes.

I knew the band was touring.
I heard they were coming soon,
That classic rock salvation
Is the only thing that sooths.

I could have fell
Right to the floor,
When rock and roll
Came through the door.

Have you ever seen an idol?
I mean, shining like a god
In glistening southern heat?
I pray to God our eyes don't meet.

He had a flowing tunic,
And a top hat on his fluffy mane.
A small entourage was with him.
His eyes were above his darkened shades.

I gasped and said a swear word that I could not keep inside.
Over stacked of dingy cardboard boxes he saw me,
I tried to beg apology but could not speak;
My legs were petrified.

In my chest my heart was pounding,
Sounding like the beating of a drum that timed each step that he took, as he walked around the musical maze to the spot where I was frozen.

Have you ever met an idol?
Someone who is more than just a man?
Someone who has the message of a poet,
And seems to understand like no-one can?

I forced myself to look away,
Looking down to the floor.
I hate that in this moment
I am so vulnerable,
And I love that my nerves are open raw.

I cannot believe all I can do is panic
And I know he must see that I am pathetic.
My soul is naked in his sight.

I know there is no possible way
I can recover from my shame.
I tremble when he puts his hand upon my shoulder
And tell me he understands, that it's alright,
Tells me him in the eye.

I am so close I can see the pores between the stubble on his face.

He asks me how I'm doing, now.
I tell him that my brother should be the one he is meeting.
He is older, and better and more steady in his grip. My brother loved him first because my mother used to play his songs. That's how I came to love him, too.
My brother is more a man than I.

He tells me that my brother isn't here.
That this is just the way it's meant to be,
This charity, serendipity.

He tells me he is honored I'm a fan
Of his music, and he's glad I like the band.

He ask me if I'm coming to the show.
I change my gaze to see the band behind him.
I tell him that I tried, I really tried.
I wanted to so bad. I had no money.
I've been out here on the streets for quite a while.
And, God, I cannot feel this moment.
Everything seems like it's going.
I cannot help but give my life to him.

Take a breath, he calmy tells me.
He holds his hand out to the side.
He signals with his beautiful *******.
What is happening?

And I ask him

"Have you ever met an idol
Someone you wish maybe you could be?
Or were you always beautiful,
Never just a runaway like me?"

He put the tickets in my hand and
Folds his over mine
And takes my hand as if we were praying.
Nobody is a nobody,
His eyes said to mine.
I can see he knows I understand.

He told me that he looked forward to seeing me in the front row.

Oooo, you lefty?
we've got a little Marxy
you ain't gonna get started
while diplomacy remains true hearted

we're wingers of right values
ain't wingers of wrong values
you better be beat, you you're beat, we'll keep you with no powers

community
Epicurys cury calmy
I was trying to tell my mum but she was working all these hours
Breaking broken feet on a floor below the towers

food banks feed some beans with beans
and beans on beans are tasty
especially on zero hours so that half the time I'm lazy

but why you so complacent when there are zero hours

The monachy with queens and kings
prancing in balmory
a smile, a wave, hey you behave,
are you doing enough for me

300 million, the crown is surely worthy?
a worthless hunk of metal junk to symbolise we're steardy

She remembers the smell of fresh air,
The aroma of flowers linger around
When she is in the park or in the garden of hers,
Oh how she wishes her life was different now,
She plants the idea of a perfect life but where she lives is merely not,
She wishes to lay on a path of green grass
The little things she should've appreciated ; a sip of tea or coffee
And even the calmy night walks she had
Now, all she every wanted was to feel a bit of freedom she longs for.

Calmy it flows
Elixir of the living
Silvery scheme
Makes dirt to green

As the sky tears
It grows in rage
Bashing in terror
Even rocks are hurt

Down it goes
It meets the salt
Ball of fire, behold!
Turns silver to gold

in a silent madness;- lies a lie like a gloomy past,
my eyes become a patch of crimson under a calmy vast
expanse of solid white -every tear was like frozen milk,
stirred by the coldness of a night.

the bitterness of an unfeeling presence, like a shadow
that invades my room; my unrest continued as daylight
darkened into night.

now dawning a forced crack of smile, like the winter
cracking the night’s skyline. the trees were so upset-
frost-shocked; swinging pieces of ice tears from the
winds upsetting cries- out loudly.

the frost in my veins freezes the time I have with a
jolt; it jars at my bones- like an endless fall into
tides, all rushing away, swept into my eyes.

for even when I close them so strongly, trying to
imagine warmth -I can still hear the harsh coldness
of this cold night.

what would life be like...
                                        ...if we lived for one day?
How would you...
                                 ...waste away?
What could you do...
                                    ...that didnt seem like such a waste?
Would you spend the first-day-of-the-last-day-of-your-life texting....
                                                                         ....or watvhing t.v?
Making love?
                                                                                                ...or having ***... very roughly.

Make yourself a memory for every iris to bloom with you in mind?
                      or be a nightmare for your generation...?
**** their Rest in Peace.
                                            ...they will remember me....

Im not so sure when it comes to me...
                                                                 ...frankly for 17...
                                            ...I do nothing...
I write poetry...
pollute my lungs daily...
read?  maybe...
make love to the lady i promised myself i would marry?

Donate my organs...
                                     from every vein...
                        ...to every synapse in my brain...
                                  ...let me be of use...
OR START A WAR AND GIVE THE WORLD HATE AND BLOOD.....
no...
thats silly...the opposing sides will be dead on the same day they decided their differences will make their faces remebered someday.

peace...
             ...instinct...
                                 ..could lead us..
..calmy..
no time to learn nor explain

Let us..
             ..birth..
                          grow..
                                     live..

and die....

By Mr. Erik Young...

Born on January 15, 1929...Dr. King truly shined,
He was noble and he thought global,
In fact, Dr. King worked so well...That in 1964 he earned the Noble Peace Prize, but in the world
PEACE was on the demise.
Only fire hoses, police billy clubs, shotguns and bombs seemed to be on the rise,
So Dr. King fought to correct inequality, not only racism and segregation but also poverty...
Along with flawed Voting Laws, Dr. King deserves Major KUDOS and applause,
He was the bomb because he was bold enough to oppose the Vietnam War,
Causing many in the U.S. to call King a traitor, an ungrateful agitator
who was only a trouble creator...
But King believed in a "Holy Power" greater
Than the FBI, CIA, or "powers that be" in the USA..
He was aware of the cruel games the world might play,
And we're not only talking about James Earl Ray,
April 4, 1968 was the fateful, foul date
Where the empthasis we see was on Menphis, Tennesee,
But you see the whole world felt this extraordinary error
And now today, we have the nrve to say we live in terror.

For some members of the world community, terrorism is nothing new,
If you think the U.S. has immunity from terroism then your thoughts are untrue,
Dr. King fought to teach us that we all must follow the rules,
If not then we will all "perish together as fools,"
And we say Dr. King fought because he was on the frontline...Consistently 24/7 all the time,
Staring victorious(ly), violent mobs in the face,
looking "Kingly and Calmy,"
Practicing nonviolently, civil disobedience like Mohatma Ghandi,
But don't think for a minute that King was weak, timid nor soft,
He didn't need a hoodie, sagging jeans, hip-hop, lots of $$$$, **** or guns to go off,
In fact, King did not need a pair of Jordan's or Timberlands
Because Freedom, Justice & Equality fueled his adrenaline
To fight for the rights of all and not just a few,
Before you recite 'I have a Dream" you better decide what you want your dream to do.

There are two great, human fears
Nothing, and everything
We fear that we are, alone
But for the void, that nothing matters
Or we fear we are not alone
Are not the superior
No man can unconcerned, contemplate infinity
Just as no man can calmy think
That all is finite or does not really exist
Everything terrifies us
As does nothing

I lost my dream
In the haziness of night-time.
It never was too bright,
So finding it
I never might.
It was strange,
Unfounded and confounded,
And it changed
While I wrapped my arms around it.

I lost my dream
But gained a glimpse
Into something real
That had been concealed;
A beauty so ordinary
And an ordinariness so beautiful,
A beauty in the ordinary
And an ordinariness in the beautiful.

I lost my dream
In the peculiar tunnel
Of a sleepless night.
And though I yearn for something
Beyond my walls,
I breathe peaceful colours
While I calmy stall.

a slight noise, you look up as it leans toward you,

is the floor falling?



will it crash, leave you laying there surrounded?



the books are heavy.



push it back, yet it will not stay, comes out again.



calmy hold it with one hand, remove all the objects with another,

yes all of them , avoiding disaster.



you can place them around about without letting go.



it seems a similar thing happened further north.



sbm.

i wonder what heavens like
is my grandma there?
is both my grandpas there?
is cassy, lilly, and stella there?
are my friends there?

is it quiet at night there?
is it peaceful like the morning sun
rising over the ocean so calmy?
is there thunderstorms that put you to sleep?
is there no pain there?
do you laugh so hard your stomach aches there?

why does it sound nicer
to be there
than
it does to be here
within all of this ******* chaos
within all of this ******* pain
why am i here and not there?

Silently still
rock of a million ages
born in fire
emerald enchanted
flair of glisten
marked by Sun
building momentum

the puppet of words
siently still
listening to science of music

the next move
prays to bite
an inner tide
so clean

the tube is clear
for laughter of light
to calmy pass through
and be its illuminating self.

Queen and country we vow to serve
Dodging bombs and bullets,
We hold our nerve
All in a hell hole
With death at our door
We soldier on calmy
We all know the score
But when it is over,
When we are the foe
We turn to our leaders
Who don't want to know
Just doing our duty
Protecting you all
You are the first, to let us fall
Betrayed by our masters
And some of the rest
We are just but soldiers
Its what we do best.

You succeed.
In laws of three. You will find the peace you
Wish to believe exists but for now is hidden under heaving fits of painful death, a test to draw out that which never minds rejecting the demands of other beings
Hammer under nail, no compare to restless privy minds slowly counting time until the new tragedies arrive.
Release your hold of pieces calling out for pain to pair once treasured memories. Now staring out with infectious longing, ready to be looked upon smirking and expectant the turncoat thoughts revel in the task at hand. Their assault starts as soon as the thought is called
Aftermath
Released to the gravity, by themselves they fall apart
Into place, covering flesh torn with sympathy
Released from beasts that grit their teeth in painful defeat, as, yes,
you rise to your feet, Torn to pieces, yet completely at peace, distant memory terror dreams distort to bring chaotic memoirs of cataclysmic merriment.
You utilize the pieces to assure your release from pains prison to pleasant pastures. Please just remember never obey the masters. Create sarcastic narratives pledging senators to heretics. Don't trust fantasy banner ******* brand name Promoters. Lœsers leading children to sheep eye machîne, specially crafted master adapters hard wire minds to the one percent agenda, intuition driven minions giving men to temptress, hoof to fenthris, dope to misfits, coke bottles to **** maker accomplices driven awkward and subsequently dove off for bottom place.
Freebie

I mote it. Be recieved with sight conscious of that which truth and wisdom delight.
Everfolding hands coalesce in geometry of design, symbols to be applied to help those who can't live. Honestly.
A prophetic glance manifests what this prophet percieves within this mess.

This species will mirror the mentality of the dust
It's depths a source of nourishment and plenty to us, the rust
Will we find the hero to navigate the puppetmasters collective cluster conglomerate commissioning commonwealth copperpot penny peasantry meat, footwoorkin the fleet floggers, ambushing citizens in the streets with collars, brainwashing caverns codependent on caging the masses like sheep to slaughter.
"But if we'd known we'd scream and holler! I'd rise to protect my property, my guns, my freedoms, my rights!"
Right, no, I'm sure you'd fight, you'd obviously gather friends to your plight, indigenous rage at the thought that the night would defend those evil shadow people encroaching on your ability to reason.
Shut the **** up, what the **** have you done to avenge those innocents of fate, unknowingly recollecting secrets of the state
Hate not flaking over city lake waters like mirrors hiding secrets well obvious.

Money & public resources alleviate proof of collusion simple doors of power hold new potential outcomes timed each revolution the little hand dares to travel. that of a sacrifice, willing or not, to help scare the sheep into buying as much of their stock, if your worried please do not, the flock will forget what they saw as soon as the image and story are gone.

Gotta be.

A solution so fitting it belongs in the movies, but that's how we forgot how to think, outside
For ourselves,for them, or the others
Rebelling as one towards sisters and brothers
*******, I need show my true face
Walk calmy down the streets,
Calm sure pace.
Talk macabre to the one's who own the fleets, spread the sheets to occupy the godhead, sift the merry morning stocks press against the current sea, then bust out enough to make me n mine a new currency.
Probably
Not so sore plot B soars blotting lenses before but not training more thoughts to war forescore before plot thickening remorse runs it course.
A new day in gotham city means unity throughout forgotten realms of hypocrisy. A cure-all demonstration that revels insanity for placid reasonably dressed persons composed, unfearing conversations of dominating resolve, stoicism spinning round professional mannerisms focusing on abilities that take the core of our rotten hearts and heal the waste, now it stays, hurting less sounds okay away from the corrupted hunting of weak willed pumpkins jumped over plummeting suns, all for one's been a worn out joke, once well spoken juxtaposed to unholy notions unnaposed sides take thrill **** maxxing to disastrous uprising in past the warcasters
Talked with the enemy over tea and brunch of tables shared only with tokens of luck, fliping thrice indicates which squadron lots gets iced.
Word gets out and like fire it don't take much for a war to sprout in the bogs of ire, but before it's allowed, the dog rise together finally to figure **** out, creating together masterpieces on earth to reoccur annually until our home is brought back to a state we continue symbiotically.
Fate to be

**** it all, the last of my regrets was all reasoning needed to keep breathing.
Something other than this wretch that I am
Existing for no reason but to help others pass the seasons with my singing

Not a path, but an abyss
Cold wind, threatening clouds
It is inhospitable here

Diagonally in front of me
black leaves crunch open
Straight from the ground

Owls grow from them
they inflate themselves
thoughtful as they are

As if they could fly
they are close to the edge
to keep me from a false step

Behind me, I hear them
shrivel
When I look back quickly

the remnants pretend nothing
is going on, but if I do it calmy
they are completely gone

.                  ready to glare's
video:

      first day teaching and
my overwhelm / meltdown
on camera...

i'm no better,
    jack nicholson's
the joker
"vs."
      melvin udall

yeah, that's about me,
clarified by the circumstances
of delusion,
****, they never tell you
that delusions
are the "side-effects"
of ego-tripping,
  to, "compensate" never
encountering psychadelic
drugs...

now i seem to be lined
up to a predicament,
of calmy
      collecting the washing
off the washing line...
while thinking:

what the hell
happened to
    the band, pitchshifter?
noatbly via the song
dead battery?
          whiskey:
when not quiete sober,
   noon...

   at this point of day,
experiencing the voyeurism
of a shadow will
always translate
into bad luck.