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"cellmate" poems
Quincy Valero Everybody’s best friend Jet black hair Shiny brown eyes A boyish smirk Standing six foot something Coming out of catholic school agnostic Attending state college Every word that came out of his mouth was a riot A funny story of a bad situation he was in that he can laugh at now An awkward moment with a girl he tried to get in bed God awful train rides with a clueless conductor Quincy Valero A wanna-be Casanova The irish-italian self-proclaimed “Don Juan of Dumont” Roaring down the suburb streets in his bright yellow mustang From Bergen county to Trenton Edgewater to Ewing Bumping R&B; from the 90's A main girl A side chick And a few back pocket broads Leading them on To where? I’m not even sure he knows Quincy Valero My best friend since I’ve been here in Purgatory My lifelong cellmate My hetero life mate My brother of second thought Our token white boy He’s had his ups Wild ragers until day break A four way with me and two girls in my four door sedan He’s had is downs Falsely charged with domestic abuse Community service, endless court room hearings, suspensions and a whole bunch of nonsense Quincy Valero The quintessential example of the modern day male Stays up all night Sleeps all day Opportunistic Egotistical Miserly ***** And hungry Always aching to put in his two cents And leaving everyone in a howl of laughter An Adderall popping Seasoned drinker A professional *** smoker, coached by yours truly Fast talking baritone voice With a half serious tone Yes, Quincy Valero The tight plain white t-shirt wearing Chino sporting Nostalgic, slightly racist, sexist, anti-semitic Bust usually honest, friendly and apologetic Good hearted dude we all love to hate And hate to love Bed-headed Pajama bottom *** Talking about his Svedka regrets And we laugh and laugh and the stupidest things Then remember events that seem so long ago And then make plans for tomorrow Yeah, one of my best friends My oldest friend That’s Mr. Quincy Valero
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Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
Quincy Valero
Quincy Valero Everybody’s best friend Jet black hair Shiny brown eyes A boyish smirk Standing six foot something Coming out of catholic school agnostic Attending state college Every word that came out of his mouth was a riot A funny story of a bad situation he was in that he can laugh at now An awkward moment with a girl he tried to get in bed God awful train rides with a clueless conductor Quincy Valero A wanna-be Casanova The irish-italian self-proclaimed “Don Juan of Dumont” Roaring down the suburb streets in his bright yellow mustang From Bergen county to Trenton Edgewater to Ewing Bumping R&B; from the 90's A main girl A side chick And a few back pocket broads Leading them on To where? I’m not even sure he knows Quincy Valero My best friend since I’ve been here in Purgatory My lifelong cellmate My hetero life mate My brother of second thought Our token white boy He’s had his ups Wild ragers until day break A four way with me and two girls in my four door sedan He’s had is downs Falsely charged with domestic abuse Community service, endless court room hearings, suspensions and a whole bunch of nonsense Quincy Valero The quintessential example of the modern day male Stays up all night Sleeps all day Opportunistic Egotistical Miserly ***** And hungry Always aching to put in his two cents And leaving everyone in a howl of laughter An Adderall popping Seasoned drinker A professional *** smoker, coached by yours truly Fast talking baritone voice With a half serious tone Yes, Quincy Valero The tight plain white t-shirt wearing Chino sporting Nostalgic, slightly racist, sexist, anti-semitic Bust usually honest, friendly and apologetic Good hearted dude we all love to hate And hate to love Bed-headed Pajama bottom *** Talking about his Svedka regrets And we laugh and laugh and the stupidest things Then remember events that seem so long ago And then make plans for tomorrow Yeah, one of my best friends My oldest friend That’s Mr. Quincy Valero
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69
divine serpent twisting her lungs burning the sheets because she likes the taste of ash on her tongue an angel would shred his wings just to get the chance to dive into her lake all repenting is done on the knees, i breathe, i break shatter and mend hazy pools evaporate when the curve is just over the bend writhing, like cyaninde does in my veins savagery and bliss do consummate in this battle of a lover's only cellmate
0
Apr 4, 2025
Apr 4, 2025 at 8:16 PM UTC
-01-
I traded the Midwest for West Coast sunsets. I left my home. Some people said they were so sorry that I had to uproot. I was not. My home was my prison. My Hell. My cellmate was a cold-hearted beast with claws for hands. Who used fists to persuade me that I was not good enough. I hung my head low. I had glass for teeth and empty space for eyes. The other children clawed at my differences. Tried to tear my originality They beat me to only clay and a brain so they could mold me into who they wanted me to be. I let them. I thought a life lived alone was no life at all. Alone is who I am.
0
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC
west coast sunsets make my stomach queasy
Everything happens for a reason No one who ever knows anything Is not a someone to me Usually But your blue eyes know The inside of my mind I'm an Indian prince Of chikiwa descent It's my birthday today Red dress Your whistle seems dry Drink up this Fire water with me Hands lead to shoulders to mouths to tongues Music plays on the radio Crackeling in the dark Smoking coffin nails for scientific research You have stumbled on a space age invention Number 666 I got out of jail for this ****** ******** town So I smoked the peace pipe For days and days We shot bullets and tequila Numbing Human pain I'll pray for you to Allah You pray for me to fate Jesus was my friend My favorite cellmate
0
Dec 16, 2011
Dec 16, 2011 at 2:52 AM UTC
Sad Sickness and too much t.v
three years I worshipped in the red brick cathedrals by the ugliest lake on the planet, but I was cast out of the holy halls, with mounds of Mellaril, and other sacred potions in pill form   to see the “outreach caseworker”, though I never knew what she was reaching for   my husband had divorced me, both my sons were in Dallas, dealing cards at Wall Street casinos,  holding the aces for themselves or a chosen few, like I really knew anything about what   filled their days   my sister took me in, fed me finger foods, had her maid bathe me   and invited the ghosts from my past into her house   they all hugged me and told me how nice my hair looked   now that I was no longer yanking it out by the fist full   and choking on it as it went down     they smelled of sycophantic scents from Macy’s and Neiman Marcus, and I longed for the odor of my cellmate, who had to be submerged in a steaming sea once a week, after they had pumped enough of Morpheus’ brew in her to mellow a mammoth     I missed her, and her truculent silence and the way her arms writhed in her jacket, like so many snakes squirming to be free, or perhaps those were the last sin eating serpents in their death throes, but I would never know for in 1000 days and 1000 nights, her jacket was never removed, for the white ones feared what   black storm waited inside, so they allowed it to hide   someplace in her fetid carcass   now when I look across the charcoal stillness of my room, cluttered with dead distractions, I imagine her there, on her cot, producing anthems on mad marching afternoons, or singing lullabies in evenings last gasps, all without making a sound,   then my eyes well with tears, for I know she would miss me too, and worry what I was doomed to hear and smell now that her mystic music and stench were stolen from me
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Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
fragrant ladies rocking, part two--cast from the sanctuary
three years I worshipped in the red brick cathedrals by the ugliest lake on the planet, but I was cast out of the holy halls, with mounds of Mellaril, and other sacred potions in pill form   to see the “outreach caseworker”, though I never knew what she was reaching for   my husband had divorced me, both my sons were in Dallas, dealing cards at Wall Street casinos,  holding the aces for themselves or a chosen few, like I really knew anything about what   filled their days   my sister took me in, fed me finger foods, had her maid bathe me   and invited the ghosts from my past into her house   they all hugged me and told me how nice my hair looked   now that I was no longer yanking it out by the fist full   and choking on it as it went down     they smelled of sycophantic scents from Macy’s and Neiman Marcus, and I longed for the odor of my cellmate, who had to be submerged in a steaming sea once a week, after they had pumped enough of Morpheus’ brew in her to mellow a mammoth     I missed her, and her truculent silence and the way her arms writhed in her jacket, like so many snakes squirming to be free, or perhaps those were the last sin eating serpents in their death throes, but I would never know for in 1000 days and 1000 nights, her jacket was never removed, for the white ones feared what   black storm waited inside, so they allowed it to hide   someplace in her fetid carcass   now when I look across the charcoal stillness of my room, cluttered with dead distractions, I imagine her there, on her cot, producing anthems on mad marching afternoons, or singing lullabies in evenings last gasps, all without making a sound,   then my eyes well with tears, for I know she would miss me too, and worry what I was doomed to hear and smell now that her mystic music and stench were stolen from me
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42
I wish you were my cellmate In this secret jailhouse heart Shackled wrists and captive soles Our bond a metal spark Of sharp steel keys In sharp steel locks That hide us from the air The air dragged in through two great lungs The gateway to this lair We’d spend the days devising plans For solace and escape While secretly devising plans Preserving this round shape For there’s no jailbreak from ones frail heart As small as it may be This red hot blood flows swift and coiled Sanguine cycle will not cease Until my red hot pedigree Flows free and unconfined By walls of flesh and stark white bone A mortal contract signed The day we swim in freedom blood The day we will return To mingle true with dirt and roots And end this prison term
0
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 7:21 PM UTC
Beats
Cold concrete, isolation, barbed wire and stories of crime echo among these walls. Trust not the cellmate, do your time, lonliness is in these halls. A good soul waits, degrades, rejects the best of days that are offered in this place. Dream of days outside, amidst the real world, if only I can finish this race.
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Dec 16, 2015
Dec 16, 2015 at 9:41 AM UTC
Prisoner
I am sitting at the table.                                                 looking at my microwave food.                                          I am eating it raw...                                                            Cause five minutes is too long.             when Depression is whispering in your ears.                                 I am happy that I even made it out of the bed. which mean I was strong enough. To fight against the darkness.                       That usually P                                                U                                                   L                                                 L                                               S                                                                                         M                                                  E                                                  D                                                O                                                 W                                                    N                                               ...Into an oblivion prison... Where                                 -Loneliness-                         is my only cellmate.                                                                                           I am sitting at the table.                                                         WISHING                                                                                U That I someday will gain the power to stand P                                                                                     ...against the sickness...                                                  That  ç̗̟̲̱̰͈̹̻͎͆̃̒͌͛̆̌̀̽͠o̧͇̤̘̳̱̹̟͉̼͆̿̌̄̔͒̂́͌͑ṟ̯̰̙̙͈̼̬̟̩̂̂̈́̋̆̌̊̓̐̀ŕ̛̬̖̙̣̮͖̤̰̱̊̇̅̈́̽̇̈̑ͅu̗̙̯̙̙͍͇̦̗̤̅̅͛̈́́̓͒̇͆͝p̡̢̧̨̘͇̝̙̜̱̈͐̅́̏̀̊̿͘͝t̨̡̡̧̲̮̗͖̳͎͒͐̄̍͑̈́͊͋͂͝s̡̜̤͚̳͇͎̤͓̓̓͗̃̏̐̈́̇̆͜͝ my heart... ...
0
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 5:21 PM UTC
Eating alone
I am sitting at the table.                                                 looking at my microwave food.                                          I am eating it raw...                                                            Cause five minutes is too long.             when Depression is whispering in your ears.                                 I am happy that I even made it out of the bed. which mean I was strong enough. To fight against the darkness.                       That usually P                                                U                                                   L                                                 L                                               S                                                                                         M                                                  E                                                  D                                                O                                                 W                                                    N                                               ...Into an oblivion prison... Where                                 -Loneliness-                         is my only cellmate.                                                                                           I am sitting at the table.                                                         WISHING                                                                                U That I someday will gain the power to stand P                                                                                     ...against the sickness...                                                  That  ç̗̟̲̱̰͈̹̻͎͆̃̒͌͛̆̌̀̽͠o̧͇̤̘̳̱̹̟͉̼͆̿̌̄̔͒̂́͌͑ṟ̯̰̙̙͈̼̬̟̩̂̂̈́̋̆̌̊̓̐̀ŕ̛̬̖̙̣̮͖̤̰̱̊̇̅̈́̽̇̈̑ͅu̗̙̯̙̙͍͇̦̗̤̅̅͛̈́́̓͒̇͆͝p̡̢̧̨̘͇̝̙̜̱̈͐̅́̏̀̊̿͘͝t̨̡̡̧̲̮̗͖̳͎͒͐̄̍͑̈́͊͋͂͝s̡̜̤͚̳͇͎̤͓̓̓͗̃̏̐̈́̇̆͜͝ my heart... ...
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27
Our cell has expanded. Walls which were once eight-by-nine now extend infinitely. The grey cracks in the walls run like rivers into the oval seams. The window is now a barred prism of light from which we peer into the nigredo, rising from the mud with mercurial orb. The mould is now the jungle on which I rest my ***** This is the light of God which cascades across our concrete walls. My cellmate is my lover; we both sit naked on the east wing, Within the darkened hall. Scars now etch across my body, from my ******* down to my rancid ***** Sunlight no longer shines through our window; We hide from the beams and from the insects which mesmerise with their shimmering forms; And we hear the cries of our brothers whose cells do not expand, but contract; And we hear the raptures of those whose cells have transcended physical forms And can be reached into as one would reach into the membranous, astral walls.
0
Nov 3, 2023
Nov 3, 2023 at 9:29 AM UTC
Our Cell Has Expanded
Cold concrete, isolation, barbed wire and stories of crime echo among these walls. Trust not the cellmate, do your time, lonliness is in these halls. A good soul waits, degrades, rejects the best of days that are offered in this place. Dream of days outside, amidst the real world,  if only I can finish this race.
0
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
Prisoner
My friend is sleeping on the floor Surrounded by a puddle of red water He isn't breathing anymore Neither are his mother or father We were playing a simple game The last one to fall asleep wins It got boring having everything be the same So I sank a blade into their esophagus within The red and blue lights flashed and a man said I was bad They put me in time- out and it made me sad. But I got orange cloths and we played robbers and cops And I watched laughing as my sleeping cellmate drops. I dug his eyes out with a spoon And a white van came soon They placed me in a room with pillows on every wall The room wasn't very wide or tall So now I sit on my bed and mope Sitting here wearing my nice white coat
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Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
Nice White Coats
Off the coast of Panama, That's where I belong, I got all the time, There, Where my only flower grows. To Your pirate prisons please! That's where I belong, To the cold, dark, blue, grey cells of Yours There, Where my one true love hopes. Lock me up and beat me up, So I'll know that You love me, The only love I've ever known, There, Was the love I found here. Take all my time, Like if I've never had it, Years, decades, centuries? There, Where days are (not) my enemies. For now, I can only wait, For You to be my one sacred place, Go and make me Your cellmate, There, Where I've always longed to be.
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Mar 5, 2021
Mar 5, 2021 at 4:10 PM UTC
Bag of Bone
A judge ordered me to pay my ex-wife alimony. I told him that his ruling was a bunch of baloney. I refused to pay her anything because while we were married, she cheated. She broke her wedding vows, it was a shameful way for me to be treated. When I refused to pay alimony, the judge sent me to jail. I've been ***** ten times by the man who shares my cell. It was the principle of the thing, that's why I refused to pay. My cellmate is about to violate me again, I've had better days. I hope a cop or prison guard can hear me as I begin to shout. I'll pay my ex-wife whatever she wants if they'll let me out.
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 7:56 PM UTC
Paying Alimony Is a Bunch of Baloney
Most children want toys for Christmas but I wanted revenge. Santa put me on his naughty list and what I did made him cringe. I called the cops and told them that Santa molested me. The cops went to the North Pole and arrested him, there will be no presents under people's trees. He put me on the naughty list because I yanked a girl's ponytail. The punishment didn't fit the crime so now Santa is rotting in jail. What Santa did was unfair so now I'm making him pay. And he's really unhappy because his cellmate is gay. I heard that Santa has been sexually assaulted every day he's been in jail. There is no money at the North Pole so the elves aren't able to post bail. What I did may have been wrong but it feels so right. I got revenge and no gifts will be delivered on Christmas night.
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Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC
Santa Went To Jail