My voice is a wall of glass
On the both side of the wall it's all the same

The roof is consisted of umbrella-shaped beams
The world is an embroidered web
I'm a spider that don't spew silk
cling on to intertwining iron bars
Accidentally chocked my fly to death
Buried it in the oblivion sky

Fed on chitchat
I'm now becoming a skinny,
wind up bird.

I want to get on my knee
I want to make you mine

I feel more secure when you are tied

Put a ring on your finger?
Baby, I won’t be satisfied

I want you so badly
I’m obsessed, and you are hypnotized

Never a day I don’t wonder how we’ve got drowned in this love and crime

Guess that’s what people say
I’m your longing
You fulfill my appetite

I can only see love
Through your throbbing veins on your sternal line

I can only hear love
Through the screaming and crying

When you are chocked by the chain
When you are hopeless and frightened

I know I’ve loved you right

No one else matters
Nothing else shines
Your existence means more than my life

But baby
I’d only get on my knee
when you die

We held hands as time's sand
passed between. Night chocked
the last sun beams. Our conversation
was pertinent to the dwindling
red wine bottle. As the moon glazed
shore began to roar, she whispered
"Let's cuddle." I dropped you, holding her,
and thought "Oh" and began to coddle.

I wrapped myself around her like a shell to a turtle
and she began to nestle on my chest. I guessed
the indigestion came from the Bordeaux bottom.
Boy, was I wrong. See, as I lay with her,
forgetting about you, I remembered
blood is thicker than water. The loves
we choose are stronger than ones
We've fallen into. I wasn't falling there,
underneath the stars, next to the parked car.
I was laying. I was contemplating
as the wind was spraying the lake
into the air.

I came to the conclusion
I was in an illusion of  love.
Confounded by smoke and reflections
from movie magicians. She looked up
to me and I guess she could see
my reality crumbling in the breeze.
She asked if I was ok. My slight smile alluded
I was and we laid in love
until the sun's intrusion.

Sofia Vergara satisfies her post-work out sweet tooth by sipping on a protein-packed smoothie that tastes like chocolate ice cream.

The Modern Family star, who is famous for her curves, isn't a fan of exercising, so she has found a way to maximise the efficiency of her gym visits.

"I'm the first to admit that I hate wasting time in the gym," the 43-year-old tells People magazine. "I'm not one of those people who spends hours on the treadmill or takes three spin classes a day. When you work out smarter (and of course, eat healthy!), you'll love the way you look and feel, and get the most out of your sweat sessions."

The Colombian beauty has shared her top five tips with the publication to boost motivation, and her first piece of advice is to get caffeinated.

"Sip coffee on the way to the gym," she wrote. "Who doesn't love starting the day with a delicious Colombian roast? Sure, it's tasty, but it has so many benefits, too! It'll wake you up and get you energized for your workout, and it's been proven that drinking coffee (caffeinated, of course) helps your body burn more fat during exercise. Every little bit helps, right?"

Sofia also recommends recruiting a "workout buddy" to help with the exercise inspiration, insisting hitting the gym together also serves as good "bonding time", and she advises her fellow females, "Don't be scared to lift weights".

Sofia goes on to suggest tired treadmill users trade in any machines, which "get boring fast", and try something "creative".

"Dance cardio classes are my current obsession, because there's nothing better than turning up the music and just letting everything go," she explained. "But really, making cardio easier to knock out is more about finding something you really love. Whether it's surfing, biking or jumping on trampolines, do something you enjoy. When you have fun during workouts, it's a lot easier to commit to doing them - and they don't feel like work."

And finally, Sofia reminds readers to "treat yourself afterward".

The actress reveals she always looks forward to her after-gym treat, and although it's chocked full of healthy ingredients, it makes her think she's eating something yummy.

"It's tempting to go eat something that's a little unhealthy as a reward, but instead of undoing all my hard work, I treat myself to a satisfying, healthy snack," she continued. "My go-to post-workout smoothie has chocolate protein powder, almond butter, coconut water and goji berries on top - it tastes like chocolate ice cream, but has none of the guilt!"Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses

I am a Lego
Build me up brick by brick
Build me strong, build me weak
I could be pretty
Or I could make you sick
But a 4 year old kid
Shouldn’t touch me
Cause he’s not ready
He might as well be chocked
By swallowing me
Or changed his mind
And decided that
He wants other cheap toys
*To play with

I thought of you, when you thought of me.
I deleted all our memories off my phone.
The ones where we're smiling,
As if in a few short months,
We didn't know we'd be nothing to each other,
You gave me a quiet hey,
I gave you a simple nod,
We asked about each other's lifes,
I found that quite odd,
Because it feels like just yesterday,
You knew me better than myself,
But you told me about your new job,
1500 a night,
Taking your clothes off for girls,
As if that was right,
I asked jokingly if you charged extra for the guys,
You nodded without missing a beat,
I felt chocked up inside,
I just grinned and said I remember when I got all of that for free.

I waited for the breeze
to ******* the fragrance of your hair
your curls were caught in the wind
your strands strangled me of air
I waited for the breeze
to ******* the scent of your skin
but the sweetest of oils from your pores
were diamanté drops dried by the wind
I waited for the breeze to bring me
the fresh breath of your mouth
The wind welcomed the smoke
I chocked, crying like a cloud

If you asked me, to get to you
which of the two would I cease?
I would have enslaved the wind
my love, and set free the breeze

Tears trail familiar cheek bones.
Pick up your pen and paper
Chocked cries echo in silence.
Don't drop your pen and paper
Turmoil tears the inside.
Press down your pen to paper

Allow all the words to move you.
As your pen dances on paper
Let loose the ink to fly free and wild.
Just put your pen to paper
Wonderful worlds might crash and burn.
But you can put your pen to paper

Do you feel that healing magic?
As you remove your pen from paper
Can you feel your heart grow light?
As you rest your tired pen from paper
Do you know what it feels like?
*When you put your pen to paper

At 18, in college I was a slacker.
A **** that refused to attend
a class much before eleven.
My thoughts not extending
far beyond tomorrow’s game.
Still a little groggy from
Too much beer the night before,
Eyes reluctantly barely open,
I found and took my seat.

The class was in a Lecture Hall,
Theater seating for a hundred.
A class filled to near capacity,
For a Professor everyone loved.
“American History One O One”,
Taught by Doctor Weatherspoon,
A very cool Professor.

He was a very exacting man,
Always prompt and to the point,
A wonderful Lecturer and Historian.
Leaving out most of the trivial ****.

And yet on this morn,
It appeared he was late.
The clock on the wall
Informed eighteen minutes
Past Eleven and counting.
A highly unuseal event.
Lateness was not in
This Educator’s play book.

The seated students were growing
Ever more restless with chatter.
No teacher in class after twenty minutes,
Meant the students were free to leave.
One or two kids were already getting up,
to do just that, make a clean escape.

The side door to the raised stage opened,
Doctor W.  appeared, standing alone.
This enlightener of young lives, he
Who brought insight to our minds you see,
was himself quite blind, couldn't see a thing.

He was nearly always in the company of
A teacher’s aid, his hand upon her arm.
A human “Seeing Eye Dog” of his very own.
That day there was no aid present,
He was alone, standing in the doorway,
Only a solemn expression showing,
His ever present dark glasses slightly,
Askew upon his serious, ashen face.

Slowly, hesitantly he edged forward
Appearing unsure of himself,
even slightly confused.
When he thought he must be near
the center-front of the stage stopped,
slowly turned to his right,
Facing the room filled with his students,
We, who had fallen by then nearly, mute.
To silly kids that seldom took anything seriously,
All at once, nothing in that room seemed humorous.

In a flat halting, chocked up voice he announced,
“The President has been shot.
Down in Dallas.
I regret to inform you,
our President is dead.”

An audible gasp,
a collective sigh of shock was heard,
someone cried out; “Oh my God no!”
He held up his right hand, palm out and
Gently moved it right to left, a slow Parade
Wave it seemed. Beseeching us for calm.
The room went instantly silent again.

In a broken voice he continued,
“I think we should all adjourn for the day,
Yes, no class today. Perhaps no other classes at all.
Yes, you should go home now, be with your families.”
He began to softly cry, took off his dark glasses,
Took a white linen hanky from his suite pocket,
Dabbing it at his sunken, sightless eyes.
We had never seen him without his dark glasses,
Looking for the first time, upon his naked human face.

“Yes, it’s best you go on home now,
I’m so sorry; I don’t know what else to say.”

Then in a moment of stress and confusion,
He turned, did a 180,
facing about, the wrong way.
Slowly he began to walk forward,
hands outstretched before him,
towards the solid, rear brick wall,
of the stage. Headed for disaster.

A football teammate of mine,
jumped up on the stage and
Raced to catch the Professor.
Gently taking him by the arm,
ending his error in navigation.
Then my friend guided our Mentor
to the exit door.

All of us, nearly 100 remained seated,
a strange compelling hush,
weighing heavily upon us.
A stunned silence for sure,
that I shall never forget.

Our respected teacher’s emotional,
Confused response only deepening
our own feelings, of loss and dread.
Then we were left alone, together
to ponder what it all meant.

No cell phones, no instant news
Abounding, like birds on the wing,
Filling the air, here there and everywhere
to see and hear. Home was where we
Saw and heard things of import back then,
Home is where we should be.
And that is where most of us went.

Gradually over the next few minutes,
One by one, students rose and silently,
Slowly, reverently walked from the room
As if they were walking from a Church,
after some emotionally wrenching occasion.
A few and not just females were openly weeping.

There is no way to explain all this any better,
There is no real way for you to fully understand,
How it was, how it felt, unless you, yourself were there.
I dare say that anyone over the age of ten on that day,
November 22, 1963 will ever forget where they were,
What they were doing, when they first heard the news
Of the assignation of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

A year and a half later I was in the Military,
doing what I thought I should.  
In part perhaps, as JFK had inspired.
“Ask not what your country can do for you.
Ask what you can do for your country.”
My older brother joined the Peace Corps,
I joined the Marine Corps, both answering the call,
As we saw fit.

On that day in November ’63 the entire country
went into a profound and deep National mourning
that lasted for weeks.  

That has over time turned into a National Haunting,
That still to this day, half a century later, persists.

Some things, some events, truly are unforgettable

What happens to the rose when it dies?
When it is chocked by its thorny foes
Does it green blood soak the earth to water more plants of love?
Do its crimson leaves fold their petals in pain?

What happens to the rose when it dies?
By the hands of a stray lover in search of a gift
Do the lovers drain all their tear wells?
Perhaps they merry as its mortal remains
Passes from his hand to her hand, from his heart to her heart

What happens to the rose when it dies?
Is it ever eulogized and its memorials held
Or is the emblem of love left in pile ash of bygone?
Is the rose ever buried and how does its epitaph read?

What happens to the rose when it dies?
Does it body like man’s decay leaving nothing but dry bones?
Is it folded and placed inside an old love book?
Who knows what happens to the rose when it dies?

Tying a string to loan
Coercing a poor country,
Under the yoke of poverty
To squawk and groan,
Also making
The noose tighter, tighter
So that aid it fails to garner,
Allow a hypocrite donor
To flog the receiver
Into a restricted domain
To every donor’s whim
Saying “Amen.”

Tragically, this way receiver’s
Development wishes
And growths’ talk
Will go up in smoke.

In such manner,
With malfunctioned cog,
Receiver turns
The tail of the donor dog,
.
On the other hand,
For donor’s
Geopolitical advantage,
With preferential treatment
The ingratiating donor’s pet,
Pampered, will enjoy
Jealously -strewn
Dream’s fulfillment
To its heart’s content,
While the pushover
Smothered, maltreatments
Has to suffer.

It is such strings
The pushover-made
Ethiopia managed to cut
To generate much-needed
Over 5000 Megawatt.
Megawatt, which commands,
On the back, many a pat.

In so doing
Ethiopia has set an example
Emerging countries
Could realize
Developmental take off
By own dabble
Ramming home donors’
Double standard is
What they can
Do without, while in
Birth cry bout.

Chopping the string
With a self-esteem knife
Ethiopia born GERD to life
Tapping Abay (Blue Nile)—
A confluence of rivers,
Which are rife.

Ethiopia is
Tapping its gigantic river
That originates from its soil
To do away with women’s
Back-breaking toil.

Ethiopia is harnessing
Its prodigal river
To avoid fetching firewood,
Chocked with smoke,
To prepare food.

Ethiopia is subduing
Its God-bestowed river
To outreach with light
Students that study
Late into the night
For want of
A reading lamp
That use smoky lantern
In far-flung corners of
The country’s
Schools’ map.

Ethiopia is
Forcing the river
Yield a hand
So that
Nation’ demand
Electricity—
Mushrooming industries’
Lifeblood—
Soon, will flow
Like an irrigating flood.

Ethiopia is
Taming the wild river
In a bid
Environment-friendly
GERD starts
Generating hydropower soon
To let the region enjoy
The unprecedented boon.

When GERD materializes,
The heinous, covetous
Donors’ pet ,
Which claims to date
The river is
Its exclusive right
Will be
Coerced to stop
Eclipsing the country’s
Affluence hope.

The less privileged
Round the globe
Which are
Under the same fate
Ethiopia’s
Development ******
Could emulate.

Soon Ethiopia will
Join the club
Countries marked
Industrial hub.

You know something?
Arm twisting
Is the mystery of the string!
So go for bootstrapping
Use shoestring.

There lay sadness so deep in
his hazelnut brown eyes. It
startled her. Could this be
because of a mother’s love
that chocked him deep down
to the bone. Drifting away
through the black and grey
trying to avoid everyone who
came into his way. He found a
girl who was sad and blue. “I
might as well follow you on
twitter too” he said to himself.
Exchanging thoughts and ideas
they decided to stay together.
Become better and walk out of
the misery they lived through.
A date and two he found himself
drenched in her love. “How
could you be prettier than emeralds
and all the stars. How could you
be prettier than the fresh blood
red roses people leave for their
loved ones over their grey silver
grave stones ?” You brought me
to life when all I wanted to do was
stay home till death comes and
picks me away to the heavens like
they say. “The sadness in your eyes
told me that you need someone to
love you and stay” was all she said
while she looked at him straight
ahead as he blushed and turned ruby
red. Take this feather and ink and
write me down into your story. Ink
my skin with words of love. But let
me tell you one thing first I see
dandelions and happy wishes too
behind the darkness you hold inside
of you. And gardens about to burst
with wild flowers , butterflies and
daylights sunshine. He held her tight
and poems began to roll down her
arms and thighs*

They made vows to be together even
after fifty. Promises seem like sweet
nothings and cheesy, but what they felt
inside was real. "Exterior is only what
beauty defined. Interior is where your
heart refines" she said to him everytime.
Their 'ILoveyous' never been feigned to
just saying it. Everytime those three words
versed out loud, they can feel their hearts
glued together. Beating to the same nocturne
rhythm. Both beautifully in tune, in sync.
Both of them knew this is how they truly
feel. Heart's that were once armored with
steel. Stolen and found their nest where they
truly belong. Like a ship that needs its keel.
They sail through stormy oceans to finish their
last song* ~

The age, when they are supposed to play with toys
Picking up the broken & trashes for others, these Garbage boys
In the piles of disposed plastic chocked their story sentimental
The boys, dusty body so frail & gentle
Wrapped in clothes, tattered torn, dull & discolored like them
Surviving against the rules of Darwin
Too starved & malnutritioned & no one cares
Only the open sky & thrown food, they share
In the chaos of every city they have to find a place to sleep
They collect the things, what people call waste & cheap
No parents, no future, just the harsh life on the road side
Living in their small world unaware with pride
Shiny cars & luxury clothes, sparks their eyes
Telling that they have dreams,
But Their memories full of hate, insult & razed
Which are permanent & can't be erased
Unexpected rains, deadly cold & sweaty summers
Not every one of them end up like a Kite Runner
When people sleep comfortably in their sweet home
They stand there with the fainted & blurred shadow alone

nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes

a forests breath
with death ripe


just a day in paradise,
that's all i pray.


no fool for a price
nor a herd for a prize

malfunctioning slight
chocked with parasites


just a day in paradise,
if it wasn't for today.


spoiled thoughts
and foiled spite

caught then boxed
with no air to bite

lost and left,
kept for the nights

in transparent red
herein painted quiet


just a day in paradise,
for the one who pays.


in a stranger's head
with debt of dice

where heaven lays
and the dead shall rise

seven solemn days
that'll never come twice

mourning for prey
by a mornings pride


just a day in paradise,
for a day in paradise

if it wasn't for today.


kissed by the fire
shut with wire

no word nor desire
and made in ice


broken prism's charm
in arms of a lover
born away and in white

doused in hope
and not a dime to pay
no dream nor life


just a day in paradise,
and it'll never go away.


where beauty slays
and inferno hides

dante's meal
and a mountains might

where a valley bleeds
from a pelters diet

melting the stones
and people alike


just a day in paradise,
that's all there's to say.


whence scars bleed
opened far wide

and the hour sleeps
in fear and fright

where words fail
to tell and describe

rotten and stale
fighting the lights


just a day in paradise,
for the one who stayed.


nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes

a forest's breath
with death ripe


just a day in paradise,
and that's all i pray.

As I woke up from my bed
there were tears in my eyes ready to shed
still unable to come out of my last night dream
all I wanted was to scream
unable to scream i got chocked out
felling the familiar pain i broke out
breaking my numbness pain was taking the toll
etching and tearing my soul

As I tried to remember the time u left me alone
tossed me out of your life like a stone
leaving me crying and pleading for u
I don't know why but my heart still bleeds for u

dejected and forlorn
I tried to strife
I tried to smile
as i tried to carry on this wretched life of mine for another while
I tried to laugh n laugh out aloud
carrying a happy go lucky face in the crowd
I tried hard but
it all went in vain
as the memories of you keep coming back again n again
intensifying the pain
pain it was making me insane

Now no longer can i sustain
so I walked towards the last lane
took the blade n slit opened my vein
watching blood taking its last earthly ride
I closed my eyes
and wish to see you on the other side..

In VANCHINADU EXPRESS
By the window I sat with stress.
Munching by the dust-bin sat a mouse.
Disturbed soul in mouse-trap-inn
Though dismayed senses beamed in shells trio-
The encircling walls that make three koshas-
Annamaya of metals and minerals
As the shell of eggs form; form the body.
Manomaya of thought-waves is magnetic field active;
As prana vibrates in its shell pranamaya kosha
Dead engine whistled abrupt;
On the rails the train swaying moved
Vanchinadu express swaying moved.
How can I express  its  pressing stress?
In dress  is my body ; in body my spirit: the soul,
Under  pressure of crowd and crowding thoughts.
Smoke clouds of the engine chocked me, shook me.
How can I express this pressing stress?
The stress of balloons soaring high up
Of surging waves and volcanoes live
How..how can…how can I express?
Am I not one, one among them?
Oh!  Calm mouse, you too not ?
How-
Express?
X Y press?-
Progress?
Regress?
Elite-
Soul's
Senses-
How I express?
Note: 1. Annamaya kosha= shell of body;manomaya kosha= shell of mind;pranamaya kosha=shell of soul/nucleus.
          2. X and y are chromosomes
          3. Vanchinadu express is  the express train servicing from Ernakulam  to Thiruvanamthapuram

Recollections on Chaliyar.

In youthfulness was Chaliyar.

As I saw her next , from afar

Amidst the greenery was, she

Dancing in pleated clothes.

In spotlight of the setting sun

In tune the Air that hummed

On rail the wheels trumpeted

Gallery across the river I stood

Watching her”jahiliat” life moves

Lured all by giggle and smile

Ripples, eddies her beauty spots

She was mine I was hers!

Oh! My Chaliyar, recall, whence

We started and parted;

Made our veins venomous.

By-gone are by-gone-

God loves and pardons ;

He is with them that pardons

God won’t hear our prayer

If we keep deaf ear to prayer.

Unrelenting oars push a yacht.

The fume of trade shrouded me

With the smoke of train chocked

Down in water I plunged, yelled

Help, Help Oh! helpless yelp.

THE TIME rippled, wriggled

Coiled around while none

But Allah held me around.

On a delta I lay bare; hence

I write on rights we need.

……….



Note : Chaliyar is a river in northern Kerala, India, once most polluted.

“Jahiliat’ is an Arabic word means uncultured/impure period in life.

Allah is the name to denote the Almighty Creator that all religions expected to worship.

EG TEN /V.S/ BLitZ3D

ROUND 1

EG TEN
For the second time around, I won't be too gentle.// You turds can't rhyme for *****, soft as a noodle.// Get rid of that shirt, Wordman, do us a favor.// It ain't bad at all, its just, one size too little.// Ill break you fools in half, straw snapping like a scarecrow// Cowardly lion come out, Monster Smashed you innuendo.// The reason why you got passed by the first time around// Like a girl post some pix up, cut my **** in half, now u goin down// You and Wordman teams up, who cares! a pair of freakin clowns//

BLitZ3D
let um start off first, either way ur a representation of a man in a hearse /hurt um real bad n rubbed his face in the dirt/the pics that I posted was just a ***** in a skirt/sskkirrt! on this *****, like who you ****** with nerd?/ that's a ****** sweater what u talkin bout shirt?/ an what exactly do you think you rhymed off ****?/ ******* from the start, pulled out and drove straight into the curb/ Asian drivers man, they'll never ****** learn/ a coward vs a lion I guess my warning wasn't herd/ why'd you delete the first battle? you coulda reread my words/ then you'd probly remember to go again would be absurd/ but everyone loves a under dog, makes emotion go reverse/ cause then when you go under dog , the wears not even worse/ an no one teamed up on you,/ I tagged in and hulk Hogan lumped a few/ American Dream, elbow jumped at you,/ then to your defense, in ran gorilla monsoon/ the way I see it, the joker popped both of you,/ a heist on ur thread but that's just my point of view./ sights locked retical red, not a sound with the front mount/ knights drop, clown with a crown, and a jester in bed./ leave um slumped out/ /roar/ I messed with his head/ take my advice and this cypher ...just jump out

Round 2

EG TEN
Let um start off first? Now what the **** was that?// Your no king of the jungle, but a little ***** cat!// A blissful of zits in your face a sign disgusting// BlitZed does not show off his face an ugly duckling// My rhyme is in verse, so fresh with multiple gears on my Hearse// You can't spit for *****, so your *** be going in reverse// A fan of hulkamania? That **** ain't real brotha!.// I bet your next line would be "Hakuna Matata!// You ain't no **** Mufasa, your like that fool Scar hangin out With them ugly *** Hyena// I laugh at you BlitZed, I ******, I flip the script with my skills// Your elbow dropped not fast enough a straight kick up your chest!// This is SPARTA!!!! So jump on out! off to the next round// Welcome to the Writer's Creed, A true MC battleground!//

BLitZ3D
if this is Sparta then ***** I'm Gannicus,/ two swords in my hand while u attack with some shallow ****/ your **** right I'm scar and ull still bow down to this/ u wont get to far hyenas surround in the mist/ Hakuna Matata but theres reason to worry kid/ shoot um point blank an laugh as he say the dots are blury miss/ from his stomach out leaks guts an curry strips/ no lines to connect, his souls in a hurry, drips,/ out his mouth like his mom as she dines in nutty bliss/ bust um quick like his dad, his sister we both miss/ a cute little thing, deaf dumb n blind, snitch/ I think not, i broke her fingers, a tight grip/ dropped her leg and screamed Hogan wins/ layed on top of her and counted to three/ donkey punched that ***** in the head an continued to proceed/ so ask her how much I give a **** about writers creed //

ROUND 3

EG TEN
You claim to be a Marvel-Super-Villain-God-Like / If you are Galactus" I'm Lactose - Bacilli / Fermented like Lactic Acids what I spit!/ A genus of original but your just a make belief/ BlitZed please! step it ^ up a bit higher/ Your dealing with an oldskool underground ****** / None of that Kindergarten *****' of entry level / My words may be shallow but yet sharp as a Razor / Your write- wrist slice the veins blood burst just like a geyser / My word plays undefeated so try a little Monster / I sMashed your Baked Potatoe with chives a little butter / On side some bits of bacon a Cub is now a Lion / If you don't understand, im at work im eating Lunch / Im on break and wasted half of my time you little punk/ But its cool It's all in fun and that's what its all about / In a place full of infected A cesspool full of talent / Respect to my opponent a true Warrior of Poets / A Monster Mash Creator, A Master of Salvation / The bad *** Mr. BlitZed, Will continue this ***** later-/ Here at Writer's Creed, or where ever else you pleased/

BLitZ3D
A mutant, a radioactive contusion./My ***, gave it gas, now im ******* moving./Onto the end, the finish line, a ******* shoe in./Im new an, your old news, news i knew and /screws im loosing, as we pretend this battle im loosing, wrap it up with a few loose ends, /confusing, a thriving city, up an left it in ruins./Black cloaked, hooded druid, IV fluids, /Gat broke, firing pin, out i chewed it, trigger squeezed now, told you id do it./Ten teeth marks on the barrel, yea EG blew it./Face on some blue ****, stiff Elmers glue tip, /sticky grip, stick um up, Richy Rich, Jackson upper cuts, a Rampage, no *****./Bomb on the stage, chickens with no cluck./Took a bomb on stage, chicken heads, my ***** well ******./Salmonella poisoning, chocked the chicken, she likes it real rough. /In an out, left and right, my blade keeps the feathers well plucked. /Goose and a swan, I recognize no duck, bad luck, body covered up in the back of the truck./One G, no UN, i see, just me..no pun./Mission complete, no fun, grey skies, trust me, no sun.. rains not done. /Bars run from bars, bring the heavens down from the stars, impacts bombard/even from behind bars locked cars explode far, gorilla tactics, no holds bared, reload the AR/Re-roll a new cigar, as i retold, another page from Scar/12 bubbles Gage the contents of this unmarked mason jar./I know your popping some corny something, but i wasn't listening./Busy kicking it with Popcorn Sutton, drinking an smoking **** in the kitchen./These lines must be glitching, space-time the fabrics ripping./Physics are ******, i need a new physician./Watch as my feet move, roots grew planted in a quantum position./Like Groot, stomp um like a twig, raging tunnel vision./A ton of incisions, a gun mixed with questionable decisions. /A life for a life, changes nothing, for both sides the death penalty still glistens./the only difference is the same as this blunt. *****, BLitZ3D is still hitting. /Next time i roar a warning make sure you ******* listen... /
battle?
Im already bored with you
.....
I pulled a gun
And a sword you drew

Exhausted, Celia laid in bed.
Staring at a cockroach trapped on a spider web.
She laid in bed, motionless.
Thinking of what she had done two minutes ago.
In a matter of seconds she had chocked and mutilated him.
She had cut his hands, cut his throat and his manly *****.
In her mind he kept insulting and belittling her,
but she had been stronger.
She had defended herself.
He could no longer take advantage of her.
Celia saw how the cockroach gasped for her last breath
while the spider started to rip her apart starting with her heart.

But as always when the sun peeked through the window,
Celia saw him there,
sleeping beside her.
A dormant lion, who would soon come for his prey.

Again...I missed the school bus
Easy...I blamed my dad
He ran too slow
Failed to chase the bus for me
Disgusted... I refused to speak
Annoyed...Sitting in the living...
Staring at the window..
Outside a heavy downpour...
Silently blaming the rain
If it wasn’t too cold that morning..
I wouldn’t have pulled my blanket ...
And closed my eyes too tight...
A ROARING rain in my heart...

I heard dad was shouting at mom
He blamed mom for waking up late
An expected storm ... mom bursts in the kitchen...
No blaming me she said... extremely loud
The alarm clock... went silent you know!!
A chocked in her throat...
A tiny tear at the corner of her eyes...
Steamy Air of tension surrounded the house...

It was easy to blame the alarm clock
For a moment I thought...
It wouldn’t shout back to defend itself
It went dead... it wasn’t anybody’s fault...
I missed the bus, dad missed his work...
Mom missed her "morning good bye" kiss...
The cute alarm clock ... a gift from my aunty
Stood by the bed so timidly... so innocently...

Unexpectedly...
My Furious-ed dad... threw the alarm clock out the window
Surprisingly... it was screaming in the rain
Perhaps...Tired of our blaming game..
Funny...As it fell to the ground..
Kring!! Kring!! Kring!! So loud so clear was the sound..
Instead of getting mad...
Dad, Mom and me... giggled...
We were all laughing like mad...
A damaged machine in the heavy rain...
Tickled our hearts...

As I lie awake at night I can’t help, but think
Think of all the things that person said to me
Think of all the ways I’ve embarrassed myself
Think of all the things I said to that boy
While he wasn’t giving me a second of his time

I didn’t ask for this
I didn’t ask for these thoughts to run through my head
All these ‘What if’s and ‘No, not that’s
I didn’t ask to get chocked up every time I talk to someone because I’m afraid I might say something I might regret.
And yet, that seems to be every word that tumbles from my mouth
Like a faucet full of remorse that can not be shut off

Watching other people I can only seem to hate them as I pray to some sort of all-powering being that I will be able to over-come this
That one day I will be able to freely roll words off of my tongue without wishing I could gobble them back up.
And yet everyone else is able to do it
They are all able to say what they want
To express their opinions with no second thoughts
With no worries that someone might disagree

Every morning is a struggle just to pry myself from my sheets
To face every day with a smile
Because lately even picking out a outfit I find exceptable seems torturous
And then half way through first period I decide I shouldn’t have worn it

And there’s no escape
I always have this weight on my shoulder that is weighed down with nasty words my brain has formed
Picking at the slivers of self-confidence I have left.
Like a hungry Vulture cleaning up scraps on the side of the road

And some people have to power to fix it
They become stronger
And learn how to be better
And I? I lie awake at night. And I can’t help but think

Tell me what they have told you about seas, the lost ones,
The ones they keep romanticizing,
Kept sugar coating its depth with love metaphors and tumblr aesthetics.
I've been under the water for years
And let me tell you it is not poetic, it is not even scientifically provoking.
So when i tell you I'm drowning I'm not making significant love confession or some movie pick up line. When I tell you I'm drowning It means I'm out of daylights
to occupy,
It's been days since the last time sun broke through my skin,
It means I’ve been wasting too many lungs on acid smoke and stolen identity,
It means I spilled the half-water left in the cup.
Thick layers of wreckage, fatal survival attempts, and letters of grudges to  your last forgotten birth-day.
I would have set fires to lead you back home, or enough to burn it
I would’ve set flames and birthday cakes
I would’ve lit fifteen candles and spelled your name and sang you a'happybirthday' without sounding like the apologies they never left.
But you know what they say about gasoline invading waters
it's been ages since fire last gave up her fight.

[FLASH-BACK]:
it's your mom first homemade in 3 months, it's baked mac and cheese with chicken, your favorite, you say thankyou as she sits down and puts more macaroni in your plate, sober than ever.
Your dad steals a smile to his plate then to you
it's been so long since this dining room were alive you could almost swear that walls were cursing you names and chanting foreign prayers into your ears
but the taste of normality is much better than hospital waiting rooms.

[FLASH-FORWARD]:
Count to fifteen, and fell yourself with objectless activities to avoid becoming,
because it's better sleeping away your reality than acknowledge it, isn't it?
Between Your Father's empty liquors,
And your Mom's Xanax ,
count to fifteen.

[REWIND]:
the noises calls out of the bathroom just like the one on your thanksgiving
Count to fifteen,
This is not what you think it is
Count to fifteen.
It is what you think it is.
Count to fifteen.
it's never your fault
Count to fifteen.
psychiatrists say it'll pass.
Too Much statistics to put faith into

[PRESS PAUSE]:
Plates are empty, again
Packed Bags under your eyes beneath thick walls of unsaid iloveyous, chocked up on a family dinners.

[PRESS PLAY]:
Now it's just you and your dad again
They say it's for the best,
They tell you everything will be okay
And You tell your friends you're fine,
because why other wise?
That the earth isn't swelling, that you aren't sweating, that you prefer long sleeves even in the hot summer days because why not, right?
Like big cycles of lies and vice verses of irony.

But for all what’s worth, may my words give you the lifeline you need.
And may you let die to let regain to let life breathe you again.

discipline keeps the mind focussed
a sick laughing in the background
rivers of knowledge, psychology

i got your back if you got mine
ancestors stole my land, my brain
existence revolves around dollars

you don't know the voices in my head
they are trying to control me, kid
how can they spot my very location?

i was born in a dump, my father a drunk
my momma died during my birth; my fault?
let me blow up all the golden buildings

my mind be the place where i make plans
people told me that "slang" was "horrible"
nobody has to like that, you feel me?

my skin color is black and white, you know?
don't let them get into my head, **** voices
can i walk the streets freely? who trusts me?

golden opportunities all over the place
don't ask a nameless what his name is
he will never tell you but shoot someone

it's simply not wise, we want justice
when your heart is turning ice cold
hour of the *******, hour of the sucker

the bassline trembles, i'm shivering
females are entering my safe house
armed with prejudices and dishonor

i'm already dead, words chocked me
too much poetry, nowhere to go
**** this end, i will come back!

I think that I've become the one
who's every choice brings pain
who's every adventure ended in other's tears
who's every action cost other's dearly

I think I've been the one to load the gun
that always craved more and never learned to refrain
that made the night times turn cold and bring in fears
who's lied in every word spoken clearly

I think I've become the boy
who takes but never gives of himself
who wants the world for his toy
and drinks it down to his own health

I think I made this bed where I lie
and made it feel unloving to hold my hand
I watched so many suffer in tears as they cried
and I listened with no intention to ever understand


I think I broke the skin with my kiss
and stole the prized things they'd miss
I think I said I cared then let them slit their wrists
and I created this

the world stopped loving me
they all stopped loving me
they all saw through the guise and learned to hate the mayhem
and no one can blame them


I think that I've choked all lasting love dead
and poured bitter ink in all the wine
I think I've left stains with everything I've said
eaten all the fruit and killed the vine

I think I sold their affections for things that shine
I think I've smashed my own glass walls
I think I'm about to suffer the cost of selfish crimes
and see that I'm left with nothing at all


I think I bled them dry chasing a bliss
and touched the soft with a crippling fist
I think I promised but never cared of promises missed
and I created this

they all stopped loving me
my world stopped loving me
they all chocked for the last time on my poisoned mayhem
and no one can blame them

Young love thrives on the lies literature tells, the boat rides and the promise of an ending that includes wedding bells.

My love died on the same twinkle of star that also lit my heart. We were doomed before our troublesome start.

So let me tell you the truth, you loved me and I loved you. But at the same time your tongue spit these words out into the bitter air, spiders and ghouls were placed there.

By the time you cut the sanity out of what was yours and mine; tore up the memories that kept me fine; and set fire to everything you could find, I was already at bay with thoughts of  mine.

I clipped at my hair because “it looks so pretty long." And I curse through the lyrics to your favorite song.

I bit off my nails because “your nails are so pretty when you paint them" but not bare according to you. Your new girl with the french tips prove true.

I smoked and I drank and I threw up whiskey, I passed out till I could no longer pass out anymore and I put on those jeans you once wore, and I chocked on a giggle because of that cute dent I remembered you knocked in my car door.

When it's all over and done and when I can start to drink for the fun will be the day I will no longer curse my past, for surely I knew our devilish love could not last.

Another plain ole average day. Facing the treacherous walk through the bustling streets. Swimming against the fish who never look up. Distracted constantly. Faces you'd never know, were people too.
Forecast predicted some winds. Advisory to stay at home. We all know there is no such thing when it comes to work. Grabbed the rain coat and on I went. Barely made it a single block. Couldn't see two street lights ahead. The fish were scarred. Slamming off one another. This was no average storm.
A splash. A wave. Puddle ruined my pants. Passing car coated me with only god knows what. These were ***** waters. Soon rivers, took over the concrete. A rainforest of a jungle now. My tie chocked up my neck. Briefcase forced me to sink.
My eyes soon were teased. I was stranded out at sea, or so it seemed. Until I crashed into an island. I soon found as a haven. Standing beneath the city clock. I waited patiently. Knowing I would never survive out there. Until, a beacon shined through all the grey.
My skin froze. No, not from the rain. From the way this women looked at me. Hesitant yet amazed. Awe filled up inside her faster than it did in me. I blinked. Thought maybe I have finally gone insane. But no, this was happening. We both stood in place as if the hands of time broke down. Something kept the gears idle within the clock tower.
We were drenched from the passing storm. Standing under this monument. We paused accepting the falling waters of the sky. Cowardly so, we never even spoke. Just admired. Simply and silently. Two statues stuck in a daze. Standing as skyscrapers amongst umbrellas.
Looking into each other for a moment that lasted long beyond both our years. The water washed away our wear and tears. The city vanished. The storm ceased to be a bother. The fish faded into the ocean. It was just me and her. Shipwrecked. Stranded. Alone. Or so we thought before. Soon learned, our destinations were never meant to be. We fell in love. Swiftly and unexpectedly. The way the heavens intended. Grey clouds blew through us both and out came the sun. If not for this treacherous storm, I would have never met... her.

- Nicholas A. McNutt