YOUR bony head, Jazbo, O dock walloper,
Those grappling hooks, those wheelbarrow handlers,
The dome and the wings of you, ******,
The red roof and the door of you,
I know where your songs came from.
I know why God listens to your, "Walk All Over God's Heaven."
I heard you shooting craps, "My baby's going to have a new dress."
I heard you in the cinders, "I'm going to live anyhow until I die."
I saw five of you with a can of beer on a summer night and I listened to the five of you
    harmonizing six ways to sing, "Way Down Yonder in the Cornfield."
I went away asking where I come from.

This is a quick little quote I thought I should post by mine queen earl Jane..  Lol it's a funny thing she said I would like to post.. She make's me laugh hard with her comments sometimes. A very funny queen and always gives me the giggles...  This quote from her comes from s
he keeps telling me she wants to work out for me to quote " look good" though in actuality I told her to hush lol because she is already very beautiful, elegant, and **** beyond mine thought process and beyond mine comprehension.. She's completely perfect to me as is. Though she keeps insisting she works out to flatten her belly to look good for me!!!! Lol she is already a doll... I told her not to work out for me since she already look's godly stunning. I told her if she want's to work out to do it for her to feel good about herself and for her to be happy doing what she wants to do..  Here's her quote. And our convo.... Enjoy lol. Sunday night fun!!! (::

Jane-I better make my tummy smaller than making my voice bigger. Loolll.... I wasnt able to do the work out this morning. Am gonna do it tonight

Me- LOL, Queen u look wonderful. Just work out to be healthy and to feel good about yourself. Don't need to for me. U are already amazing looking to me. Duhhhh....

Jane-I will feel good if tummy is smaller and if i am beautiful. Loolll... Lool so i better do it. Haha.. Its exercise too. Duuuhhhhh......

Me- lol your funny you already look amazing woman!!! Hush! Or I'll ****!!!

Jane- I am not amazing looking... Since we will meet til i become engineer, i wanna look good those times.. Coz u might RUNAWAY if i dont do anything for myself. :( :(

Me- Jane, you already look good so hush! You are the most beautiful woman I've seen in mine life, And ONLY beautiful elegant apple of mine eye queen ever!

Jane- Thank you, but i wanna be better. Its not wrong to be better right??? Am not doing any lypo suction or adding silicone in my **** and *******!!! Looolll. I will just work out,be fit, toned, be better and be beautiful...Lool. Nothings wrong with that right?? Hahaha!

Me- lol silicone to **** LOL.... U are already amazingly looking! But if you wanna work out , go for it hahah!! Will make you happier hahaha!!!

Jane- Loooll am laughing alone here. Looll ....
Its better than putting CRAPS in my body right??!!! Dont wanna be a walking plastic. Looll

Me- LOL craps? LOLL...you should make a poem about that, called walking plastic... I should post that in HP seriously, quoted by you. Lolll!!!

Jane- Yeah you copy our conversation and paste there. Haha. It will be trending. Looll...

Chat goes on. Lol just gives me a laugh her line saying... Quote
(Its better than putting CRAPS in my body right??!!! Dont wanna be a walking plastic)
Also her quote: ( Am not doing any lypo suction or adding silicone in my **** and *******)

LOL I love you so much Jane Nagley!! You make me laugh so hard baby!!! I love you more...
Don't care if anyone reads this you said to post it so I did lol oh well... I love you moreeeeeeeee queen!!! Me more!!!


©Brandon Nagley \Earl Jane conversation on November 22nd,2015.....

Always a man to believe,
Always a man to dream a dream,
Always a man it seems and it seems Always a man he breaks out,
Takes his chance Always a man.

Always a man significant,
Always a man he's brave and decent,
Always a man who haves and havenots,
Favours his chances Always a man


Always a man who believe's that he can't,
Always a man a deep thinker then shalt,
Always a man in no shadow of doubt
Always a man pours out sensible,
Learns his rights Always a man.

Always a man a gambler he can,
Always a man lived life and he won,
Always a man risk, twist, stick craps up his tricks,
Always a man watches his mind all about,
A beat to his dance Always a man.

Always a man Sinatra he sang,
Always a man with a dodgy plan,
Always a man that's for sure,
Always a man short sharp ponders out,
In any circumstance Always a man.

Always a man peaceful and proud,
Always a man targets his pay,
Always a man working harder each day,
Always a man in with a shout,
To no shadow of a doubt Always a man.

Always a man he drinks lemonade,
Always a man look what he made,
Always a man with his masquerade,
Always a man with his dollar and bill
Send him on as Always a man,

Always a man not paid what to do,
Always a man to figure a fool,
Always a man safe safe and he saved
Always a man in an ocean of shout.
Sailing calms a human Always a man.

Always a man with a God given skill,
Always a man with a will and a will,
Always a man who leads a private suitcase,
Always a man with a bit of clout,
Then angel shy silence 'Always a man'

Doctors Orders.

O'Reily@21082014

I'm that used ****** under the bed that your girlfriend found.                                                                                                          I'm that last breath you take before you drown.                           I'm that raised manhole cover that give you blowouts.              I'm that pothole in the hood that the City knows about.         THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm the safety on that nine that determines life or death.                                                                                                                 I'm that asthma attack you had when you couldn't catch your breath.                                                                                                          I'm that last surviving egg about to go head on with that *****.                                                                                                         I'm that ***** next door that gave your wife that ****** up perm.                                                                                                        THEY CALL DRAMA.                                                                                I'm that wooden baton when you get your *** beat by the cop.   I'm that SUV the kids jumped out of when they robbed the **** spot.                                                                                                               I'm that sweat tricklin' down your cheek like someone shot ya. 
I'm that quarter pound of **** under your seat when the cops stop ya.                                                                                                   THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm that Breathalyzer test that test alcoholics.                                I'm that ******* that comes back after you flush the toilet. I'm that **** you took before you realized you ran out of tissue. 
I'm that *** stain left on blouses by government officials. 
THEY CALL DRAMA.                                                                               I'm that cold turkey when you got dope dependency.                       I'm that bottle of pills when you got suicidal tendencies.            I'm that bet your ******* made when you knew you didn't have no money.                                                           ­                                I'm that roach crawlin' cross your T.V. every time you got company.                                                                                                THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm that hole in your socks when you try on new sneakers.     I'm that ****** up sound that comes out when you got busted speakers.                                                        ­                                               I'm that slippery lane when girls think they're to cute to bowl. I'm that telephone pole when young car thieves lose control.       THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                             I was that dingy *** collar infested with Jeri curl juice.                  I was that crack addiction you had when you noticed your pants were too loose.                                                                  ­                 I was that closet your friend came out of when he said that he was gay.                                                                                                           I was that red spot on those blue jeans when your little girl forgot it was the 28th day.                                                                  THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                          I'm that **** you take after the 3rd day of being burnt.               I'm those dingy thongs when women wear those short *** skirts.                                                                                                           I'm that government cheese that didn't melt in your baked macaroni.                                                                                                   I'm that 10year bid you did all because you didn't rat on your *****.                                                                                                          I'm that long Island ice tea that got you that DWI charge.                                                          ­                                              I'm that slippin' transmission in bank robbers getaway cars.    THEY CALL ME DRAMA.                                                                         I'm that seven you rolled every time you played craps.             I'm that burnin' sensation your girl gave you.                          
**** it. Just call me the clap.                                                            ­                                                 I'm that 300lb. Freak talkin' about "let me get on top boo'.                                                            ­                                                      I was that DNA the cops found that pointed straight to you.    I was that broken crack pipe when you had just brought an 8ball of crack.                                                                                                I was that ******* coke you brought that wouldn't come back.    I was that peanut butter and jelly sandwich after school      when there wasn't **** else to eat.                                                             ­                                                       I was that smell between your toes when you had stink feet.                                                            ­                                                       I was those socks on your hands when you couldn't afford gloves. I'm those bubbles that float up your back every time you **** in the tub. THEY CALL ME DRAMA.  c. R. Mendoza

Byron wants me to invite all my friends on HP to a pig roast. Rest assured, when Byron has a pig roast fun is surely to be expected. Here's his invitation.

You're invited to my pig roast.

I told him he'd have to do better, that he's talking to a collection of rhymers, wordsmiths, and gesticulating anthropomorphics. He had no idea what the **** I just said, but he did do an edit.

Here's his edit.

You're Invited to My Pig Roast

Your toad on the road
Only squats, never stands,
Or sits 'til he splits
Between the treads of your van.

Your mouse in the house,
If it isn't found out,
Drops pellets in pots,
'Til snap, then it stops.

Your bird on the wire
Sweetly sings then lets fire;
And a cat in a hat
Is cute, but that's that.

Your horse from the stable
Won't be served from your table;
And the deer by the brook,
Well, too much the Bambi to cook.

Yes a bear in the wood
Indeed craps where it should;
He's best left alone
While your meat's on your bone.

Then there is the PIG.
A ruddy pink porker,
Intelligent and clean,
An innocuous oinker.
It does nothing that's heinous,
And yes, it should shame us,
As it lies silently smiling
With a spit up its ****.

Please bring your own lawnchair, *****,  and women.
The pig's on me.

*** tiddy um,
    tiddy um,
    tiddy um tum tum.
My knees are loose-like, my feet want to sling their selves.
I feel like tickling you under the chin-honey-and a-asking: Why Does a Chicken Cross the Road?
When the hens are a-laying eggs, and the roosters pluck-pluck-put-akut and you-honey-put new potatoes and gravy on the table, and there ain't too much rain or too little:
        Say, why do I feel so gabby?
        Why do I want to holler all over the place?.    .    .
Do you remember I held empty hands to you
    and I said all is yours
    the handfuls of nothing?.    .    .
I ask you for white blossoms.
I bring a concertina after sunset under the apple trees.
I bring out "The Spanish Cavalier" and "In the Gloaming, O My Darling."

The orchard here is near and home-like.
The oats in the valley run a mile.
Between are the green and marching potato vines.
The lightning bugs go criss-cross carrying a zigzag of fire: the potato bugs are asleep under their stiff and yellow-striped wings: here romance stutters to the western stars, "Excuse ... me...".    .    .
Old foundations of rotten wood.
An old barn done-for and out of the wormholes ten-legged roaches shook up and scared by sunlight.
So a pickax digs a long tooth with a short memory.
Fire can not eat this ******* till it has lain in the sun..    .    .
The story lags.
The story has no connections.
The story is nothing but a lot of banjo plinka planka plunks.

The roan horse is young and will learn: the roan horse buckles into harness and feels the foam on the collar at the end of a haul: the roan horse points four legs to the sky and rolls in the red clover: the roan horse has a rusty jag of hair between the ears hanging to a white star between the eyes..    .    .
In Burlington long ago
And later again in Ashtabula
I said to myself:
  I wonder how far Ophelia went with Hamlet.
What else was there Shakespeare never told?
There must have been something.
If I go bugs I want to do it like Ophelia.
There was class to the way she went out of her head..    .    .
Does a famous poet eat watermelon?
Excuse me, ask me something easy.
I have seen farmhands with their faces in fried catfish on a Monday morning.

And the Japanese, two-legged like us,
The Japanese bring slices of watermelon into pictures.
The black seeds make oval polka dots on the pink meat.

Why do I always think of ******* and buck-and-wing dancing whenever I see watermelon?

Summer mornings on the docks I walk among bushel peach baskets piled ten feet high.
Summer mornings I smell new wood and the river wind along with peaches.
I listen to the steamboat whistle hong-honging, hong-honging across the town.
And once I saw a teameo straddling a street with a hayrack load of melons..    .    .
******* play banjos because they want to.
The explanation is easy.

It is the same as why people pay fifty cents for tickets to a policemen's masquerade ball or a grocers-and-butchers' picnic with a fat man's foot race.
It is the same as why boys buy a nickel's worth of peanuts and eat them and then buy another nickel's worth.
Newsboys shooting craps in a back alley have a fugitive understanding of the scientific principle involved.
The jockey in a yellow satin shirt and scarlet boots, riding a sorrel pony at the county fair, has a grasp of the theory.
It is the same as why boys go running lickety-split
away from a school-room geography lesson
in April when the crawfishes come out
and the young frogs are calling
and the pussywillows and the cat-tails
know something about geography themselves..    .    .
I ask you for white blossoms.
I offer you memories and people.
I offer you a fire zigzag over the green and marching vines.
I bring a concertina after supper under the home-like apple trees.
I make up songs about things to look at:
    potato blossoms in summer night mist filling the garden with white spots;
    a cavalryman's yellow silk handkerchief stuck in a flannel pocket over the left side of the shirt, over the ventricles of blood, over the pumps of the heart.

Bring a concertina after sunset under the apple trees.
Let romance stutter to the western stars, "Excuse ... me..."

When I say I’m a nudist
I am told I’m disgusting
But then, I keep forgetting
It’s that “people don’t ****” thing.
And people don’t ****
And nobody ever craps.
They just keep their napkin
Tucked safely in their laps.
They don’t belch, not ever,
And nobody picks their nose.
It’s the way of polite folks
And that’s just how it goes.

Well, let me remind you
Where you were born,
And where you came out of,
And that you were shorn
Of any kind of clothing
Both mother and the child.
You were born like the animals
Both domestic and wild.

You are naked one assumes
When you shower your body
So, please quit acting like
****** is something shoddy.
Your parent put such madness
Inside of your innocent head;
Things like getting re-dressed
Each night when you go to bed.

The insanity of Europeans
Who came to American soil
And wore LAYERS of clothing
In the heat while they toiled.
Then they went to other lands
And warped the people there
With the strange brand of madness
They had been taught to share.

They were taught to be ashamed
Of what god had given them;
That their private parts were evil
And turned you into a golem.
And when asked for a reason
For this weird kind of crazy
They started talking about god
When their logic got all hazy.

So you “people don’t ****” folks
Can just kiss my naked ***.
That thinking might work for you
But for me it won’t pass
For anything but brainwash
And the programming of the sick.
So wake the hell up, the rest of you
And get on the natural stick.

If I want to be naked all day
And you want to wear clothing
That should be each of our choice;
A personal ‘go or don’t go’ thing.
I mean, for a perfect example here
Think of laundry bill savings
So, you can just stop harassing
And gnashing and raving.

Brent Kincaid
4/12/2015

foo
step right this way
stripes
the curly haired whispers of long ago
dirt on the steppes of Maui
life and death
the boldness of breath
tea sets invented
natures idea of hooking
the falsehood of feelings
since you can sense the release of chemicals
into the gut from the gut
art is an effort
all roads are connected therefore lead nowhere
snowflakes
glaciers
the impossibility of a paper bag
well that’s why you got the people you do
blistered surfaces
invert
divert
subvert
magical marketing
lost time is all its good for
crawl
other beings
the past is as real as the now
the future not so much
look for answers under slimy rocks
headlights
mark the trail with crumbs
holiday pay eligibility
pig latin verse
loose lips sinks fish
headlines of tomorrow list all your deeds
originality pounds it out
a ground game if there ever was one
marginalized in a riotous way
burned
turned
spit shined shoes laced real tight
if you stayed this long you must get it real good
explanations spellchecked edited cast aside
meaning lost found lost and lost again
bury your words
measure the sun as a star
triangulate emotion in order to set free the main ingredient
the Bosporus the smallest gap imaginable
a wayward telephone number listed
a matchbook
adding depth to the photograph by controlling aperture
roulette craps poker slots Chinese checkers
numbers never end
gymnasium antics
mans best friend is a meateater
fall follows autumn in the southern hemisphere
three dimensions are all you need all you require
bomber
deny both the entity and the substance found ahead
synchronize your watch with mine
sand as a tonic baby oil pine
money buys packaged happiness
there was this guy named Shakespeare
opinion calls for differences version 2.0
you find the zoo to lead so very far
swing for the fences
jump rope skip sidewalk
ease
mow the concrete lawn from here to horizon
jump rope skip sidewalk
learn forget then act dumb
exit stage left
what is behind animal eyes big mystery
exponential units forge toward the final group session
king me
did the butler do it with the maid
how often is crying necessary
pound for pound the best boxer in the mid century bout of pneumonia
digital meanings end in analog discussions
legions of admirers blinded
where to turn when the lights are forever out
invest in mystery
disappoint those who will never know you
you know it
there is a dogma in need of a collar out there somewhere
temptation looms
the holy word of snowflakes delve into deep philosophy
but I always got along with everybody
why work
pituitary gland
announcing for the first time on record
prince spaghetti and salad extraordinaire
the alphabet ends in z
puddles form on distant planets that orbit toothless suns
men
loud music still comforts the savage beast
years like a tape measure stills the ragged poor children
never to be found never ever ever
solvent says eat thou peas
silo bag deliver us from the tall neighbor police
sidestep any issue involving toys
mounds of troubles can be climbed
Kansas wind also flows down the plain
think about it the sea is mostly under itself
plow
most things look better from behind
a major felony on your record
knowledge in the form of easy chew tablets
hounded by creditors bobby laid low
actors actresses chumps
results are mixed as the queen leaves daring long behind
punctuation fits into softly lit areas of the mind
stay loose
breakdown the door then apologize some more
I left home for this
mistakes are what we call experience
the smiles on bubblegum cards just as real
twenty dollars invested in nothing
pin air to itself
buy time sock it away watch it grow grow grow
cool is always enough for matty
god that guy could drink ant sanitation member into the ground
margins
leaves are raking themselves these days
so long in the past stood there with sled in hand
photographed by a grandfather clock
black envelopes glued by hand in an everlasting jump off point
poetry bound and gagged for fun and zero profit
movable type static feasts
in the groove piled high with the color that represents lament
fifty thousand big ones aint so big anymore
the river left town
cannon at the gate corded shot ingenious ways to destroy people
support the troops
he say one thing then did another wow does that hurt
memory votes early and often
nobody knows the troubled bean
it all hinges on my word being accepted
china feels so very close
the sea full of carp moistened in salt water ** boy o boy
Vermeer at the loom
the bronze age must have been heavy
time waits around the corner selling amphetamines
queer beings exit the saucer and head right for the local hobby shop
end game
paint as a medium large
pine scented maple trees win the prize
in my book the covers speak for themselves
close up to the camera waterfall
find the picture inside the cavity send help
amid ship is the place amid
of course some things are missing
ghost register to vote
went fishing came home with a tummy ache
spend your last dime see the world as it truly is
between avenue b and c there lies a small wombat
fend off the high climbing stairs that offer busy bees
mind the gaping hole that leads to oblivion ny
fog in my ear
steam punk can you believe it had to be invented
the f drive taketh away
sing a song about the street we used to chug a lug at
view my elbow rock
know thyself from the middle ages on toward the detail
love pander both you know
mom became tonnage displaced and torpedoed
you are very astute now quit it
this meeting is over like so many before it
collapse my finger into red colored dust
round up and whittle down the masthead
toothpick sized brains
its no bother at all fire away with logical pounds
page that squire knight the tree stand hunter in velvet horn
live as the yo yo
beat it now not later now before the sun sets far into the Japanese
planning a child check our bargain bins first then decide
overtime halts the easy chair
tiny
mounds clopping at the level of good mine
piles of good old fashioned nonsense
home grown
sunny side up way up
carry a friend everywhere you travel
knock
catch a rising star and keep it there
an alarming increase
happiness is a warm puppy
many are called but few are winners
put in your time split and repeat
wrinkles seem to be catching on
break the law go to *******
now is the time smack in the middle of touchy feely
mountain of jelly
pound of brown
highway exits in turning lane
polished sayings die in mid form
butterfly of course
bank on it twice
inform the theologian that grace is universal
one unit is enough to bounce the basket ball
larcenies are a regrettable offense for jumble minded
loud is the hammer of life by golly
inside
far away lies the land of nod no wait mod
never saw it coming
mud in your minds eye
clean up before the mess is tabled
throw away all hits
kong king
mondo longo pongo in delicate dancing
bear in mind that bares the soul to influence
set up the new roux
pint sized followers found via radio
fell asleep in wonder fat
knives sharpened better get a move on
loudly express a final punt
line one line two line three
when did farming become cold
newborn
disease jumps as the trampoline handles wind jammers
night can be fun but girls are more down there
love me back
mindful of the garter you can relax next year
backwards as a mean average statistical oops
venting hot gas adds to the thrill
is this thing on
swell
and and and and and and and
call the water department I am ready to fly
listen the goat will never know what hit him
long on flavor short on towels
company insists on a quaint meal of posies
behind a successful man is a chair of some kind
got milk
my friend can be talkative but never mind
rounded surfaces slip into nothingness a modern age affliction
we will escape scot free
badness baldness daily princess
puzzle in mind he left his denial on the riverbank
on the reindeer hoof we ride
specialty
how can it be hey baby that’s what we are here for right
the plays is not the thing
work your **** off then find the instruction manual
beep buzz bop
it appeared right there but is gone now
foo

The moment when your not at home, a public restroom even isn't around, your stopping off at a job site where construction workers work during the day. And big burly men take craps in porta pottys, with no toilet paper left but only left upon a ****** topped toilet seat. With the fresh stench of ****, crap, and men's beer puke and *** smell aligning the walls of the *****. I wish an inventor (poet inventor) would make poet's special pottys. I'd be his co-creator. We'd call it,
Poetry pottys!

-The modern day is poor as people continue to act wild
-Lack of accountability been running rounds
for miles
-Marching marathons in remorse for awhile
-Watching expectations come up short as it starts to pile
-Its been a long time that its been a good time now
-Happiness is hard to be found
-Life has emotionally been roller coasting in the pandemic trials
-And time is racing pass the finish line, hoping to make this life count

-I talk pro about growth cause it’s important to me
-But letting go certain habits is a con i’m avoiding in me
-Praying towards my come up. Patience is slow, but surely
-I’ll manage to overcome those traits one day with the burning desire in me
-I know the potential is in me
-Been supporting free speech to damage people to speak out like it’s therapy
-But hold up, who’s volunteering their time for me to hear my story?

-Life’s crazy causing pressure on me
-Single making 50k yearly, but the office career is unhappy
-The girl I love right now not even mentally ready for me
-Of course I love myself but now who’s gonna love me?
-My heart holds hope while beating lonely, and yet
-Waiting patiently for something new and more
-Chances of getting married now is betting a craps game on the floor

-Can’t continue to sleep with this women I have deep feelings for
-If it’s 50/50 we’re not going to be together moving forward
-And if there’s zero chance for us in the future,
then allow me to close our paradise door
-Back to the drawing board of this single world tour
-Letting go is hard, but good for the soul i’m sure
-Healing these deep wounds is speaking straight to the primary source
-So I started writing my confessions in multiple letters to the Lord

-Hoping my sins don’t cast the next stone, which I can’t afford
-Asking God how further away am I from my reward?
-Once I take that first step to obedience, then his light will shine from the door
-This the start when I stop “starting over” and gain a little more
-This the start when blessings touch my hands as they begin to pour
-This the start when feeling apart turns my part into love and adore
-This the start when the heart can fully be restored
-And if there’s a high chance of life turning around, this the time I walk further towards more in store
-Growth is what i’m fighting for

Caecearian dissection
Reaped from the sow
Emerged & is unable to die
Everlasting love for Jasmine

Flawed emotions in time
Reputable craps of worthless reason
Ostentatively prodigal, these
Multiple details in our pound of flesh

Hate; no opposite of love
At tandem thus may exist
Temporary it is; fate quenched
Elevated again is love; for it'll never die

A die rolls
And someone dies
It happens quickly
Before our eyes
We do not move
We do not feel
We only spin the giant wheel
And then we hope
To stay atop
Another round
With a bit of dope
Before we too
Will roll the die
Before we too
Shall roll up and die

This is how I deal with my ****, I write it up just for you, my words are cursive for a purpose, it heals the pain I deal with inside. Honest opinions that make people mad, they say I ain't rad, I'm just a fad of ****** hip-hop. I say I am a favour to this industry, but you ****** ain't feeling me, so I keep my lyrics confined with my pride.  Ironic syphilis dickwads filled & infused with hate for yah to feel, this is just the real, no need for props. Can't handle me, you can't accept me, but I don't care, i'm rare, not some sell out like black eyed pea's. ****** get mad when I say *****, but don't hate, natives were called ****** too, so I don't want to hear your **** about it. Work out with a wii fit, cheat when I do a spelling bee, lying about everything, trampling the rap game that's how I be. I used to try not swearing because it's just a easy cliche that fake rappers say, but **** it I need to get across my thoughts in a way for you peanut brains to truly understand my ****. Is this the innocent kid we used to hear, no that kid died when introduced to this crude society, gentle giant becomes defiant to the ways of how we live. Hulking out against everything wrong, i'll wreck the way we see things, not caring for the feeling you have, make you cry tears that will clear your blind view of the issues we face. So hate me, go ahead, I don't care, in fact i'll come to hater club with you, hear everything you have to say and save it in my eternal thoughts like a external drive. You have no taste for real rap, you probably listen to low life bottom feeders like little wayne, that's not real rap that craps a disgrace.

I feed the blood from this old pen and into paper blue again with red line dot to spot the flaw
I feed the blood a little more.
I starve myself of oxygen to feed more blood into the pen and from the pen yet more again to flow.
To go or not the red line dot, the flaws I spot the blood, the bleed the overwhelming need that goes to feed this anaemia that which in turn serves only to make each scenario that tiny bit dreamier, anosmia, can't smell, can't taste, ink never goes to waste because I inject it back into my veins.

And I tire, retire to take a time to rewire, a hard drive dive into electric cells, dwell within without my pen in hand and still the blood flows into flawed lines, these are the red dot diary times.

I feed to feed and that alone,
paper, pen and I am home.
leave me
be to
write and
bleed.

"Back In The Day, Yeah, when men did a little work, but
a lot of play.
Meetings at the saloon, and many times drinking
til noon.
So many pats on the back from strangers they cared
nothing about.
Just the company at a card table, or playing
craps in the back.
Yeah. Back In The Day is something today that
they cheer about.
Something though they all left out.
Their Ladies kept at home.
Probably dancing with the
kitchen broom.
Hardly ever spoken to, only when they jumped
after being told what to do.
Cleaning, and cooking. Making sure the children
were all cared for, cleaned, and dressed.
Making sure the Mother in them gave them their
best.
No respect until one day they took a stand.
They fought  back against man.
They've come a long way to show the world that
they can.
So many say. "It's a man's world."
I say. "Look at the shape it's in."
Seems we  left it impearled."

FRED CARVER

3 days after Fred Carver
Was shot dead
In a craps game
We all gathered
At Sparkman’s Funeral Home
For the visitation
I was standing
Behind Fred’s ex-wife Thelma
When she reached into her purse
And dropped something
In the casket
I leaned over her shoulder
And watched a black spider
Crawl up Fred’s face
And disappear in his hair
-Dennis Gulling

When something snaps
The ****** all bolt
Dogs out the traps
We all collapse
Down the plughole
Like turned on taps
Jaded expats
Bourbon, poker
All throw craps
Black top hats
Line the road
Like mourning bats
Marital spats
Crystal prisms
Where love refracts
Wear navy slacks
Stare out to sea
As mars attacks
Nightmares hide facts
Flattened like focaccia
Under fifteen all-blacks
Fuss over Goldman sachs
You know we only blink
When it's the shirt on our backs

I AM a hoodlum, you are a hoodlum, we and all of us are a world of hoodlums-maybe so.
I hate and **** better men than I am, so do you, so do all of us-maybe-maybe so.
In the ends of my fingers the itch for another man's neck, I want to see him hanging, one of dusk's cartoons against the sunset.
This is the hate my father gave me, this was in my mother's milk, this is you and me and all of us in a world of hoodlums-maybe so.
Let us go on, brother hoodlums, let us **** and ****, it has always been so, it will always be so, there is nothing more to it.
Let us go on, sister hoodlums, ****, ****, and ****, the torsoes of the world's mother's are tireless and the ***** of the world's fathers are strong-so go on-****, ****, ****.
Lay them deep in the dirt, the stiffs we fixed, the cadavers bumped off, lay them deep and let the night winds of winter blizzards howl their burial service.
The night winds and the winter, the great white sheets of northern blizzards, who can sing better for the lost hoodlums the old requiem, "**** him! **** him!..."
Today my son, to-morrow yours, the day after your next door neighbor's-it is all in the wrists of the gods who shoot craps-it is anybody's guess whose eyes shut next.
Being a hoodlum now, you and I, being all of us a world of hoodlums, let us take up the cry when the mob sluffs by on a thousand shoe soles, let us too yammer, "**** him! **** him!..."
Let us do this now ... for our mothers ... for our sisters and wives ... let us ****, ****, ****-for the torsoes of the women are tireless and the ***** of the men are strong.Chicago, July 29, 1919.

Things That Don't Typically Evoke Poetry #5
4/28/2014

Fat giraffe.
You shouldn't feel like you're a social gaffe.
I mean, sure, you could use some definition on your bloated calfs.
They look like cankles.
But there's nothing wrong with that.
I bet you could still support me if I rode on your back.
Besides, I don't think eating too many leaves can give you a heart attack?
And if it does, then no worries.
At least you ate a lot and got to take the biggest best craps.
Fat giraffe.

I have rolled four big wheels
hung on a freaking clock tower
Unsheathed a million craps
I still have zero power.

Consider, I fought on top
of War ongoing,
despite the pain
which I kept hiding.

Still the world shunned
the movement I rippled
cuz they don't give a ****
even after I've made myself a *******.

Oh, I'm sorry, has peace been signed?
Hmmm.... a sense of dejavu, I think.
I remember what history has shown:
Always being signed by ******* ink.

Love's a loaded craps game, played
by ****** people, lads who dream
a sweet and willing cavalcade
of perfect mates who can't exist
(though in the yahoo's mind they must,
or how would any man get kssed
or be excused the wolfish lust
of ****** people, cads who dream?)

Woke up out a cold sweat
Thinkin' will i survive the subliminal threats
Cant get a job cuz im black
Thats a  brutal honest fact
So brothers switch to a jack
Dont get mad when we rollin' craps
Hood mentality
To be nba or nfl livin' fantasies
Chasin' broken dreams
Thinkin' you can get the cream
No education cuz they medias want segregation
**** the pulpit preachers talk ****
Tellin' about them ******* parables
I know im a rebel
Born saint roll me up some dank
Hit the burb park my ds on the curb
Hitt the switches for the *******
******* for them snitches
If ya know me ya might be a homie
And if you a groupie
You nothing but a phony
Check my licks we steady got ya heads bobbin"
***** SHOULD HAVE KNOWN
IM STEADY MOBBIN''


I jumps in the shower
Clean as a muthafucka throw
On some baby powder
Dressed fresh to death
Makin' these girls loose they breath
***** i aint no lover
Go after them other brothers
Cuz ya cant catch me in a gank
Gas up the 64 put 30 in the tank
Gave the good lord a thank
Hit the liquor store and pour up some drank
My homie Tim riding shotgun
Im public enemy number one
Dont got a license for a gun
So thats means im illegally packin
Extra clips
Just incase for bodystackin' fools be actin'
Out but i got the clout
Rubbers on deck to keep a ** in check
Watch ya mouth before i slit ya neck
Still feelin' my music
Got ya ****** head bobbin'
***** im steady mobbin'

While not everybody naps
Simply everybody craps.
If you don’t you’re a goner
I swear by my honor
There’s no substitute for it
So just get used to it.
It’s like boogers, you see
It’s not talked of openly.

The public has an allergy
Of what can be said honestly.
You can admit to burping
But must do so excusing
As if you had taken a dump
Instead of expelling a lump
Of non-poisonous gas.
Society is a ***.

And while we’re at it
We live in a world here
Where ******* are reshaped
And formed by a brassiere
But no crotch bulges for men
Especially not big shaped ones.
As I have already implied
Society is a mean son-of-a-gun.

Breastfeeding an infant is
Seen as some kind of ****
But under-aged girls in bikinis?
That is why men were born.
They were put on earth to see
And love nature and its gifts.
But women in public should
Not show uncovered ****.

Just remember this and
You will do very well.
Being natural is for sure
The best way to go to hell.
You must always look to
The bluenosed of society
To shape your fine sense
Of decency and propriety.

A natural person, as God made
Is surely just the Devil’s work.
Because the Devil is more
Important that that God ****.
God and Santa make lists
And punish us by and bye
But Satan does it right now
And then spits in your eye.

So, be the proper citizen
And don’t do what is natural.
Following on nature’s bent
Will do you no good at all.
Even though the Bible won’t
Agree to this simple plan
Just look around you to learn
What is in society’s plan.

I went to Vegas made a bet
  takin' the cab: lost my Jet!  
Went  to settle up the score
What else is new? Lost some more!  
Nor did BlackJack go my way,
I should have left early that day!
I went to gamble; lost my shirt
Life's a shamble; now eatin'dirt    
I had a pocket full of cash      
sure was gone in a flash!
played the craps; now eatin' scraps  
thought I was lucky, but to my surprise
wasn't 7 or 11, it was snake eyes!  
I'm sorry to say, I took the bet
you know how it goes;it's Russian Roulette
I rolled the dice; I didn't think twice  
went to Vegas lost my dreams;
didn't stay away from the slot machines
Now I pray for my shattered life;  
should have played Bingo with my wife!

Beneath the calm
Of moonlit leaves,
Lying lovers
Shoot the breeze.

When in the moment
Of the mode,
Between the rhythm
Of stride and strode,
Shoot off your mouth
And not your load.

Corner thugs
Will deal you drugs
To smoke or snort
Or mainline shoot.
It's a slippery *****
Of lost freewill,
The up is high,
The trip's downhill.
You're in the cross hairs;
Drugs shoot to ****.

The shooter feigns
Heeding advice,
So craps himself
On loaded dice.

The lawyers grin
Without remorse;
They shoot your savings
Throughout divorce.

The pool hall hustler
Cues his cool,
Looking for
A snookered fool.

Naively, when the children play,
Yell, “Ah shoot!” instead of say,
“Ah ****.”
We say that's okay.
Like saying, “****!”
When they can.
It's in the Bible, see?

Sports Illustrated
Puts out a shoot
Of photoshops
In skimpy suits.

When we say
We shoot meat,
Do we stalk roasts
On city streets;
From our hide
On city blocks,
Do we crossbow
Down our chops;
Do we rope *******,
Then use buckshot?
It's euphemistic,
A rich spadeful:
"We shoot 'em all,"
And that's no bull.

hours since I was home,
my sign is astrological calm
twelve dozen months or years until
Revelations 12:1
or twelve tribes
twelve sons of Jacob
twelve Imams legitimate  successors
twelve Disciples, narrates the Prophet Yusuf
and his twelve brothers,
the twelfth moon of Jupiter, Lysithea,
the number of Magnesium, my son's weight
at three months plus his nine inside,
my cranial nerves,
C in hexadecimal,
NGC 12 spiral galaxy,
is craps on the first roll?

Just another hiccup I can’t make this **** up trying to put into word what is lost and not heard but should I express or just strive to impress all of the rest add more ******* to feed to the herd? Open your eyes and sit up don’t roll over to a dream instead make it reality, but how can we? Not through repetition of normalcy this illusion of humanity cast in confusion always using the people you and me. What’s the use in caring or giving when you get told you’ll be forgiven though they won’t, they want justice but refuse to even fully trust us. How can I keep fuel in my tank while the promiseland is just another paper pass it back and forth overhand until you finally land back in another box day by day wondering what will be on your dinner plate. Constantly voluntarily refusing to be fully using your energy. And yet you get tossed another fish after bending over doing flips at someone else’s pleasure just to add another penny to his treasure. Just reading sign after sign pointing away from the curtain towards the wizard another fire **** ****** blizzard. The backwards prince of thieves, robbing hood, is celebrating this, the very day in which, he saw the death of his father King Liberty, now he’s ruling so why should we even bother to keep running his maze when we know it’s a circular ****** consumer treadmill looks still can will do **** the esteem of darling little Josephine. **** and *** craps fast cash the American dream tall coffee milk or cream? On to the next one the next day the next month just repeating and constantly overeating not exercising my body or freedom. Should I keep going even knowing their stunting my growing always under weight of image seriously what the **** is this? Anorexic or overweight? If you’re right I’m wrong? You win I lose? Why don’t we just choose what we want instead of being shoved from behind and pushed into the spotlight of somebody else’s show? that’s not right? At the end of the day we miss the bus home to have time to think about calling that shrink then your eyes catch a rack for hire and you buy her she’s back…darling little Josephine. Dark room silenced tears under covers thrashing, mind on nothing else but lasting one more ****** before she walks away with my wallet and wife house and kids next stop liquor store popping lids feeling numb just waiting wishing sleep could come. Spin cycle keeps on churning. Loudly and quietly yearning for that promise from so long ago did they always know it’d come to this? Washers done almost out of change and time to rearrange the furniture in the living room that I really don’t even use. Shuffle to the kitchen to open the empty fridge then sit there and stare at it. 12 o clock on a Tuesday time for the doctor’s order another pill to pop you really can’t afford. Clothes out the dryer wrinkled like my skin and faded like the man within. And now for the part I can never write because I just can’t end it right because its all gone wrong.

ill be on the floor
rolling around for sympathy

ill be here
at the bar
but you know the number

ill be on my feet
pacing and engaging in exodus
going away and coming back
to our bed

ill be unlucky
with the craps table
rolling threes
and giving away all i own
for you

if you need to find me
ill be dancing alone in a corner
to a song that hasnt been written
juking as if you were near
reaching out for a partner
finding nothing

im lost
i shoulndt have
this or the other thing
i can hold you saturday
and feel dispelled on tuesday
we need better though
being enraptured perhaps

Now it's time to crucify the *******
Burn em with fire throw em in ditches
Like the district attorneys
Tryna play me but didn't know I was boss
Took a lot hard hits but no yards lost
Gaining multiple positions we go for everything
Didn't have a team so I built my own dream
Get rid of my old crew and hang with a new crew I'm a black Jew
Stuck in the wild a real problem child
Ain't my fault nigguh ?
Born in ******* now I'm tryna fight
Back nigguh
Real friends turn to bustas so jealousy keeps me strapped
Shootin' game like life's full of craps
Testin lucks enticin' clucks to my duck
Cuz I got that mad flow cash flow
Never failed had no choice but to shed hell
Livin' in a jail cell
Kin to the reaper this **** creaper
As I stroll in my drop top hot as a *******
Rushin' the late night hour like I'm Chris Tucker
The stash is gold bold weak nigguh fold
And ***** ******* to haters get the black glock
Since my homies roll deep us might as well say we a flock none could block the hustle
Go for the biggest muscle
The Cia the biggest distributors
Uh the Devils gotta receipt repent from my sins
If I die from open fire will the Heavens let me in?
The pain I can't fade Tha
The stress put on this earth as a test
Slicin' necks with my rusty razor
Givin a rapid taste of a true hellrazorrr!

Sandra works the slots all day
Smoking cigarettes; taking free drinks
Feeding the bandits instead of her soul…
Knowing it's daylight, somewhere!
Ken throws craps; blackens the Jack
Winks sickly at the cocktail waitress
Imagines doing things way past his prime…
Knowing it's nighttime, somewhere!
Passing hours like their years
Bathed in sticky syrup distraction
Dismount stool, lurch; pin-***** pupils
They meet at the buffet; tepid, bland
As their vacation; their marriage
Mid-life shape shifting sand!

© pofacedpoetry – Billy Reynard-Bowness (2018) – All rights reserved

I always see, I always hear
The falling drops of her rain-like tears
Shouting so loud with tremendous fear
But no one seems to hear her agony
No seems to see her eyes full of anxiety,
Her Depressed mind, Depressed soul and her depressed body
No one knows because she used to pretend
No one knows because she always lend
A helping hand together with her smile
That Makes my world stop in just a while.
But as I look in her deep brown eyes,
I see her most sacred secret:
She's living in a world as cold as Ice
But with her smiles, everything looks perfect.

I adore her for being too strong
In hiding those pains with her smiles for so long
I adore her for being there for everybody
Even though she's tired of all those craps
She still manage to be that "Somebody"
And do all of those crazy stuffs

It hurts a lot when I see her that way
'Coz I know that she's getting worse each day
The monster inside her is slowly getting stronger
Eating her heart:Filling it with anger-----
Anger to this world that she's living in
Anger to every one and every little thing
Anger that will End her life In just one night!
Anger that will end her painful life!
---- But still, she's fighting that growing monster inside
And like all the years that passed,
Behind her Pretentious smiles is the place where she used to hide.