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King Panda Jun 2016
like red lion parts
crotch rocket
nut cup
anything done behind
a dumpster in the dark
yes, always
because you never liked how
light peeked through my thin
or how I squinted
my eyes when I kissed you
“Just close them all the way
of course, I obliged
anything to keep you
away from your mother
anything to keep you
out of the garage
the sulfur smell
the demons in your
drinking marble
but god,
the vibration
the car peeling out
on the driveway and
“Here take this.”
all of me reminded you
of her
all of me
“Rest, darling. Rest.”
and every time the night
ended with unclothed gin
bedspreads like
forts and painted
“Go **** youself.”
and all was lost
my body
my grief
10 pounds lighter
sweat soaked through
the carpet
zebra Aug 2016
on the first date
she confided in me
i have a chromosomal disorder, disorder, disorder
i need love and pain strangely mixed together
my elixirs
i suffer reality distoooorrtions
a ghastly Vatican of ****** compulsions
my soul is black matter
my **** a seething cauldron of despicable desire
my *** cries for homicidal cruelty

mold me into a *******
fold me like a two dollar beach chair
the wrong way
tear me to bits
unwind my intestine
eat me like a blood ******* ghoul
make me squirm like an anime victim

i thought oh finally a soul mate
with soul

strange as a Dionysian mad hatter on hallucinogenics
hot girl creeping
grimacing at me
meandering conjurations by ****** contortions
stunning impersonations of a Fellini impaling
shes a famous artist
keeps broodish bowels and blood tampons in stainless vitrines
spot lighted
ready for her debut at the
Museum of Modern Art

she blows torrents of snot like ****
her beautiful desperate tongue searching the upper lip
a salty runny viscoses snack
finding it finally with her frenetic tongue
feeding her gooey ****
with wet fingers
oh yummy yum goo
up her *** too

first smiling then hideous scowls
exposed teeth
posing with a knife
wana see me cut my self bad boy, she taunts
wana see my impersonation of pizza with extra tomato sauce

blood blood *** in the be in the bed
wipe it up with ****** bread

some how she miraculously bulges her eyes out
then performs, ******* lips as if a minnow in a fish jar

pointing to her ***
giving me that **** hurt me twisted look
how about a peanut butter jelly ******* sandwich
with a side of ****** feet
**** and **** on toes
its especially prized this day of the month
as her **** tears like a vampires mouth, a torrent of blood
pouting **** with white red stained thighs that break a mans heart
*** nothing at all she quips
just a little accident
do you like it?
as she glares like an invitation
to play slip and slide bare foot in her puddle of blood

oh she made me *****
my cherry red **** having a nervous breakdown
from apoplectic horror gasms
a dose of heavens ****

i want her
she is voluptuous like a dozen venomous snakes
copulating in warm soup dark water everglades
she is slither theater

curdling screams
then muggling *******
brought on by the first belly stab
falling to her knees
looking up shocked
mouth gaping
eyes wide
glance steady
holding holding holding
the belly cut
a cacophonous modern dance of agony
followed by rapturous convulsing *******
that went on and on and on

get a bat she implored

she is a real ******* movie star
the Greta Garbo of *****
a dark jewel
a must have
a **** wife
goddess of dread
a ******* *** genius
my best girl ever

fused by desire
we kissed like **** loving catholic priests
in adoration of their savior
young boy *** castrato hitting the high notes

she looked up with desperation
eyes with glittering tears
and said
are you my black knight?
do you know how to hurt a girl
are you my
Vex Mallus
Dr Satan
Marquis De Sick
Nick Nick
Dark Officer
Remus the Werewolf
Dom Sugar Daddy
Pit Bull
Tommy the Tummy Gutter
5 o'clock Shadow
London Cabby
Amputee ******
Uncle Surgery Gone Wrong
King of the Carpathian Vampires
my sweet kissy Kitten

ooohh yes i said
i am all that for loves sake
albeit twisted
i am what you crave.. your no taboo lover boy
your ******* licking foot ***** with a razor in hand
a bubble of poison between my legs
your homicidal suicidal cockealiciousness

she said good,
now that we have that settled
can we go out for dinner
ill be dressed in a jiffy
if i can find my dead skirt
of soft white gauze
with that lovely motif of dread red
and my precious toe tag jewelery
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story, not judge me, although i admit to my paraphilias  
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about and then again  you may feel more complete some how if you do....I always loved that dark thing that sleeps with in me
Never sleep without your shoes on your feet,

I forced my mouth to quiet my cries,
for fear of another whip from the belt,
she frowned as if to me tell me, "not another sound."

Morning finally shined in,
but momma better not get woke up before ten,
so I waited until the night before I started in again,
"mommy, he was my dad that died too,"
avoiding eye contact, "no you belong to that ***** that gave birth to you, "

Trying one more time pleading the way 5-year
old's do, "but you're my mommy, I love you and
I miss daddy too,"

Suddenly my body slammed to the floor, realizing my shoes were the color of blue,
fear, pain, the taste of blood not knowing to stay still or try to move,
could never guess which
to do, no matter her

Grieving for my daddy,
begging for her love... she couldn't because I wasn't her  blood,
my sister called her boyfriend, "daddy," though,
ironically she had my dad's last name but not me strangely so.

That cold Chicago night my shoelaces were tied extra tight,
in fear, she'd put me in the dumpster like so many times she dared.

Always sleep with your
shoes on your feet,
never get comfortable...
like innocent prey you'll
be eat.
Ven Jencie Clifton Arnold
Author Ven J Arnold page on Fb Series3, Always Sleep With Your Shoes On"
I long for the reign of the visual (her first look of the day)
The pitter patter stampede on my conscience
quickly softened with a touch; such is the cotton effect
of her flesh:::
still she isn't here

vile is the curse of distance
the struggle to be close to her::

the want knows
what it's like to be beatified in accession

ingratiated in proximity
inculcated by a smile

when inches feel like miles
continents should be easy

still I panhandle for a word
dumpster-dive for images
Forever searching for you, ansalve of perfection, frozen in time

There is an arrogance in the required syllables needed to describe her grace

Travis Green Aug 2018
Above my home where the dark clouds
curl into the sky clinging for a home to
rest their sleepy depiction, shadowed
trees hum sweet lullabies, lonely leaves
breathe in the sad song of fallen dimensions,
letting its lifeless view roll upon their frame,
the chilled breeze sailing in the skyline,
as I scramble my way out of a filthy dumpster,
a mountain of disintegrating mess covering
my broken body, hovering flies surrounding
sticky strips of spaghetti, moldy mashed potatoes,
and moldy chicken *** pies, while my mind sunk
into traveled thoughts, bruised hands pressed against
the creases in my forehead, allowing my existence
to feel the stranded scars streaming in various mazes,
dull eyes flushed with a burning disorder, aching cheeks
and chests nestled in darkening chamber corners, buried
hips and thighs uprooting in somber blades of grass,
thorned, torn, and destroyed in different worlds.  As I stood
on the slippery pavement staring at the ruffled scenery
in my sight, spinning streetlights thickening into slouched
positions, screaming sidewalks spilling sadness and madness
in the drenched air, razor-edged buildings inching into crushed
centimeters, jumbled meters, ****** yards.  I replayed the sober
images in my head, the way my young brown-skinned mom said
I would never amount to anything, how I could hear the raged
noun ****** sift into the distance, its flaming mechanics
accelerating into screeching sounds, the way she hurled
her fists at my smashed face, every vibrant language
breaking apart, slamming shut into closed infinites,
snagged contractions and gerunds diverging into
shuddering double spaced negatives, the way she threw
my lingering body inside the trash dumpster, her sharp
scarlet words, You are no son of mine, ricocheting off
savage surfaces, sparking my soul in a calamity
of choking diction.
e fields Apr 25
It’s becoming grislier by the second
Crime scene, the body, yellow tape
Foreclosed, unfocused. Rain drenching.
The smells, the dumpster stench
Rising in the coming heat
Advent of another summer stretched
With the wrath of the lost weekend:
Minus colorless glamor, minus drinks.

The spirit could actualize in any city
But the nattering has only worsened
Deafening, mixed with all the static hums,
Sonic ringings.
Travel via any roadway above or below
Bridges, certain highways,
River-run jogging paths,
Alleyways, side streets:
Out of the question,
Unthinkable against a draught
Of other thinking.

The splintered back
porch of the homestead
Where childhood has yet to cease
Temporary respite of sorts,
Under the clear blackened violet blues,
With the spectral blank-slate companion
Of a craggy-faced Moon,
Haranguing will start in again,
Nicotine-hastened and probably soon

Black cat vanishing between houses
After imparting a glance seeming
Full of wisdom and meaning,
Now we’re legitimately ill-fated.
Just kidding, only superstitions,
The Mellon Jan 2
This land is your land,
This land is my land.

This land is our land,
But Not a black land,

Not from sea to shining sea.

Attention Mexicans everywhere!

This land is not your land,
This land is our land,
Home of the free!
(Some requirements apply)

God bless America,
Where at least I know I'm free,
Home of the ignorant,
Yet land of the free,
(Skin color based exceptions)

Happy Happy new Year!
New year to You and Me!

Happy Happy new year,
Except for your country,
(Build the wall!)

Dreidel Dreidel Dreidel,
I made it out of clay,
If the makers Muslim,
Please don't explode I pray.

America the beautiful,
As hypocritical dumpster fires tend to be.
This is a sarcastic poem depicting the worse of America. I do not believe these racist sexist etc. comments.
Lawrence Hall Aug 2018

         “No doubt they’ll sing in tune after the Revolution.”

                      -Kamarovsky, Doctor Zhivago (film)

Everyone seems to clench his fist these days
In solidarity with ephemera
While setting fire to green recycling bins
Hurling someone else’s bicycle through a window

Armed with their undergraduate degrees
The comrades liberate a coffee shop
Wifi-ing the revolution of the day
Empowerment by beating love to death

Loudsplaining authentic victimization
Posing for selfies with a stolen ‘phone


Their inhumanity seemed a marvel of class-consciousness, their barbarism a model of proletarian firmness…

                         -Doctor Zhivago, p. 349

Everyone seems to clutch his flag these days
In solidarity with a past that wasn’t
While setting fire to misspelled cardboard signs
Hurling someone else’s beer into a crowd

Armed with their lurid Confederate tats
The Something.Right liberate a dumpster
Bull-horning the counter-revolution
Empowerment by beating love to death

Bellowing their Reconquista of stench
Posing behind their cheap gas station shades


I used to admire your poetry...I shouldn't admire it now. I should find it absurdly personal. Don't you agree? Feelings, insights, affections... it's suddenly trivial now. You don't agree; you're wrong. The personal life is dead…”

            -Strelnikov to Yuri, Doctor Zhivago (film)

Some few embrace civilization these days
In solidarity with humanity
While lighting one small candle as a votive
Whispering an Ave into the Light

Armed with wonder through pen and flute and brush
Recusants choose the liberation given
In singing of the eternal verities
Self-empowerment happily denied

With love, with poetry, music, and art
Celebrating life on this summer day
Patrick M Jul 2018
My mother says, “Taking out the trash is a man’s job.”
2. She says, “A man shouldn’t be afraid to get his hands *****.”
3. I wonder if she left my father because he wouldn’t get his hands *****.
4. The first man my mother dated after the divorce was a garbage man. I still remember the gifts he would bring, the reclaimed objects that were always just a little too broken for my mother to love.
5. I have my father’s hands, a writer ever since I learned how prose could dribble and ooze from a page like the sweetest honey. I couldn’t wait to run my hands through it.
6. I have the eyes of my mother, ever since I learned the beauty of a man willing to get his hands *****.
7. I am still so shocked when I confuse myself with the garbage that I have become so accustomed to removing.
8. I am willing to love men who would hold me if only to take me to the dumpster when they’ve finished.
9. I am 19, and I am scared to tell my parents that I don’t want to get my hands ***** for a girl, but that I feel comfortable getting my hands ***** with boys.
10. I worry that my scent betrays me. That it rises like some profane incense from my plastic skin.
11. My father asks me, “Is there a girl you’ve been seeing? I can give you advice about talking to girls.”
12. He says, “You know, you could have any girl you wanted.”
13. I wonder if my father left my mother because he thought he could have any girl he wanted.
14. I imagine the look on each of their faces when I tell them about this part of myself that I couldn’t throw away. Look at me, still talking about it as though it belongs in a landfill. As though I belong with it.
15. I wonder if, next week, it will be their love placed delicately by the side of the curb to be caught in the teeth of a trash compactor. If they will mourn me like I once saw them mourn broken china. Valuable once, maybe, but now, beyond repair.
So, I wrote this based on the way I like to hear words out loud. There's no rhyme scheme to speak of, but I really like the way it sounds.
Madison Rea Mar 19
The emotions that bring the emptiness inside yourself
Like you just got kicked in the chest
To be at a complete loss of your future
Craving that sweet release you miss so much

Nothing will come from this
Always setting myself up for heartbreak
I’m a ******* making me feel alive
Always setting myself up for failure

Bring the pain I love it
Okay maybe half the time
Cuddle me while I’m crying
All while lies roll from your lips

Hating control I will take the power
Unless the voices say otherwise
I have a switch that turns off emotion
Not understanding why I can’t control it

I deserve this one way or another
Wishing it was a **** in my ***
Call me what you will
After school, words don’t hurt me anymore

They say ‘do good and good will come’
Obviously that’s a lie
I have never had someone try to help me up
All of my years have been full of screaming and tears

**** used to bother me
Learning how to love it
Pushing the rage down waiting for it to blow
Nothing gets me off better

Risky behavior thrill seeking
**** yes you can bust in me
I love to be your ***** *****
Not claiming the tainted blood in my veins

My failed attempts
No one knows
The chills I get putting the cold steel to my head
I am instantly dripping ******* wet

No warning no ****
Fill me if you can
Most can’t handle that
The second I tell them my fantasy they’re gone

If he has the status I will put his **** in my mouth
If you’re broke and busted this is not joke still I put him in my throat
Missing the mountains
I yearn for more

Don’t ask me why I’m like this there was no trauma
I can’t remember feeling any different
Stretching me to my limit
I wouldn’t mind six

They can all be friends or strangers
I’m a keeper of trinkets and first
I will forever be imbedded
My heart is a huge abyss

Depression leaving black rotting flesh
This needs to be put to death
They tell me I’m lying and that I can control this
What makes you think I don’t try why would I lie

I watch my feet when I walk making my time feel faster
Eyes red wrist ****** face feeling puffy
Silent screams escape my head
Never viberating my vocal cords

Cold metal locked on my wrist
Craving only escape all I care for is my music
Where is your god at now
My power I steal

Somehow my trust is automatic
I play the game to give you a false sense of control
Coming to reality maybe I’m the one always being manipulated
All it does is makes my knees weak

If you pull out fast it only makes me mad
I need you to degrade me
Five guys or one all blasting inside
I hope you fill all my holes

Our atoms mutating naturally or man made it’s all genocide
Receiving only my joker side
Just give me one second of your time
Gravity the only thing keeping me

Now I need you to do something for me
Spit on my ***** rub that ******* **** up and down my lips
All the way in all the way out make me ***
Stick your **** in my ***** now would you please *** inside me

Do you like my ******* today
In my hours of lsd you made me *** without touching me
I wish I had a match that is ****** up like me
Believing I can get higher then the trees

All of this is just a fairy tale
You will forget me with that deeply hurting me
My illusions you have made obvious
Wishing you would have been the first for me

It’s been going on to long either love or abuse me
Make it clear if I’m just another lay
My ****** and hard and I’m hot and ******* bothered
Can we get a little ****** and sticky

My purple jewels need your kisses
Getting insecure because I always stare
You don’t even know me I just want to please
Make me your pet

Laying on my front knees pulled tight face down awaiting
By submitting I’m asking you to use me
I only see love when I’m your *******
I just want your physical affection

Double penatration is key
You make me resist the urge to touch and ****
Take me to the bathroom force me on my hands and knees
Face pushed on the floor make me feel like I’m nothing

I need you to hold me
A knife to my neck **** in my *** put that gun in my ******
Make me scream while you **** me
How can I fufill this ******* need

This is all for now even if nothing came out
The drugs in my system I will always get them
Feed me pain so I can chase it away
All I ask is please **** me fill me
*...I deserve this through and through..I love you though*
They all say sorry
Such a hideous **** monster
But it changes... Nothing
The devil just only keeps you longer

The ugliest fool
Just Gods tool... Trash to be discarded
Sent to the garbage can. Dumpster
The incinerator... God laughs

Why cant i die, Why cant i leave
Why won't God, just **** me
And set my tortured soul free
"Gee i wonder why"

How does it feel in ****
God hates you, it's swell
Life can be worse than jail
When you are forced to live
In the constant reminder
Of the fact, your soul fell

March 29 2019
Juggalos? I like my music
We all sin. Some worse than others
And if you dwell in the past
You cant hide under the covers
"No ****"
God speaks. But do we hear or see it
All around us. An evil hateful spiteful
Just. My life was weird
Ghosts demons angels aliens
Seen it all
But those winged guys
They arent what they seem
The real angels look scary
Or sleep soundly in a crib
Everyone else
They know what they did.
Graff1980 May 8
He can’t sleep. He can’t speak. He just whistles. The wind works its way through his tight teenage lips, disrupting the subtly silent suburb. Frequencies fluctuate. In the distance a dog barks. Then another dog barks. The piercing sound of high pitched whistling doesn’t stop. Aside from his holey jeans, old flip flops, and smelly green shirt, whistling is all he has. The sound resonates with everything he is.

He whistles with the lost hope of love. There is a soft undertone of sorrow. His whistle is as beautiful as a piccolo. It is more fluid than a flute. Farther in the distance a mournful howl echoes in response to the whistle.

The night carries him onto a bus. One stranger stares scowling viciously.

Another strangers growls, “Shut the **** up.”

However, this pied piper cannot. He refuses to stop. The whistling continues.

        Up and down, it is a haunting sound. Fifteen minutes of whistling while the bus carries him home, to nowhere. Here there is an empty alleyway with a metal grate giving off waves of stray heat. He works his way to the one dumpster occasionally stocked with the days rotten left overs. To some the stench would turn their stomach, but to him it is sweet salvation.

An officers asks him to stop and show his I.D, to no avail. The request is repeated carrying a hint of arrogance and anger. Even so, the whistler is unable to stop. A hard hand grabs his wiry arms. They struggle, another officer joins the fray. Somewhere along the line a foot smashes against his ribs. He whistles for them to stop, pleading with his pursed lips. Steel toed shoes smash his gaunt face. The whistler finally stops.

The cops do not. Years’ worth of rage works itself out on the young man’s body. Inside his skull the whistling continues accompanied by a ringing. Pain singing and singeing his brain, leaves him breathless. This is nothing new. It is no worse than his history. The red welts, the black bruises, the damaged ear drums, and the broken larynx, all the scars from previous violence.

Violence meant to silence. Beatings that stole the words from his breaths. Speaking through the wind was all he had left. A secret language he kept to himself. The dead tell no tales. Instead the wind whistles back at a broken corpse.
Sayer Oct 2018
what a waste wasting away in the summer light with dreams
of travel and brightly counting down the minutes the hours the days
the months to see you (again) to be thrown away decay in a dumpster
today not tomorrow i have no more strength in my words to give you
the right answers and

i'm tired of being sorry and i'm tired of being alone
and i've grown as a person and i can grow some more
i swear i promise i swear it's true because it's hard to admit
but i really did fall in love with you
I’ll go to Milwaukee.
With a friend, I’ll stay.
I’ll take their mother’s car key.
Not at noon, of course, but at the end of the day.
I’ll park behind the dumpster.
A skimpy outfit, I shall wear.
I’ll cake my face so my lips look plumper.
I’ll catch a trick, “Take me anywhere.”
He won’t know what’s in my black clutch.
A knife and duct tape. I’ll wear a pair of silk gloves.
I know what I’m doing! Don’t you dare judge!
I’ll probably pity him; he only wanted some artificial love.
I’ll put on a show.
Make it seem like I want him.
It’s just an act! I would never stoop that low.
If only he knew his night would end up grim.
We’ll race into the hotel room, both of us eager.
“Can you get me a glass of water, please?”
He’ll stumble into the kitchen. I bet he’s a drinker.
I’ll stand hidden by the door; away from what he sees.
When he walks past, I’ll pull out the knife.
He’ll never see it coming.
I’ll sever his spine. For now, he can have his life.
He doesn’t deserve any form of numbing.
To a chair, he’ll be taped.
“Why are you doing this? Who the **** are you?”
I’ll tell him I’m a demon, just human-shaped.
“I’m wondering why I’m doing this, too.”
I’ll tear open his gut.
He’ll try to scream, but the tape will cover it up.
I’ll slice his heart, lungs; I don’t care what!
When I deal that final swipe, his end will be abrupt.
No fingerprints in his car or in the room.
And I made sure to wear my friend’s wig.
It’s sad to think that this was his tomb.
But, seriously, this was quite the gig.
Starry Apr 26
I wrote a poem.
5 years old.
About a tornado 20 feet tall.
I loved the poem.
It made me feel special.
But then a trash bag in makeup came along
And tore away my pride.
Replaced it with sadness
And the fact I will NEVER amount to anything.

6 years old.
First grader and proud.
Teacher’s pet and proud.
Happy child and proud.
BUT then you came along.
You wanted my happiness
Because I touched your crown.
You treated by like I was your
Leftover food.
Throwing me into the dumpster and
Forgetting about my exstistence.

Second grade.
New chances.
New year.
Lost my first tooth.
Where were you during this?
Taking **** behind my back
Like the idiot you are
Making me cry at lunch
Because your insecurities

My future was set.
And you were the boxer.
The words hit me.
Taylor, do you know what you did?
You broke me down into a sad
Depressed girl by the time

Fourth grade
Still a kid
Called me ******
And selfish, I’m always
‘flipping my hair’
Taylor, when did I become a mirror?
I was leaving you forever.
I’m moving.

It’s a whole new school.
New people.
New friends.
The new girl must be thrown around
Teachers pet again
But this time I wasn’t proud.
One year there felt like

6th grade.
I made friends.
I moved to this town.
Bullying should have end.
I felt the stares.

K through 8
I have been treated like
I’m tired of it.
I’m speaking out to the bullies of the

Draco Malfoy
Biff Tannen
Regina George
Dudley Dursley

Bullies from fictional places
Bullies from fictional worlds
I’m calling them out.
You need to stop.

Kids like me are crying alone
Breaking down and decaying
Because you called them a
Cry baby
You called them
Your left overs

We are done being
Pushed around by bullies
We are done.

You were just a girl
With insecurities
With fears
I forgave you

I’m sorry
You treated me bad
Because you thought
I was better than you
You don’t remember me
True Story
I know it's long

— The End —