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Bob B Oct 2016
If you know the tale of El Chapo,
You know then what will befall
Even the person who's known as
The most famous drug lord of all.

Exporting more drugs to America
Than anyone else in the past,
El Chapo lived like a king
On the millions of dollars he amassed.

You didn't mess with El Chapo.
Woe betide you if you did!
Not only would you suffer,
So would your spouse or your kid.

Back in the 90s El Chapo
Found himself in a scrape
And landed in a Mexican prison,
But he found a way to escape.

A protracted stay in the slammer
For him was not in the cards:
He bought his way to freedom
By bribing the prison guards.

For thirteen years El Chapo
Evaded capture and hid.
He kept up his shady dealings
While trying to stay off the grid.

Authorities in Chicago
Gave this man on the run
Notoriety as Public
Enemy Number One.

In 2015 the drug lord
Was back in prison again.
This time he fled through a tunnel
Dug by some of his men.

One day marines closed in.
They thought they'd caught their man.
El Chapo held a child
In his arms as he ran.

Soon El Chapo got sloppy.
No one could catch him, he thought.
Alas, the marines tracked him down.
Back to a cell he was brought.

Now the Americans want him.
Extradite him, they say.
El Chapo will be an example
To show that crime doesn't pay.

So, say good-bye, El Chapo,
As you sadly wipe your tears.
We hope you like your new home;
You're going to be there for years.

Yes, say good-bye, El Chapo,
To your Sinaloa Cartel.
A maximum security prison
Will be your new citadel.

- by Bob B
R Guildenstern Aug 2013
I seek divine inspiration
yet I remain stuck with tempered cognatation

Stuck,with desperation and mutilation

By the limitations of human beings, who seek no liberation

Then lay me down to rest,

For already I feel the linger of death's breath upon me
as my humble skin convulses

Soak me then I say,in your hemlock waters
that I too may feel the numb of ordinary
That I may too be baptized by filth and reborn into the realm of acceptance
where i may be seated beside my father, like him before me

Together, to **** the living breath from the lips of our mother nature
as the door closes behind me
SassyJ Jan 2016
Communication technology recognition

Reformation in monopoly contortions

Feel the attuned tunes from satellites

Setting light like an antenna televised

Usher prolific hologram vised in vision

Bid manipulation bye to new world neon’s

Motivation from free thought movement

Commendations cemented in another time-zone

Complement to comment for extra terrestrials

Electrical vibrations moving from wired modems  

Floating up above the skies, a heaven end  

All life become a past tense lie, come lie

A dead fantasy for the oars ain’t tacky

The most surreal reality, the stability, an ability

Congeniality, this is an alien evasion, adaptability

Figure a boxer on the ring, trenching victory

An agility the accessibility to the victorious flag

Tracing admissible tunes, planking in a cool challenge

The heroic and not hectic hologram check the angiogram

Its not a diagram, but a radiant heart an earthy soul

Am a do anything, buffing myself to do anything

Ain’t a deal rocking the crowd in crazy clouds

Breaking the underground like a Fujita F Scale tornado

Ronaldo tormenting the ball in a field with F clef societal

Social control and orders, tormenting the ****** to extraordinaire, an extradite

Streaming live make you believe like you can live for real

Stratifications, ****** classes and sewn mobility

Chasing dreams in the winds deeply wheeled in a well

Be well as we sink  so deep to seek and hold the dense

The essence of the whirlwind, it’s a seep through static

This rollercoaster an aspiration to inspire then perspire

Ever higher, from the root to crown charkra, a tantra

Annata,the ascending holographic magnetic hero

Tuning visions to dreamers and travellers

Hold my hand as we sink underneath the stratums

No sputum, just headphones.... a culture, it’s the new age soul
An alien televising from another time zone. The monopoly grounds broken by the new free thought movement, questioning all the control and social orders. Calling to break the ground of 'normality', shaking up the routine with a F scale tornado or even F clef crescendo. Humanity, need to sink deeper and rise from root to crown charka to envision the vision, to unravel the stratums and ultimately uncovering the true "human essence"... One peace!
Sarah Sawyer Nov 2011
As the hour drew nearer for me to know
I kept having flashes of past deeds
Long moments of memories
of repressions resurfacing with resolve
to extradite any hopeful forgetting on my part.
It will be negative, my mind whispers.
It always has been...

we are on the bed
a tangle of limbs
exposed to the air
never covered
raw           confusion
deep regret
a wall of protection
holes butchering it filled
quick with sarcasm

My mind is stuck in mundane tasks
Pushing any thoughts of the past into boxes
Shut, ridiculed, made insignificant.
Days pass, I work my body until it can
only think "keep moving"
I count. I breathe in.
One.
Two.               Out.
                      One.
                      Two.
That's all I can allow
I stop among the trees
Further then I have ever run before.
The first few moments are pure reveal
at having pushed myself so far.

i am still artificial
not all there
laughing in awe at the awkwardness
the odd situation i don't recognize
knowing this is the definition of nothing
because i have nothing to give
except for a laugh to know part of me
is in this
he is kissing me, tired of the wait
the talk i was enjoying
i mask it with "my wants"
this ******* concept that has become
a crippling facade
it is just a physical dance
changing positions like steps
we dance the bed
i'm cold and i want it over
laughing escapes from my lips
i say i am still high, i'm not laughing at him
but i know it is a lie
i am laughing at myself
for being such a fool
for being this new me
a degree lower for being higher

The cold temperature of the class hardens
my ******* under my shirt.
I cross my arms wanting them to be
soft again.
This unwilling reaction to outside factors
angers me.
I don't have any control anymore.

this is what i have become
a spectacle so easily raised
wondering why
i am a prisoner to these things
i want them more then i want me

But that's not even true!
I crave me, what I could be.
There's no use in wanting what I used to be.
She's dead, piled under the rocks of years gone by.
A mental service for the lost
"Dear God..."

i plead that name
soft whispers in the night
trying to hold on to the childlike faith
but why is he silent
am i no longer worthy of his grace
when i breathed the holy vapor
did it not the right syllables make
"dear god..."

That name pushes me to come undone
**** God and his crucified son
and the contradictory messages
sent "from above"
Where is he now in this
great game of Hide and Seek
Where daily a child dies of unspeakable acts
A mother is forced to care with no help
And I am left drowning in my own blood
wondering if I still possess the ability
to even give a ****

i walk among the trees
my secrets falling like an acidic rain
eating the soil
but i keep the pain a secret
always hidden beneath
strength, sarcasm, and a smile
my mind watching the sunset
while my mouth speaks of the coming noon

A friend once told me she wished she could
be like me
Not caring about what I've done
But in all honesty
I wish I could be like the biblical god
A self righteous *******
who hides behind a flawless facade of love.
She's surly shy with her lines
the curtains fell on her face
when adept only flash of evanescence
with a bite in capital and shoal disport her dress
in polls today hop with her as such a surprise wink at her frill that land upon shoes and ruefully construe her entirely with her malice fore bash in bistro extradite uproarious faith that fully entice her orthodoxy and succeed with premier.
Tyler Zempel Dec 2018
The Harvester

A long, overly dragged out, deep knock rattles the front door of Ambers new domain.
She knows in her gut who it is and instead of answering the door, would rather be forced to run naked through the street in pouring rain.
She goes and checks on her three-month-old son to make sure he is still asleep.
He is, however every time she looks at him, it causes her to want to weep.
He has his eyes, his nose, that ******* creep!
She struggles to sleep at night no matter how many she counts, the endless sheep.
Being away from that house hasn’t brought with it a sense of relief.
She has yet to find a proper hobby to use as a release,
to extradite from herself all the negative thoughts and energy built up from her previous reality.
She feels worn down and defeated, her self-esteem.
She feels ugly and fat, gone is her once perfect physique.
Her heart feels empty, her soul incomplete.
A healed psyche, deep inner peace are the goals she hopes to achieve,
but she’s felt that way since she was thirteen,
and back then the worst thing she had to live with was her nightmarish daydreams.

Another long, overly dragged out deep knock rattles the front door causing Amber to scream at the person causing the noise.
The person behind the door speaks, but the words are inaudible.
Amber walks up to the door and swings it open.
Standing in front of her is Erin, she thinks her eyes must be joking.
Erin is a few months pregnant herself, Amber can’t escape the feeling of hopeless.
She’s already changed addresses, but Erin has found her again through sheer devotion.

Amber goes to slam the door on Erin’s face but Erin places her hand on the door to stop it in its tracks.
Amber doesn’t want another confrontation, it will surly reach a horrible ******.
Erin is crazy and she wants nothing to do with her.
They will never be on friendly terms, that’s a fact she can assure.

“Amber, please talk to me.
All I want to do is spill my soul and set my conscious free.
I want to make things right between us and end this bad blood.
I don’t want you to feel like I got off easy while you were tortured by being beaten and dragged through the mud.
We don’t ever have to be best friends,
I just want to apologize and for you to listen so we can finally make amends.”

“I have a restraining order against you for a reason Erin.
I don’t want to talk to you or see you, I would rather fill out a hundred boring questionnaires and mail each one individually in.
I know your jealous of me for having Chris’s baby,
but trust me I wasn’t ready to become a proper lady.
I was a teenage girl when he abducted me and ***** me over and over again getting me pregnant.
I begged him to get me an abortion but he wouldn’t listen to that plea even for a second.
The child I’m now forced to raise reminds me of him every single day and I hate him for it!
I hate you as well because inside that unstable mind of yours, you are unfit
to become a mother!
You’re too young, just like me, it’s not too late for you to give up on it and eventually have another
after you meet someone in fall in love.
Who would you rather have a child with, a raven or a dove?”

“I’m sorry Chris put you in this position but that wasn’t my fault.
I was also abducted and a victim of his ****** assaults.”

“You enjoyed spending time with him!
You enjoyed his big **** inside of you!
Sure, he kept you ******* and used you as his personal ***** for a few days,
but you soon won his praise.
He allowed you to walk freely around his house, even when he wasn’t there!
I was ******* and drugged constantly, our situations don’t even compare.
Every day you could have walked out of the house and went to get help.
You did not, instead you cooked, cleaned and read his books.
You acted like his ******* wife!
You ****** him daily, slept next to him in his bed and he provided you with a decent life.
I have nothing more to say to you.
You are despicable and just thinking of you makes me want to chug brew after brew.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t leave to get us help and take down Chris, that is on me, I own that.
The truth is, I was terrified, terrified of what he would do if I tried to leave; I admit I’m no righteous diplomat.
I remained on my best behavior to stay on his good side so he would allow me the freedom to roam around his house.
It sure as hell beat being ******* in a tiny room that stunk worse than an outhouse.
I bartered with him every day to allow you some freedoms as well, but you had blown his trust so badly he always instantly refused to listen to me about it.
Believe me, we came out of the same boat, I’m not a ******* hypocrite.”

“You’re so full of ****!
I don’t believe a word you say, that’s something I just won’t permit.
I saw the way you looked at me.
Your eyes glared at me with contempt you ******* banshee!
You hated, hated, that I was carrying Chris’s baby and wanted me and my unborn child dead.
You wanted to be the only one he bred.
You loved him and wanted him all to yourself.
It’s time for us to now say our final farewell.”

“Ok, I admit that I did think I was in love with him.
I thought we would run off together and live our lives together as husband and wife under a false pseudonym.
However, I didn’t hate your nor did I want to harm you.
I really did advocate for you with Chris but he refused to believe anything I was telling him and couldn’t accept my words as being true.
I’m sorry for my actions and lack of actions in that house, I truly was scared and confused.
We are both his victims and both of us to him were nothing more than a hole to use.”

“Don’t lie to me, you still love him and you are angry that he fled the country without you.
You thought you were going to be by his side forever, attached to him like glue,
but he caught wind that the cops were coming to rescue us and ran before they did,
leaving you behind sleeping in his bed all alone.
He left you behind to raise that child all on your own.
I’m sorry I had to throw that stone
but it’s the truth and you need to hear it.
It’s best to abort that child right now and move on with your life.
Unlike me, you have the option of truly moving on from this ordeal.
Don’t worry, you will find another guy one day that makes you squeal
like his **** made you squeal every night.
With the right choices made, your future can become bright.”

“Chris would never leave me behind you *****!
He will return one day when it’s safe to do so and will reunite with me so we can live a life together that is rich,
satisfying and everlasting!
I won’t listen for another second to your negative forecasting.”

“I knew you weren’t over him Erin, so why are you really here?
Please answer quick because I’m ready for you to disappear.”

Erin, now frowning and filled with rage pushes Amber down hard to the floor.
She’s here for one reason, a reason involving gore.
She jumps on top of Amber and takes out a knife she has hidden in her boot.
This was her plan all along, take out her rival and her fruit.
She wants Chris’s baby and Chris’s love all to herself.
Some call it selfishness; she calls it determination.
Erin, now with knife in hand, stabs it into Amber’s stomach.
She smiles and begins humming
a song of victory over her rival as she cries out in pain.
She pulls the knife out as Amber yells out she’s ******* insane.
Erin gets off of Amber and begins walking deeper into the house.
“No, not my baby,” Amber cries out fearing the worst.

A few moments later, Erin returns to Amber with her son in her arms and her knife placed against his throat.
Erin begins laughing and starts to gloat.
She is moments away from eliminating the two people with ties to Chris.
Then it will be safe for him to return and plant on her a kiss,
before the run off together and live out their lives in bliss.

Erin asks Amber if there are any last words she would like to say to her son.
Amber, moaning in pain on the floor tells Erin this doesn’t need to be done.
Erin says it must be done as a knock on the front door interrupts proceedings.
Erin has no time for this, the child must begin bleeding.
Who dares interrupt her and Amber’s dealings?
Erin has a very bad feeling.

“Police open up!”
“That’s right *****, I called the police the second you knocked on my door.
It’s best to stop this charade and accept the punishment you have in store.
HELP!  I’VE BEEN STABBED AND THE INTRUDER IS TREATENING TO **** MY BABY!
SHE’S COMPLETELY ******* CRAZY!”

The front door breaks down as the police storm the house with guns drawn.
Erin stands in front of them holding the baby with the knife still pressed against his throat now showing off a massive frown.

“Put the knife down, set the child on the floor and put your hands above your head!”

Erin refuses to listen to the cops demands and begins to cut the babies throat.
If she can’t have Chris neither can Amber and the knife is the antidote.
A gun shot is heard as everything begins to move in slow motion.
Erin feels overwhelmed with emotion.

A bullet slowly exits a gun and begins moving through the air directly towards Erin.
Her knife slowly begins tearing into the flesh of the baby’s neck.
The baby lets out a loud scream as the pain created by the knife races through his body.
The bullet continues to move steadily through the air quickly approaching Erin,
who is frozen in place and unable to move.
With the knife now half way across the baby’s neck,
The bullet from the gun enters into Erin’s right eye,
tearing a hole into and through her brain,
and exits out the back of her head.
Erin drops the baby as her head is forced backwards.
She falls lifeless, backwards onto the hard floor dead.
Police rush to the aid of the baby who is still alive but badly injured.
Amber thanks the cops for the efforts as she looks up towards the heavens,
taking in her final breath as the loss of blood has become too much.
“Chris must pay for this,” is her final thought,
as the living world around her turns to black.
Not even close to it,
even as the crow flies carrying twigs for a nest in some memory tree
We
are not even close to the blossom of youth

in the gypsy booth where fortunes are hung on the minds of the gullible
the truth is sometimes foretold

but it's a cold Tennessee and blue mountains are all that
We
get.

I'm slicing up soldiers to dip in my egg because I'm violent at breakfast
We
**** or we cure all or bounce off a padded wall,
same thing in the end

Life drives us 'round the bend and I wanted a Maserati
to outrun the paparazzi
I guess that they'll just extradite me
We
can't even go on the run

I blame Billy the Kid for getting rid of so many lawmen leaving the door man
who's decrepit
to let in the faithful

If I'm tired and trimming my beard
if I'm crazy or senile or just a bit weird
it makes no difference to me
We
take it on the chin, in our stride,
electric shock?
I nearly died

and they fried some brain matter,
a part of the memory scattered forever

and they think they're so ****** clever
We
don't need a college degree
We
can see what's coming

the era of the dumbing down
the status rectified
more brain matter fried

I'm slicing up soldiers and soldiering on until the morning arrives when all the soldiers have gone and then there'll be a war
We
already saw that.
lock up
when anyone
seems

particularly disappointed
or demanding with me
not ideologically, but
in tone intensity,
conversing
forcefully

either I
turn off, go numb, freeze
taken over by survival mode

or I fight err flight it
usually trying to fly
with some fight
as I navigate
the exit

my 18-pound shewolf triggers me:
all barkybarkbark wanting things -
like ******* carrots after dinner,
and if I don't get them at first yip,
she insists, paws, jumps, getting
all super-***** indignant
(kind of adorably)

sometimes, I keep giving in
and get them (repeatedly)
because I'm a pushover

sometimes, I block her out
until she goes full self-righteous
and I feel bullied, get up and go
into the other room to breathe
and stop shaking

sometimes, I can extradite myself
before it gets all fullreactivejacket
like when my brother (drunkenly)
told me he didn't want my son
around his, because I told him
Santa is just a cultural myth
that we pretend for fun
when he asked

apparently, I'm an *******
for making decisions for my kid
that I'm comfortable with, not him,
and thinking there's way more magical
**** in this world to be excited about
than a random fat man breaking and
entering your house to bring presents
as long as you leave him cookies...

I have a mouth on me, but I try
not to use it, because I am
quite accurate in aim
and loaded with
cutting truth

but I
don't wanna fight
anymore

because I lived
in a war zone

in the beginning
the fights would last for
d   a   y   s

or should I say,
the raging lectures
while I tried to reason
how and why
my thoughts
differed

he always had a way
of making me feel
solely responsible
for everything

he'd go onandonandon
until I acquiesced, agreed and
promised to give in to whatever
he believed the solution to be
(usually me cutting someone
out of my life or giving up things
I thought I liked)

and if I disagreed,
or picked holes in his argument,
he would start back at the beginning, because I must not have been listening

it stopping,
and subsequent silence
was such an enormous relief -
when adrenaline stopping pumping
and I could hear myself think
just grateful and happy
to be done
with it

I would disassociate
hard

sometimes
there would be
a traumatic scene
that was quite ******
but then a few days later
I couldn't remember
what happened
but knew
it was

bad

I started writing
some of those episodes down
so I'd know what happened to me -
for future reference, that I wasn't
crazy

so, I
latched onto
the peace and quiet
while it lasted

and as his words
had less and less effect,
the more crazy he'd act
to get me
in line

once when
I did not acquiesce at all, proud
in the face of his domineering storm,
standing firm, calmly disagreeing,
stating my case matter-of-factly,
he cupped his hands over my ear
and screamed as loud as he could
rage rattling me
into tears

I wish the imprints
on my psyche faded
as fast as the bruises

I don't know if I'll ever be
completely normal

but I do know

I will try
to tread lightly
around your triggers
and not take it personally
when they inevitably
detonate

I will learn them
like I know my own
and I will understand why
you do what you do

because when I say yes,
it's going to be
to everything
Ryan O'Leary Jul 2022
UK
.  If Priti Patel was a man
she would not have given
  the go ahead to extradite
Assange, it is toxic feminism.
Jeremy Betts May 23
Something doesn't feel right, could be that my head isn't ******* on tight
Could be that, try as I might, the absence of light shrouds the line between wrong and right
Hiding in plane sight but fright often forces the eyes closed, a blind plight
Never found the passion to ignite
Didn't think it possible to gaslight ones self outta spite
Never shined bright enough to conquer or at the very least scatter this proverbial night
Narrow vision and bad eyesight was my faley alright
Hit and fell through my rock bottom with the force of a meteorite
Bobbed instead of weaved and lost the fight, but not contrite
Many issues I'd like to extradite back to their day of origin, with new insight I'd like a full rewrite

©2024

— The End —