You leave fallout whenever you walk away from me.
Oh, god, I can't breathe when I see your face.
Everything in me just stops,
Like someone hit pause,
And then it's like I'm falling through the floor.
I never knew a person could make you this crazy.
I never knew it could be such chaos inside,
Like a star dying,
Little parts of me spinning out,
Fire and light and everything quaking.
I want to reach out and steady myself
Just to touch something solid, to know that gravity still exists
And you're not the only thing that's pulling on me.
My poor heart is trying to keep up
With my blood going the speed of light through my veins,
And it flounders, it stutters and trips and trembles.
Nobody's ever had this kind of effect on me.
I could crumble to your feet whenever I see you.
And for hours after, the fallout keeps coming,
And I lay in the dark in the early morning
Trying and failing to sleep
Because inside I am a whirring jumble of feelings
And the light from the turmoil inside shudders its way out of me
In tears.

I'd like to think that she's thinking:

"How far have I fallen?"

As she sits on the corner of her bed,

Listening to the soft buzz of his battery-powered toothbrush.

I imagine her,

Running her fingers through her clumsy, coagulated hair.

Glancing at her chipped, crimson toe nails,

Then looking to her class ring,

Made entirely of imitation ingredients,

Wondering when is the proper time to trash it.


When she was still a friend of mine,

I never saw her wear make up,

I never saw her show off in tight jeans

or low-cut tees.


But as he spews the toothpaste into the sink,

Skinny jeans lay tussled on the floor,

Next to the side door

that leads to his sister's side room.

The make up she wears

is from the night before.

It's skewed and shows evidence of running,

Like a wasted watercolor.


I'd like to think he isn't that handsome,

And that he's obsessed with Paul Walker.

I'd like to think when he re-enters the room,

He's in grey sweatpants,

He's wearing a black tank top,

With a Confederate flag backdrop,

With two barely dressed babes looking ******

in the foreground.


His hair, unwashed and greasy.

He rubs his belly,

And bears an idiot grin

on his face.

Looking like he just learned how to smile

at this pace.

"Did it feel good?"

feel good.

After he asks, he scans her body,

Beginning at those crimson toes,

And Ending at that clumsy hair.

Every second he scans,

He still wears that drawn-on

Idiot grin.


I'd like to think at this point she thinks of me.

Of my warnings and prophesy.

Her eyes start at the chipped toe nails,

Course over her tanning bed-inspired legs.

And finally reach the only thing she has on,

A t-shirt that belongs to his sister.

A t-shirt, when given by him,

It was mentioned, "thanks, mister".


Though she didn't satisfy all his redneck intentions,

During last night's expedition.

He still paid her back with a morning

one-sided session.

"It felt good" she says.

In reference to the ten minute *******,

When her body was strummed and plucked,

Underneath his sister's Terri Clark T-shirt.


As she sits in the filth and the ****** fallout,

On a bed that is six days *****,

While he is grinning,

Being everything but wordy.

I'd like to think she's thinking:

"How far have I fallen?"

We are heating up
A-glow--- A-star--- A-blaze
Many other well-lit planets
She's luminous like no other
Simply crazed__Fairytales

*She's Peach-Fruitti-Tutti
Godiva loves nuts
All the melt in's
*Mr. Bacio-Hazelnut*
Mr. Pistacchio he got his nose______
Inside their sweets____Pinnochio
She's the Light-up Icecream Cone  

Moods are like ice cubes
hot and cold websites
I prefer cold zone
Feeling like
Eskimo in Alaska

Miss Prima Donna
Oh! Donna is her name
Gelatos are not all the same
We are not here to have
special privileges

Robin lost some ruffles
Polar bears ice Igloo
College boys with their sports mug
Polo shirts Santa hoo duffle bags
We don't know what she knows
or what he likes the stars
of the Cosmo we are not
here to win someone's love
OH! Yes Lotto

We are not professors or wizards
Harry Potters, they have some
Pots not a fan of pans got
some ****
**** so cool menthol smoke indeed
Around the Gelato in eighty days
The Race of a drive
computer clicks one-day creation flag
Hens and chicks laid the golden egg

Mr. Egghead meeting Conehead

His tasters choice  
 She loves Mr. Maxwell Mansion
This is Italy the Art sculptures
Sweet Gelato lips say a
thousand words of pleasure
We travel with Exotic lovebirds
Saving the Ice blue diamond
Icecream wreck what a she
gains more than a pound
Mama Mia,
not the Chia job plant
 Over the rainbow
chill out pants
Having Gelato clean
as mint float

To the waffle cone top
of the mountain sugar coat
Niagara Falls here
"Gelato calls"

What spaghetti my name is
Carretti
Mr. Alfredo his physique and
passion for food
Feeling like the comics
Having fun marveling
Carvel walking through
the love tunnel
  
Hot ladies how do they ever
Decide iced up inside

Hothead Alfredo throws
the dough
She coughs he laughs
The pizza everyone's
the head is turning beet red
Something is burning exorcist,
Lady in red pizza list

Back in Brooklyn best
Pizza and Italy (Rome) Venice (Florence)
But Bensonhurst Saturday night fever
With Nightingale Mr. Chippendale
He's chatting away on his cell phone

With her Gelato looking at the
stars of the men spiritual experience
The Cosmos feeling meltdown presence
St Thomas sunny like yellow
gelato melting

Being a saint please don't faint
A food critic dessert
*** a hex playful flirt
T Rex mighty green lime
The love fallout of coconut
He's the hottest man
on earth Pluto
Being whole flavor or 1/2 pint
of Vanilla Sky scholar or
Intermission Icecream internship
The Canadian cup another trip

  Nike air what an ice cream pair
Going back to New York City
Rockettes icecream kick
He's on his time feeling the royalty
Lets bow to the dogs best friend
French barrette in her ice blue
Corvette, she is 'Ice Queen"
Super Ice me, Hero

Do what the Romans do
Lend me your warm soul of hands
Getting married Italian medieval rings
For my next Gelato adventure
escape be polite on Google
Mr. Alfredo loves all kinds of noodle
The shape of Cone's to come in her head

Not an Antman, please or fly by night
Icecream Cone Head Batman
*But I am a woman named Robin
Christopher Robin, Robin Hood
Why are boys and girls name alike
**** good humor lady
Good humor truck
Where is her order head chef
shrimp scampi
In the islands of Sorrento

What a time for ironing
What a waffle shirt eating
his waffle
Icecream with ladybugs and dirt
So many varieties mental thing
Everything icecream you scream
What a college Varsity every year  
"Hot lady Gelato's" head of the dean
list oh! No
[Mr. Alfredo} ice cream chair with
another Gelato pair
Chiao for now

You were born five years before the Spanish Civil War that would see your father exiled.
Language came later to you than your little brother Manuel. And you stuttered for a time.
Unlike those who speak incessantly with nothing to say, you were quiet and reserved.
Your mother mistook shyness for dimness, a tragic mistake that scarred you for life.

When your brother Manuel died at the age of three from meningitis, you heard your mom
Exclaim: “God took my bright boy and left me the dull one.” You were four or five.
You never forgot those words. How could you? Yet you loved your mom with all your heart.
But you also withdrew further into a shell, solitude your companion and best friend.

You were, in fact, an exceptional child. Stuttering went away at five or so never to return,
And by the time you were in middle school, your teacher called your mom in for a rare
Conference and told her that yours was a gifted mind, and that you should be prepared
For university study in the sciences, particularly engineering.

She wrote your father exiled in Argentina to tell him the good news, that your teachers
Believed you would easily gain entrance to the (then and now) highly selective public university
Where seats were few, prized and very difficult to attain based on merit-based competitive
Exams. Your father’s response? “Buy him a couple of oxen and let him plow the fields.”

That reply from a highly respected man who was a big fish in a tiny pond in his native Oleiros
Of the time is beyond comprehension. He had apparently opted to preserve his own self-
Interest in having his son continue his family business and also work the family lands in his
Absence. That scar too was added to those that would never heal in your pure, huge heart.

Left with no support for living expenses for college (all it would have required), you moved on,
Disappointed and hurt, but not angry or bitter; you would simply find another way.
You took the competitive exams for the two local military training schools that would provide
An excellent vocational education and pay you a small salary in exchange for military service.

Of hundreds of applicants for the prized few seats in each of the two institutions, you
Scored first for the toughest of the two and thirteenth for the second. You had your pick.
You chose Fabrica de Armas, the lesser of the two, so that a classmate who had scored just
Below the cut-off at the better school could be admitted. That was you. Always and forever.

At the military school, you were finally in your element. You were to become a world-class
Machinist there—a profession that would have gotten you well paid work anywhere on earth
For as long as you wanted it. You were truly a mechanical genius who years later would add
Electronics, auto mechanics and specialized welding to his toolkit through formal training.

Given a well-stocked machine shop, you could reverse engineer every machine without
Blueprints and build a duplicate machine shop. You became a gifted master mechanic
And worked in line and supervisory positions at a handful of companies throughout your life in
Argentina and in the U.S., including Westinghouse, Warner-Lambert, and Pepsi Co.

You loved learning, especially in your fields (electronics, mechanics, welding) and expected
Perfection in everything you did. Every difficult job at work was given to you everywhere you
Worked. You would not sleep at night when a problem needed solving. You’d sketch
And calculate and re-sketch solutions and worked even in your dreams with singular passion.

You were more than a match for the academic and physical rigors of military school,
But life was difficult for you in the Franco era when some instructors would
Deprecatingly refer to you as “Roxo”—Galician for “red”-- reflecting your father’s
Support for the failed Republic. Eventually, the abuse was too much for you to bear.

Once while standing at attention in a corridor with the other cadets waiting for
Roll call, you were repeatedly poked in the back surreptitiously. Moving would cause
Demerits and demerits could cause loss of points on your final grade and arrest for
Successive weekends. You took it awhile, then lost your temper.

You turned to the cadet behind you and in a fluid motion grabbed him by his buttoned jacket
And one-handedly hung him up on a hook above a window where you were standing in line.
He thrashed about, hanging by the back of his jacket, until he was brought down by irate Military instructors.
You got weekend arrest for many weeks and a 10% final grade reduction.

A similar fate befell a co-worker a few years later in Buenos Aires who called you a
*******. You lifted him one handed by his throat and held him there until
Your co-workers intervened, forcibly persuading you to put him down.
That lesson was learned by all in no uncertain terms: Leave Felipe’s mom alone.

You were incredibly strong, especially in your youth—no doubt in part because of rigorous farm
Work, military school training and competitive sports. As a teenager, you once unwisely bent
Down to pick something up in view of a ram, presenting the animal an irresistible target.
It butted you and sent you flying into a haystack. It, too, quickly learned its lesson.

You dusted yourself off, charged the ram, grabbed it by the horns and twirled it around once,
Throwing it atop the same haystack as it had you. The animal was unhurt, but learned to
Give you a wide berth from that day forward. Overall, you were very slow to anger absent
Head-butting, repeated pokings, or disrespectful references to your mom by anyone.    

I seldom saw you angry and it was mom, not you, who was the disciplinarian, slipper in hand.
There were very few slaps from you for me. Mom would smack my behind with a slipper often
When I was little, mostly because I could be a real pain, wanting to know/try/do everything
Completely oblivious to the meaning of the word “no” or of my own limitations.

Mom would sometimes insist you give me a proper beating. On one such occasion for a
Forgotten transgression when I was nine, you  took me to your bedroom, took off your belt, sat
Me next to you and whipped your own arm and hand a few times, whispering to me “cry”,
Which I was happy to do unbidden. “Don’t tell mom.” I did not. No doubt she knew.

The prospect of serving in a military that considered you a traitor by blood became harder and
Harder to bear, and in the third year of school, one year prior to graduation, you left to join
Your exiled father in Argentina, to start a new life. You left behind a mother and two sisters you
Dearly loved to try your fortune in a new land. Your dog thereafter refused food, dying of grief.

You arrived in Buenos Aires to see a father you had not seen for ten years at the age of 17.
You were too young to work legally, but looked older than your years (a shared trait),
So you lied about your age and immediately found work as a Machinist/Mechanic first grade.
That was unheard of and brought you some jealousy and complaints in the union shop.

The union complained to the general manager about your top-salary and rank. He answered,
“I’ll give the same rank and salary to anyone in the company who can do what Felipe can do.”
No doubt the jealousy and grumblings continued by some for a time. But there were no takers.
And you soon won the group over, becoming their protected “baby-brother” mascot.

Your dad left for Spain within a year or so of your arrival when Franco issued a general pardon
To all dissidents who had not spilt blood (e.g., non combatants). He wanted you to return to
Help him reclaim the family business taken over by your mom in his absence with your help.
But you refused to give up the high salary, respect and independence denied you at home.

You were perhaps 18 and alone, living in a single room by a schoolhouse you had shared with Your dad.
But you had also found a new loving family in your uncle José, one of your father’s Brothers, and his family. José, and one of his daughters, Nieves and her
Husband, Emilio, and
Their children, Susana, Oscar (Ruben Gordé), and Osvaldo, became your new nuclear family.

You married mom in 1955 and had two failed business ventures in the quickly fading
Post-WW II Argentina of the late 1950s and early 1960s.The first, a machine shop, left
You with a small fortune in unpaid government contract work.  The second, a grocery store,
Also failed due to hyperinflation and credit extended too easily to needy customers.

Throughout this, you continued earning an exceptionally good salary. But in the mid 1960’s,
Nearly all of it went to pay back creditors of the failed grocery store. We had some really hard
Times. Someday I’ll write about that in some detail. Mom went to work as a maid, including for
Wealthy friends, and you left home at 4:00 a.m. to return long after dark to pay the bills.

 
The only luxury you and mom retained was my Catholic school tuition. There was no other
Extravagance. Not paying bills was never an option for you or mom. It never entered your
Minds. It was not a matter of law or pride, but a matter of honor. There were at least three very
Lean years where you and mom worked hard, earned well but we were truly poor.

You and mom took great pains to hide this from me—and suffered great privations to insulate
Me as best you could from the fallout of a shattered economy and your refusal to cut your loses
Had done to your life savings and to our once-comfortable middle-class life.
We came to the U.S. in the late 1960s after waiting for more than three years for visas—to a new land of hope.

Your sister and brother-in-law, Marisa and Manuel, made their own sacrifices to help bring us
Here. You had about $1,000 from the down payment on our tiny down-sized house, And
Mom’s pawned jewelry. (Hyperinflation and expenses ate up the remaining mortgage payments
Due). Other prized possessions were left in a trunk until you could reclaim them. You never did.

Even the airline tickets were paid for by Marisa and Manuel. You insisted upon arriving on
Written terms for repayment including interest. You were hired on the spot on your first
Interview as a mechanic, First Grade, despite not speaking a word of English. Two months later,
The debt was repaid, mom was working too and we moved into our first apartment.

You worked long hours, including Saturdays and daily overtime, to remake a nest egg.
Declining health forced you to retire at 63 and shortly thereafter you and mom moved out of
Queens into Orange County. You bought a townhouse two hours from my permanent residence
Upstate NY and for the next decade were happy, traveling with friends and visiting us often.

Then things started to change. Heart issues (two pacemakers), colon cancer, melanoma,
Liver and kidney disease caused by your many medications, high blood pressure, gout,
Gall bladder surgery, diabetes . . . . And still you moved forward, like the Energizer Bunny,
Patched up, battered, scarred, bruised but unstoppable and unflappable.

Then mom started to show signs of memory loss along with her other health issues. She was
Good at hiding her own ailments, and we noticed much later than we should have that there
Was a serious problem. Two years ago, her dementia worsening but still functional, she had
Gall bladder surgery with complications that required four separate surgeries in three months.

She never recovered and had to be placed in a nursing home. Several, in fact, as at first she
Refused food and you and I refused to simply let her waste away, which might have been
Kinder, but for the fact that “mientras hay vida, hay esperanza” as Spaniards say.
(While there is Life there is hope.) There is nothing beyond the power of God. Miracles do happen.
 
For two years you lived alone, refusing outside help, engendering numerous arguments about
Having someone go by a few times a week to help clean, cook, do chores. You were nothing if
Not stubborn (yet another shared trait). The last argument on the subject about two weeks ago
Ended in your crying. You’d accept no outside help until mom returned home. Period.

You were in great pain because of bulging discs in your spine and walked with one of those
Rolling seats with handlebars that mom and I picked out for you some years ago. You’d sit
As needed when the pain was too much, then continue with very little by way of complaints.
Ten days ago you finally agreed that you needed to get to the hospital to drain abdominal fluid.

Your failing liver produced it and it swelled your abdomen and lower extremities to the point
Where putting on shoes or clothing was very difficult, as was breathing. You called me from a
Local store crying that you could not find pants that would fit you. We talked, long distance,
And I calmed you down, as always, not allowing you to wallow in self pity but trying to help.

You went home and found a new pair of stretch pants Alice and I had bought you and you were
Happy. You had two changes of clothes that still fit to take to the hospital. No sweat, all was
Well. The procedure was not dangerous and you’d undergone it several times in recent years.
It would require a couple of days at the hospital and I’d see you again on the weekend.

I could not be with you on Monday, February 22 when you had to go to the hospital, as I nearly
Always had, because of work. You were supposed to be admitted the previous Friday, but
Doctors have days off too, and yours could not see you until Monday when I could not get off
Work. But you were not concerned; this was just routine. You’d be fine. I’d see you in just days.

We’d go see mom Friday, when you’d be much lighter and feel much better. Perhaps we’d go
Shopping for clothes if the procedure still left you too bloated for your usual clothes.
You drove to your doctor and then transported by ambulette. I was concerned, but not too Worried.
You called me sometime between five or six p.m. to tell me you were fine, resting.

“Don’t worry. I’m safe here and well cared for.” We talked for a little while about the usual
Things, with my assuring you I’d see you Friday or Saturday. You were tired and wanted to sleep
And I told you to call me if you woke up later that night or I’d speak to you the following day.
Around 10:00 p.m. I got a call from your cell and answered in the usual upbeat manner.

“Hey, Papi.” On the other side was a nurse telling me my dad had fallen. I assured her she was
Mistaken, as my dad was there for a routine procedure to drain abdominal fluid. “You don’t
Understand. He fell from his bed and struck his head on a nightstand or something
And his heart has stopped. We’re working on him for 20 minutes and it does not look good.”

“Can you get here?” I could not. I had had two or three glasses of wine shortly before the call
With dinner. I could not drive the three hours to Middletown. I cried. I prayed.
Fifteen minutes Later I got the call that you were gone. Lost in grief, not knowing what to do, I called my wife.
Shortly thereafter came a call from the coroner. An autopsy was required. I could not see you.

Four days later your body was finally released to the funeral director I had selected for his
Experience with the process of interment in Spain. I saw you for the last time to identify
Your body. I kissed my fingers and touched your mangled brow. I could not even have the
Comfort of an open casket viewing. You wanted cremation. You body awaits it as I write this.

You were alone, even in death alone. In the hospital as strangers worked on you. In the medical
Examiner’s office as you awaited the autopsy. In the autopsy table as they poked and prodded
And further rent your flesh looking for irrelevant clues that would change nothing and benefit
No one, least of all you. I could not be with you for days, and then only for a painful moment.

We will have a memorial service next Friday with your ashes and a mass on Saturday. I will
Never again see you in this life. Alice and I will take you home to your home town, to the
Cemetery in Oleiros, La Coruña, Spain this summer. There you will await the love of your life.
Who will join you in the fullness of time. She could not understand my tears or your passing.

There is one blessing to dementia. She asks for her mom, and says she is worried because she
Has not come to visit in some time. She is coming, she assures me whenever I see her.
You visited her every day except when health absolutely prevented it. You spent this February 10
Apart, your 61st wedding anniversary, too sick to visit her. Nor was I there. First time.

I hope you did not realize you were apart on the 10th but doubt it to be the case. I
Did not mention it, hoping you’d forgotten, and neither did you. You were my link to mom.
She cannot dial or answer a phone, so you would put your cell phone to her ear whenever I
Was not in class or meetings and could speak to her. She always recognized me by phone.

I am three hours from her. I could visit at most once or twice a month. Now even that phone
Lifeline is severed. Mom is completely alone, afraid, confused, and I cannot in the short term at
Least do much about that. You were not supposed to die first. It was my greatest fear, and
Yours, but as with so many things that we cannot change I put it in the back of my mind.

It kept me up many nights, but, like you, I still believed—and believe—in miracles.
I would speak every night with my you, often for an hour, on the way home from work late at
Night during my hour-long commute, or from home on days I worked from home as I cooked
Dinner. I mostly let you talk, trying to give you what comfort and social outlet I could.

You were lonely, sad, stuck in an endless cycle of emotional and physical pain.
Lately you were especially reticent to get off the phone. When mom was home and still
Relatively well, I’d call every day too but usually spoke to you only a few minutes and you’d
Transfer the phone to mom, with whom I usually chatted much longer.

For months, you’d had difficulty hanging up. I knew you did not want to go back to the couch,
To a meaningless TV program, or to writing more bills. You’d say good-bye, or “enough for
Today” and immediately begin a new thread, then repeat the cycle, sometimes five or six times.
You even told me, at least once crying recently, “Just hang up on me or I’ll just keep talking.”

I loved you, dad, with all my heart. We argued, and I’d often scream at you in frustration,
Knowing you would never take it to heart and would usually just ignore me and do as
You pleased. I knew how desperately you needed me, and I tried to be as patient as I could.
But there were days when I was just too tired, too frustrated, too full of other problems.

There were days when I got frustrated with you just staying on the phone for an hour when I
Needed to call Alice, to eat my cold dinner, or even to watch a favorite program. I felt guilty
And very seldom cut a conversation short, but I was frustrated nonetheless even knowing
How much you needed me and also how much I needed you, and how little you asked of me.  

How I would love to hear your voice again, even if you wanted to complain about the same old
Things or tell me in minutest detail some unimportant aspect of your day. I thought I would
Have you at least a little longer. A year? Two? God only knew, and I could hope. There would be
Time. I had so much more to share with you, so much more to learn when life eased up a bit.

You taught me to fish (it did not take) and to hunt (that took even less) and much of what I
Know about mechanics, and electronics. We worked on our cars together for years—from brake
Jobs, to mufflers, to real tune-ups in the days when points, condensers, and timing lights had Meaning, to rebuilding carburetors and fixing rust and dents, and power windows and more.

We were friends, good friends, who went on Sunday drives to favorite restaurants or shopping
For tools when I was single and lived at home. You taught me everything in life that I need to
Know about all the things that matter. The rest is meaningless paper and window dressing.
I knew all your few faults and your many colossal strengths and knew you to be the better man.

Not even close. I could never do what you did. I could never excel in my fields as you did in
Yours.  You were the real deal in every way, from every angle, throughout your life. I did not
Always treat you that way. But I loved you very deeply as anyone who knew us knows.
More importantly, you knew it. I told you often, unembarrassed in the telling. I love you, Dad.

The world was enriched by your journey. You do not leave behind wealth, or a body or work to
Outlive you. You never had your fifteen minutes in the sun. But you mattered. God knows your
Virtue, your absolute integrity, and the purity of your heart. I will never know a better man.
I will love you and miss you and carry you in my heart every day of my life. God bless you, dad.

i think about the fallout
the pressure pushing me down
I think about the fallout
the emotions wearing me down
I think about the fallout
my body breaking all day'
I live the fallout my body cracking glass

anxiety attacks like
volcanic eruptions
buildup unbreakable.
the explosion is
the worst kind of release
it seems like the scariest
part but don't forget
the fallout
the devastation of
any living thing
nearby.

The burr shaking in a
Bohemian Awakening
(Long) vintage stare how
her words were spelled
out snake tongue (Short)
The Death
Whats Up* Chap of a sport
Whats Up Doc
Going tick tock Mr. Rick
Don't trick this document
Oh! where did it drop
What!! He made the drop
dead gorgeous dress?

Born to die last lip of the spoonfuls
Cut to the chase with my chap lips
More deaths on the rise to deliver 
 
How love was the
mind controller
Hands out of the grave
couldn't hold her
Like the Boulder Chief head
Hothead on her shoulder
The better herbs of medicine
His racing car hot flame
gasoline

The Rapsody of her melody
holding on to her life
What a unique wife
Until time changes her moods
Opening up her world of flower buds
A different silence of home goods
We do believe we can be

The Champions

But the fallout of promises
Or jobs never big advances

Oh! Christ
Her chapped lips needed some
time to heal where is her next meal
The heat catching a death of cold
But staying alive the second
wind hot Ferrari Italian drive
Feeling deathly-sick faking
your death was no trick

Who disappeared never
really certain
if it was truly their
Building the fire mountain
Don't keep complaining
where the time went
Death of a cold wishes
not to die
where is our youth
Only takes one amazing birth
Lips kissing the fountain
The fortune teller booth

Who would want her chapped lips
Baby Ruth crunchy bar
down the mountain
The love confused her the
death would be
faster going once or twice up
Guilty trip or the graveyard shift
Hangover ski lift with her
Beeswax for chap lips
Taxman on the number rise flirting
What a good chap
In her coffee cup a little Robin birdie
told you

You made your own grave
time on my side or hanging
by a thread of stitches
Hats off up and away
Getting a green facelift of witches
You lived so far the good life
Feeling so wanted
he cooked your meals
He cleaned up your mess wearing
The Chef Apron 
 *He's Wanted the sign
All over the world,
his face is wanted
The fool lips the fuller up lips
The heart went out of touch a deathly cold
She is wearing her heart-shaped lips
Doing what she is told
How the world has been
smudged with
rules
Noone knows where here

All her cracks of her lips
The cute button nose
Not Rudolph the Reindeer
The hunt for the ****** nose
Up close and personal
Lip to his lip journal
Such odds of numbers
So many even deaths
like tumblers
Through the loopers
Love and resentment
The world is a village commitment
Mcdonald Man beef and the
melted lady
cheese
whooper
You got an alert notice
The cast of spells the
fire went high
You couldn't even put it out
The death of a Salesman novice
Papercut snip computer nasty chip
The charcoal grill felt like it burned you
The fires new hires of California
The peace sign
Imagine people with no

Holy water
Whose mind is in order
The Dementia patients
Your own flame so many hot flames
The rest of the world caught a death
of a cold like an old flame

*The Goddess of Venus
The darker edge his cool hummer
Going on a shoot with chapped lips
Who is really keeping tabs

There was nothing to believe in to hold
To restore how do we balance the world
But we are not Gods
Chapped lips caused
such an alarm
All things take time then
it's in harm's way
Someone will understand to pay
Like a settlement
Deathly gray hairs on the pavement
Getting hurt but the best Godly soil
is still their like dirt
There was no reception hell broke
loose riot
Everything was naked sound
No time to sing a duet to
feet on the ground love couplet

That snow drift fall on your face
Who will be where you are in
the next century place

Perhaps your last picture
before you die
How the singer live on
to be remembered
  Why are we not discovered
Can we be saved from redemption
Like you have been squirted on
Like Heinz Ketchup did you catch up
To get his kiss did he feel your death of cold
But never to exist
What is on our bucket list?

let it not be confused
let no one else's name
ring throughout these sentences
let this be a hatchet
let me put this to rest
this is not a test
i don't want to think
about shipwrecks anymore
i am tired of folding apologies
into origami birds
and placing them
at the headstones to your tantrums
this is not is not geology class
these are promises
written on razorblades
      & if you are getting choked up
        then maybe you should be
maybe we should be buried
with our telescopes face down
my mouth is full of sorry
all for being honest
we are falling out of orbit
we are burning bystanders
so cast away your callous condolences
because no one is clapping
in this waist deep water
this is not a baptism
so do not tell strangers
that this was a chance to drown
any differently
i am not a catalogue
of constellations you cannot name
this is not mythology
so stop believing your horoscope
i am not a wishing well
i am just a wall for you
to paint post nuclear fallout & antonyms for catharsis on
we destroy the things
that are not ours-
the wanton ways
we embody wrecking *****
and then cry over the rubble
this is not a heap or a mosaic
this is leaping
off a thousand story building
with no one to catch you
at the bottom & maybe
that's why some quiet moments
are so fragile, maybe that's why butterflies have mimicry
your words are black powder
and poetry is your musketry
i guess that makes me your blindfold

In the motherland amongst the wind of the north
Under the shadow of the great fallout
Memories blow around in dispare

Ghosts of fathers past wander
Looking for lost time
And hearts that no longer feel

Never to touch or hold again
Is the price they now have to pay
Tears no longer fall anymore
As silence keeps them close

Anthropogenic climate change
Nuclear fallout Chernobyl  
Raptors flourish
And wolves
Dwell
Sleeping.

Catfish swimming
In a cooling eye
Grown old and untouchable
By mans wills.

Rusty ships
Wetlands
Roam free.

Storks in their nests
1875
The cheval de prjevalski
Dye without mercy

The fallout from time
A call to restore
A broken land.

The wolves cry
The wolves cry

We had never even talked;
I really only knew of you.
We passed by each other in the hallways,
Consumed by all we had to do.

Now, three years later,
I suddenly discover you are gone...
Makes me wonder if we had been friends,
Could you have found the will to carry on?

Maybe just a weak "hello"
Or a smile of silent understanding
Could have been enough to keep you here
When life had gotten more demanding.

I wonder if my friendship
Could have simply helped you to know
That life is hard for all of us
And that you were not alone.

The feelings must have been raw,
As the voices in your head got louder.
Maybe if you could have foreseen the fallout
You would have lived your life a little prouder.

I don't know what you went through
And I probably wouldn't have been a huge difference
But perhaps, for you, I could have been
Some sort of interference.

I'm praying for your families--
Because I wish you knew that you had two.
There was the one with the same last name
But also those friends who chose to love you.

I wish that you could see
How much everyone here is grieving
Asking what more they could have done
Just to keep you from leaving.

And I am sorry I couldn't help you
That you felt there was no other way--
And I wish I had given you a bit more thought
Than just finding out the other day.

Even though I didn't help you
I just wanted you to see:
In one day, you touched so many lives--
One of those being me.

I’ve been reading a bit about positivity, this past hour.
I have been trying to project what I’ve read, mentally, in scenarios where I’m under stress to see how things work out.

I couldn’t make peace with the fact that sometimes letting go and keeping quiet is the best course of action.
That sometimes, just sometimes, shutting up and letting things happen is the only way to get over a bad situation.
The fallout can be dealt with. The one percent of our animal nature within helps us rebuild every time.

I can feel an uneasiness settling, making its home in the center of my being.
Writhing in malcontent and uneven distaste, counterbalanced hatred for this feeling I’m riddled with. Where is the good in all this?
Is that what forgiveness is? Swallowing the bitter pill? Turning a new leaf?
Among other euphemisms for being a **** up.
Something that’s very hard to do.

Two minds too blind to make themselves up. Nothing is accomplished in confusion.
One kills while the other cries.
Despair and hope side by side, waiting for one to rise and the other to fall.
Positivity is elastic, it can be stretched to fit over what you deem right.
It can be mistaken for a rush of energy, a thirst for life, a sense of achievement, an inebriated night.
All the while festering, brooding, decaying inside, a heart of sadness, that once did smile.

I thought kisses were supposed to give you butterflies
but our love is a nuclear fallout.
and when you ripped my heart from my chest,
I saw the worst insects crawl out.
you told me I was great in bed,
but when you left,
you caused a meltdown in my head.
you put your atoms in my reactor,
expecting them to grow, but all they did was consume and glow.
they became radioactive,
and so did I.
your love burst right through me,
but I’m yet to die.
instead, I’m here
watching the people around me burn and suffer
and telling them them that its not my fault.
its my ex-lover.
I look around
and see their skin bubble.
I try to help
but I’m buried under your rubble.
the debris that you left when you made me explode
you’ve yet to pick up, to lift the load.
I knew that falling for you was a bad idea
and I’m feeling it now, I’m reaping what I sowed.
I disobeyed my rules of human preservation,
giving in to you was breaking my own moral code
and when I tried to block you out,
you took a side road.
you put it in gear
and drove into my heart.
but the pain I felt
wasn’t the worst part.
because when you put it in reverse,
you had become my foundation and I fell apart.
now I’m in pieces on the ground
scattered around, unbound,
thinking that you should regret it
but its the other way around.
because I still love you and your stupid eyes
the way they light up the skies
I forgave you of your sins
you’ve been baptized
but I advise you to stay close to your allies
and make sure they hear your cries
because I’m a bomb wearing a human disguise,
and when my anger does arise,
you’ll meet your demise.
you made me what I am,
a battering ram
with enough force to break hoover dam.
you used to be the lion but now you’re the lamb.
because here I come with the grand slam.
please ask me if I give a ****.

Have you ever had a fallout? A fallout with a friend, maybe it was your fault or maybe not but in the end you know it was yours, you spoke when you should have shut up yet you think you're helping when really your overwhelming, to the point where you get what you deserve and then you back off just a little too far............

Taylored pockets fit for the poor.
Fit for helpless men wandering lonely and lost.
To shove away nostalgia.
Incompetent loose bodys trailing willfully into two worlds.
One remembered.
One forgotten.
Spitting dust at winter.
This is Deaths sunset.
But in the end even Death him self will perish.
Buried in bones.
Buried in blood as far as an eye can see.
Swimming in an ocean of ice
That liquidates into darkness.
To create a fallout ocean.

You laughed when they struck me with stones.
You cried when you kissed another man.

Playin' games.
=============
Jay Text Sandman aka Skitz Text

Set the timer click click now the clock is tick tockin'.
I came to play the game. Like a KNIK KNAK knockin'.
Your rhyme flow is slow you know like PLAYDOUGH.
I gobble up fine rhymes like a HUNGRY HIPPO.
Like SUBBUTEO I kick it.
Shruggin' off your challenge like BUCKAROO kickin'..
..up ****. I sunk your BATTLESHIP.
You played out your game of CHARADES. That's it.
I dig deep in me rhyme dictionary.
You scrawl on the the wall like palsy PICTIONARY.
Not strugglin'. I'm jugglin' the rhymes in me head.
Slam dunk. KERPLUNK. Nuff said.
No, never. No way. Who am I kiddin'?
You know I got the rhymes. And I got the rhythm.
I confess. Like a game of CHESS.
Checkmate. No debate. Not a pretty pawn missin'. *  

It’s the end of the games like RIP,
I Multikill MC’s like COD,
Keep your mind on your MINECRAFT can’t catch me,
Cause Skitz is EC's Artillery,
droppin bombs watch the FALLOUT or you’re Dogmeat
FAR CRY from the old days of CRT
So your attempt is DOOMed best clear the room,
SWAT’s get Swatted Mic shotgun BOOM!,
Blast backdraft will destroy your CIV,
No cheat codes PAC em up MAN time to give,
RESPEC- to the PORTAL gun hangin’ on me hip,
You’ve got HALF a LIFE left faster than NO CLIP
But I said no cheatin’ Hackers get Hacked up,
No Multiplayer,cause you’ve no backup,
I’m glorying in the games we play,
Checkmate VS XBOX  pass to Jay.

Chorus
Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic and it's Jay to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

When I flex it's hectic. Like SCALEXTRIC.
Switch lanes to PERFECTION.
I've a MONOPOLY in this game.
Don't pass go. Go straight to jail.
You fall like DOMINOES. I leap like a salmon.
Tisk tisk. Big RISK. Now I have BACKGAMMON.
Stamina. A steady hand OPERATION.
Ace up me sleeve and I'm just playin' PATIENCE.
Got me POKERface on.
Read 'em and weep as the game plays on.
I got a dead mans hand but I animate the mic.
BULLDOGS charge. You know I'll reach the other side.
Back to me den.
Repeat after me like SIMON SAYS.
RED ROVER, RED ROVER. I call Jay over.
You think it's over ?
No my friend. *  

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

This Steam Machine is heatin' up a treat
So don’t be TEKKEN the ****,just feel the beat,
This KOMBAT’s MORTAL to enemies,
But it’s a full HEALTH PACK to Fans of E.C.,
So OverClock your CPU,
get your Soundcard Jumpin like chimps in SIM ZOO,
drop DICE on ICE from here to Timbuktoo,
STREET FIGHTER’s and Writers BIOSHOCKin' you

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

I SPY with my little eye.
Somethin' beginnin' with J. I let fly.
As your JENGA tower wobbles.
I smile. You drop tiles. Dropped your poxy box of SCRABBLE.
Look out. That could spell disaster.
Triple word score as the rhymes rip past ya. Blast ya.
Quick out the trap like The Flash playin' SNAP.
Check the lyrical master. *
As the Dungeon Dragon spreads his wings-lets fly
playin' the game the pied piper pies,
catch you rats in me MOUSETRAP its a snap,
"cause I wrote the rhymes that broke the bulls back"
I'm the KING OF THE HILL I got ya QUICKSCOPIN'
in THE SHADOWS OF MORDOR prayin' and hopin'
for a hero like MARIO to bust you loose,
Jay's SNAKE'n' up the LADDER time to twist the noose

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

What ya think ?              
Me rhymes kink, bend and fold like TWISTER.
A wicked rhythm like DOUBLE DUTCH. Skip, skip.
Like EVEL KNIEVEL. Flywheel spinnin'.
Rev it up. Dump the clutch.        
See me grinnin'. Knockin' down the pin and..
SPIROGRAPH lines in me rhyme. I'm spinnin..
..out of control. You can't cope with me GYROSCOPE.
I bring you back to the beginnin'.*

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.

Our fingertips are getting so cold in the places we call home.
Putting themselves to sleep with braille goose bump bed time stories.
As our bone marrow weathermen  predict another liquid nitrogen winter.

Lately we have been falling apart like glacial walls.
Our chips off the old block selves falling short
Sinking deeper with all this new pressure and all the cold.
The last of our oxygen seeping through the cracks of our lungs as our time on the bottom runs out.
As our face in the gutter hourglass runs low.
Until we forget why were looking up.
The air bubbles are slipping through our lips like rubber balloon landmines that we've blown our hopes into.
And the places we house those dreams are beginning cut loose the strings that we have been holding onto
The childhood fantasies that are better let go.
Mostly our views of perfection an
d of affection that we should no longer be grasping.
Until we are almost bursting and all that fills our minds are the thoughts of red iron razors
The ones we grow when we think of our wrists.

And I am hoping that they can drag their metallic fingers through the flesh of those message in bottle balloons til they burst
so we can cut out the silence we have been thinking so long and fill it with some ****** inspiration

But the nights are still getting darker with tongues of shadow frostbite
and ever since our nomadic tendencies saw our survival expectancies
we have been moving around in our own skin with foster kid frequencies
wearing our heart sleeves rolled up because we don't want to get hurt again.

We are sensitive to light and you are diamonds and that scares us.

because even sunlight has a history of dripping agony
and the chances are high that we end up dancing with bad luck when the sky falls.
Stepping on cracks and filling shoes with puddles.

There's a cold war going on in our hearts
and were scared of the deja vu fallout of another nuclear winter
and you like to tango with destrucion
so we duck and cover behind the bright side of the sun
we live in shadows to protect our eyes from unclear reactions
Seeking shelter in empty alleyways
Under Gothic styled rib cages

And in the hollow places that we locked away our heart
We thew away the keys.

We have the same sickness as Icarus and we are burning up like a candle in the core of the earth.
Because we already have swallowed so much blue sky salt water
We have downed glasses and glasses of your unpredictability
and its been flowing counterclockwise down our throats
stinging like back stabbed golden friendships
like out cast creation
like the heartbroken rejection that had so much promise that we believed in it
and put our hearts into it
and then were broken
and burnt
like Alexander libraries and tornado explosions

Its been so lonely being safe.
Its been so cold.
So if you ask me how many heart beats I skipped for you
Ill tell you millions
Ill tell you life times
Ill tell you that I have missed you symphonies and that you should come home.

I've carved a place in my lock for your key.
I've looked up at the stars with wide eye telescope desire
and I want to dance with you and your big dipper hands.
I've worn chameleon skin for far to long and loved you under my breath even longer.

Your brilliance scares me but please let me join you.
I am sick of hiding behind shutters and stutters and dark water.
I am sick of thinking of razors and space and being alone.

We could blind the world together
You and I
Two happy people burnt into the memories of the universe.

I cannot forever be walking on this gravel,
This glass shingle
Grating beneath my bare soles.
A translucent beach
Of insurmountable rage
That I navigate warily
Fearing the tide.
And yet still I walk these well worn paths,
Tracing my ****** footprints
That mar the crystal beauty
Of this terrible coast.

I am in wonder
of the softness in the rise and fall of your cry
growing melodic through fever
then firestorm symphony
Crescendo!
An unstoppable force
Taking everything
just as certainly as you are
Becoming everything.

In receding  rhythms
our echoing atoms do not so much fade
than shimmer, a resounding hum
until settled shapes in its aftermath
Are we.

there’s a half-life to our interacting.
and I am a scientist, scrutinizing it.

a certain proximity, and I
am irradiated, by you, anew,
every time.

I am burned up.
frayed,
and right here, on display.
taking diligent notes on the fallout
today, in this wasteland.


I search the ground
with my hand and
an eyeglass.



I shouldn’t like what I find.

i aced my history classes
they teach you about the war in vietnam
they teach you about the revolutionary war
they teach you about the battle of the bulge
the civil war
but what
of the wars you will face within yourself?
those
are seldom talked about
people blow their own minds
up
with destructive behaviors and terrible choices
one soldier fighting both sides
the post-traumatic stress of their own human experience
hmmm?
what of those people.
what of me.

Through the paralyses desert
We walk. Dodging kings and cobras
Rattling snakes and all the foul beasts,
That thrive in this hellish waste.
Ecstasy from the mannerisms of less worthy beings.
Who are they to decide what an individual’s
Strengths and weakness are!
Mind ones tongue when speaking to,
Satan’s hood.
Chilling grasps of a hot dark angel’s face
Hold me to earth at even the highest
Of gravitating peaks.
Eroded rocks once mountains, now pave our
Unseen roads lost in decaying,
Concrete and steal jungles made by the men
They ****. Unworthy are any of us
To describe ourselves for never knowing
Who were, only what we could have been.

I'm subtle like an atomic bomb
keep my words laid back and calm
my heart is a glass grenade
feel it crack when my love fades
but still, I stayed
but still, I stayed in this charade
and built around a barricade

you know I'd rather talk this out
spent a decade to you devout
by your side through the drought
so quiet we would never shout
but still, I doubt
but still, I doubt the chosen route
and if I'd prefer to go without

(your tongue a jacketed hollow point
we've never gone to bed angry...
but regret, guilt, and empty sadness
is a fragile yet different parallel)

(I suspect my veins course with
plutonium and uranium...
I leak radioactive decay,
my half-life disintegrating)

there's a stillness when I explode
for a moment, time is slowed
you're in disbelief that I'd reload
the same feelings, the same road
but still, I bowed
but still, I bowed to your code
and stayed despite what you showed

my atoms begin anew to divide
no longer stable, can I abide
I feel a part of me has died
when to leave, I must decide
but still, I cried
but still, I cried by your side
until the day I walked out in stride

(your love is a weapon
I've been held at gunpoint for so long...
I never wanted to hurt you
but I can't keep hurting myself, either)

He watched as she fell
He watched as he did what he had to
He watched as she hit the ground
He listened
There was no sound

He watched as their world split
He cringed at the spectacle
Unfolding before his eyes
He listened
There were no cries

He felt the shockwave
As her reality exploded
He marveled at the colors the wound
He listened
And then it boomed

Violent
                             Force
     Wreckage  
                                                   Shrapnel
            Fallout
                             Screams
Weeping
                                          Unrestrained
  ­                    Anguish
   Betrayal
                                    Hatred

But hold on child
This is not the end
This is just a pothole
On the Warpath of Love
So look to the Bittersweet Bystander
His hand extended now
Take the help he offers
You need it to continue

The world I feel,
Is much too quiet
Blanketed in numbing contradictions  
I often forget to mind my tongue
It's the seductress in me,
I'm addicted to certain kinds of fun

So let me ask,
Where did I go wrong?

Was it last week
When I was held tight,
Tied for most of the night?
Or yesterday when I finally gave in?
Because one more minute without you was my greatest sin

Tell me what matters
If you really wanted me
We wouldn't have shattered
So tell me,
Do I even matter?
Cause you still make my heart go pitter-patter

There is nothing worse than thinking of you
When I'm still warm from him
If this is a competition
Then I'm dead tired of trying to win

© 2014 Peach

I'm only writing this
Because you asked me to
And I'd do anything for you


The perk tree
It's S.P.E.C.I.A.L
In many ways
Strength
To hold the world on your shoulders
Perception
To see things from every angle
Endurance
To get through whatever life throws at you
Charisma
To charm people to do what you want
Intelligence
To know what you need to know
Agility
To climb to the top
Luck
To fill in wherever you're lacking

A weary lone wanderer running on strength that's sprained
the survivor of a conflict that has left him drained
he walks the streets, paranoia bloating his skull
mentally exhausted, normal life mundane and dull,

reality after the fallout is twisted and pained
the questions that once seethed now die unanswered, unexplained
how could it happen, why should it, why is life so unfair?
Alas he walks the road surrounded by people that no longer care

there's no danger, for it perished when the Lord finally resolved
but the pollution in his mind still remains sick and unsolved
the past ripped apart his sanity, threatened his physical health
now he lives a lie, forever hating himself

for how is he supposed to accept what happened just 'did'
how am I supposed to now take back happiness and peace after they hid?

And when the rest of the world sleep their silent sleepy dreams
the lone wanderer cries to night and breaks at the seams.

Some day, some people you don’t know might get spittin’ mad at each other.
you won’t have a ****** thing to do with it.
But one morning while you discuss equality at a café on Wilshire
you might hear a terrible
BOOM
In the middle of the city
And you could spill your fair-trade iced coffee
All over your Egyptian cotton clothes.
you might be able to make it home to see
If your purebred cats are not dead
But most likely you won’t get so far.
your ice might melt,
Don’t you know?
And your faucet might leak.
your apartment could be an ocean
And nobody would care.
You might try to get away
But everyone else will do the same
And you might puff up like the Chilean Blob,
And maybe your hair will come out in tufts
And you’ll possibly die with your legs stuck out at obscene angles
On a gum-dappled sidewalk,
Ashes and fallout whiffling down around your snow-angel death scene.
Mushroom cloud don’t care how civilized you is.

you draw your self hatred out like a kid draws out small pictures
and play double dutch with the hands on a clock, knowing how
unsafe it is out there, flirting with death and flicking me off when
i wrote out the reasons why you should stay, that this autumn fallout
is only a misconstruction of your mind's witching hour, that dystopia
won't linger and utopia will be home soon, it will blossom into your lungs
and turn the simplicity of your broken soul into something completely
quintessential and complex, like an origami rabbit, i fold my sharp edges
and twist myself to be malleable and secure for you, maybe i'm not too certain
of myself or you, but i'm not too certain on a lot of subjects, i'm worried
of being thrown into the arsonist world you started, covering up the sky with
black dense fog, the type of fog that would happen only in dangerous wildfires
i'm a controlled wildfire, but i let my fire spread just to help control your fire

- kra