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Jai Rho Jan 2014
When I got to the hospital, the nurses told me he was still recovering from surgery for some internal injuries and this and that, but I could go see him for a bit. So I went up to his room and realized that I didn't really know what he looked like, other than blood and bruises, but I could still tell it was him by the way the bandages were wrapped around his head. "Hey Chief," I said, "howya doin'?" This time I knew he was conscious but he didn't say anything. He just gave me this look like he was saying, "Who are you?" and "How do I get rid of you?" at the same time. So I replied, "I know your name is Mitchell, but I figured the only way you'd remember me is if I called you 'Chief,' like I did before." That got his attention and he threw me this sudden, glowering stare for what seemed like a real long time, like he was trying to make up his mind about something. I thought I had ****** him off with that "Chief" crack, but then he said real soft,  "My name's not Mitchell."

     That suprised me a bit, so all I could say was, "But that's who's room this is, according to the nurses."

     "Maybe so. But that's not my real name . . . It's just a name I made up."

     "What, you on the run or something?"
    
     "Something like that."

     "And you ain't a Marine?"

     "How'd you . . . ?" Another stare, and then, "Nope. Not now. I was though."

     "I don't get it."

     "Mitchell was a name I made up when I joined the Corps . . . "

     "So, why did you make up a name? . . . You got a record?"

     "Nothin' like that . . . My real name is Irniq . . . It's an old Inuit name. When I joined up, I thought I was puttin' those days behind me."

     "Inuit . . . What's that, a kind of Indian?"

     "It means, 'People' . . . but you prob'ly think of us as 'Eskimos.' We don't like that name, so we don't use it."

     He stopped looking in my direction and kinda tilted his head back and rolled his eyes back before closing them. Then he took a few real deep breaths, and said, "I grew up in a village that was mostly hunters and fishermen. It was fun, when I was little, kind of like goin' on an adventure all the time. But as I got older, I realized how dirt poor we were and how we seemed to catch less game every season. And then I learned that our tribe owned land that the oil companies wanted to drill, and that the oil money could end our need to hunt, and get us modern, comfortable lives, but the tribe kept clingin' to their old ways. My father said it was oil that wiped out the herring habitats, and caused the seal population to crash, and was keepin' the ice away. I didn't care and thought he was a fool fightin' a losin' battle. I thought I saw the future and that he was goin' down with the past. We had terrible fights and I believed that the man who had once been this mighty hero of mine had turned into a pathetic has-been, and I didn't want to get dragged down with him. I thought that by leavin', I could somehow be part of the future. I didn't have too many places to go, so I joined the Marines."

     "Then what are you doing here?"

     He dropped his head forward, opened his eyes, locked them right on to mine, and said, "I left the Corps a couple of months ago. When I joined up, my father told me he no longer had a son. I guess I didn't really hear those words until I went back home and he shut the door in my face. My mother came out and tried to welcome me home, and get me to stay, but I knew that my father had been right all along, and that it was me who was pathetic. So I got on a bus and went as far as I could until my money ran out, and here I am."

     "What do you mean, about your father being right?"

     He closed his eyes again, brought both hands up to the sides of his face, and said, "When I was in the Corps, I got sent to Iraq. I was pretty gung ** at first, and thought I was fightin' for freedom and the way of life that I wanted, but then it just seemed to get pointless. Day after day of cat-and-mouse with an enemy hidin' in plain sight and no real purpose other than bein' there and gettin' into firefights. Then one day I was on this mission clearin' some homes of insurgents. I was leadin' a squad goin' door-to-door and not havin' much trouble 'til we went to this one house and there's this woman screamin' and tryin' to get past us. A couple of my guys had to hold her down while the rest of my squad got her family to kneel down beside her. The woman kept on screamin' and we didn't have an interpreter, so I went up to her and tried to calm her down. I told her in as soothin' a voice I could that we weren't goin' to hurt anyone, we were just lookin' for bad guys, when I saw this blur out of the corner of my eye. The woman started screamin' louder, and I turned and yelled, 'Stop!!! Stop!!!' a couple of times, but it kept movin' fast and I just reacted . . . I didn't have any time to think . . . it just kept movin' . . . and I was yellin', 'Stop!!! Stop!!!' . . . but it wouldn't stop . . . it wouldn't stop . . . it just kept movin' . . . . . . and I reacted . . . I just reacted . . . . . . and then there was my muzzle flash and this red mist . . . . . . this red mist that just erupted . . . and kind of hung there . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . and then the woman wasn't screamin' . . . and I wasn't yellin' . . . . . . . . . and there was just this little boy . . . . . . . . this little boy, lyin' on the ground . . . . . . with this mush where his face used to be . . . . . . . . . . . and it was quiet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . so quiet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . until I heard this sound like nothin' I ever heard before . . . this kind of moan . . . this deep, hollow, primeval moan that kind of rumbled at first . . . . . . . . and then it grew louder . . . and louder . . . and the pitch got higher and higher . . . . . . until it turned into this ferocious gut-wrenchin' shriek that filled my head and reached way down and ripped my insides out . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . and every day I try to put that boy back together in my mind . . . . . . I try to see his face . . . but I can't . . . . . . . . . . . . I can't see his face . . . . . . and I can't get that sound out of my head . . . . . . . . . . . . every single day . . . . . . . . . . . . and all I can see is my muzzle flash . . . and that mist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . that godawful red mist."
Jason Cole Mar 2015
hold your head up high
like a fightin' rooster
**** your walk like you used to

talk and squawk
screech and yell
scratch holes in the earth
fight like hell

rip through the rain
ride on the wind
run fast and firm and free again

cry out loud at the break of dawn
you can make the sun your own
send it on up and roll it around

make it smile
make the sun smile
and light your eyes
and paint your feathers

get your head up high
like a fightin' rooster
let us stand together
never mind the weather
blood is forever

©Jason Cole
Help me understand what I mean to you...
Help me clarify that I am something, cause im tired too..
Tired of the games and blues, filled with exhaustion from my heart buying in to your lies soo much its costin me,happiness...
I wanna know for sure!'show me an exact image! of reason, why be with him, if I known you longer than you been breathin?
All this teasin is misleading, do you want me? tell me! dont leave me hangin..
Im madden and sadden by the though he has your lips, what happens to me  if it last long, and  I just come around like a bad caugh.
I've lost...
What we had is old news, but i guess time shared holds no meaning in helping you choose.
Don't come to me if your confused, i refuse to help you and your trouble, for now on do you...
Cause i been doin me, never had a problem I couldn't solved em easily with alil alcohol and **** cause you cared less about me and more about him..
I was a friend the best there was, the best there is, the best there ever will be, one you'll probably will not miss.
Or even noticed, if I disappeared, Im just a ghost, a shadowed memory,  still wanna be wanted but its hopeless...truly hopeless, why I wrote this? It won't change a **** thing about her, why Am  I still hopin? Why I care? Why I dare to even mention your name know you wont come to my aid, your never there...
Always with another or him, not knowing who you want, i was wish i was in your option, I can do much more, but never gained a chance to prove, and you wonder why I feel summertime  blues....
Im the best, One you'll never loose..
Ima alot of things but theres a side I never get to show, a side you will love, but you always say no, not givin me a chance as if I was bronze not worth your Gold,
but listen baby im silver, way out there but a good catch, ima outfielder,
something you can be near uhh never shed a tear soo why you always out me?
Always doubt me, never wanna like me, knowing im the right piece,
always misplace me baby, i can clean up mess like a wipee, 
whipe your tears on my white T,
i wanna be your  lycan whose fightin for what he likes see? but I feel there's no time for me...so again  why am I writing????
I am just helpless, a romantic put on the shelf like an old novel,
these say stomach the pain, but I put these dead butterflies in a bottle...
alone in my household, holding close what I call ghost hopes...Dead long ago, now it just cold like the snow, could build a snow man, But I just say no,
Why bother like Stone Sour...it will never happen, I blacken with thoughts, cryin in shower.
Stressin myself because my heart feels like its in a cyclical orbit,
of doubt and hopes, a limbo that continues to lower my esteem
and stings with pain like hornets..

BY: Emmanuel Jv Hernandez
5/23/14
(might add and edit later depending if i doesnt flow the way i want or needs more insight to get across what im feeling)


comment what you think!!!!!
Styles Oct 2014
What’s up with this fool this a battle my dude
Your in my domain so you play by my rule
You battling a beast that’s more evil than you
Anything you do, I can do better than you
I’m bred from a breed that would eat you for their food
We watch and read about your type on the daily news
They only found your wind pipe no other parts of you
Thats what happened when you come across a beast,
That feeds off the hearts of its lower counter parts
Rap underworld boss, much bigger than you for starts
I make you and your crew look like they ****** Doo
Me controlling the elements that's hell for you
nothing you can do, my metaphors got meaning
You are a hoax just teething,
Imma full blown demon
you barely steaming
you've bean bitten its good ridden
my odds against you for so many reasons
I been hot, who you think changed the seasons
My HANS solo helped the pharaohs off spring
Made Alienware out of theses underground kings
Beating my chest in the middle of the ring
Raising vikings train'em to win
With my pen alone I could **** you with writtin
Imagine what a battle axe would do to your chin
I'll hulk smash, push your shin bone through your chin
Fresh off of my second wind, fresh off of a wind
I been doing this, before you exist,
And will run this when you stop breathing
You are in the path of a psychopath
You do the math then face my wrath
I **** guys blood ties then take a bath and laugh
You should just stop
We are not even
I revive your life
**** you twice
Just so the plot thicken
You was easy pick, from slim Pickens
I swallow whole chickens and baby pigeons
Livin under bridges trying to change my image
Fightin trolls and warriors my daily scrimmage
killing you, then train your brethren and break bread with
Your best friend, I'll be home by seven to have some words with the reverent
My crazy flow I’ll spit you a Rembrandt
My skill running rampant
About to get a little uncanned
I got a ***** in the Hampton
And she thinks I’m top ten
Plus I’m tall dark and I’m handsome
I’ll take you for ransom
But your not worth a grand-son
You couldn’t out rap me
If you were Santa grandson
Your evil family
Will Die ironically
every villain dies gory
In every story featuring me
Jodie LindaMae Sep 2014
I've found myself fighting for words.
But not one: Me.
Dalton Trumbo wrote in his anti-war novel Johnny Got His Gun that wars are fought over words. Words like liberty and freedom. And he questioned why we were fighting for words and ideas without fully knowing the concepts behind them. Today I ask myself why one of the words I'm fighting over isn't Me.
andy fardell Feb 2011
I feel the cold ..the cold within
fightin ,biting..a painless din
creeping slowly yet full of speed
the coldness claws ..my feet retreat

Mind so full of emptyness ..yet spinning ,grasping
faultless youth
hurt inside ..the mad old fool
itching for the real truth
Chuck Jun 2013
It's too hot to think
And there ain't enough to drink,
It's too hot to think
And there ain't enough to drink!
I don't know what to do
Cause I can't get over you.
I got those summertime blues
And they worse without you.
I got I got I got the bluuuuues

Yea, I got sweat runnin down my back
There ain't nothin, nothin like that
Yea, got sweat in my shoes
There ain't nothin left to do
Got those summertime blues
Cause there's no more sweatin with you
Yea, I like the way you sweat, baby
Better than the whiskey I can get
Yea, I liked the way we sweat, baby
From the hot day that we met
Now there ain't no more sweatin oooo...
Cause there aint no more of you

I got those summer summertime blues
You gave me the summertime blues
Can't get rid of the summer time blue
There just ain't enough cold *****
Got the summertime bluuuuse

Who you sweatin with now baby?
Who you sweatin with now baby?
Whose coolin in yo love?
I got no more you baby
You took away my drug!

Please come back lady!
Take away my blues
Come on back now baby!
I'm runnin out of *****.
It's too hot for fightin
That's not the sweatin I wanna do!

I got the summer summertime blues
Got the blue blue bluuuuse
The summertime blues baby
Got the hot hot blues baby
The summertime blues
The slang and the ***** talk is just my inner blues poet, not met to be offensive, and I'm not a raging alcoholic. I didn't even loose my baby. This is just a fun type of poem. I love the blues!
Jason Cole May 2015
some folks got it better than some
some people got it better than none
count my money like i'm countin' sheep
one eye open that's how i sleep

i got a big house and a fancy car
both of 'em got a hell of a bar
when push comes to shove mister talk is cheap
my three dollar shovel runs six feet deep

i'm a smooth operator
what's yours is mine
i'm a mover and a shaker
the devilish kind
start my percolator won't a drop be weak
born to be a taker
i'm playin' for keeps
feels so good
i'm so glad
i'm so bad

my old lady says she needs to be free
but no woman ever gets far from me
my backdoor baby told me she don't care
long as she's able to get her share

well i don't know about you and yours
this life of mine's worth fightin' for
man over yonder sayin' it ain't fair
hey i don't make the rules i just bring 'em to bear

i'm a smooth operator
what's yours is mine
i'm a mover and a shaker
the devilish kind
start my percolator won't a drop be weak
born to be a taker
i'm playin' for keeps
feels so good
i'm so glad
i'm so bad

eye to eye and pound for pound
fist for fist and round to round
i'm the one that gets the doin' did
and it's in season to flip my lid

last one to try me is dead and gone
don't even think of what you're thinkin' on
been there done that is on my mind
worlds unravel when i unwind

i'm a smooth operator
what's yours is mine
i'm a mover and a shaker
the devilish kind
start my percolator won't a drop be weak
born to be a taker
i'm playin' for keeps
feels so good
i'm so glad
i'm so bad

feels so good
i'm so glad
i'm so bad
Another song. Bluesy *****-tonk romp. Inspired by The Sopranos.
I'm comin' home Maggie, fightin' no longer!
They're sendin' me home from that hell of a war.
I've given me best, now I'm done with the fightin'.
There's nothin' can take me away anymore.

It seems like forever that I've been a-travelin',
by air and by boat and by train and by car,
Me heart has been achin' to be here beside ye,
to see ye and kiss ye and hold ye once more.

'Twas once we went laughin' and once we went runnin',
up to the high hills, and down to the shore,
oh do ye remember, we used to go dancin'!
Everyone watched as we burned up the floor!

I'm home again, Maggie, home at last, Maggie!
Wi' only a stump where me leg was before,
I'm home again, Maggie, oh my sweet lassie,
Death's all that can take me-- I'll wander no more.
This is meant to be spoken with an Irish brogue. I welcome any help making it truer-- and is the revelation of his amputation too abrupt?
Copyright 2011 by Michael S. Simpson.  All rights reserved by the author.
A pixie marching band took their show on the road.
17 tiny horn players and a drummer
with a button for a snare.
Across the water they walked,
regimented in three lines,
playing "Has The Day So Quickly Ended" to the rhythm of water splashing
on finely cobbled pixie shoes.
Tireless they moved forward
across an entire ocean
seeking comfort and solitude of Icelandic shores.
Unnoticed by the many captains of the many ships they slipped by, their music nothing more than crickets chirping or the ringing in their ears.

It was a long journey and they never stopped playing once.
Seven hundred and seventy-six songs in their repertoire
they played each one at least twice as days turned to night
and the cycle would need to be repeated
Every pixie musician in the band had every one of those songs memorized
you could call the tune
at any time
day or night
he would pick up his pixie instrument and play it note perfect.
Not a single mistake.

Legendary songs of pixie lore, like "Call The Wild Dogs to Anglicize", "Too Many Curtains" and "Fill Your Cup With Salty Seltzer".
Popular pixie songs all pixies knew, like "Bertha You're a Hard Act to Follow", "Dropped My Horn in the Bay of Pigs", "Livestock", "Ain't No One Answerin' the Phone" and "Drop Yer Pillow, Samuel".
Sacred pixie songs celebrated their common faith in the one true God, like "God, There Ain't No Other God", "Our God Sails the Seven Seas" and "God Help the Fool Who Fools His God".
Pixie drinking songs, "Bottoms Up", "Can You Hear the Weeping Warm Beer?", "1-2-3 Let's All Get Drunk", "Pixie Drinking Song" and "Hustle That Swill".

A lot of songs.
A lot of moods.
A lot of reasons to go  home to Iceland,
as if they needed any besides the food.

The pixie band was pushing three-quarters of the marching journey across the ocean
when Big Jim Pixie turned around and scolded Billy Joe the trombone player.

"Bill, you clumsy *******!" barked Big Jim. "You just about hit me in the back of the head with that ******* trombone slide! Do I have to tell you what I'm going to do to you if you actually graze me with that spit-drippin' thang?"

Billy Joe, typically soft spoken, was not having any of this.

"It was a flying fish that whisked up 'gainst the side of yer noggin, not my slide. If I was of a mind to bean you with this here slide you'd be rubbing the back of your head right now and you'd be so shook up you wouldn't even know it was me that done it."

"You sure do talk tough now, don't ye?" asked Big Jim, reluctantly realizing that it could well have been a flying fish but not yet willing to let the trombone player off the hook. "Don't make me turn around cuz if I do you are going to be in the market for a new trombone."

"That's a well may be, Jim-Jim, but the hand that holds the pen that signs the check that pays for it is going to be yours. Let that stand as a natural fact."

If there's one thing in the world Big Jim didn't like being called
it was Jim-Jim.
Billy Joe was always calling him Jim-Jim because he knew it bugged him.
The pixies in the company had all used variations on his name when referring to him in the past  
Jimbo Johnson,
Johnny Jimson,
Little Jim Big Jim,
Jimmy Jolson,
George Jimson,
Son James the Ham Chef,
Carl Jim Has Been,
King James Version Abridged,
James Wainright Teller,
Jim the Traitor,
Jim the Christ Killer,
Jim the Destroyer of the World,
Jim the Enemy of the Known Universe  
each one of these appellations rankled him but none so thoroughly as the simple
Jim Jim
that Billy Joe would call him.

"I ain't payin' a ******* cent, trombone player."

"Then you ain't breakin' my trombone, Jimmy Jack Jehosaphath."

"Don't test me, you may have to arrest me."

"I'll bring you a file so you can get out of jail, Jim Jim".

"Well that's mighty white of you, pixie. Now what are you gonna do if that spit valve was leakin' and you got some of your nasty ebola saliva on the back of m'neck? You gonna come visit me in the hospital?"

"I might. But then again I might just wait and come visit your grave when they put you down."

"Joe, if we weren't still marchin' I swear to almighty God I would turn around and beat you so bad they'll be countin' a man short when we finally get home."

"Jim Jim, them's fightin' words but you ain't never fought nothing no tougher than the urge to **** in public. You ain't gonna do no permanent damage to me nor my trombone here. So why don't you put your money where your mouth is or keep that mouth shut?"

Big Jim turned around
hit Little Joe hard square between the eyes.
He heard and felt bone crack.

Joe looked stunned.
He'd never call that mean ******* Jim Jim again.
No,
never again
because he hit the water hard and sank down as the band marched right over him,
most not even noticing.

Jim looked for as long as he could then turned around and proceeded to march the rest of the way to Iceland.

"Don't call me Jim Jim," he said, speaking only to himself.

Then he heard a voice in the back of his head.
It was loud enough to be heard over the
music
and
the waves
and
the ocean breeze.

It was HIS voice,
but he had no control over it whatsoever.

"Jim Jim."

"Jim Jim."

"Jim Jim."

...and so it was Big Jim, whose trumpet playing had practically defined the style of this particular pixie band, lost his mind, eventually taking up residence in a Reykjavik sanitarium screaming every night, keeping up the attendants and making things worse.

"Little Joe Jangly Hops! Come here you ******* I got a lollipop for ya."

"Joe Joe Deathgrip Toenail! I'm gonna light your mama on fire!"

"Little Joe Clamfry, somebody took a **** in your bed!"

On and on he went until the people in the kitchen stopped giving him bananas. Then he stopped for awhile.

But only for awhile.
Jeremy Betts May 2022
(too long version)

Life indeed pushed me to the edge of the cliffs end but the jump was my decision, no one there could ever be bothered to care enough to even explore the simplest question much less begin thinkin' about askin' what I was thinkin' when I settled on the option I ultimately, on more than one occasion, failed at miserably while attemptin', like the byproduct of rabbits ******' my faults are multiplyin' as my spark goes dark at the same time my shine went dim, not worth restorin' this vessel that sits as decoration in a white trash front lawn deterioratin', startin' from the back end then devourin' the engine

One step forward, two giant leaps back pedalin', that was the general motion of regression, lookin' like I'm plagiarizin' Michael Jackson when he's on stage performin', masterin' that classic moon walkin' he's known for doin', never as smooth as him but you get the picture I'm paintin', losing track of my destination as it began droppin' out of sight behind the horizon, followin' the trail the sun was blazin'

Can't see the forest for the trees and vegetation, could have heard the pre-lumber fallin' if you would only humor me and at least pretend to listen, but that there is somethin' you have zero interest in which is interestin' cause if the past has taught me anythin' about what you find pleasure in it's that you're lovin', above everythin', the chance to keep pointin' out and highlightin' how I'm a terrible human bein', a garbage person but not a man and no CDL license, I'm not pickin' up the trash I'm metaphorically dwellin' in only then to have it pile back up again times ten, ultimately creatin' my own land fill location within, wilfully lettin' recycled misfortune to continue hittin' me on the chin, it's due to inadequate trainin', not for the lack of tryin' to defend

No direction just a lie practiced to perfection too keep 'em from noticin' my state of depression, leave 'em guessin'. But to keep the honesty rollin' in I have a confession, I'd loan you the money to pay attention but you'd never take that good for nothin' offerin' and I ain't even placin' blame, just sayin', I know my position, I'm fully aware I'm on the losin' end of this game of tug-a-war life and I are playin', though I think it's cheatin', countin' cards to ensure a win, gamblin' that I'll give in and fold before noticin' I'm the mark bein' taken, the journey of life is a rigged expedition

What am I doin' besides losin'? Why am I here became the daily question, how do I get out this mess of confusion that's drownin' me to the point of extinction? It's an impossible equation even for a mathematician with years of education, so you know for certain I'm lyin' when, for no good reason, I have a go at answerin'. The slipknot is workin' just as I was expectin', slippin', goin' taunt, slidin' into its final position

I should mention, if you're thinkin' this has taken place solely for attention you're sorely mistaken, you never come to that realization, dodgin' conversation in an attempt to avoid confrontation, leavin' me noticin' there's no one standin' by and extendin' a hand to help and lookin' back there's never been. No one attendin' my lonely execution by decapitation in an effort to stop the spreadin' of harmful misfortune I feed myself, bad for my mental health, a deadly addiction that's become somewhat of a tradition through repetition, turnin' a weapon on myself, worsenin' my condition, that's a fact based observation not an opinion

No resolution in the hard hitting revelation that there's no salvation for someone who's gone and done what I've done and gone on livin' in a web of fear that I first spun for protection but couldn't stop the infestation from gainin' the traction it was needin' for the completion of my complete elimination

Cravin' anythin' real to place my faith in, I'm bein' told the hate and pain I'm bathin' in is of my own creation, I can see the connection as I sit broken down in the intersection of real life and fiction, I've lost control again and once again there's no mulligan. Am I seein' the glass half full or half empty or maybe it's all an illusion regardless of perception? Lost my vision, can't see through the pollution and corruption runnin' rampant with no solution comin', I'm a simpleton so this ***** gettin' confusin', a complete brain malfunction

I've awoken the beast within and just as I was predictin' we instantly began battlin' to the death, fightin' for position and a quicker end to the situation I'm always findin' myself in then findin' out for myself that it's always been my own reflection startin' back in my direction, the ugly inside is finally outwardly projectin', can't even pretend to be my own friend, enough is enough, I'm saying when

Its lurkin' just under the skin, waitin' for the moment to strike and beat me down to nothin'. When will it end? Never I'm guessin'. I'm gonna have to try to put an end to it all myself again, tirin' of the repetition to the point I usually take no action, sometimes due to exhaustion but still just lettin' it all happen like that's what I was plannin' from the beginnin' but that makes about as much sense as quittin' ****** right after the needles insertion or waitin' till after overdosin'

Frustration givin' way to aggravation and aggression leavin' little satisfaction even if I could squeak out a win, but I'm no longer wastin' time waitin' for that to happen so I'll probably most likely be caught sleepin', dreamin' about what could've been had I listened to my gut feelin' and put in the same amount of stock I place in what my treasonous mind and heart are always sayin'
and not let doubt creep in and claim top billin' as it's permanent position, knocking out compassion and reason, replacin' both with the hate and weight of a nation

It's a fools mission, I WILL be beaten' into submission, the last thing I'll hear as my energy gives up on existin' is the mortician statin' then time stampin' my expiration, that and the body bag zippin', family left pickin' out a coffin from the bargain bin, not worth payin' a fortune, only payin' little respect to the fallen then quickly forgotten at the drop of a pin

You're sayin' I have a purpose but I'm witnessin' me wastin' every minute of the earths rotation and never reachin' the conclusion that I was slackin', far to laxed in the preparation for a home invasion of this mental prison I'm caged in where I'm servin' a life sentence and I'm mentally and emotionally starvin' while my vision of any kind of future begins to darken

No open invitation, but that's not stoppin' my personal demon from just walkin' right in and startin' the killin' spree up once again, focusin' first on positive motivation just for existin', of course that's just my imagination, but could you imagine? A horrible vision to the average pedestrian, I know, but I still crack a grin at the thought of it happenin', the devil on my shoulder is at it again

My light fractured through a prism and some went missin' and I never got around to lookin' so no chance of gettin' it back into my possession, there's no raignin' it in, goin' from a fools errand to a search and rescue mission seemingly overnight but for what reason, just to teach me a lesson? I don't test well, I won't make it to graduation

Choices made out of desperation got me lookin' and feelin' like a felon, to survive I had to become the villain of the biography I'm narratin', this isn't livin', at best it's just barely holdin' on for dear life and weakenin', a measly attempt at survivin', forced into an intimate relation with the unforgivable, each of the sinful deadly seven

The line not to cross was paper thin, walked it like a drunk person in front of a couple corrupt police men, heathens but feelin' better than, lost control long ago, before I fell off the wagon, I ain't talkin' about drinkin', it started way back when with prescription medication, ones that were suppose to be helpin' but then used for wreckreation and that's when it began draggin' me down to an underground parkin' garage elevation

I didn't have a break down, like I said, it was a break in home invasion with the assumption there was somethin' worth takin' to begin with but everythin' inside is broken and you can see the corrosion of the foundation built on sand, makin' this temple worth nothin', even self worth is fadin'

Graspin' at the air and yet again findin' nothin', grapplin' with the notion I'm nothin', prayin' my emergency flotation device will suffice cause the water is ragin', feelin' the undertow currant strengthen in it's concentration, I think it's attackin' and there's no escapin' so I began blinkin' SOS in old fashion morse code hopin' you don't need help with the translation, if that's the case then I'm done for, why bother debatin', I'll take myself out of the equation, preparin' my soul for the comin' evacuation

You begin lyin' just to raise my spirits but I ain't buyin' into what you're sellin', counterfeit concern bein' spoken with no emotion or conviction, after the extensive evaluation I see it's no garden of Eden I'm livin' in, again, someone's been lyin', I'd be wakin' right into the den of a rabid lion shrouded in original sin, I ate the fruit knowin' full well it was forbidden, straight up poison but zero ***** were given, so this was bound to happen, the writin' was on the wall, who am I kiddin'?

You have my permission to begin the process so let's just go ahead then and get this over with so I can silence the voices within, I've eliminated every complication, layin' on the tracks at the crazy train boarding station, awaitin' the unavoidable, provin' I was correct in the assumption that this is the right time to initiate my endin', a personal Armageddon...oh, well hello, you must be that Satan guy I've been hearin' so much about from everyone preachin' directly in my ear then going out the other, it's still hard not to listen, I'm just tyin' up a loose end or two then I'm yours for the takin'

...alright, thanks for waitin', now then, let the journey to my endin' begin shall we? I'm takin' the lead on this one cause I know where we're goin' and I'm no good at followin' direction...obviously, it goes without sayin'

©2022
Max Neumann Jul 2021
fear and sweat, flashin' gear
writin' rapz in hectic, but: yeaaah!
detached paramedics, but: yeeeah!
tizz alive, he and me, didn't die

who am i? will i be a version of me
free from dat ******* of abuse, b?
who would tell you the truth? me?
dunno, demons inside wear masks

they hide, whisper, mouth odor like gas
i'm behind, they passed by, they see,
know and feel dat i'm blind -- what is real?
and what's not? i know diz be god

"good" and "god" are like moon and sun
but if i use, then i run, will forget wise men
and it's bleeding through my eyes when
i'm unable to arise and sling like five men

codes from the land of oblivion
demons sending messages: dey fo'
da trashcan, you may be from aspen,
or a child of da bronx: good remains good

wrongs remain wrongs, stuck in-between
writing songs like cage fighters, man bites
dog, my weapon may be a pen or a glock:
if i do, use, take or abuse drugs: i'll fail

the loft, the jail, the yacht, the hate
hell ain't a snake pit but a desperate living,
shivering, lonely, no homeys, suffering
ignorant and angry, indifferent, cranky

still: a flickering, glimmering, somewhen

rock bottom, i hit it, my addict: i'm wit him
he within' me, steely and sneaky, peace
of ****, b, chasin' the thrill just to **** me
i will be dyin', will be fightin', skies brighten

no bullshittin, johnny weeks, so high,
delusional: "i'm a viking", drugs are unusual
why do i used dem as much dat i felt like
jim carrey as "truman" -- observed, being

followed; diz a good state to be in?
ya know da answer, my friend, shake
your own hand, accept ya name
leave da climate of coldness

diz requires boldness, but ya know what?
the addicted demons hate us like themselves
do not let 'em do dat
lock em in an inner shelf, wit a key

call it as you like, dear friend, i call it
"SELF-LOVE", ooooh boy: what a word,
what a term, your stomach may rage now:
fierce, furious demons being in flames

heaven yeah, let em burn, it's your turn,
put your life into god's hands, soft hands
clean yourself, wash ya hands, the
end of this poem must not be ours


**********      **

HELP: SOMETIMES IN PERSON, EVERY DAY ONLINE, CARING, FOR FREE. DON'T HESITATE TO MAIL ME, IN CASE YOU GOT ANY QUESTIONS. I WILL BE ANSWERING.

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am i ee Sep 2015
"i ain't got no fat bootay.
i am just a little husky."
she said to me.
that big fat bus with the big fat yellow bootay.

"i'm a thinkin'
i'm gittin' REAL tired
of all your verse."
said she.

"you should live the life i do.
yes you should.
just for one day.
grubby little kids kicking the back of my seats,
hanging out the windows
screaming so loud.

"crying and punching
throwing each other's gear.
boxing an ear.

"picking and fightin'
and bullying every year.
wet boots and sand
poking me in the tummy
with their little stupid umbrellas.
wiping snot on my clean seats.

those high schoolers
smoking in back,
tobacco and joints
and drinking & stuff
thinking i don't know it.

well the he-ing and she-ing,
on trips, to games and more,
i won't go into here.
what do they think i am?
a rolling motel
hotel
super 6?

it's enough to drive me right
out of my mind here.

"i used to be shiny and bright and new,
and i was so happy
to finally get out on the town.
then i realized for what i was made
year after year,
driving around,
the very same trip
all over town.
more than enough
to drive anyone insane.

"if i had wrists,
i assure you i'd slit em',
for you can never imagine,
what is it like,
to be me."
says that big fat bus with the big fat yellow bootay.

okay so now... i'm starting to feel
just a little bad,
all the mad verse
i hurled
at her
all of those days.

so i say,
to that big fat bus,
with the big fat yellow bootay,
"why wait around?
set yourself free,
before you end up in the big fat bus
cemetery!

now in some other time,
in some other life,
i start to see,
i could see ,
the possibility,
of what good friends
we could have been.

i would have waxed her
well, brightened her up
shined up the grill
made those white walls sparkle.

i coulda detailed her
inside and out.
checked her oil
and tweaked those points
making sure those
spark plugs would light.

rotated her tires and
lubed all her joints.
windexed her glass
front, side and back.

so now
still feeling a little bad
i say,
to that big little-husky bus
with the big little-husky yellow bootay,
"go single,
go solo,
but GO NOW!"

taking my advice to heart,
that big fat bus,
with her big fat yellow bootay,

she discharged that last child,
and driver so worn,
and bided her time,
till well after dark.

she took a quick,
furtive look around,
stealthily rolled  
out of the yard.

once a safe distance away,
set her engine in gear,
and got right the hell
out of here.
right away.

flying down the open roads,
careening around every
sharp curve,
every bend.
tipped on her side,
tires right up off the ground.

shrieking like a madwoman

"it's a good day to die!
i'm finally free!"

"It's a good day to die! mother f-ers" she cried
as she sped down the road.

until,

HEY?
HEEEEYYY?
What's THAT in my way?

OH NO!
it's a BIG FAT BUS !
with a BIG FAT YELLOW BOOTAY!
and it's in MY WAY!

...brakes stomped through the floor with all her might,
smoking tires and squealing rubber, and skidding down the highway,
way out of control...

more to come ...Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
Big Fat Yellow Bootay has made 2 previous appearances here.

if you have a hankerin' to read from the beginning... see the Collections,  The Manly Cowboy & Chronicles of a Big Fat Yellow Bootay
You make it in your mess-tin by the brazier's rosy gleam;
You watch it cloud, then settle amber clear;
You lift it with your bay'nit, and you sniff the fragrant steam;
The very breath of it is ripe with cheer.
You're awful cold and *****, and a-cursin' of your lot;
You scoff the blushin' 'alf of it, so rich and rippin' 'ot;
It bucks you up like anythink, just seems to touch the spot:
God bless the man that first discovered Tea!

Since I came out to fight in France, which ain't the other day,
I think I've drunk enough to float a barge;
All kinds of fancy foreign dope, from caffy and doo lay,
To *** they serves you out before a charge.
In back rooms of estaminays I've gurgled pints of cham;
I've swilled down mugs of cider till I've felt a bloomin' dam;
But 'struth! they all ain't in it with the vintage of Assam:
God bless the man that first invented Tea!

I think them lazy lumps o' gods wot kips on asphodel
Swigs nectar that's a flavour of Oolong;
I only wish them sons o' guns a-grillin' down in 'ell
Could 'ave their daily ration of Suchong.
Hurrah! I'm off to battle, which is 'ell and 'eaven too;
And if I don't give some poor bloke a sexton's job to do,
To-night, by Fritz's campfire, won't I 'ave a gorgeous brew
(For fightin' mustn't interfere with Tea).
To-night we'll all be tellin' of the Boches that we slew,
As we drink the giddy victory in Tea.
Alex McQuate Jul 2023
Bring it on sandman,
You little ****,
I'm gonna break your ****** nose this time...

Crack you in the face with 3 cans of energy drinks,
Clap your ears with open palms of Clutch's latest album,  "Sunrise at Slaughter Beach" at 100 decibels,
Kick you in the nuts with a steel toed boot of a lit cigarette stuck in the nostril,
Inhaling deeply ,
Painfully sending cinders through my sinuses.

Body blows of cold water,
Blasted through the most concentrated setting on the nozzle of the showerhead,
You feeling it yet bud?!?

I can go 12 rounds,
And your knees are shaking on the 3rd.

Knock out a few teeth with smelling salts,
Kicking that sweet sweet adrenaline into overtime,
Overclocking the ol' brain matter with that brown fluid in the grey matter,
Show me them pearly whites now.

I will beat you this time slim,
I know all your tricks,
Give me your best shot,
And well see how well your blows meet the meat.

Immaculate hit you 3 ways,
Hard, fast, and repeatedly,
Write your will with your blood and spit,
Cuz when I'm done with you,
You'll be crawling away from me,
Beggin' like a little *****.
carla goldie Jul 2015
Is this how it starts? is this how it all begins? a fight between 2 parents with kids left t c who wins, The deafing sound of voices shoutin about whos in the wrong, I'm done with all the fightin iv fought this war for far 2 long.  
My hearts feels like it's broken,
The airs so thick it's hard t breath,
Wha am I t do now? is it me who's supposed t leave? is it me who needs t go?is it me am I tha bad?
Was this the way it started when she left us with me dad?
But she walked out n left us,she gave up without fight,I remember all the details from tha sad upsettin night.
I was 6 Leanne was 9 R John was only 3, they both stood in the kitchen dad pretendin t make the tea,
Then they began t talk real quite like we weren't suppose t no,but we knew that's never how it stayed an voices began t grow.  Us 3 kids just sat there while the shoutin carried on, then me mum turn t me dad an said her love 4 him ad gone,the shouten stopped he grabbed her arm n marched her t the door,he pushed her out n turned his back her left cryin on the floor.
Back then things didn't get explained n kids never asked why,adults knew wha was best never believed grown ups would lie,
Now I sit here on my own without my baby's here with me,how could I let this happen?why the **** did I not see?
But I won't give up this isn't it coz this is not the end,
my kids r more important than u or any so called friends.
Your stupid to try an fight me,
To make me look like I'm like her,
The only thing she gave me are my looks an curly hair.
I swear u will b sorry u can not take what's in my heart,
I pity those who cross me I'm gunna finish whatever u start.
A mothers love is endless,it's strong n it comes free,ur makin a mistake to try an take my kids from me.
I will never give up fightin until there back were they belong,
the question is can u fight back can u pretend t b as strong
Jeremy Betts May 2022
The risk of takin' time to begin mendin' a broken and frozen heart is it could stop its natural rhythmic beatin' at any given moment, without adequate warnin'
Matter of fact it's bound to happen like global warmin', that's the only endin' found followin' right on the heels of drownin'
Any other prediction goin' 'round is only white noise background sound of them denyin' and rewritin' facts, specializin' in turnin' backs and bold face lyin'
I constantly find myself suffocatin' in my own skin like it's a plastic bag grippin' my face, compression at the neck, not lettin' air in
Debatin' whether or not to go all in and fight this overpowered and undefeated depression with persistence and medication, maybe some meditation and self reflection
Or should I just go ahead and give in again, puttin' in little to no effort to change the end into somethin' worth strivin' for, will there even be someone there lookin' forward to me arrivin'?
This is not pretend or manipulation, basically I'm forfeitin' due to exhaustion and frustration, handin' over the rains, just givin' my inner demon the win
I'm sick and tired of bein' tired and sick, gettin' beaten, pickin' myself up just to start takin' the walk of shame back to some new beginnin'
Plus, spoiler alert, I already know the final boss battle in this surreal engine is just gonna be against myself, once again
Same as its always been, it's not about to start changin' now, no amount of trainin' or preparation' will stop this from happenin'
Like the programer guy and I are playing a side game of chicken, he's got nothin' to lose, I've already lost everythin' holdin' out for a win that's never comin', never a celebration
I'll die if I don't keep moving 'cause I can see the next hardship comin', it's ******' gainin' on me quickly and I don't have a remedy or solution so, tail between legs, I start runnin'
I'm noticin' the **** selection, nothing good comes from either decision especially if you're plannin' on bringin' logic in as part of the equation, it should help but it's only a complication
And I'm forced to pick a direction without knowin' the destination or what I'll be facin' or what's waitin' for me at the finish lines location
Even without an imagination as dark as mine you can see its a risky expidition with low to no expectation of finishin'
Hope diminishin' past salvation, straight to damnation and a bitter end
Death awaits every person ever born, he's never missed one and I won't be the exception, it's the when I'm questionin', on my knees prayin', shiftin' seamlessly into beggin'
In one hand I could win the battle that's ragin' in between my ears, lord knows I'm tired of listenin'
On the other hand I lose the war, therefore there's no reason for even tryin', no goin' back to the beginnin', no rewindin'
I'm left nursin' a wound that's turned into an infection and its quickly spreadin', entertainin' the thought of idle hand amputation
Don't need to be an open heart surgeon, it's already been broken twice and put on ice, I'll just rip it out then hold it up for all to see before it completely stops pulsatin'
The fixation has never been on fixin' anythin' but rather dodgin' any situation that'll get me lookin' within
Possibly havin' to acknowledge I might not be worth savin', is that me speakin' or my shoulder devil at it again'?
It's gettin' harder and harder to tell the difference, both soundin' the same, the blurred line causes confusin'
I know the notion of what I'm sayin' isn't easy to comprehend much less believe in
And that's the reason why I've bottled every emotion and set them floatin' out in the vast ocean
To keep me from bein' a burden to anyone but one person, you're lookin' at him and I lie and say it's workin'
I don't know what I was thinkin' not takin' this more serious from the beginnin'
It's been ruinin' my life's mission, runnin' up a tab of bad karma that I'm gonna wind up payin'
Stoppin' all forward motion by keepin' me frightened to the point I've given up on fightin'
The results are in and it's unsettlin', I now only seem to be nothin' but a punchin' bag for Satan and his legion
I'm startin' to come undone at the seams and it seems like no one's carin' but I don't know what else I was expectin'
I could've predicted that with precision like I have the ability to be time travelin'
Knowin' for certain what the future is bringin' but I'm just goin' off of every previous lesson that left a lastin' impression
But still not seein' the big picture, fussin' over the small **** like somethin' on the roof of my mouth I can't stop tonguin'
Wastin' precious time that I could've been usin' to at least soften the blow I know is creepin' up, comin' 'round the bend with the collection plate to put my fate in
But again, I can't stop the regression long enough to gain traction, a continuation of my downward trend, market value crashin', free fallin' with no parachute or safety net to protect my noggin
I don't give myself permission to feel anythin' other than self derogation
Sleep deprivation has my dreams fadin', countin' one sheep, two sheep, ****, the rest have gone missin'
I'm left pickin' myself up and dustin' myself off, brushin' my own well bein' to the side, out of sight, out of mind, keep it hidden
All lefts, no right to weigh in even though it's my life my thoughts are playin' with, throwin' caution to the wind
And now that I'm broken beyond repair I get tossed into the compost bin lettin' somethin' else grow from me decomposin'
A form of reincarnation at worst, at best, a place to finally get some much needed rest in'
I'm no longer invested in livin', hell, I'll even sign my own death certificate, give me a pen

©2022
it all started when i signed the contract
i knew i was ****** just cuz im black
fresh in its like a jail cell with no bail stepped into a world with no feelings
no heart apart
from this contract i got a duffle bag m 16 rifle
Told mama im.goin' to war
she dont understand i may come back in a box hard to dodge the ****
of the government over here
fightin' for some silly *** oil
negoitating with the enemy
but at the same time i am the enemy? United states burnin' up country while we workin' for free
got **** congress makin' millions more times than me
they say it aint a conspiracy?
they say i think too much and that my feelings touched
cuz i been in combat but truth is
they dont want your kids
to know the difference between reality n illusion is but
i say **** the press the army and im coming back vicious revenge
is delicious malicious
acts been done since man crawled out the sand pit times tickin'
grease the c.o.p so gun dont start trippin' and im still.wonderin'
will i escape the pain and misery the governments done to me and my comraderie
we earned the title of a vet
but they pawn us as trophies they get good publicity
sayin' we winnin' the war
when the war is at home rights being takin' every single day CIA Linked with the NSA no more private security
what the ******* think an IP is?
watchin' over us scared of us cuz of a revolution may bust out the cobb webbs been meaning to do this art is a reflection of reality i callit how i see why so many of military corps endin' up in the penitentiary?
cuz fools is pickin' truth over a numbered name excercisin' rights brings society pain got all the conservatives goin' insane
these muthaphukkas know the real
but they braille with they mass appeal startin' race riots white vs black black vs mexican
nigguhs u aint a American
ya stolen
secret society dont want us in unity
so do what the ******* want to embrace ?Crowleys tactics ?
use that black magic and watch em go in flames
use frankincense and myrhh to focus my brain
i got wealths no riches
nigguhs cant put a price on a mind
im the son of garvey malcolm even that crazy boy Carlin
as long as they stand for true
imma stand with you
army fatigue galore guns indeed
breakin' the demons seeds
that was planted long ago in the garden of eden
serpents been on earth since
darkness was first they had to separate dark from the light wrong from right
now that im out on bail
the military losin' there sight too focused on drug cartels
when they ones who sail
the dope in but the hood gets the pen? ultimate perdition folks in the senate listenin' say its us but we ain't got no passports why the **** they hidin gold at the fort?
Knox imagine that if we were to overpower the system the wouldnt have no choice but to listen they silence the powerful voices that influence minds
fools stay on yo grind
and so what even though my comments is being recorded and audit
but im at peace with self i dont see sunshine cuz its shorted
now take this to the daily news
so these public speakers can report it uh
Phil Lindsey May 2015
I was wandering the country
In my cowboy hat and boots
When anybody asked me, said
“I’m searchin’ for my roots –
I been livin’ in Missouri and
I’m a stubborn SOB and I wanta
Know just who I am
Want to find my family.

My Grandpa was a preacher man
From Southern Illinois,
Got a married lady pregnant
And they had a baby boy.
The lady moved away
To hide from all the shame,
And the little boy grew up and
Only knew his Daddy’s name.

Well the little boy, (my Father,
From the story I was told)
Lived rough from the beginning -
He was only twelve years old
When he got in trouble fightin’
(Neighbor called his Mom a *****)
And five or six years later
He tried to rob a store.
They tried him as a juvenile, and
Put him in the ‘System’,
Stamped ‘Marine Corp’ on his folder
Dad did not resist ‘em.

He went to boot camp near Savannah
Where they send ‘em all at first
Did the basics and the training
(The first weeks were the worst)
He went to town one evening
Lookin’ for some place to fight
Bought a bottle of tequila,
Found a girlfriend for the night
Told her he was going overseas,
That she should treat him right,
They were sweaty with Savannah heat
Her apartment was nearby,
They made love until the morning light,
She didn't shed a tear, or cry.

In the morning neither one of them
Recalled the other’s name
They shared a joint for breakfast
No blood, no foul, no shame
They exchanged their names and numbers,
She knew he’d probably never call,
He put her’s in his pocket,
Soldier protocol.
He grabbed a taxi back to base.
She spent the day in bed.
Remembering his hands, his face
She couldn’t push him from her head.

A few weeks later she felt sick, and
Went to see a nurse
She prayed that it was a cold or flu,
But expected something worse,
Her fears confirmed,
She begged her God
For sanity and strength.
Knowing that she couldn’t keep the child
So she knelt and prayed at length;
It became to her apparent,
Adoption was the better way,
But she didn’t call the father
For fear of what he’d say.

I finally found her in Savannah
She had never moved from there
Never married, worked a coffee shop
All we could do was stare.
No apologies were needed,
I hugged her,
We both cried,
And I knew that when she gave me up
Something inside her died.
I asked her how she met my dad,
She said, “He was in a bar, on leave.
He was drunk and he was handsome,
I was younger, and naïve.
He told me I was beautiful
I told him he was too.
And I’ll be ******, but son,
Your father looked alot like you."

She said, "I called and left a message,
But an officer called me back.
“I’m sorry Ma’am,” he said,
But your boyfriend won’t be back.
He was killed with seven others
In a terrorist attack.
But he left a lot of letters,
Rubber-banded in a stack.
To “Maria in Savannah”,
No last name and no address
Just a number on the envelope,
You can pick them up, I guess.”

I gave the officer my address, and
He sent them all to me.
There were a dozen letters
All printed carefully.
Your father, (his given name was Steve)
Told me about his early life
Told me what he knew about his parents,
And about the time he spent in jail.
He had stacked up all the letters
Because there wasn’t any mail.
The last one that he wrote me -
His last day as a Marine
He told me I was pretty,
Best lookin’ gal he’d ever seen.
And he told me he was comin’ home
To straighten out his life
And he asked me, in that letter, if I would be his wife.

Will you be goin’?  Or can you stay awhile?
I’ve got a little extra room
And there’s work here (it don’t pay too much)
If you know how to push a broom.
I guess that I should ask you if I’ve got grandkids,
And other stuff like that,
And I’ll bet that you’re from Texas
With those cowboy boots and hat.
Your father grew up troubled
But he was a **** good man
I’m gonna look him up in Heaven,
At least now that’s my plan.
Thanks for findin’ me and callin’
I shoulda called you years ago,
But I was scared ‘bout what you’d think
And ….  Oh I don’t know.
Sometimes I’m not proud of who I am
And all the things I’ve done
Wouldn’t want to push my troubles
On my one and only son.
It’s kinda hard to ask forgiveness from
The son I gave away,
But now you’re here, and I hope
You’ll take a couple weeks and stay.
That is if you want to,
And I know that you probably don’t
But I want to know the son I lost
And if you don’t stay, then I guess I won’t."

I said, “Mom, I’m from Missouri,
I’m a stubborn SOB
I been wanderin’ round the country
Lookin’ for my family.
And I’m thinkin’
You’re the only one
That really knew my Dad
And about you “givin’ me away?”
It’s the only choice you had.
I will stay here if you let me
I’d like to find a gal like you
We’ll make you a Grandma
And then she can love you too.”
PwL  5/18/15
mark john junor Aug 2014
im walking along
hardly breathin cause it might disturb
im steppin in the shadows of great men
with one eye on the popularity of what im sayin
but i dont think anybody sees me anyway
cept her and its real hard to tell what shes thinkin
dressed to the nines and she lickable head to toe
hard body honey half my age

came here to pick a fight with the powers that be
dont stand a chance but thats beside the point
cant you feel the storm brewin
been there since it became hip to be an activist
tempest in a tea ***
but what a blast its been
a struggle of the masses not to drink another latte
a demand for justice for the **** who ate the last bearclaw

he trims that fashion beard
combs out the rough phrase from his latest trending poem
and some cat in london stamps his seal of approval
sold out for a pat on the back
just remember kiddo that your a greenhorn
and i got one beady little eye on ya

meanwhile in chechnya they are swaping pens for rifles
feel little like hemingway
wanna throw it all away in a blaze of glory
for the ideal of the revolt with some
things still worth fightin for
hand me that pen
got a ruckus to make
LOL maybe i should stick to non-ruckus stuff LOL
There's an entire field of math
that investigates how fast
things move, one with respect another.
From hydraulics to ballistics,
to scheduling and logistics,
to expected birth rates -
healthy babies, happy mothers.
You can model how disease
moves through a populace with ease
or with diff'culty, as coefficients vary,
how heat and energies diffuse,
or how quickly I will lose
your rapt attention, if I choose,
choose to carry,
always carry,
  carry on the way I do.
If I carry,
always carry on,
  to interest just a few.
But hey.
A passion's still a passion
no matter what you're drawn to.

And with some level of abstraction,
maybe we could find an action,
a reaction,
  an expansion
that could yield a change or two.
Piece together some firm notion,
quantify that art in motion,
brew that bubbling new potion
that can build a better view.

Because there's got to be some level
where preconceptions start to end.
Where the Bell curve starts to bevel,
where your mind begins to bend.
Where names and labels scatter free;
it doesn't matter what you do.
Where fin'lly I can just be me,
where you can just be you.

Because it all comes back to how we move,
one with respect another,
always acting as behooves
someone with our label's cover.
Father, mother.
Sister, brother.
  Pusher, shover.
   Friend and lover.
Villain, hero.
Dime or zero.
  Caesar, Nero,
or just a guy.
A ****, a bro
a ****, a **
The man who knows
every disguise.
Mathematician,
a physician,
  a scared little boy wishin'
  on a shootin' star swishin'
long across a midnight sky.
Theatrical protagonist.
Can you start to get the jyst?
We've got so many roles to play.
Who do we want to be today?
  Just who looks back behind our eyes?

A Freedom Fighter
Wrong righter
Fire started
Broken hearter
Wallet stealer
Dope dealer
  Narc
  Cop
STOP!
For God's sake,
let it stop.

I've got too many roles to fill.
Just can't chill.
Can't calm down,
can't come around.
I'm so tired,
I'm so wired,
  I'm so scared of gettin' fired.
So much **** piles up.
Please, Barkeep, one more in my cup.
  And crank those ******' dials up.
Make chaotic volume flood,
'til the sound of pounding blood
  in my ears becomes a mud
layered thick around the brain,
until that **** that's so insane,
  becomes labeled as mundane.
Betrayal.  ******.  War.
Ya know, I've seen it all before.
  And I'd expect we'll see some more.
But that's okay.
I can breathe.
I'm listed here as understanding.
It's expected.
Let it go.
I'm listed here as undemanding.

It was for a blessing's name
that Cain betrayed his brother.
So becomes our choice of movement,
one with respect another.
Stationary, if not stable,
names fighting to define
people willing, if not able,
to leave their names' confines.

I know it could be simple
if we put our names to rest,
but like some aggravated pimple
grows my own list to contest.
I'm still a lover unrequited.
Still the guy who's ever-slighted,
I've got my Fightin' Irish side;
got both the drinker and his pride.
I still speak my simple credo,
have a Gemini's libido.
And by chivalry's demand,
will keep on offering my hand,
  knowing full well that you will stand
without assistance,
and insistence
that you don't need help from a man.

It gets out of hand so quickly
trying to cultivate ourselves
into what we think we should be.
We wind up bring off the shelves
more than we bargained for
and in the end,
the labels wind up wrong.
While well-intended
all we ended up with
is a spoiled song.

It started out four hands together
plucking out a little tune.
Silv'ry chords you sent to heaven
on a morning come too soon.
But the motif
stolen by the thief
of our own grand delusions,
Our minds,
just as we trained them,
racing off to draw conclusions...

What was once upon a time
beautiful simplicity
became muddled by the noise
of the entire symphony.
The blowing brass and sawing strings
of complicated history
confuse the senses, turn our tune into
a blurred cacophony.

And so we quit that silly game,
'cause it could never be the same
after we banished every name
except our own.
Then we could be
free from confinement on the "who,"
the "what," the "why" of what we do.
with me just me, and you just you.

So it is shown.
Q.E.D.
Refrain:
Oh Mr. Obama its your war now
war profits are up and so is the Dow
we've carried the gun and dropped the plough
these wars must end so end them now

Osama bin Laden hit us hard
he knocked down our buildings
in a murderous barrage
then President Bushie
atop a rubble heap
vowed to **** Osama
bury em for keeps

Refrain:
Oh Mr. Obama its your war now
war profits are up and so is the Dow
we've carried the gun and dropped the plough
these wars must end so end them now

W and Dickie invaded Afghan
soon thereafter disposed of Saddam
seven years later casualties swell
these wars are nightmares a living hell

Bombs destroy civilian homes
missiles strike by killer drones
collateral damage a cardinal sin
hearts and minds we'll never win

Oh Mr. Obama
this is your war now
we don't care who started it
it don't matter no how

sign the peace papers
make the hard call
bring the troops home
before one more falls

to build our country
we need global friends
fightin for oil
is war without end

You must think it over
give it some thought
the lives you ended
the horror wrought

Refrain:
Oh Mr. Obama its your war now
war profits are up and so is the Dow
we've carried the gun and dropped the plough
these wars must end so end them now

Our country needs fixin
there's much to do
jobs, health n schoolin
and homeless vets too

you got a Nobel
a prize for peace
you said war was hell
is too hard to cease

to continue the course
to bomb and bash
hate grows against us
we risk a great crash

a hope we can believe in
you would oft say
you win election
we don't change our ways

these wars are pointless
don't make no sense
bring the troops home
let the war machine rest


Refrain:
Oh Mr. Obama its your war now
war profits are up and so is the Dow
we've carried the gun and dropped the plough
these wars must end so end them now

Afghans are dying
they take up arms
to **** young Yanks
and do us harm

so think of moms,
lovers and friends
of young dead soldiers
we'll never hold again

how are you sleeping?
do you toss and turn?
do the faces of dead ones
make your conscience burn?

So Mr. Obama
just bring them home now
the Good Lord will bless you
beat swords into ploughs

Refrain:
Oh Mr. Obama its your war now
war profits are up and so is the Dow
we've carried the gun and dropped the plough
these wars must end so end them now

Music Selection:
Country Joe and the Fish: Feel Like I'm Fixing to Die Rag


jbm
NYC
3/15/10
I will sing this song at its world premier debut at the Peace and Justice pre-march rally on 3/19/10 at St. Anastasia Church Teaneck New Jersey! All are invited. Please come.

Witness for Peace
Washington DC
3/20/10

Support the Troops
End the Wars
Bring them Home Now!
Descovia Jul 2021
I don't understand it.
Everybody want to be a savage.
Upscale and overdramatic
90's mentality, I'm still fightin' madness.
So tell me
What you know about classic?
Better think, before you pop off at the mouth
and do anything drastic!

I never changed
I continue to do me
956 to 323
I got power
I am father to many prodigies
I'm going to stay on top
of the game, until they body me.

So you made a couple of hits
So you qualify as a hitter?
Stop calling yourself a killer
if you ain't about it ni**a
Gotta be outside the box
This is why
You cannot frame me
for any picture!
None of you, about the smoke
but be so quick to burn it all
Just like a swisher!
I cannot face time, rather not waste time.
Most of you get loco
When you be on the liquor
My foundation stands by me.
This is not vengenace, this is vigor!
So stop trying to use my lines
You's a stolen-style shifter
You ******* stolen-line-spitter
I'm not saint.
I rather not be a sinner.
I tell my child
You can do
ANYTHING!
Daddy will always rock with ya!
2021, new era, new me, I am done
******* with you pretenders!
WendyStarry Eyes Nov 2015
Farther along we'll know all about it
Farther along we'll understand why
Cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine
We'll understand this, all by and by

Tempted and tried, I wondered why
The good man died, the bad man thrives
And Jesus cries because he loves em' both
We're all cast-aways in need of ropes
Hangin' on by the last threads of our hope
In a house of mirrors full of smoke
Confusing illusions I've seen

Where did I go wrong, I sang along
To every chorus of the song
That the devil wrote like a piper at the gates
Leading mice and men down to their fates
But some will courageously escape
The seductive voice with a heart of faith
While walkin' that line back home

So much more to life than we've been told
It's full of beauty that will unfold
And shine like you struck gold my wayward son
That deadweight burden weighs a ton
Go down into the river and let it run
And wash away all the things you've done
Forgiveness alright

Farther along we'll know all about it
Farther along we'll understand why
Cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine
We'll understand this, all by and by

Still I get hard pressed on every side
Between the rock and a compromise
Like the truth and pack of lies fightin' for my soul
And I've got no place left go
Cause I got changed by what I've been shown
More glory than the world has known
Keeps me ramblin' on

Skipping like a calf loosed from it's stall
I'm free to love once and for all
And even when I fall I'll get back up
For the joy that overflows my cup
Heaven filled me with more than enough
Broke down my levee and my bluff
Let the flood wash me

And one day when the sky rolls back on us
Some rejoice and the others fuss
Cause every knee must bow and tongue confess
That the son of god is forever blessed
His is the kingdom, we're the guests
So put your voice up to the test
Sing Lord, come soon

Farther along we'll know all about it
Farther along we'll understand why
Cheer up my brothers, live in the sunshine
We'll understand this, all by and by
JOSH GARRELS
jeffrey robin Jun 2010
takin the long walk again
faces of the soldier boys don't  bother me none

seekin the clear vision
i'm goin home
freedom aint what i'm fightin for
its just my way of livin
givin myself to you for free
just the way you said you'd want me

HEY NOW THE WORLD'S ON FIRE WITH FEAR
HEY NOW MAMA YOUR CHILD
AINT NEAR YA NOW
HE'S GOIN DOWN DOWN AGAIN
DROWNIN IN A SEA OF  MASS ILLUSION
GUNS ARE SHOOTIN EVERY WHICH A WAY
FLAGS ARE WAVIN ALL OVER THE PLACE

takin the lone stroll around the town
faces of the prostitutes still startle me

i'm just a friend of pure exstacy
givin myself to you for free
just the way you said you'd want me

HEY NOW THE WORLD'S ON FIRE WITH FEAR
HEY NOW MAMA YOUR CHILD
AINT NEAR YA NOW
HE'S GOIN DOWN DOWN AGAIN
DROWNIN IN A SEA OF  MASS ILLUSION
GUNS ARE SHOOTIN EVERY WHICH A WAY
FLAGS ARE WAVIN ALL OVER THE PLACE

FLAGS ARE WAVIN ALL OVER THE PLACE

FLAGS ARE WAVIN ALL OVER THE PLACE
Ben OHara Nov 2010
You can dress up your **** all you want babe

It's still gonna stink all the same



You can change your apparel

from your old hobbies, become sterile

you can even change your own name



But we know now,

what's really inside you



Those demons

do gleam in the light



The curtain is torn now

you wolf in sheeps clothing

now its

good ol' fashion


fight

or

flight



And you say fightin'

it ain't quite your style



And the good lord knows,

you'd rather stay a while


So I guess you might change


But babe really what's change

when you just speak it

and stay just the same



Either way

If you gave me a chance

I likely would buy in


I can't hardly talk

or think

when you are smilin


Your beauty,

my darling,

is blindin'


but don't you think

your **** don't stink
Written November 6th
Ashley Rodden Nov 2013
Doin' a little drinkin' tonight
Doin' a little thinkin' tonight
Smokin' a cig as I sit here and dig inside my head for thoughts of positivity.
Doin' a little soul searchin' tonight
Doin' a little liein' to myself tonight
Tippin' a bottle up and feelin' it burn all the way down to my core.
Doin' a little hurtin' tonight
Doin' a little cryin' tonight
Enhaling smoke and ingesting nicotine with each drag I take.
Fightin' a little battle tonight
Screamin' inside my head tonight
My body is weary my soul distressed and tore.
Doin' a little forgettin' tonight
Doin' a little rememberin' tonight
With each sip I take it feels like such a contradiction of my feelings.
Feelin' a little lost tonight
Feelin' a little tipsy tonight
With each enhale and exhale the more confused I get.
Feelin' a little uncertain tonight
Feelin' a little bitter tonight
How much more of this can I take?
Holdin' on tonight for dear life
Lettin' go tonight for heaven's sake
Every beat of my heart proves I still must endure this life and these feelings.
Wantin' to talk to you tonight
Wantin' to hold you tight tonight
When I feel the cool night breeze on my cheek I snap out of thoughts and back to reality.
Wantin' to run away tonight
Wantin' to stand still tonight
Every star I count is just a wish that won't come true.
Bein' alone tonight
Bein' sad tonight
So I'm gonna try and drink all these thoughts, feelings, and frustrations away tonight.


Author Notes
this is a typical night for me lately....
© Ashley Rodden. All rights reserved
I'm a docder, pretty wizard, how d'ya like that?
I prescribe drugs, you just wear a pointy hat!
I ain't no Dr. Phil BS or Dr. Dre crap,
While you're busy casting spells, I'm savin' some poor old chap
Against me, you wouldn't stand a chance
I'm smarterer than you, and you just have a fancy stance
I'm a real life livin' docder
And you need me as a proctor
Just to drink some vodkar
And by now I bet you're wonderin' what ya just got in yer
Ya can't even rhyme
So why should I waste a single bit of my time
Fightin' with ma docder powers which are all so sublime
And here's a little gift
Before I shift
Back ta destroyin' all ya lyin'
Without even tryin'
It's a free little lesson
Better count it as a blessin'
Crap, wizard, that, warcraft and path
Don't rhyme, just do the math
And also by the way, you misspelled "WRATH!!!!!"
I can wear whatever I want, from my boots up to my hat
So, my little wizard, what d'ya think of that?
I can use anything, from a .50 cal to a bat
You just get a stick, and a stupid purple hat
I can eat 416 billion grams of fat
And cuz I'm a docder, I'd burn it off in nothin' flat
By just using a little brainpower to focus
All of my smartererness, against your hocus pocus  
You could never mess with me
Or either docder buddy,
Jedingaling and Murly
You'd leave so freakin early
If we started a beef
So just can it, and save yourself the grief
Against Walsh, you would flee
And as of now, he hasn't even got his docder PhD!
Unlike me!
Yeah, try every fancy trick
And poke me with a stick
A docder can take any pain,
From a puny little stick to a saw with a chain!
And then the docder'd turn around and use an attack
And your whole puny world would fade into black
You are done
I have just won
CUZ I'M A DOCDER, SON!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Cease the red dragon im stabbin'
deep in ya heart
mount zion is where my destiny started
but now im parted
deep in the land of the lost loss souls
still tryna find themselves
through religions instituted by man
i don't take no for an answer infectin' like breast cancer
epidemic flows thermogenic
causin' instant sweat terrorist threats so they keep on the radar
like navy ships take short dips
bang on beats like bloods to crips
i go on and on like Gladys KNight and the pips
skip skip over critics wicked sadistic mystique
with the style i send  comprehend
tryna find my way
back to Mount Zion but im blurred brain fryin'
from all the heat im catchin' to my intellect
break through the sweat it's war
we at the verge of a battle so girls stop movin' ya rattle
rode worlds saddle too long im stuck in the killin' fields
fightin' my way back to promise land with much contraband
haters trespassers will be hung
frontin' like friends but ain't down with Black Na-tion
it's the return of Mount Zion
True Lyricist Oct 2014
Anarchy
Grows in my heart organically
I'm sky high
Don't apply to no gravity
Mid'flight dog fightin' with insanity
Crash to the floor
My eyes burning with clarity
Mind state retaliate eradicate depravity
Assassinate a character
Animate a passenger
Blind hate.
The scavenger
The ravager
Ravish all the challengers
And massacre the amateurs
Banish all the stragglers
Smack with em a cannister
**** sliding down the bannister
Pay my debts like my second name was Lannister
Vanish like a phantom of the avatar
The damager
The battler
The traveller
Unravel grammar to the patter of a tabor
Lavender growing in the gravel in the castle by the channel
brooke Mar 2017
well dear sweetheart
i know so far// how we got here//
and i'm sorry this all got so
confusing// well i've heard i'm a mess
but I've always thought of that //
as the opinion of many,//
'cause broken see as broken do

and darling
I have much to say for the state of our hearts//
and maybe mine was gentle acoustic cover the
the rugged twang of yours// and in the midst of
fightin' words, you caught me while turnin'
a fish off deck, a wingless bird--

but life has always spoken to me in feelings
allegories 'bout wolves and fields and men
and i'm used to fightin battles on the wrong
side, for mother's sake or father's winsome smile

and i've turned a door or two into a forest
made a **** a hundred nettles in my heel
ive heard that I may blow things out of proportion
with father njord inside my soul with bags of air

i'm begging for my own answers, for a revival
for a straight path, and I was hoping, I would
that you would, that I would, that you would
and i'm sorry I took something good and twisted it up
that i apologized for being me, and I know you said it
so long ago--not to be sorry and that you wouldn't leave

cause i'm still in your corner, just trying to breathe.
trying to breathe, trying to breathe.
(c) Brooke Otto 2017
Jared Van May 2013
I kno you all to well,
Makin' the wrong decision, with men, and start to dwell,
Livin' blendin' collisions within hearts you tail,
In the endin' you forgive him and say it's hard to bail,
I don't know why you let men beat you,
And mistreat you,
Go back and get mad that they had deceived you,
Now you only see the worst in people,
It's rare you see good, 'cause it's common you see evil,
I see through,
This obsession to be loved,
Need a lot now, because before you didn't get enough,
Start to talk to me when things are getting tough,
Your life feels like you are putting through the rough,
In the end all of these boogies make you feel lonely,
Treatin' you just like a piece of pepperoni,
Feelin' hella sad 'cause every girl just wants a pony,
Thinkin' everyday ferry tails are a little more phony,
If only,
Ya prince charming would arrive,
A man who would stand out from all these bad guys,
Someone to focus on what you need in ya life,
A pleasure, to take away all the plight,
I'd fight, and try,
To be a friend,
But the more we time spend,
The more I'm vibin,
Want more than to slide in,
You were someone that I confide in,
I'm fightin'
An inner battle,
To be the raft or the paddle,
Havin' trouble being the queen to you own castle,
Askin' me to be the shepherd to your cattle,
Findin' where I fit seems to be such a hassle,
Problem is I could never even try to trust you,
Known for betraying any man who tried to love you,
Foolin' my self believing I was strictly lustful,
But knew it was somethin' more every time that I touched you,
And it kills me,
The only time you get to see the real me,
Is when liquor fills me,
And I drunk text you all my feelings,
Spillin' my heart out,
Tryin' to negate a fall out,
Conflicted, wishin' your what I envision without a small doubt,
I'm there for you,
I care for you,
When he put his hands on ya, Where were you?
The man behind the scenes,
Hands inside his jeans,
Glamorized in dreams,
You I fantasize with me,
But in the end, I'm just a friend, with you watching Mean Girls and Anastasia,
Answer any call from my dream girl, "How can I save ya?"
All I want is you, I don't wanna be a playa,
I kno you all to well so we'll never be nothin' greater...
Ma Cherie Mar 2017
Thank you fighting Irish,
for standing at my side
and I will do the same for you-
as I share in Irish pride,
it's time for every Irish heart,
to come out from where they hide,

We have come amazing distances,
from oppression at our throat,
and we wear some real
deep battle scars,
in an Irish fighting coat,
as we sailed in ships from an irish loam,
as we sailed
in freedom's boat,

All we came -
to this place
yeah we all came the same,
an our happiness-
it was the goal,
in our knowledge
that all hard work pays off
well so knows the diamond
from the coal,
and happy is the little fish,
finding comfort in a shoal,

An it's tattooed on our skin to see,
on an Irish skin so fair,
and in every Irish freckle seen,
it marks connection that we share,
an I don't have to guess at all,
how much my Irish Brothers care,
it's never too much to measure in,
the familiar things we bear,

The same for Irish sisters too,
and all of any other race,
as we are all connected true,
in all the light and colored face,
the color of your skin does not,
provide one with their grace,

We all can be some
Boondock Saints,
like my badass Irish kin,
we all share our connection deep
down below the earthly skin,
to think that what you do -I do
if you do wrong,
then I too "sin"
an we should not be fighting here,
if we join hands-
then we all win,

So I send an Irish blessing
to help you on your way
an I know that you don't need it
but I hear the bagpipes say,
that we have still much work to do,
before we all can hear it play
so as I get down on a bended knee
and again this morn' I pray,

And yeah some hands
were made for fightin'
all defendin' Irish wing
well I hope St. Christopher
he stay with you
until the final ring,
and bring a comfort
to your heart anew,
the kind that only real love bring,

I hope it finds you well
and happy -
an you be contented with your life
an I hope that all are grateful,
for every child, man and wife,
the best time to count your blessings
is when you're knocked down hard
with strife,

So I am sending you my Irish love
I sing laughter
- living mirth
to spread the seed so wide,
an defend from hell
on  Earth,
returned we are to innocence,
returned in death from birth,

I pray for all a peace to come
that one day all will know
just exactly what it's all been truly worth.

Ma Cherie © 2017
Oh.... I pray for the world to be more tolerant For my "Irish" and for dear friend Brian wherever you are an all you too- happy st. Patrick's Day! X - Ma Cherie
Rockin' myself to sleep
Cryin' ever so softly
Fightin' with our blankets
Tryin' to find your warmth
Thinkin' of you only
Needin' you deeply
Lovin' you forever & always
Achin' for you to kiss & hold me
hatin' how I torture myself
Worryin' about you not bein' here
Havin' cramps inside
Takin' a deep breath to calm myself
Screamin' in my mind
Knowin' I can't be near you
Breakin' up inside
Crashin' down so hard
Wakin' up; my arms still empty
Feelin' so tired & alone
Drivin' myself crazy
Waitin' for you to be back home

2014
Copyright; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
andy fardell Feb 2011
I feel it as I sit I feel it when I lay ...
The itchines inside me is fighting me today
stomach fightin pain thats always here to gloat ... yet itchiness takes over
a grin and not do bear ............

Carbs are overloaded yet count away we go
sugar fix awaiting to pain my bigger toe
spots are so a wantin on way to sprout my skin
the ******* even get me where!!!
privacy begins

Dia ..Dia ....betes leave me well alone
pick on someone evil
and make a happy home

Dia ..Dia ..Betes ...let me have some fun
maybe just a choccy bar or scrummy apple crum!!
dip a stick to 6.9 after loads a buns
Dia ..Dia ..Betes got ya on the run
My mama’s shoes,
Fit my feet too snug, now,
For me to look cute, still, slippin’ them on.
I’ve no need of her lipstick, nor her raspberry rouge,
To make my face look, more, like hers does.

I’m a big, daddy’s girl, who has known the world,
But, not quite enough to really fit in.

--

I still heart,
Sunshine and rosies,
And, playin’ with mah toesies -
Eatin’ froot loops and pokin’ at roly poly’s,
Makin’ colourful cupcakes, covered in sweet gummies,
To eat inside forts filled with last winter’s lights,

Too,

Eatin’ Caramel Delights, sneakily,
Stolen, in spite - of the weight,
I was fightin’ so easily.

--

Perhaps,

When the adults are all done - playin’ house, for fun,
I’ll bring my cookies from the fort, to the table.
We’ll have coffee and speak of the stats,
For the week and laugh about,
Hart's becoming unstable.

And, I shall wear loafers,
That pinch at my,
Toesies that fidget,
Crazily,
Beneath my seat.
WIP
© 2011 Elephants & Coyotes
Smoke a blunt, pack a bowl send me on my way.

Feeling better but feeling worse every single day.

Dont know what to do about this vicious circle im stuck in.

All I can do is give it to God and let the healing begin.

But I still miss it everyday and Im not sure why.

Why do I love it so much and always wanna get high.

No where else to turn so Im on my knees prayin.

Let God take it over cuz dood he aint playin.

I got the Jesus man holdin it down fightin temptation.

And I cant stop pushin now cuz Im building up Christs nation.

I know that Christ will use me for the greater good.

Just gotta get my story across and be understood.

Cuz I been thru the tradjedies and tried to escape it.

But I had to face reality and Im proud that I made it.

And I couldnt do it without Him yeah my savior till the end.

Only following Jesus not just following some trend.

And nobody can stop me even though satan will try.

But Ima prove him wrong its just a matter of time.

Cuz Ima find the best of me and use it to serve the Lord.

Even if its just my rhymes I wont be ignored.

from all of the demons i am fightin'
i myself am the biggest one of them
'cause out of all of those trials sent by Him
none of them as bein' as frightenin'

that choice be upon me where to headin'
tho roads are made able by only Him
onto which desire shall i chase a whim
when knowin' does make life more uplightenin'

forever condemned by my strides within
knowin' myself needin' to be workin'
for when i shall change my mind of thinkin'
owin' none but positive vibes all-in

'cause yes indeed, my own devil am i
but not when changin' visions of my eyes

*
..love always...



عرفان بن يوسف © AH 23/04/1437

'a (pentameter) Sonnet'

— The End —