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Danny Valdez Apr 2012
My Mom needed something from the store
So I told her I’d walk up there for her and get it.
We were barely getting by
The two of us.
She was living on a disability check
And I was in between jobs
Again
So these little walks to the store were all I had.
I got her some Epsom salts and was walking back
Had just walked past the hardware store
When a small, sleek, black, BMW pulled up next to me.
To my surprise it was a chick
A big titted redhead with pink sunglasses.
There was something in her eyes
When she peeked below the sunglasses
I saw something in them
that frightened me
A voice inside was screaming at me
Just keep walking
Just keep walking
But like a fool
I ignored it
And bent over the passenger seat
In the convertible that smelled new.
“How big is your ****?”
The lady asked
Her chest just heaving and jiggling
With every breath she took
And every word she spoke.
“What?”
“I said….how big is your ****?”
“Ha ha!”
I took a look around
Expecting to see a hidden camera
Or a film crew in a van across the street.
There was no one
No witnesses.
I leaned back down
“7 inches? Maybe 8? I don’t know lady, I haven’t measured my **** since the 11th grade!”
The redhead took off the sunglasses completely and looked me up and down
Those bright green eyes scanning me
From my worn out Converse to my greasy pompadour on my head.
It seemed like an eternity
I got uncomfortable.
Just standing there
Squirming
While the redheaded fox
Kept inspecting me.
“Okay. Get in. Hurry up.”
I wasn’t even thinking
Just reacting to it all.
I’d always dreamed of this
When I was walking down that
Same old ******* street
The only street that I ever saw
Dreaming of
A beautiful woman in a sports car.
And now here she was.
Here we were
Driving down the street
The breeze blowing in our hair
She made an immediate right turn
Onto a suburban side street.
She parked in front of a house that was up for sale.
Again she took off the sunglasses.
“Let me see it.”
She said, staring at my crotch.
“Whoa, whoa, lady. What’s this all about?”
“My husband and I…..we have certain…..tastes. Things we like, things we enjoy. He’s an older guy, so he likes to watch young guys **** me. I mean, just really give it to me good, make me scream. And of course after your services have been….rendered….you’ll be paid two-thousand dollars. Now do you think you can do that?”
“Uh……I—I think so.”
“Well, I need you to know so. And if you were bullshitting me, if that **** isn’t at least 7 inches, you can get out of the car right ******* now.”
“No it is, it is.”
“Well...”
“Well...you gotta start my engine first—“
Before I could finish my cheesy line
She was in the passenger seat
Climbing on top of me.
“Rip it open” She said looking down.
I did as I was told
And ripped the front of her blouse open
The buttons flying in all directions
Bouncing off the windows and rolling on the dashboard.
Her two, round, fake, **** sprang out of the top
Hitting me in the face
As she rubbed them up and down
And all around.
She kissed me sloppily
And then started in with that biting *******.
She met my lip so hard
It drew blood
acting purely on reflex
I grabbed her by the arms very hard
And pulled her back from me
Staring at her with those crazy, intense, eyes
That I sometimes got when startled.
“Oh…..” She said looking down, at the ******* in my Levi’s.
“Alright. You wanna see the house?” She asked.
I let go of her arms and she rolled off of me,
hopping into the driver’s seat and starting the car up.

She drove all the way to the edge of the city
Where the Red Mountains in the east
Meets the long winding road out of town
And into the desert.
It was a large ranch style mansion
Decorated with cowboy themed ****.
The redhead parked the sports car in
A massive garage
Filled with dozen of rare and expensive automobiles .
She told me to leave my plastic grocery bag of Epsom salts
In the car
She said I could get it later, when we were done.
I followed her to an elevator at the back of the garage.
We took it all the way down to the very bottom.
Stepping out of the elevator
I found myself in a large expansive grey room.
The floors were concrete
But they were shiny and slick
Reminded me of the floor in the meat department
At the job I had just lost.
The room had a few beds in it
Some custom built sets were erected all over the room
An office, a jail cell, a medieval dungeon, a medical examination room,
There were a lot these little sets built all over
In the back of the room
The corners
Were pitch black and covered in darkness.
I wondered what they had over there.
“So what do we do?” I asked, fidgeting in my pants
thumbing my switchblade stiletto in my right front pocket.
“We have to wait for my husband to come down. I just texted him.”
“Oh okay.”
“You should take your clothes off and put this on.”
The redhead said, taking a hospital gown from a hanger
Next to the medical examination set.
“….put that on and I’m gonna go get into character.”
She said, walking behind a white privacy screen
The old kind, like they used to have in doctor’s offices.
I undressed myself and got into the hospital gown.
I can’t say what it was exactly
But I still had that real nervous feeling
I couldn’t ignore it
So for some reason
I hid my switchblade on me.
Put it in the waistband of my underwear.
And that made me feel a little bit safer
This whole thing was beyond belief
I was never this lucky
Something was rotten in Denmark
I could feel it in my bones.
But there was no backing out now
I was riding this all the way
No choice.
I took a seat on the medical examination table
The thin paper crunching loudly beneath my ***
They had it down to the finest detail.
Even the little slots with the Highlights magazines.
I watched the black & white clock on the wall
And it took them 28 minutes to finally come out
The two of them together.
The tall, beautiful, redhead and the rich old man.
But they matched in an odd way
His face was nearly the same color as her hair.
A red faced, big nosed, drinker,
I’ve seen that face a thousand times
Ain’t no mistakin’ it.
He had white hair all spiked up
Like how young people have it
And he wore nothing but gold
All over himself.
Gold necklace, full fists of rings, bracelets,
I couldn’t ******* believe it
I tried my best not to laugh
I was snorting to myself
The ******* had a Mercedes medallion around his neck
Like Flavor Flav or something, it was that flamboyant.
But the guy was like 70 years old
None of it made any ******* sense.
The florescent lighting above
it did this thing where
his eyes were so sunken in
that it created these two black shadows
where his eyes should’ve been
just pitch black
endlessly hollow and empty
with a red face.
Satan himself, covered in gold and diamonds.

“What’s up?” He said, extending his well tanned, leathery claw.
“Hey.”
“Alright, so let’s not waste any time. Let’s get down to business? Huh?”
“Yeah, sure.” I said.
“**** yeah! Let’s ****! You wanna **** him baby?”
”Why do you think I got him? Hell, I almost ****** him on the way home.”
“Did you now?” He said, looking over at me with this look
I couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or rage.
“Alright, alright then.”
The chick started to walk up the three little steps
Of the examination table
Her feet were pale as snow and her toes
Shiny and red like a the paint job on a brand new Cadillac in 1956
I remember that.
She climbed on top of me
Started kissing me and
Rubbing my ****
Under the examination gown.
From the corner of my eye
I saw the husband moving over to the camera
Which was setup a few feet away
Looked to be hi-def ****.
She bit my lip again
Really ******* hard
Pulled a big chunk of skin off
“*******!” I yelled.
“What?” The husband shouted back.
“He hates it when I bite him!” The redhead shouted with a smile
blood on her lips, from mine.
“Well, don’t take any **** son! If she does that again, you just give her a good smack!”
“What?”
“Yeah, don’t be timid boy! This ain’t ******’ Sunday school! We’re ******’, here!”
She did it again
And I wasn’t even thinking of what that old coot was yelling about
I just hit her on principle.
A good open handed smack across the cheek.
“There ya ******’ go! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”
The old man threw his hands in the air
And started doing this little dance it was the weirdest ****
I had ever seen.
The redhead grabbed my face with her hands
Taking my eyes off the old man
Who was now singing some song
And shuffling around the floor.
She looked right into my eyes
Those mint colored eyes
She whispered to me
But I read her lips
“I’m sorry.”
And she pulled me in and kissed me
Put my hands to her *******
And proceeded to kiss me
Like a long lost love
Not some guy off the street.
And that’s the last thing I remember.
Besides the ***** of the needle in my neck.
Just her red hair hanging in my face
The florescent light shining through.
When I came to
I was standing upright
But I was strapped to a table
My arms
My legs
My head
Every part of me strapped down
Tight.
I wasn’t going anywhere
This was that bad feeling I got when she looked at me.
This was where it ended. Right now.
They were both standing there
Staring at me
Smiling with drinks in their hands
The cameras rolling
They had multiple cameras setup
Some 80’s techno playing from an iPod dock.
“What? What are you gonna do?” I slurred, it was hard to talk.
“I know, I’m sorry. Okay, look. We both agree that you probably are owed an explanation, I mean….these being your last moments and all…”
The redhead interrupted, looking at me, like she had before
There was love in her eyes
“Honey…remember what I said? About how there are things that we like and things that we enjoy? I’m sorry, but this is what we like.”
“*****?” I managed to choke out,
just the sound of the words chilled my ******* blood.
“Yeah. Hey…son, let me tell ya…we’re actually saving you a whole lot of heartache and disappointment. You weren’t gonna go anywhere, you weren’t going to accomplish anything. You’d work the same **** jobs, bouncing from one to the other, until you finally died of either ***** or drugs.”
“It’s for the best, sweetie.” The redhead said.
And I’d love to tell you that
They left the room for a few minutes
And I was able to free my hand
Taking the switchblade
From my underwear
Cutting myself free
Killing them both
And cleaning out their safe’s cash and diamonds.
But this was no movie.
Well not the kind with a happy ending anyway.
That’s when she walked over to the table
And grabbed the knife.
The song on the iPod changed
And I instantly recognized it.
It was the song.
I never could explain why
But as a boy
This song would come on the radio
This 80’s electro song
And it always scared the **** out of me
Turned my stomach
I never knew why
But now it all made sense.
That song would be the last thing I ever heard.
With the cameras rolling
The redhead gave me one more kiss.
I closed my eyes and pretended.
I pretended that she was a girl that loved me
That she was kissing me goodnight
Sending me off with a smile.
I just kept my eyes closed
Squeezing them tight
And I didn’t even feel the knife
When she slit my throat right there
In that slick, shiny, grey basement.
It didn’t hurt
I didn’t feel any pain.
Just warmth.
The blood flowing down the front of my neck and chest
pure warmth sliding down me
And I started to get light headed
Everything getting dark
Very quickly.
I could hear my heartbeat
In sync with a high-pitched ringing in my ears.
The last thing I saw
Was the redhead standing there
Luckily the husband had his head behind the camera
So I didn’t have his scary face as the last thing I ever saw.
No
It was the redhead
And those mint green eyes.
They never found my body.
The couple put me through a wood chipper
And fed my scraps to their dogs
After slicing off my biceps for dinner that night.
They went on doing this for years
Picking up guys and girls from the streets
who were down on their luck
And wouldn’t be high profile missing persons.
They acquired hundreds of DVD’s
Selling these ***** films
To their elite and powerful
Friends in high places.
But they justified it all.
Surely I wouldn’t be missed.
I didn’t have a mother
Like they had a mother
I didn’t laugh and love
Like they did
I was expendable
Disposable
Use once and discard.
The rich eating the poor
Blood meal for their insatiable & gruesome appetites.
It’s okay though.
I’m not mad or anything now.
It’s just blackness
A dreamless sleep
I don’t even know how I’m telling you this
But the worst part
The thing I still think about the most
Is my mother.
And what she must of thought
When her only son
Went to the store for her
Epsom salts
And just never came back.
Nick Stiltner Jun 2018
Time has its hands around my neck, strangling me.
A diamond clock around my neck like Flavor Flav,
hanging off me, pulling my head down to the dirt.

The tortuous second, an arduous minute
I grind my teeth at the passing hour.
I squeeze each passing day, holding tightly,
but it always escapes between my fingers,
liquefying and dripping through, evaporating.

Wake and pace,
I wake and begin to pace.
Weaving a trail through the leaves at my feet,
the meadow floor becoming my revolving door
with only one exit, a blinking red sign
flashes, its arrow pointing directly down
imprinting itself in my pupil.

Sing the song of the day!
Whether it be swaying morning Jazz
or a night owls rhythmic hoots,
sing it loud and let it ring,
for you never know the last song you will sing.

Walk in circles, hum the tone,
whatever it takes to get you past that
glaring sun high in the sky at each passing noon.
The Good Pussy Oct 2014
.
                           "I pull him
                         deeper in my
                        mouth so I can
                       feel  him  at  the
                        back of my thro
                        at and  then  to
                        the front again.
                        My tongue  swi
                        rls   around the
                        end.   He's   my
                        very own Chris
                        tian   Grey- flav
                        ored     popsicle.
                        I    ****   harder
                        and   harder . . .
                         . . . Hmmm . . .
                         my   inner   god
                         dess    is   doing
             the merengue      with some salsa
        moves. " " You'r e   so    deliciously wet
         god I want you  I '  m going to *******
            now Ms. Steele      hard . . .   come
                   for       me               Ana."
"50 Shades of Grey"    (google)
Anais Mostly Aug 2013
How much you loved garlic salt on your pizza
$5.00 thin crust from the frozen aisle was pushing luxury.
Reliable Red Baron $3.33

You started to clean after I moved in and began to organize
I remember all the dust collecting on your VHS collection. Never mind it was ******* 2008.

your white and black cat, Flava flav would scratch at the bedroom door every morning

Who gives a **** about these memories except you and me...

Edit

Treason

Extra hands on my body

Confusion manipulating my character

Midnight arguments

The dichotomy of loaded words

And smoking ****** sweetness

Creativity scattered like cheap confetti
On ***** gas station asphalt

I was your prosecutor

Between painfully vulnerable kisses and abandonment issues

Stubborn lonely people with delusional detours for ambitions

I was the exotic poet to your Tom Waits

the **** alternating between affection and suitcase packing

Cindy Lauper's video and my impressionable little girl mind

23 years later lost in its transcendence

You are not my mirror

You are not my soul mate

You are just this one guy who cares about me

I make inappropriate jokes

You make me laugh

You make me cry and I think of my father

I lie just like my mother

Between the fights

Stained sheets
You shout
Private expressions
Your perfect mouth
Inside the models of ****** parents we replace in a new generation and ***** about

I need you
brandychanning Dec 2023
sitting in LA  traffic,
feeling very traff,^
unsurprisingly,,
dream-haze to SF,
now, every doorway
is an entrance/exit
to the Matrix

the movie is all about
concentric circles of reality
intersecting, when I emerge
in Chinatown, me and naturally,
Neo too,
(older and cute, and edible, like my fav flav)
who finds me equally irresistible,

He asks am I real,
sore disappointed,
for earlier, making love,
there were no harpsichords,
just  The Zombie’s breathy vocals,
singing prophetic these songs  
“She’s Not There” and
“Tell Her No.”

my then reality was in no doubt,
but nearness breeds suspicion
as much as trust, and Neo
is a worrier, I foresee not
much future for him & me

other men have called me Shylock,
for the betrayal probability is nearer
to 1, and these words, a reality test,
a forewarning to all in my bed sojourn,
are framed, resting above my pillows:

If you ***** us, do we not bleed?
If you tickle us, do we not laugh?
If you poison us, do we not die?
And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?


tear stains, some from loneliness,
others from being held to tight,
some from my own scripts reread,
some from you, you don’t even know

when they stay over, I give them
one of two matching robes, both
Barbie pink,
those that laugh and grab it on,
they’re the keepers, they are for real,

just like me

by the way, so many of you have drunk
my crazy words, it’s inexcusable that I’ve
not thanked you yet, individually like the
Queen Mother teaches, repeat reminds,
preenly informs, nothing  better than
a hand written thank you note, so
considered yourself served and appreciated!

am I for real?

the very question I ask myself daily,
to my morn mirror who magic replies,
more than real, crazy unique special, so so
different, otherwise I wouldn’t stick around,

and I thank the mirror with a lipstick kiss,
and it blushes from the love so real, and
cracks
a smile and says you be careful my genteel,
lady princess, your pale skin is exposed and
the California sun is a burning torch and it
touches your perfect body like all the others,
whose fingerprints evaporate in time, so husband
your love, give it slow and precious, for you are
more than mere real, after all,
**you are Brandychanning
^ selfish or very self centered. Has no feeling for anyone but themselves
Big Virge Jun 2019
Conspiracy ... ???
    
Theory ... ???    
    
Or .... REALITY ... ?!?    
    
This Is A Dilemma ...    
That Needs ... CLARITY ... !!!    
    
So Who Pulls The Strings of ... Societies ... ???    
People In Office ... Or Those We Don't See ... ?!?    
    
This Piece Could Result ...    
In The Ending of Me ... !?!?!    
Cos' I Don't Believe ....    
In A Card With ...  I.D. ... !!! ...    
    
It's Just One More Way ...    
To ... " Watch Over We " ...    
    
LISTEN Big Brother ... !!!    
STOP Checking On Me ... !!!!    
    
This Type of Ideal ...    
Is Just ... INSANITY ... ?!!!?    
    
We Can't Walk The Streets ...    
Without ... C.C.T.V. .... !?!?!    
    
Meantime The Police ...    
Employ ... BRUTALITY ... !!?!!    
    
I'm Trying To See ...    
How This ... Technology ...    
Will Make Living Better ...    
For You and For Me ... ???    
    
Sometimes I Do Think ...    
We Should All ... " Cop A Plea " ... !!!    
    
And Then We Might ...    
FINALLY SEE .... Who THEY BE ... !!?!!    
    
Masons And THOSE ...    
Who Are ... "hidden from view" ...    
    
Those Who Have People ...    
STILL ... SHINING Their Shoes ...    
    
Those Who Are ... "hidden" ...    
From .... Social Issues ....    
    
Where Are ...    
Holmes and Watson ... ?    
    
I'm Needing Some Clues ...    
Or Maybe Like ... " Muddy " ... ???    
They're Feeling ... " The Blues " ... !!!    
    
WHO CONTROLS The News ... ???    
    
WHO PULLS Our Sinews ... ???    
    
How Many of You ... ???    
Are Tame ... Like The Shrew ... ???    
  
Because of The FEAR ... !!!    
of ... What They Would Do ... !!!    
    
THEY As In ... " THEM " ...    
The ... " CONTROLLING Few " ...    
    
These ... Cash Marketeers ...    
Who ... THRIVE OFF Our Fear ... !!!    
of Losing Control ....    
of The Pound Being Here ...    
    
Simply So They ...    
Can Keep Up With Their Peers ...    
    
What's Wrong With The EURO ... ?    
I Don't Have An Answer .... !!!    
    
Do ...    
Any of You Know ... ?!?    
    
This Issue's ... " A SCANDAL " ...    
Just Like ....  " John Profumo " ... !!!!!    
    
Or Like ... " Watergate " ...    
But When We Find Out ...    
It's Always TOO LATE ... !!!!!    
    
These Thieves Don't Want Piece ... !!!!!    
They Want THE WHOLE CAKE ... !!!!!    
    
They're ALL ... !!!    
On The TAKE ... !!!    
    
They Slither Like ... SNAKES ... !!!!!    
    
And These Are The People ...    
Who ... CONTROL Our Fate ... ?!?    
    
It's NOT JUST The Whites ... !!!    
Who ... "KEEP Their GRIP TIGHT" ...    
    
Some Blacks Are INSECTS ... !!!!    

Just Look At What Happened ...    
To YES .... " Malcolm X " .... !!!!!!!!    
    
THIS Is A Subject ...    
The Nation ... REJECTS ... !!!    
So That's Where I'll STOP ... !!!    
Before They ... GET VEX ... !!!    
    
So .....    
Back To The Pound ... £££    
    
Why Do These Fools Hound ... ???    
When ... " Tapping Your Pin " ...    
Is Now The ... NEW Sound ...    
of Payments We're Making ...    
Across ... English Towns ...    
    
MP's Are Just CLOWNS ... !!!    
Who ... Make People FROWN ... !!!    
    
Cos' Plans They Are Making ...    
Simply .... " CONFOUND " .... ?!?!?!?    
    
" Money Makes The ..... "    
    
ENOUGH ... ENOUGH ... !!!!!!!!!    
    
I'm NO James Brown ... !!!    
    
But TRUST Me ... That Man ...    
Could Really .... " GET DOWN " ... !!!!!    
    
He Spoke THE TRUTH ...... !!!    
And Made STRONG MOVES ... !!!    
    
But Then ... Was Jailed ...    
Cos' He LOST ............................ His Cool ..... !!!    
    
Jacko' TOO ... !!!    
Was One ... " ACCUSED " ...    
    
HE'S A ******* !!!    
    
Said ....    
WORLDWIDE News ... !!!    
    
But Let Me Just ...    
EXPLAIN To You ...    
    
He Owned The Rights ...    
To Some ..... BIG TUNES ...... !!!!    
That Labels Were After ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!    
    
This Is ... THE TRUTH ... !!!    
    
See ... Money FEEDS ...    
This Thing Called GREED ...    
    
How Many ... BLEED ...    
To Have .... " MONEY " .... !!!    
    
.... " Conspiracies " ....    
..... SUPPORT Money ..... !!!
    
And This Can Lead ... ?    
To ... " ***** DEEDS " ...    
By Those Who ARE ...    
The ... " GREEDY BREED " ... !!!!!    
    
Believe What You Like ... !!!    
But Like Flav' Said ...    
    
DON'T BELIEVE THE HYPE !    
    
Not EVERYONE ...    
Can Be Like ... " Mike " ... !!!!    
    
Wear Your Nikes ... !!!    
    
I'm Gonna Wear Mine ... !!!    
Cos' It WON'T STOP ...    
The ... " Grand Design " ...    
    
Too Many FOOLS ... !!!!!!!    
Just ... " Fall In Line " ...    
    
They Should Take ...    
A ..... " Little Time ............... "    
    
To Hear The TRUTH ...    
In ... Words of Rhyme ...    
    
From ... Angelou ...    
To ... Peter Tosh .... !!!    
    
Before Their Souls ...    
Are ... " ETERNALLY LOST " ...    
    
We Need MORE TRUTH ... !!!    
And ... Less Theory ....    
    
What's REAL To You ...    
And ..... REALITY ...... !!!!!!    
    
Which Brings Me Back ...    
    
To ....    
    
... " Conspiracies " ...
As The Good Pres' ... Donald said ....

A lot of news is fake, but, when it comes to conspiracies ...

Can We ... REALLY Say The Same .....................................................
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2018
i've long lived with a deutsche seem
within using this tongue,
abbreviating the differences...
succumb to the raven croack...
like an earthworm might to a sunlight....

seems i have been,
much agitated by the expected in
the rallying yewp
of the ones unearthed
as being untouched by closures of
crafting rome...

     de profundis clamavi
ad te, domine;
domine,
     exaudi vocem meam;

little 'elp the chance to live
a life....
       the little that is
begot from man's interval,
and you, who hear,
    are begot by
a defening of ears...
            who vouched to
make the "shy" grief of
jurisprudent song a:
                  mismatch.

only among a people who have
been acribed a history of rome,
to recant, to recount...

         such a fickle labour
to have to mind...
    who would have thought
to infusre ***** with a perfume
of a pear, if not a swede?!
i rest my case...

    drunk, almost dead,
is my most pristine
post-scriptum of seeing
a sunset with this,
english, of all available tongues...

i can't but hinder,
      with the fleshy,
            quasi-take
   on a proxy of imitating
the hummingbird...

                    tod-mit-deutsche!
because via german:
is how i want to unlearn
ever speaking: ęglisch -

to grüz: und gravel!
                         mit dies zunge!

have to travel a question further
to make a in vino veritas
market pleasure...
                    in terms of *****...

the **** drinking italians are
phlegm assorts
in our cognitive couldron...

                comma mother-******?!

        wir anruf es: schloß!

   i don't even know why i took up
a defence of: deutsche,
in a tongue,
        and with a background...
that technically shouldn't
             give me the allowance...

have to explain what's
readily given,
however unsatisfactory to
commence:
understanding of the analogue
akin to the common man;

i.e.: keep your gob-***** in
          the vicinity of the Ypres
trenches, mmm'kay, mr. O?

i too am scared of dying
and "remembering"
a globalist tomorrow,
  without, a, personal,
past, ecnompassing
a yesterday, within
the dimension of a dream
told to a lower, with, a:
                                         today.

didn't anyone ever tell the english
that having acquired
their tongue,
it's equivalent to speaking
a fickleness (wankelmut)?
            minor mood-swings
equipped with a postcard of
                               "sensibility"?!

veer inz: way-V'eh... V not: 'unk!
     Churchill calls them
the little cousins...
  others came up with
bilbio-kleptomaniacs
           given the selling
hard-on for meine: eine: kampf...

can't help but tickle
                   gērman when english
becomes too obnoxious,
             rekindling rotmantel...
even with a backing
of the: ingweren
                   or ingwers?!
      wer?!
                           die       irisch!
      doppelt-pints!             p.s. pint-erens?!
and that became my errand-swish: wish...
mention the Dubliners along the way...

absolutist sveedish?
    i asked for citrus flav.,
instead i had to dunk a pear
feuerwasser within the confines of
a delayed gulp...

why do sober people,
make it so, ever,
****** unavailable to make
drunk commentary
semi-sensible...
  while leaving them to make,
sober... herding procedures,
     a quintessential norm?
Peeps Need To Be Strong

alright drop the beats
got this fire burning hotter inside of me
don't want to get the best of me
sitting here drinking my forty why should I worry
everything today's a joke including the pope so why we faint
taking to long to watch paint dry you catch me on the fly
got these dope rhymes locked for this homeboy do think a lot
Snoop is with me burning up the ****** hold inside you see
today its the walking dead faces filled with lead
tombstones for eyes in their heads
but folks want to battle me while I'm out working on my legacy
its plain to see good rappers like me I'm the over weight lover Mario Vitale making sweet history...

the moral of this story is peeps need to be strong & can't we all just get along
funny how the time does fly another sucker hit me in the eye
back in the 80's Public Enemy was number one rappers having a bit of fun
Flava Flav & MTV with moments like these we came to agree
Remember Milli Vanilli with their record skipping minds were flipping really doing Karaoke
some in the industry are very sensitive best to leave such folks alone
Nas, Lamar & Lil Wayne are still in the rap game not to mention my man Fetty Wap still on top
old school is still the way to go bust up the beat to increase the tempo
burning rhymes with second chances even in its new romances

Man this me, this me, this me, and thats how its gonna straight up this is how im goona be, straight up just me
why everybody want to be a judge when they be judge by society man its a trip not getting notice when my presence dont exist but to exist is to be alive so am i alive? like bonnie and clyde i want to surrive and fly and never come back to this world of hell so thats what i say when times get hard, i aint measuring my time until my name blow up like fireworks in july (ya dig) or something major like cnn news live thats how i want my shows to be


When people see me they can say they know me but they just know the name but not the man behind the name so i say you play games like m.j but them chiks got games but i aint insane i aint after brain im looking for that ring that fits like a glass slipper so call me insane that i waste my time on them when them dont care about me whatever, whatever, whatever say what you please say what you please until your heart bleeds



Neither he or she can say it like i say her name so soft as pillow, she keep out of society storm so i know she the one like obama could be the one 'say what' man you aint feeling me like ray and his piano but i got my ray of sunshine that cant be declined and that be reyna all the time so shine on like the star you is and then you'll be a superstar can you believe? can you believe? this hype aint over and if you thought it was then you is over i could be anyplace in this world but i'am here waiting for you to realize who am i and i gotta say that im better than any lucky charm of a lucky charm
(while trapped in Pottstown
Memorial Hospital parking lot).

My humble apology to those,
who posted uber up lyft ting messages
to this Macbook Pro Facebook keeper,
without said scrivener swiftly
tailoring timely acknowledgement
from one harried styled leaper,

thus feel free to take
leguminous litigious licorice flavor
flav can deed extra-legal
imprisonment against my liberty,
(though catty, I am pusillanimous,
sans feline nine lives cheaper

by the dozen), plus verbally *******
out gee golly jeeper,
or more pointedly
calling me a mother f** bleeper,
for seeming to appear unresponsive
as a stale petrified marshmallow peeper,

and yes quite understandable
bitcoin torrents of rage runs deeper
than a blockchain though close call,
yet just lemme explain,
how during my most recent sleeper
state, a clear as bell curve

living dream nearly
saddened Matthew Scott Harris as,
cuz he got subject to grim news, viz
inducing him (yours truly) to become
deceased within a split second,
upon dropping to sleep

while all around, an
inconsolable weeper
wept sorrowful seas,
more so those family,
and facebook friends
many fine companions

linkedin thru Internet
invaluable cherished persons as keeper,
but believe this secular humanist,
he, who (honest to dog)
unexpectedly subsequently got engrossed
with the grim reaper,

discussing local, current (national), global,
and cosmic events, superficial,
and/or somewhat deeper
(topics oh...and as a non sequitur
d'ya know the name of original
Glen Elm occupants are named Leiper),

anyway Xmas universally
renowned throughout space
yes, jolly saint nick with his farout trappings
topped off with electronic digital beeper,
yepper siree he gets touted,
lauded, and celebrated be

leave ving with whatever
dogmatic faith hen knee
dear rabbit reddit reader doth embrace,
or perhaps being atheist like me,
(albeit I most likely appear
as somewhat highlee

beatle browed from across the universe),
nonetheless, whether er rather,
when still alive this chap aimed to - dee
light, enlighten, and playfully
frighten alien nations

(even those pizza peace loving
inhabitants resembling free
ranging gregarious teenage
ninja mutant turtles)
coming out their shells with glee.
An excerpt taken from a lengthy tome,
written courtesy a favorite poet of mine.

Paraskevidekatriaphobia  struck within a blink,
I swear yours truly never took a drink,
nevertheless he witnessed
and falsely accused of being a rat fink,
when everything but the kitchen sink
instantaneously disappeared in a wink.

A quick moving flava flav lava flow
quickly rapped (like a snoop doggy dog tune),
swept, and twittered predominantly
(this only the beginning phase
of Armageddon clobbering debacle),
where nature nymphs, sprites, trolls, et cetera)
decked out with tartan kilted
Scottish residents comprising
the moral majority population
within bucolic community of Harrisburg,
(yes the same place name and Das Capital
of Pennsylvania) before swallowing
(as an itty bitty, teensy weensy
hors d oeuvre), a healthy
barley noticed portion of planet Earth.

Faster than a speeding bullet
lubricated with greased lightning,
and one rather extremely uncommon phenomena,
the devastating, instantaneous,
and outrageous volcanic activity,
(that forged the Allegheny Mountains)
unexpectedly goose-stepped,
doggedly catapulted back to life
after a bajillion years of dormancy
entombing, hotly freezing (in perpetuity),

and guaranteeing, limning, and ossifying
unchanging lifelong livingsocial abode
of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum
at that juncture (of happy and healthy)
within the space time continuum
4 after Midnight, (when Christine
came down with severe bout of misery
qua writer's block), and sponsored
by Plexus, nexus Lexus Wilkie Buick,
who guaranteed their

handsomely crafted automobiles
(specially designed with an app
to weather fierce blistering,
pelting thermal withering geologic events,
sans natural catastrophes)
included extra durable crushed bougainvillea
(allegedly beefed chromosomes)
deftly effected fortified (gluten free)
genetically housed immensely
jimmied, kindled, lionized magnetized numbskulls.

The volcanic magma seemed to possess
an uncanny intelligent, eerie ability
to discriminate among bias,
die hard extremist stances, liberal take
on hot button controversial issues,
political ultra factions, hence the eye catching,
shining, yet confusing moniker
"Smart Ash" soon codified, fructified, indemnified
with the reputable, musical, and inestimable
qua personae non gratae prodigy Sam Ash".

Actually, there did seem to appear
some natural likeness in violent temperament,
resonant penchant, and nascent lambent
Jill Saint John habiliment
between former magmatic material,
and protean Primate prehensile prattling Simian,
who (as a sidereal stellar story teller)
happens to be yours truly.

Anyway, due to strict
parochial Lutheran hackneyed dogma,
no iota of boasting, flattering, nattering chattering
allowed from this anonymous,
hip po' eponymous, harmonious, industrious,
innocuous, judicious, loquacious, marvelous,
querulous Norwegian bachelor farmer.

Ponder with scrunched furrowed brow
in a serious effort to expound at large
this incredulous nebulous,
shape shifting (than compound
an understandably mixed up notion),
thus now tis a noteworthy opportunity
to point out divulging the name of this scribe
would immediately necessitate notification
of Non-Coms, who would forcibly usher
this lapsed long haired pencil neck geek.

This action (not newsworthy in the least),
would thus mocks nix notorious nauseating, nasty,
never-ending nonsensical noodling.

How sad, hence tis not wise tune hip
virtual thorn in the dark side.

Rather best bet would be to buffer end
this figurative bud dee **** encased
within corpus callosum.

Though identity guard disallows revealing namesake
of this nincompoop, the most information
told about this little known author
can be reduced to one word.

That abridged version would deprive
any subsequent reader a brave attempt
to interpret convoluted spaghetti writing.

Despite ambition to bob and weave continuously
(creating a conglomeration of ever increasing
virtual loose threads),
one final capstone concept begs to be conveyed.

Thine ziggurat severely atilt rivaled
(sorry tubby cheesy),
but the Leaning Tower of Pisa!

Asinine argot acquired bilious berserk baggage,
which stakes no claim nsync with
longevity, magnanimity, notoriety, et cetera.

A series of unfortunate literary,
lickity-split liberty unintentionally
left a prose ache wake.

An honest to dogness attempt bedeviled crux
displaying evident fiasco.

Slinky circumstances, sans synonymity,
synergistically, and synchronicity
yielded a feeble effort at fame.

Birth thing a complex mental edifice
begot aborted aspiration foray zing
grateful, mindful, and respectful characterization.
Alone within emotional wilderness
(mine) biding leisure time
January 19th, 2020
without reason nor rhyme,
yet woke with sublime

pained acute awareness,
how once prime
merrily rightful autochthonous occupants
their land stole equivalent value
not much more'n dime.

Simple man dwells admiring
mother nature's architrave
home of the free land of the brave
usurped with exacting vengeance
aboriginal happy hunting grounds,
yours truly cloistered within man cave
small medium at large eremite doth crave
indigenous tribes Europeans

did wantonly annihilate
and/or make deprave
viciously slaughtering Native Americans
nsync brutality wrecking
their idyllic enclave
foreigners forcibly corralling
subsequently did enslave
ruthlessly employing sacrilegious travesty

scattered smite stricken survivors
formidable invaders (countless
demoniacal explorers) rendered desolate
pristine unbroken woodland
deceit, guile, iniquitous
jawboning flavor flav,
whether or not ancestors (mine)
even tangentially linkedin

egregious mockery, travesty
yours truly never forgave
horrendous genocide early settlers
wrought onto indigenous peoples
hoodwinked, notoriously
thrashed "noble savage"
feigning burying hatchet until
last proud redman buried in his grave.

Similar saga countless instances played across
four corners of globe,
white man self anointed himself boss
subsequently slaying innocent lives
all in name of Christ crucified on cross
denying original rightful inhabitants
their preexisting misnamed

new found lands
invaders justified execrable massacres
on par with clearing away dross
trumpeting art of the deal (albeit) gross
and unfair, whereat decimated loss
lovely bones long since
covered over with moss.
in this complexity
im not messing with *******
i think my recipe
is mind the people you cook with
eat dream believe
and **** up any who doubts it
next up
dont be a  fad like ripped jeans
times change like an outfit
and you can ask flava flav
if theres any questions bout it
get it times change
that was cheek and tonguing
because he always
wore a giant clock
to every party function
even times when he was *******
but the third in the lunch kit
is dont eat like a trash can
i know i do but im advising
you its as dangerous as hazmat
4th in the grab bag

is a thing you clearly know
debt is such a cliche way
to prove you made it on your own
im in the same ******* boat
but this aint funny yo
**** keeps up
what the ****
your going to learn to row
sharper turn page has been turned
Allanis Morrisette..,
blosomed to behold;
shouts of chard relish above
count me through the surface fly
benefit of a twist of the eye...
Bobby Flav, the emmense of the eye,
walk through the flame let me be the first to explain
sought at reach to the corner of the room,
blast from the past a nickel bag
brighten the applause
lunch time...work time & explosion inside
memory to win...

Spin the applause
Spill the milk
it's  4'clock somewhere..,
the ace is *****
furniture rock on the planet zero
hot fasionable excuse

— The End —