Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Paul Hardwick Apr 2012
Why does sleep, slap me in the face.
So I sing this to the world.
Diamonds are just possessions.
And do not mean nothing in this world.
Or the human race.
The futre is the kids.
Tell me I am wrong.
But those kids will take over some days.
And are the future.
ae Apr 2014
And you think my life is so easy
You laugh at my stress and despair
But have you ever battled yourself
Have you ever hated yourself
Have you ever felt paralyzed by your the fear of failing
Paralyzed by the sadness within you
The fear of not doing anything with your life
THE FEAR OF THE UNWANTED FUTRE
The fear of being a waste of space
The fear of disappointing others
Becuase face it
You've stopped living for yourself
Why would you
You given up on you already
ah, tis in regard to praise worthy of zee
sylph van halen wondrous sigh door house
   where boot LIX ******* ruled thee,
this missive (fertilized ova byproduct),
   sans newly wedded whoopie
between n betwixt carnal existence
   involving stiff joint courtesy of randy
(loch ness hike hood only imagine)

   engendered pleasurable scree
ming, when enfilade eruption occurred
   sans papa's engorged tree
into verdant valley shaped like miniature "v"
when bare naked lady n beastie boy - with re:
tractable shaped magic flute
   mountebank upon late
   (then young) mum when she

acquiesced bing dominated
   during **** version with glee
  club (prickly ***** per papa)
   unplanned romp or x game of thrones
  whereby rampant animal urge beckoned to free
flagellates searching mini verdant zyder zee

which warm fuzzy i.e. cop u lay shun
   nine months later with meself as baby
baked to imp perfection second to none
   this futre puff daddy slated
   tubby conceived via *** pistol gun
in tandem with mull ate mum,
   who cavorted in naked fun
   begat word **** as second brood ding bun
in the oven o me late mum...
   gone against desire tool heave anon!
------------------------------------
(long prose and poetry my atypical mode at introducing myself).

How apropos and divine to stumble (merely by happenstance) across a chance to claim my (virtual) fifteen minute fragments of fame just in the click and nick of time.  

Although gainfully unemployed (do to a series of unfortunate events that now finds me receiving social security disability), I can still vividly visualize utter despair and vouchsafe to acquire the requisite trappings emblematic of psychic misfortune.

Indelible, permanent and unfading abysmal damaging domestic dynamics got etched deep upon the memory of this erstwhile individual! The general gist in the form of quick brush strokes (namely written) of psychologically traumatizing recollection now follows.

I can attest to malevolent mean-spirited objections by my father (and late mother) in regard to my grossly unacceptable attire, deportment and work ethic.

Nonetheless, a sense of righteous vindictiveness manifested itself thru attendant Pyrrhic victories.

Back in those days I (a grown adult male and considerably past the age of rebelling against authoritarianism, and their only not so prodigal heir hiss son) poorly wore mantle and staff of supposed maturity.

Lack of compliance and obeisance with regulations and rules of Harris household (mainly thru being in constant denial to conform, maintaining emotional detachment and estrangement and evincing little or no concern for family members) brewed, festered and lied dormant during prepubescence.

The pressure and tension between and betwixt genetic kinfolk (so palpable one could sense an indomitable barrier), would rank as successfully dysfunctional way before such nom de guerre became in vogue.

Fury and wrath became markedly and noticeably pronounced once exiting the storied four walls of high school.

The venomous barrage and fusillade spewed forth from off parental tongues at an exponential rate and on a par to feeling the stinging cudgel of a horsewhip.

Out of fear and timidity, I consequently and silently absorbed cruel treatment.

Neither the eldest nor youngest sibling bore witness against the tender spirit of their only brother.

A façade as hardened (statue) conveniently adopted.

This embodiment poorly served to fend off onslaught of incessant anger.

This defense mechanism (identified as passive aggressive by mom) offered  minuscule protection as I mentally dodged lobbed insults and affected defiance (in league like poisoned bards and daggers hurled) of said threats and ultimatums.

No matter these bitter pills of blaring character assassination (mine), denunciations, fulminations, incrimination's, intimidation's, vociferous vocalizations (by said parents), I stood my ground at played the deaf mute, which repression and internalization of emotional maelstrom only caused self contamination and manifestation of humiliation.

They (dad and mom) became further angered and inflamed per my total oblivious stance! This reaction added insult to injury.

Deliverance (minus dueling banjos) per tough love lessons amplified to the tune of additional feats at becoming excoriated, ranted and raved against this, that and the other of my habits and nonchalant indifference to pursue work.

Those involuntary, unrehearsed and vicious family chats happened to be replete with heavily exploding and uncorked anger.

That (of course) would be a considerable understatement!

Dad (the de facto, elected and nominal spokesperson for unpleasant chest thumping exclamations, (which conveniently took place no earlier than the stroke of midnight) - emphatically swore (adrip with dramatic livid rage - like rabid beast) all manner of **** vulgarity and demanded from this insolent appearing male offspring immediate compliance.

Defiance and fatigue offered him predictable and usual blank stare upon hearing the kind and lenient sentence to pack bags and GET OUT!  

With dreaded approach of dire and sealed fate (played out in this over active imagination of mine with dad and mom egregiously fiendishly, grotesquely expunged themselves of any last vestige personal emotional belonging), I anxiously bided my time.

Those next couple weeks forced self-evaluation of Atheism.

The recurrent consideration of relinquishing nonestablishmentarian paradigm in favor and lieu with God, miracles and salvation seemed to clash being liberal thinker.

As indicated, the tempest and tirade quickly got turned back upon those who so masterfully tormented this second born, whose steadfast stoicism and subservience to a higher power perchance brought a temporary respite.

That deadline (which happened to be just one of many similar sputtering swearing fulminations, salacious ultimatums valuations of love) blithely came and went without incident - no matter expletive filled intense oath to remove) continued to keep pull to remain an occupant with kinfolk.

What caused especial ire and wrath to fester (per apparent ambivalence, indifference and nonchalance for me to take any job - even shoveling **** - particularly within emotional bedrock and firmament of deceased mother) constituted remembrance and vivid reminder of her father.

My maternal grandfather (Morris Kuritsky) supposedly never paid much heed to regular and steady employment (to support his four children and wife) despite his skill as a swift tailor. Hence my mother (Harriet) grew up and lived in utter destitution and poverty.

Mother subsequently reacted with ferocious vindictiveness upon witnessing a near magic transformation of near identical behavior in Matthew - the single heir to the family name.
---------------------------------------
...from this middle and sole son harris progeny
who willingly shared hoop - ping equal play zure
   arose from wading thru verbiage of letters abc...
...xyz
in various combinations he
arranges/arranged foe his passion to be
somewhat liter aery.


your prerogative, to message or email
(hay4four@aol.com) typed
   back what ever impulse            
juiced where ever spools create poetic strand
asper fingers comprising specific black keys land
to react inspires with nuttin grand
viz **** sapiens
   pearl jam chrome once canned
gene net tick trader joe brand.

postscript: a dream to wit ness
mine current high school senior
   a name y'all never guess
to make the entrance grade for university of penn
   after the truckload of application material
   someone or many doze *****!

http://about.me/matthewscott.harris
jenna elizabeth Aug 2019
it's a strange feeling
butterflies in my stomach
nerves shaking my fingers
it's starting again
isn't it?
the idea, the notion
of my future
what is it going
to have for me?
i should be scared
and i am
rightly so
but there is the idea
of what will come
i thought that
i lost that
i never did
even still
i have hope
i am excited
scared of what
God has in store
but even still
there is a futre
there is hope

— The End —