THIS IS MY ATTENTION GRABBER
This is how I plan to have you hooked
I can tell you how I cut
But never broke skin
Or I can tell you how I'm lost
About how I hurt my only friend
I can tell you about my father
Or my innocent sister
About my broken mother
Or my uninvited mister
I can tell you all these things
To get you to listen
Pain is my attention grabber
Are you listening?

These are couplets written by Donald Trump and limericks and other Donald Trump poems "care of" Michael R. Burch (please note that these are parodies) ...

Not-So-Heroic Couplets
by Donald Trump
care of Michael R. Burch

To outfox the pox:
off yourself first, with Clorox!

And since death is the goal,
mainline Lysol!

No vaccine?
Just chug Mr. Clean!

Is a cure out of reach?
Fumigate your lungs, with bleach!

To immunize your thorax,
destroy it with Borax!

To immunize your bride,
drown her in Opti-cide!

To end all future gridlocks,
gargle with Vaprox!

Now, quick, down the Drain-o
with old Insane-o NoBrain-o!

Keywords/Tags: Donald Trump, coronavirus, president, poet, poems, poetry, heroic couplets, humor, Clorox, disinfectants, light verse, parody, satire, mrbtrump, mrbcouplets



What REALLY Happened
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump lied and lied and lied.
Americans died and died and died.



Grime Wave
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump is ******* crime ...
unless it's his own grime.



Trump Love
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump "love" is truly a curious thing ...
does he care for our kids half as much as his bling?



Tangled Webs
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Oh, what tangled webs they weave
when Trump and his toupée seek to deceive!



No Star
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump, you're no "star."
Putin made you an American Czar.

Now, if we continue down this dark path you've chosen,
pretty soon we'll all be wearing lederhosen.



Raw Spewage (I)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
is a chump
who talks through his ****;
he's a political sump pump!



Green Eggs and Spam
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

I do not like your racist ways!
I do not like your hate for gays!

I do not like your gaseous ****!
I do not like you, Crotch-Grabber Trump!

I do not like you here or there!
I do not like you anywhere!

Your brain's been trapped in a lifelong slump
And I do not like you, Hate-Baiter Trump!



Apologies to España
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

the reign
in Trump’s brain
falls mainly as mansplain



Stumped and Stomped by Trump
by Michael R. Burch

There once was a candidate, Trump,
whose message rang clear at the stump:
"Vote for me, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,
because I am ME,
and everyone else is a chump!"



Humpty Trumpty
by Michael R. Burch

Humpty Trumpty called for a wall.
Trumpty Dumpty had a great fall.
Now all the Grand Wizards
and Faux PR men
Can never put Trumpty together again.



The Hair Flap
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

The hair flap was truly a scare:
Trump’s bald as a billiard back there!
The whole nation laughed
At the state of his graft;
Now the man’s wigging out, so beware!



Roses are red,
Daffodils are yellow,
But not half as daffy
As that taffy-colored fellow!
―Michael R. Burch



Trump’s real goals are obvious
and yet millions of Americans remain oblivious.
—Michael R. Burch



Poets laud Justice’s
high principles.
Trump just gropes
her raw genitals.
—Michael R. Burch



The Ex-Prez Sez

The prez should be above the law, he sez,
even though he’s no longer prez.
—Michael R. Burch



Quite Con-trary
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trumpy, Trumpy,
fat, balding and lumpy,
how does your Rose Garden grow?
“With venom and spleen
and everything mean,
and my gasket about to blow!”

Trumpy, Trumpy,
obese and dumpy,
why are your polls so low?
“I claimed I was Cyrus
at war with a virus
but lost every time to the minuscule foe!”



Piecemeal, a Coronavirus poem
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

And so it begins—the ending.
The narrowing veins, the soft tissues rending.
Your final solution is pending.
(Soon a portly & pale Piggy-Wiggy
will discount your death as "no biggie.")



Viral Donald (I)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump is coronaviral:
his brain's in a downward spiral.
That pale nimbus of hair
proves there's nothing up there
but an empty skull, fluff and denial.



Viral Donald (II)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Why didn't Herr Trump, the POTUS,
protect us from the Coronavirus?
That weird orange corona of hair's an alarm:
Trump is the Virus in Human Form!



Red State Reject
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

I once was a pessimist
but now I’m more optimistic,
ever since I discovered my fears
were unsupported by any statistic.



The Red State Reaction
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Where the hell are they hidin’
Sleepy Joe Biden?

And how the hell can the bleep
Do so much, IN HIS SLEEP?



The Final Episode of Celebrity Apprentice President
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Ronald McDonald
said to The Donald,
"Just between us clowns, your polls are too low!"
So The Donald thought hard
then said to his pard,
"It's because I'm a martyr. The world must know!"
Thus Eric Trump jumped
from his obese Trump ****
to declare the virus a "hoax." (End of show.)



modern Midas
by michael r. burch

they say nothing human's alive
yet the Hermit survived:

the last of His kind,
clean out of His mind.

they say He relentlessly washes His fingers,
as dainty as ever, yet the smell of death lingers.

they say it sets off His corona of hair
when He blanches with fear in his Mansion Faire.

they say He still spritzes each strand into place
though there’s no one to see in that hellish place.

they say there’s a moral in what He’s become
as He fondles gold trinkets and cradles His john.



Mother of Cowards
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

So unlike the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land,
Spread-eagled, showering gold, a strumpet stands:
A much-used trollop with a torch, whose flame
Has long since been extinguished. And her name?
"Mother of Cowards!" From her enervate hand
Soft ash descends. Her furtive eyes demand
Allegiance to her ****'s repulsive game.

"Keep, ancient lands, your wretched poor!" cries she
With scarlet lips. "Give me your hale, your whole,
Your huddled tycoons, yearning to be pleased!
The wretched refuse of your toilet hole?
Oh, never send one unwashed child to me!
I await Trump's pleasure by the gilded bowl!"




Toupée or Not Toupée, That is the Question
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

There once was a brash billionaire
who couldn't afford decent hair.
Vexed voters agreed:
"We're a nation in need!"
But toupée the price, do we dare?



Toupée or Not Toupée, This is the Answer
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Oh crap, we elected Trump prez!
Now he's Simon: we must do what he sez!
For if anyone thinks
And says his "plan" stinks,
He'll wig out 'neath that weird orange fez!



White as a Sheet
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Donald Trump had a real Twitter Scare
then rushed off to fret, vent and share:
“How dare Bernie quote
what I just said and wrote?
Like Megyn he’s mean, cruel, unfair!”



Raw Spewage (II)
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
is a chump
who talks through his ****;
he's a garbage dump
in need of a sump pump!



we did not Dye in vain!
by Michael R. Burch

from “songs of the sea snails”

though i’m just a slimy crawler,
my lineage is proud:
my forebears gave their lives
(oh, let the trumps blare loud!)
so purple-mantled Royals
might stand out in a crowd.

i salute you, fellow loyals,
who labor without scruple
as your incomes fall
while deficits quadruple
to swaddle unjust Lords
in bright imperial purple!

Notes: In ancient times the purple dye produced from the secretions of purpura mollusks (sea snails) was known as “Tyrian purple,” “royal purple” and “imperial purple.” It was greatly prized in antiquity, and was very expensive according to the historian Theopompus: “Purple for dyes fetched its weight in silver at Colophon.” Thus, purple-dyed fabrics became status symbols, and laws often prevented commoners from possessing them. The production of Tyrian purple was tightly controlled in Byzantium, where the imperial court restricted its use to the coloring of imperial silks. A child born to the reigning emperor was literally porphyrogenitos ("born to the purple") because the imperial birthing apartment was walled in porphyry, a purple-hued rock, and draped with purple silks. Royal babies were swaddled in purple; we know this because the iconodules, who disagreed with the emperor Constantine about the veneration of images, accused him of defecating on his imperial purple swaddling clothes!



Twinkle Wrinkles
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Twinkle, twinkle, little "star" ...
Trump, how we wished you blazed                 afar!

Twinkle, twinkle, Groper-Cupid ...
How we've wished you weren't so stupid!

Twinkle, twinkle, Man-Baby "president" ...
In truth you're just the White House resident.



Americans have the opportunity
to greatly improve their community
with votes a-plenty
in 2020.
Dump
Trump!
—Michael R. Burch



Joe Biden, Joe Biden,
our future is ridin’
on you defeatin’
and hidin’
that cancerous lump
called Trump.
—Michael R. Burch



The Perfect Storm
by Michael R. Burch

Stormy Daniels
is Trump's worst nightmare—
a truthteller,
a woman without fear,
full of *****,
unimpressed by his junk,
that he can't debunk.



Aftermath
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Carmen Yulín Cruz is a hero.
Donald Trump is a zero.



15 Seconds
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Our president’s *** life—atrocious!
His "briefings"—bizarre hocus-pocus!
Politics—a shell game!
My brief moment of fame
flashed by before Oprah could notice!



March for Our Lives
by Michael R. Burch

It's not a moment,
it's a MOVEMENT
created to save
innocents from the grave.



Tweety and Pootie
sittin' in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G!
First comes love,
second comes marriage,
third barechested weasels in a White House carriage!
—Michael R. Burch



Three Trump Valentine's Day Poems

1.

If you're tall, blonde and pretty,
I'll grab your kitty.
If you're dark-skinned and short,
It's time to deport!

2.

I'll secure your southern border tonight,
as long as you're wearing white!

3.

If you're not
as hot
as my daughter,
beware;
prepare
for the slaughter!



Why did Trump endorse Roy "Score" Moore when Nostradumbass claimed he "knew" the Sludge Judge couldn't win? ...

Predators of a feather
flock together.
—Michael R. Burch



Kneeling Verboten
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Colin Kaepernick took a stand by kneeling;
now Donald Trump is reeling
as the NFL owners he implored
lock hands with the players he deplored.



How the Fourth ***** Ramped Up
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump prepped his pale Deplorables:
"You're easy marks and scorables!
Now when I bray
click your heels, obey,
and I'll soon promote you to Horribles!"



Trump Trumps "We The People"
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump fired Comey
to appoint a *****:
some pawn in his Kamp
with a big rubber stamp.

Out the window flew freedom!
Rights? You don't need 'em!
Like Attilâ the ***,
Trump answers to no one!

Do you think you have worth?
Trump makes you his serf.
He's your Lord and your Master:
you elected DISASTER.



Pass the Hat for the Fat Cat
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

If you're a Fat Cat,
vote for an Autocrat;
otherwise, stick with a Democrat ...
or get ready to pass the hat
for yourself,
doomed by that strange little pixie-fingered orange elf.



****** Assaulter-in-Chief
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Ronald McDonald Trump Bozo
bopped Bill Clinton Clown on the nose: “Oh,
I’ll trump your cigar
with my groping, by far,
when I bounce interns on my Big Pogo!”



Trump's Donor Song
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

(lines written after it became apparent that Trump is not
"draining the swamp" but stocking it with his crocodilian
donors and political piranha)

christmas is coming, the Trumpster's purse is flat:
please put a Billion in the Fat Cat's hat!
if you haven't got a Billion, a Hundred Mil will do.
if you haven't got a Hundred Mil, the yoke's on you!



Alt-Right White Christmas
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump's dreaming of a White Christmas,
just like the ones he used to know
when black renters groveled
or lived in hovels
while he laughed and shouted **-**-**!



*******
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Trump
Is a chump,
He’s an
Orange Heffalump.
His hair?
Made of batter.
His brain?
***** matter.
His “plans”?
A disaster.
His “position”?
Your Master!



Fool's Gold
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

THE DONALD has won (so we're told).
If it's true, worthless swampland's been sold!
But who were the buyers?
Poor folks who trust liars
and pay through the nose for fool's gold.



Bunko
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Agent Orange is full of bunk:
Tiny-fingered, he claims a big "trunk."
And his "platform"? Oh my,
I think we'd all die!
And he can't even claim he was drunk!

NOTE: Donald Trump claims that he doesn't drink alcohol, except when he partakes of Holy Communion. However, Trump insulted the body and blood of Jesus Christ when he spoke dismissively of his "little *******" and "little wine." He claims to be a Christian, but also said that he never asks God for forgiveness! Is he punch drunk or just pulling our legs about being a Christian?



De-Bunko
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

There's something I'd like to debunk:
the GOP's not in a "funk."
The Donald, by choice,
is its unfiltered voice.
Vote for someone who's sane, or we're sunk!



Fooling Around
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Ronald McDonald Trump-Bozo
cried, “Clinton Clown cheats with his yo-yo!
He plays fast and loose!
It’s clearly abuse!
Whereas broads love to bounce on my pogo!”

BTW, it's amusing that Rudy Giuliani is now Trump's surrogate, defending him from accusations of ****** assault and other improprieties by scores of women, when in a 2000 "Mayor's Inner Circle" video, Giuliani in drag had his "*******" schmoozed by The Donald, after which Giuliani slapped his face and called him a "***** boy." Obviously, Giuliani was well aware of Trump's reputation for grabbing and groping women without bothering to ask for their permission! Trump's outrageous behavior was a running joke among alpha males in his circle. In 1993, fellow bad boy Howard Stern asked Trump directly: “So you treat women with respect?” Trump answered honestly: “No, I can’t say that either.” And hundreds of chauvinistic public statements and tweets by Trump confirm that he doesn't treat women with respect, or minorities, or anyone that he considers "weak" or "overweight" or "unattractive."



Trumping Tots
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

Things that go bump in the night
fill Herr Trump with irrational fright;
his brain hits the skids;
he shrieks, "Ban dark kids!"
Where's his self-lauded "courage" and "might"?
Is cowardice Trump's kryptonite?



Trump Explains Why His Hair Looks Like ****: It's Been Bleached By Drool
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

"Although my hands are quite tiny,
I have an enormous hiney;
so I stick my head in,
predicting I’ll win,
while everyone kisses it shiny!"



The Name and Blame Game
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

If you have a slightly offbeat name,
you'll be de-planed, detained, restrained, defamed.
Supremacists know pure white names are best,
so be prepared to prove you're among the Blessed.
(Woe unto those who fail Trump's Litmus Test!)



Trump the Game Plan
by Michael R. Burch aka "The Loyal Opposition"

There once was a huckster named Trump
who liked to be kissed on the ****.
He promised awed voters
if they'd be his promoters,
he'd magically fix up their dump.

Now the voters were dreaming of Ronald
and hoping they'd found him in Donald.
And so, lightly "thinking"
after much heavy drinking,
they put out, as if they'd been fondled.

But once he'd secured the election
Trump found his fans cause for dejection.
"I only love tens!"
he complained to his "friends,"
then deported them: black, white and Mexican.

Thus Donald fulfilled his sworn duties
by ridding the land of non-cuties.
Once the plain Janes were gone
he could smile on his throne
surrounded by imported beauties!



Egad,
what a cad;
the Orange Heffalump
scowls when he sees
a baby bump!
Like the Grinch who stole Christmas
(but every day of the year),
The Donald eyes happy
mothers with a leer!
―Michael R. Burch

NOTE: Donald Trump actually body-shamed Kim Kardashian for having a baby bump, saying that she was "large" and ought to watch the kind of clothes she wears in public!



Donald Trump Campaign Songs

Christmas is coming!
Tycoons are getting fat!
TRUMP says, "Take a ****
in some beggar's hat!
Beat him to a pulp
then run him out of town
if he dares object to
the MAN with the GOLDEN CROWN.
And if you're not a Christian,
nothing else will do!
But if you're just like TRUMP,
then may TRUMP bless you!
―Michael R. Burch



SANTA CLAWS is coming to town!
He sees Spics when they're sleeping
and Blacks when they're awake!
He knows that Whites are always good,
but dark skin is God's mistake.
So if you're some poor orphan
with slightly darker skin,
BIG BROTHER will be WATCHING
all blacks and Mexicans!
―Michael R. Burch



Poets laud Justice’s
high principles.
Trump just gropes
her raw genitals.
—Michael R. Burch



Dark Shroud, Silver Lining
by Michael R. Burch

Trump cares so little for the silly pests
who rise to swarm his rallies that he jests:
“The silver lining of this dark corona
is that I’m not obliged to touch the fauna!”



Zip It
by Michael R. Burch

Trump pulled a cute stunt,
wore his pants back-to-front,
and now he’s the **** of bald jokes:
“Is he coming, or going?”
“Eeek! His diaper is showing!”
But it’s all much ado, says Snopes.



Mini-Ode to a Quickly Shrinking American Icon
by Michael R. Burch

Rudy, Rudy,
strange and colludy,
how does your pardon grow?
“With demons like hell’s
and progress like snails’
and criminals all in a row!”



Christmas is Coming
alternate lyrics by Michael R. Burch

Christmas is coming; Trump’s goose is getting plucked.
Please put the Ukraine in his pocketbook.
If you haven’t got the Ukraine, some bartered Kurds will do.
But if you’re short on blackmail, well, the yoke’s on you!

Christmas is coming and Rudy can’t make bail.
Please send LARGE donations, or the Cause may fail.
If you haven’t got a billion, five hundred mil will do.
But if you’re short on cash, the LASH will fall on you!

Keywords/Tags: Trump, Donald Trump, poems, epigrams, quotes, quotations, Rudy Giuliani, Ted Cruz, Cancun, Christmas, evil, democracy, coup, treason, treasonous, coronavirus, president, poet, poems, poetry, heroic couplets, couplet, humor, humorous, Clorox, Lysol, disinfectants, light verse, parody, satire, America



In My House
by Michael R. Burch

I was once the only caucasian in the software company I founded and managed. I had two fine young black programmers working for me, and they both had keys to my house. This poem looks back to the dark days of slavery and the Civil War it produced.

When you were in my house
you were not free—
in chains bound.

"Manifest Destiny?"

I was wrong;
my plantation burned to the ground.
I was wrong.

This is my song,
this is my plea:
I was wrong.

When you are in my house,
now, I am not free.

I feel the song
hurling itself back at me.

We were wrong.
This is my history.

I feel my tongue
stilting accordingly.

We were wrong;
brother, forgive me.

Published by Black Medina

Keywords/Tags: Race, Racism, Black Lives Matter, Equality, Brotherhood, Fraternity, Sisterhood, Tolerance, Acceptance, Civil Rights



Instruction
by Michael R. Burch

Toss this poem aside
to the filigreed and the prettified tide
of sunset.

Strike my name,
and still it is all the same.
The onset

of night is in the despairing skies;
each hut shuts its bright bewildered eyes.
The wind sighs

and my heart sighs with her—
my only companion, O Lovely Drifter!
Still, men are not wise.

The moon appears; the arms of the wind lift her,
pooling the light of her silver portent,
while men, impatient,

are beings of hurried and harried despair.
Now willows entangle their fragrant hair.
Men sleep.

Cornsilk tassels the moonbright air.
Deep is the sea; the stars are fair.
I reap.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly


Published as the collection "Not-So-Heroic Couplets"

Captured in the psych ward part 5


You see Ron cooper and his ex Sally went on a cruise around noumea and New Caledonia and they really enjoyed that a lot and while they were on that cruise, brad was in a fowl tenoer cause everyone was watching the shows he doesn't wanna watch and Robert told brad that in life **** happens and brad said ******* and started to argue with the nurses saying he is the Buddhist messiah and needs to be given a special drug to take him to nirvana and he had a smart alek nurse say, I ain't religious, so I don't care and I think nirvana is a rock band not eternity ok patty walked in and said, I wanna see the nurse. And when the nurse came patty said, I have just came from Washington DC
And I saw president Obama and introduced mysrlf and he was proud to meet good old George Washington. You see. Well anyway thank you for that ticket to the states, it was muck appreciated and
Martin Kelly was banging the wall very loudly and saying you **** you **** you **** and Anne who was on the other side said as she walked past said you fucken stop banging on the wall you kid grabber or phedaphile yeah stop banging ya phedaphile or I wlll bash you up, I am going to bash you up, you see you can't hide here forever, one day the hospital will say your fit to go home but when I see you our there. Mate I will bash ya ****, ya stupid ****** phedaphile and Robert got up to take a **** and they bought lunch out and a fight between Anne and brad and Susan started to erupt and the nurses were having a hard time, they had to bring in the doctors with the ****** and lock them in their rooms abs Ron and and Sally are having a great time in New Caledonia waking around and Ron'a leg is getting better and you see Ron and Sally are really beginning to hit it off as they are in a pub having a scotch and back at the HDU. Brad and Anne were cursing at each other through the walls but both wanted enough power to break the walls
But they couldn't hear each other cause thru were on the opposite sides if each other and Susan went our and said shut up abe went over to the TV and said to Robert, we are watching TV, please don't talk to me. I ain't into talking to kids, so just keep your conversation. To a minimum and Patru roe said.  How about you shut up Susan, Robert is a funny little kid, I line him and dusab said ******* ya **** and then Kate walked around the whole psych ward and as she passed brads room she said. Why don't you shut the **** up snd Ron and Sally were having inter course in the cruise and
The new patient was being driven by the police to the HDU but this was going to be a strange situation you see young 19 year old jack Drendlw had ******* a 10 year old who teased him and it ended up killing him abd to that day the police have been trying to crack this ****** case and the boys parents were told that jack is mentally ill and isn't going to jail
And going  to the HDU and the boys parents couldn't except it so they stole a police paddy wagon dressed up as police men and took jack hostage saying he is going to the HDU and instead they took jack into
Their house and tied him up in their sons room and this was part of their plan to really make Jack suffer for what he did /and this is going to be sweet revenge and back at the hospital when they got the phonecall saying that jack wasn't there, well they rang the police and yes they knew where he lived but it would be a nightmare to get there and the next day Ron and Sally's ship was arriving into Sydney harbour and when they arrived there, Ron said goodbye to Sally who lived in Sydney as she drove him to the airport and then Ron boarded the plane for Melbourne and when he touched down, in Melbourne Ron gor his luggage and gor a taxi home
And dropped off his bags and before he unpacked he put the 3-00 news on nine and heard about jack being tortured by his victims parents but the police said jack was supposed to be at the rmh HDU  and Ron went straight there to see if everything is alright and he got theu and clocked in and went to the HDU and said what had happened, how did thus one fall through the cracks and the nurses seid that the family of the victim didn't like the idea of him bring sent here. Ya see it's too nice for him and Ron said they can't think they taking the law in their own hands like this and Ron went into the HDU to check our the patients and
Saw Robert and patty in rte common room and Susan and Kate knitting together in the dining room and Kate asked how was your cruise and Ron said, it was ****** good and my leg is healed and are you feeling alright
And they said yeah and then went to solitary to say hi to Martin and George and Anne and they said ******* **** and ajnne said did ya enjoy ya cruise and Ron said I Did and them said hi to brad and brad said ******* and when he found our it was Ron, the first question he asked was how was your cruise and do you know it's great that you can go on a cruise whole we are locked in here, you see you are like fucken Rupert Murdoxh with those poor foxtel suckers and then the dinner cart was coming out and Ron clocked off and went home and made some stir fry
And Singapore noodles and looked our the window and two young people were having a domestic and at first Ron said, I roll leave then alone but suddenly the bloke gor out
His gun and threatened to **** her and calked the cops and went down
To save the woman and the man has paranoid schizophrenia which was ****** obvious and it took 25 minutes for the cops to arrive and when they did the man was arrested and sent to the staton and the lady thanked Ron and Ron asked are you going to be ok and and she said yeah. And Ron went up yo her unit and sat on the couch and watched the TV and fell asleep on the couch
He has had a hard day


Sent from my iPhone

A LIFE TORN APART

When I first peeped into the world, I deemed it fit for the growth of my
miniature. When I peeped again, I trembled with disbelieving eyes at the
emergent live labyrinth that stood staring; but then, can an opinion change
an existence? Maybe, just maybe

As our mother packed and left, our father drove away. We remained hidden in
desolate souls. We were striked with a giant of a being called sustenance,
which dwelt in providence. Sincerely our begetters ought to have thought of
our brilliant futures. We deserved a life, to run the race towards academic
heights

Just the other day I overheard, my hemophilic father tying the famous knot
with a fellow MAN. Then I thought, what would become of my ego? Would I
walk with MY head held high facing other heterosexually raised colleagues?
Would I even get the strength to chase after the big price? I think not

As I grew up, I hoped for an illuminated course. Now I walk in converging
paths. After my fore-bearers kicked their ***** apart, I sobbed after my
dressed mother, they say. But who could have thought that I would turn into
a walking stone?

Walking through streets in search of well-wishers, I wished my parents had
held onto their existence. She blamed it on lewdness while he held it all
upon the mistake of an early pregnancy. Was I born unwanted? Was I smuggled
into this existence? I cease to think about it.

As a student, I thought my father’s charm the way to go. As a child, my
mother’s “generosity” to male neighbors elated me. Now as a parent to be I
think, what would my apprehended seed think of my responsibilities? Will I
be faced by delinquency?  I thought the rod could do a lot to effect
change. It never did on me. Maybe I ought to mind the examples that I was
given not.

With my Progenitor bidden by the feared misfortune, I still sink in the
memories of my father, taken away by the same old grabber, ***/AIDS. How I
hate you ***….I beseech thee to move away from me. I promise my dear life;
that I will always run against the traffic. I will ensure I entangle myself
not, in a creased heart and walk with head held high. With the hope of
giving my bairm, the kind of life that I always wanted

some information cannot be found – you can only originate it. facts are often recycled in attempt to clear a logjam that has prevented us from finding ourselves. when i look at the billions of directions my life could have taken, you have to admit we're a very tough bunch, because, who else would have tagged along at this point? we're a recipe for disaster, but that's alright, because we already racked everything. we're bottlenecked. we're deadlocked in ourselves, and there's no way out.

strength cannot be given – it is only self-acquired. we can think of ourselves as vessels of change, but it won't be gifted to you. it has to be done by yourself. it's a real grabber. and once we take it to heart, it works.

axiology—the study of judgments. choice is so vital in postmodern culture, there's a whole branch of study attributed to it. should i take this opportunity, or should i decline it for another? should i rear success with my horns, or wait ecstatically for it to poke me? should i recline, take an easy ride, or work for it? – no matter which outcome, you're still going down the drain because you haven't established the most important part (yet).

i am struggling to understand economics, as well as applied mathematics. wall street certainly does not hang easy for me, but there is more to discuss than stocks and bonds. society has put us in stocks and keeps us in ******* – that’s wall street for you! there are still certain mysteries, such as you cannot put a negative number inside a radical. and all parabolas will have a reflecting twin, no matter how you look at it.

i fell asleep to a black and white movie, and it was still playing when i awoke. however it was in colour. i rubbed my eyes and sat there dazed until i concluded i was dreaming in colour. i woke up again and it was over. now i think that i watch the same movie, but colourized in my dreams, and that i can dream reality, while that reality is a dream within itself.

much reflection has been cast upon theoretical and unchallenged interest in scholars, for example. some presume we can only perceive one – ten-thousands of the universe but of course this can never be proven along with life's destiny and life's purpose, and indubitably, life's meaning. much dark and invisible matter perhaps comprise the rest, but the threads of an unroped cosmos are far from being knitted. can you prove your eternal existence by way of religiosity or science? Jesus rose on the third day and so did the interstellar medium situated in the midheaven. i sleep with a book of philosophy under my pillow, and i'm not in the least ashamed. Alexander the Great slept with a copy of the Iliad, and Mary Shelley, her late husband’s heart. at least philosophy doesn’t stain.

total uproar soars through the galaxy when i begin to think. the terror strikes, and i cower discrediting the truth. my trine is Jupiter, Saturn, and the sun. i’m an Aries, like the one of Judea. constant virtue is what i can believe but i speak in the revolutionary sense. i can enhance my life as long as i am able to try. there is always room to improve a man and i attest to that.

a literary device isn't useful at all until applied in context. an ambition isn't fully good until it is launched. Newton was right, after all. a body is motion will stay in motion until acted upon by an outside force. you are an artist as long as you keep your creative process going until somebody threatens you. then you hide. you establish a force field, which protects you, and you trudge on, because all that matters is your art, in the end. it's everything.

think... Ω-style. one day lofty things won't take pleasure looking at you, because you’ll be confronting them head-first. machtprobe, a german word for showdown. like the one you'll be taking with yourself if you don't buckle down and unravel your weaknesses.

this morning i woke up and stared at myself in the mirror. i was depressed at the condition of my life and my position in the world. my reflection stared back and held up its ******* at me, saying "what are you going to do about it?" not knowing how to answer, i fumbled around possible responses, but it kept going, "it's not that simple, isn't it? life can be tricky when you've got no motivation. it leaves you in a rut until one morning you wake up, depressed about the condition of your life and your position in the world and your mirror's reflection holds up that *******, insuring you're completely aware of the awaiting consequences." it finally shut up and i stood there contemplating its message. "how bad do you want this?" were its last words i heard before i knew that 'initiative' was the one i would soon fall in love with and meet at the chapel to wed.

"either you take it all the way, or you're gonna go astray." it's either one or another, a choice that we have to make. and i don't my reflection to pose a threat to my self-esteem again, so i'm gonna take it all the way...because really. how bad do i want this?

i don't want to have a shoot out with myself again. so when you ask, i'll just tell you algol sent me.

Not ornate just ordinary screen wire but as you passed through it you entered the perfect world
Of the fifties the grocery aisles were short and compact because it was just a neighborhood
Grocery but it had everything you needed bread aisle the aisle with fruit cans vegetables paper
Towels a small shelf for hardware items and in the back the meat and dairy department back
Up to the front of the store behind the counter was the cereal boxes stacked high where the
Grocer had to use the first grabber to easily lift boxes from the top shelf then the bakery goods
In the glass counter under the cash register every doughnut you could ever want and over by
The door a barrel of kites and string on the shelf to fly them this was the provision and under
Writing of the fifties you stood in this insulated haven without regard to time and place the
Great locomotives rambled and roared just down the hill filling some with fear others with
Undying gratitude when they heard that lonesome whistle blow as it approached and receded
The haunting night sounds that best establishes the fifties echo and emotional content the old
Grey grocer created the mood of trust and stability keeping greater truths and dangers at great
Lengths mother and dad’s voices made up more of the vintage life known at that time peace
And restraint held you at the edges of small towns and their boundaries and the family barber
Whistled like Andy on Mayberry and had the same family and social beliefs it further carried you Forth into the sweet life that was the fifties the small hardware stores had that feel of small
Wonder the whole nation to a degree was on display within these walls all items that were small and needed were here in great supply it was cozy it delighted it made a small town larger by its
Connections to the rest of the country and where it fell short JC Penny across the street and
Montgomery Ward down the street made up the difference where they left off Murrays
Jeffrey’s television completed the hook up that great symbol of RCA at Murrays the dog and the
Phonograph and the wonderful team of Jack and his lovely wife made up the team at Jeffrey’s
They were between Woolworths and Ben Franklins dime store and for good measure Pop
Sinnard’s malt shop was next door across the street the Roseland Theater no it’s not the fifties
anymore the movie house is threatened by projectors all going digital the fight is on to save this
one special place where you lined up for Elvis down the block and around the corner Saturday
Matinees nothing better than the Bowery boys with Uncle Lou Sach and Slip rounded off by
Lewis and Martin the rings keep flowing outward if you don’t return in real time you do in mind
and heart from now on and the fifties are the greatest part of that reunion it was rock & roll
cool and so much more as Bob would say thanks for the memories

“Nasty Woman”
Olivia Leap

In a society where a man can rise to power with statements like:
"What did these geniuses expect when they put men & women together?"
When asked about military ****** assault,

When he can claim that: "the look obviously matters...like you wouldn't have your job if you weren't beautiful."
When talking to female reporters,

And against powerful women, more qualified than him, one who decides to try and move against him, he mentions her husband "disagreed" with some of her positions,
As if the husband had say over her actions.

I am proud of my gender.

I am a Nasty Woman.
I am female and I am strong.
I will not accept that one who is so offensive and unqualified as this has any power over my mind.

I am a Nasty Woman,
And I will stand with my fellow transgender sisters, my cis sisters, my queer and gay and bisexual sisters, my immigrant sisters, my black sisters, my muslim sisters, my minority sisters, my oppressed sisters and we will not step down.

I am a Nasty Woman
And I will not back down when approached by racists and sexists who believe that the future is somehow going to be better.

I am a Nasty Woman
Who will not forget that a man can say he would look a gorgeous woman in: "the fat, ugly face of hers" with no repercussions,
That a man obviously racist, fascist and misogynistic can somehow sweep through our country and rise to power.

I am a Nasty Woman
Who is disgusted that someone who states he would date his own daughter if they weren't related
Is praised as a powerful man.

I am a Nasty Woman
Who is deeply upset that people even think of supporting
A man who states that all that matters is to have: "a young, and beautiful, piece of ***" beside you
That a man who obviously shows indifference and disgust for those different than himself and his ideal views, has so much power.

I am a Nasty Woman,
And I refuse to respect someone who has so little respect for me.

I am a Nasty Woman
And I can't wait for one year, two years, four years from now when
The people will take back our country from a "***** grabber"
Who couldn't respectfully hold a debate without dropping the "nasty woman" card,
Which I am proud to now carry
And will carry forever

1.A walk with one's ego

"Take your ego out for a walk", the master asked, all aspirant monks
one monk who took his pet across the river left it there and returned
the rest after a nice walk hand in hand, brought each, little wet but
rejuvenated, missing master's word in it's real sense altogether,
only for the wise one, the door opened, others had a lesson, painful

2.Tending one's ego
Two  monks , still not ready to part with
their egos,tended both the way each deemed fit ,
The first, so obedient, followed his ego  like a lamb,
one other made it follow him with it's strange requests,
a third the first one to **** his ego with his sword of mind
kept smiling seeing the misery of both still not bold enough.

3 Catty

Ego, was her, fluffy black pet *****
her show piece, she always loved to pamper,
crafty was the creature, hell bent  to keep
her reputation as an attention grabber,
the fact was this, the cat and her mistress
were thoroughly insecure, borrowed colors,
caterwauling in the sound of screeching tires,
she mated with Tom cats that came in jumping walls ,
her mistress was entertained, felt proud,
so ego grew large to the stature of a feline 'top dog',
it's metamorphosis made her owner too bloat up,
Ego one would have to think is her alter ego.

4.I won't ditch my guide dog

Every one thought she was nice, why so egoistic
gets her way every time,  projecting her larger than life ego.
"Well it's my guide dog to get around, as I am one blind person,
I am not yet a renunciate on a quest, I chew my bones too well"

Our world falls down like a house of cards.
And again were forced to build it back up but its never the same.
We forget the ace, the eight, and a few of the spades. And it makes a difference.
We become indifferent to each others pain at times
And time again we retreat to a false sense of intimacy.
Which fools us into thinking we love each other
Not to say we don’t love one another but (****!)
Why must it always take a trip to the bedroom to feel better?
I mean yeah its an attention grabber
and hell yeah I’m a go getter but
I’d sooner believe it was butter before I think the phrase I uttered to you
or you uttered to me had any real meaning,
least not while were squirming under the sheets ; only there cause it seems the right place to be
WELL JEEZE maybe you shouldn’t ask me my opinion if its hard to swallow.
do you want the red one or the blue one?
The one that makes you forget
or the one that makes you admit that nothing’s perfect, least of all us.
Way too fragile to ignore the wind
We got to make sure this house doesn’t come down again.
Better yet tear it down now (blows)
For we need a better foundation.
You want satisfaction?
Have a little patience
for every time we rebuild we go a little higher which means if we don’t fix this soon it could all come tumbling down….hard.
and we’ll end up suffocated
beneath the cards
and the *******
And the longing
And the tension will do nothing but **** us.
So lets not rush through this.
Just a little bit at a time.
Level by level
Emotion by emotion
Trust by trust.
Love by love.
Card by card.
and if we keep at it not only will we set a world record
but our skyscraper will scratch the heavens
and more than anyone else will leave each other breathless.

Ever think that you matter?
That you were gifted,
You gift grabber?

Tell me, do you take the time
To listen to your chatter?
Inside your head
Thought throws the pitch
But there is no Batter
And your voice is always louder
But your words
They never matter!

You belch your stupidity over and over
From the flaming pits of hell
To the furthest supernova

Are you the Captian of this ship,
You heartless waste of carbon?
I've washed better from my feet
Trust me, I've done it often

These devices are better now, elctro charged
Saturnine lanterns reflected magnanimously.

Let me wait, wait endlessly blue.
Sand scatter, hourglass bottom.
Like Alan I'd tell you I'm in Rockland with you.

Honey, this don't feel the same
eye linguistics and the way your body moves.
Jump at me in April showers and groove.

Damage control, digital and beautiful.
Let's see ourselves out of reality, briefly
and lose our minds in euphoric agression.
Attention grabber, tongue tied neatly.

Trump's covfefe
caused a kerfuffle.
The people's voice
cannot be muffled.
A real brouhaha...
The Emperor's absurd
and yet we hang
on every word
and he has every right
to coin a new word
to have his fits of logorrhea
to incinerate North Korea
to mock the handicapped, women, and blacks
to free the super-wealthy from tax
to trash the planet
rob the poor
make the rich richer
and do much more....

"President Trump"
is an oxymoron.
Donald the Chump
is a *****.

Ooops, *****-Grabber's term has expired.
It's time to tell Trump:
"You're fired."

666
PREGNANT TEENS
****
***
Got your attention?
good.
sorry for that hell of a beginning,
however,
this is big
So i needed an attention grabber.
heh heh.
See what I did there?
So then, B.D,
whats the news.
The news,
the really big big news,
is that I am alive.
though that may not be a big deal to you,
it is to me.
See, it is because of you,
that I live.
You,
the people of hello poetry.
The people of earth.
REAL PEOPLE.
You!
You are keeping me alive.
I write,
you read..
Right?
Our little system here.
Its a great one.
I am so glad you even decided to read this.
Like, you truly are a hero,
just. for. that.
If you don't feel special,
like I often do,
well let me tell you something.
please?
You are very special.
You are beautiful.
How do I know?
Because you are reading this,
which is poetry,
and poetry,
is a beautiful thing,
meant for beautiful people,
and what do you know?
Your reading this,
which means you are beautiful.
Its quite silly, yes I know.
But why be so serious all the **** time?
We need to smile.
And I smile
because of you =>
you bring life to my life.
This is for you, reader.
Not to a lover,
not to a family member.
To you.
You pioneer this smile,
and for that,
I owe you my life.

I AM HEARING MY RIBBER IN MY HEAD, SHOWING ME, THAT I WAS WRONG





YA SEE, WHEN I WAS YOUNG, I WAS LOCKED IN A SCHOOL CLOSET

AND I SAID, TO MYSELF, I WANT TO GRAB KIDS ON THE MOUTHS

AND MAKE THEM SCREAM, YA SEE I GRABBED DAVID ON THE MOUTH

AND HE WAS A COOL KID TO ME, BUT I HATED BEING LOCKED IN THAT ROOM

SO I TOOK REVENGE ON THE SCHOOL, BUT MICHEAL WAS TOO STRONG

BUT I MANAGED TO GET A WRESTLE IN, WITH HIM

YA SEE I WITNESSED CAMERON BEING *******

AND I HEARD THAT BOY IS NOW DEAD, BUT HE TRAPPED ME

IN MY HOUSE, SO CAMERON CAN PLAY

I HAD FUN PUTTING MY HAND AROUND DAVIDS MOUTH

AS WELL AS ATTEMPTING TO GRAB GARY BAKER BY THE MOUTH

AND I ALSO FANTASIZED GRABBING A BULLY MARK, WARD

BUT I DECIDED AGAINST THAT, CAUSE HE WOULD BULLY ME WORST THAN MICHEAL

AND I TOOK REVENGE ON THE MALL CROWD, BY BEING THE COME HERE GRABBER AT THE MALL

BUT I GRABBED ‘EM AND LET THEM GO

LIKE THAT KID, I TIED HIM UP, AND LET HIM GO

I AM WRITING, THIS CAUSE I AM A WRITER, ARTIST AND YOUTUBE ENTERTAINER

ALL THIS WAS BECAUSE I WAS KLOCKED IN THAT STORAGE ROOM

AND I FELT LIKE KIDNAPPING PAUL BERENYI, BUT HE WAS A TEASING BULLY TO

PLEASE STOP TREATING ME LIKE A PHEDAPHILE OR KIDNAPPER

I MADE A MISTAKE, JUST LIKE ZANO AND PAUL MADE A MISTAKE BY LOCKING ME IN THE ROOM

CAUSE, REALLY DUDES, I WAS RESCUED, BUT STILL I HATED BEING IN THERE

PEOPLE USED TO GRAB MY WALLET AND TEASE ME, BY TOSSING OVER MY SHOULDER

I GAVE JAMES PEDERSON, HELL, I WAS TRYING TO BE LIKE THE BIG MEN OF MY PAST

BUT I ENDED UP BEING A BIG WORTHLESS

YA SEE, I RIBBED DAVID, MY OLD SELF IS RIBBING ME AT PRESENT

I WRESTLED WITH BOYS AT SCHOOL, MY OLD SELF, IS TREATING ME LIKE AN ANIMAL

I AM NO ANIMAL, I AM NOT STUPID TO STAY WITH MY OLD SELF

THE RIBBING CAME FROM NOBODY BUT MY OWN SELF

THE SHUT UP ****, WAS FROM MY BROTHER

I HEAR VOICES SAYING CHRIS ISN’T AROUND ANYMORE, BRIAN

I SAY, LET ME GROW UP, WE’RE NOT AT SCHOOL ANYMORE

BUT I AM LISTENING TO MY VOICE OF MY CHILD SELF BACK IN THE 80S

WHAT HAPPENED TO ME, HAPPENS TO MOST COOL KIDS

I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY MY OLD SELF CAN’T EXCEPT ME IN MY CHOICE

TO BE AN ACTOR, I AM HAVING MEMORIES OF PAT SAYING IN AN ANGRY VOICE, YOU’RE NOT LIKE US, BRIAN

YOU WILL NEVER BE LIKE US, I WANT YOU TO GROW UP PAT SAYS IN MY HEAD

I TOLD HIM TO TAKE MY OLD SCHOOL SELF, UP TO THE COSMOS WHEN WE SLEEP

BUT IF I FEEL LIKE I DID LAST NIGHT

I WILL SIT AND DO MY TAPESTRY, TILL I EVENTUALLY DROP OFF

CHUCK METHANE ON DAD, CAUSE HIM AND ROBIN WILLIAMS

WILL GROW UP TOGETHER AS TWINS

I KNOW I AM GETTING OLDER, BUT I LIKE TO FEEL YOUNG

THAT’S WHY I WRITE AND DO ART

BRIAN ALLAN TAPESTRY PROFILE FACE BOOK

AARON CLAYTON AND AAA YOUTUBE TV ON YOU TUBE

BRIAN ALLAN ON ART COLONY

JOHNNY GEORGIE BROWN ON HELLO WRITERS

WRITER JOE ON WRITERSCAFE

AND I AM NOT WOOSEY FOR LIFE, OR COMPUTERS

I SIMPLY TOLD CANBERRA OFF, FOR LOCKING ME IN THE STORE ROOM

CAUSE I AM HEARING PAT MUCK AROUND WITH MY OLD SELF

MY HOOLIGAN IS DEAD, AND SCATTERED

UMMMMMMMM GOOD RIDDENS TO BAD STUFF IN MY HEAD

UMMMMMMMMM  I WANT TO SAY, KIDNAPPING IS NOT MY STYLE

UMMMMMMMMM I DON’T WANT TO KIDNAP MYSELF ON MY FAMILY

UMMMMMMMM SO I WANT THAT LITTLE KID DEAD

UMMMMMMMMM I BROUGHT HIM BACK, TO THE STREETS

UMMMMMMMMM TO SHOW, CANBERRA, MY HOOLIGANY COOL KID IS DEAD, MY ***** KID, SO TO SPEAK

My destiny is becoming quicker
I'll bound to be a middle aged litter picker
I see the cans and mackie dee's wrap
I see the hedges full of crap

I walk around the block 'n shake my head
I come across discarded plastic 'n shake with dread
The old woman waddles with her ID badge
I'm on a mission, watch out Madge

I envisage buying the remote grabber
You know the one that'll make me madder
All I need next is a bag
To pick up the sea of discarded ***

I see an old guy bending over
Perhaps he's checking that there is some clover
Perhaps he's comes to get rid of blue
No, no, no, no he's a middle aged picker too

i’m disconnected from reality
and hemorrhaging anxiety

i don’t
belong here

i don’t
belong there

i don’t know if i
belong anywhere
anymore and i don’t know
if home is a real place
or just a wistful
concept shrouded in
the shadows of other
people’s perfect families

but i don’t
belong here

and i don’t
belong there

this town turned
into my town
and now i’m wandering
the sidewalks wondering
where i lost
myself

was it in the library
between the pages of
a book i’ll never
pick up again?

was it in the gas station
dropped with my pennies
and dimes for an
eleven pm cola?

or the grocery store
somewhere in piles of
scratch and dent produce
in the bins of beef bones
or hidden under loaves
of overpriced bread?

maybe in the liquor store
it got pushed behind
forgotten bottles on a
shelf so high you need a
ladder and a grabber to
reach what you’re looking for

i probably lost
myself somewhere in
the cafe on the corner
dropped in the oven
and burned to a crisp
inside the espresso machine
covered in a thick layer
of grounds and oil
under a table or tucked
in a stranger’s to go bag

or maybe it was simply
that i got dropped
on the sidewalk
kicked to the side with
an old beer can
and nobody ever noticed

maybe i lost myself
in what i call
my own home
in between floorboards
or in a crack
in the paint

but i don’t know
what happened
and i don’t know
how to fix it

all i know is that
i don’t belong here

as she
is great
and essentially
pink but
bristles her
tears in
white that
social reform
with brother
in arms
whether or
not manifesto
is establishment
in flux
that detox
is the
grabber's phone

Slam some clam
Catch some ******
Pound some mound
Traverse the meat purse

Heave the wizard sleeve
Slip into some snipper
Push on the bush
Dine on the wavy line

Stab at the grabber
Lick the prickle
Hit the slit
Slap the trap

Splash into the ****
Embellish the crevice
Wrench the trench
Budge the drudge

Sink it in the pink
Swish some fish
Stir some fur
Plunk some dunk

Root the coot'
Revel in the bevels
Loosen the pin-cushion
Feel up the lip cup

Drop on the crop
Press the crest
Rout the pout
Rub the slick muffin

Ride the great divide
Stick it in the bald biscuit
Brave the love cave
Rough up the bunny tuft

Power the flower
Sock the wallet
Ruffle the pink truffle
Rock the tackle box

I'm jealous of people who
Have everything I ******* want.
I'm scared to find it and
They have it, and it ******* *****.

I'm scared to talk to someone
Knowing I might bother them.
They might wrongly trust me and
Then be the muse for my pen.

They might love me, then
I might really ignore them.
They might hate me
And try to make me get more depressed.

People walk around
Knowing what it is they're carrying
Meanwhile, spiraling
Negative thoughts I'm burying

Inside my lines of poetry,
This is another grave
Addition to my graveyard
Don't try to make me saved

If you extend an olive branch
I might be to quick to grab
You might fall into the pit
Misery, my bad.

I want something more than this,
Something that I never had.
Control in relationship,
Control more than my sketch pad.

I want to control more than
Just one sack of bones and meat.
Take a seat for dinner and
Get asked questions, that's a treat.

Better learn to sell myself
And conceal something really neat
That I'll show you later
If you follow my misleading lead.

I can't walk around no more,
I cannot think straight.
When I walk in public now,
All I really do is wait

Patiently for my feet
To escort me to paradise.
Silence in my ******* head,
That would be really nice.

But I better think twice,
Crazy thoughts are all I have.
Surface level love too,
But that's basically bad.

People walk all over me,
My love is submissive.
I want to be really free,
My views of life are twisted.

I thought and I still believe
Be yourself and stay true.
But if you don't get anything?
That presents an issue.

I can't talk to other people,
The self I love is buried deep.
When I try to sell and get laughed at,
Makes me want to go to sleep.

For a very long time,
Wake up when this life is mine.
I possess nothing,
I witness countless crimes.

People have so much to lose,
They still throw it all away.
I'm a prime example,
Arrest me and lock me away.

I almost lost it today
And likely the day before.
I shouldn't walk around campus,
I shouldn't go to grocery stores.

I should sit in my room
And write poems like I'm doing now.
Digging deeper in the hole,
That's a waste of life's power.

Listen every second
When life offers you advice,
Turn around and don't listen,
Toss tickets to paradise.

Take tickets to go and ride
Emotional roller coasters,
All the while your happiness
Sits on a bench until it's over.

I'm a huge emotion shower
And a huge attention grabber
I hope that my bright clothes
Win me friends and make me happier.

My results aren't noteworthy,
My findings are minimal.
I might wrap it up, hurry,
and quit being subliminal.

All of my poems are the same.
Walls and walls of angry text.
All my poems are really saying,
I'm jealous of people who have ***.

The Palestinian boy looks over yonder in pain and simmering anger
Over the hills a soldier watches his every move
While protecting a land grabber, a "returning owner"
Where does his deliverance come from
PLO ? UN ? HAMAS ? ARAB NATIONS
They can care less
What happened to freedom he ponders
He lost his childhood friend to a ******'s bullet
Like Abel's blood was spilled by his kin
Ishmael's progeny have stained the ground with their blood
Wailing goes on unceasing
The value of a Life has never been so little
Dispensable, easily done away with
But Jannah awaits and Unto his hands, my spirit I commit
The boy mutters silently as he makes his way to another funeral.

I am in Tidy Towns
we are known by the
single initial of Tidies.

It is a bit like golf, we
T off at 8am in the
town park.

We have grabber sticks,
we walk, stop, talk, pick
and putt, in a plastic sack.