I wanted
someone
that wouldn't
be afraid

of me.

I spent
twenty-one
years
doubting
that person
could ever
exist.

For humans
are far too shallow
and our
complications
are

way too deep

but I honestly believe
we should not have to
be alone.

I believe in independence.
I believe in self-reliance
and I believe in self-respect.

But I also believe that
humans can connect
on a far deeper level
than just what we see.

I believe there is a time
and place
for everything
and that includes
the moments

we fall in love.

You see,
there will be days
that you fill
empty
and lonely
but you have
to be there for yourself.

No one is going to give you
a handout
unless you show them
you are going to
make it count.

No one is going to
rely on someone
that cannot
rely on them self.

Co dependence can be
beautiful
but nevertheless-
it is filled with
even more grief.

You cannot fix somebody else
when you are still
practicing
the craft
of self-love.

Allow your lows
to be reminders
that you
can lose
and smile
knowing
that you can
bounce back,
too.

There is nothing
graceful
in struggling
but there is
something
glorious
in the

overcoming

and believe me-
you will find a way
to live through it all.

And then
some day
somebody,
somewhere
is going to
admire
the way
you refuse
to fall.

And you will wonder
how you ever
let the world
make you feel

so small.

-Andrew Durst.

Flipping threw my old yearbook
I see girls who were once gorgeous
tooken my the devils hand
pregnant and life beaten now
horrendous
I remember seeing them
with there cheerleading outfits on
As I sat in a corner by myself
I here them laughing and chatting
about going to tonys house after school
I remember tony strong handsome captain of the highschool world
I saw him two weeks ago
With his hands covering his face
And a shot next to him
3 empty beers infront
He really let himself go I remember thinking
fat and forgotten about
still clinging to that highschool dream
I remember him saying I was a loser as he flipped my lunch tray
and humiliated me by reading my little notebook of writes
I remember saying to him
one day ill have the last laugh
one day ill see you down and out
and you'll ask me for a handout
going back to the bar I sit down
A couple stools down to see if he recognised me
He finished his 3 beers as I finished my long island ice tee
he said to the bar tender I gotta ***
be right back
I followed him to the restroom
and we were a ****** apart
I looked over and seen his small patheic *****
as I looked at my *****
I laughed
and I laughed
and I laughed
looked over at tony
and said see sir
I did get the last laugh
and I left
I hope he knows me now
I hope he knows me now

Uhh..,Young Ston, OFTR..
They say I'm crazy, They say I'm lazy,..they call me crazy, they call me lazy,..Ayee,Yeah..They say I'm crazy, Yeah they say I'm lazy, Uhh, they say I'm crazy..I'm amazing, They say I'm lazy, I'm amazing, They say I'm crazy, They call me lazy, They say I'm....
Crazy..(I'm amazing7)
They say I'm crazy..they call me lazy, They call me crazy..They say I'm lazy..They say I'm crazy, ***** I might  be..Uhh..Yeah..I'm (amazing2)..
(so amazing2)..amazing

Uhh, No Kanye West **** tho dawg, Good Morning tho, Yeah the birds is chirping so loud in the Atown, but I ain't worrying or stunning them hos, no,no..,Ayo, I'm wit my big brothers we mobbing, & we rising up to the top without selling our souls, **** all of that Occult ****, forget about being a Freemason, I'm keeping it hundred, & they only keep it 33 percent, them ******* so scared to even ever show they faces true colors & rep they gang man while they out in public,.. Not me Imma stunt Yeah,..Imma stunt for OFTR *****,..Imma scream my gang so loud to the top of my lungs, Yeah ***** Imma shout..While I'm smoking on some crazy amazing bud mane, I'm  spitting facts from my spirit & soul man, ayo them ******* *** rappers ain't who they say that is noo, not (really2)..homie, they only betraying us mane, Yeah they so fake man, they so gay Yeah freaking faggets, stay the **** outta my face & stay the **** away from me homie, before yo body be filled with maggots..

Aye, I builded my own corporation by just having hope man & praying Yeah..I'm motivating all of my young ****** to stop, following after these **** ******, they ain't keeping it true they rapping lies, & that's not the code. Ayo even the president & his whole committee stay lying to us too, we as the people need to do something together soon, so lets overthrow these false prophets & fake leaders as soon as possible dawg, Uhh..
**** the government, **** America, man I'm going in,.. noo OFTR we won't stop, Noo we can't stop,man.. We can't be stopped either my nig..Uhh, **** Society, **** the police, **** everybody that's hating, **** all the fakes too homie, Aye man **** a friend, **** having a ol lady too homie noo I don't need all of those distractions around me Aye..
Imma always stay true to myself mane..Yeah ***** (Yeah2)..Uhh I got my family, &  I will  ride on any ***** ***** who ever disrespect one them & shoot some **** up,Yeah , that's what my Daddy taught me my *****...Uhh,Yeah..I'm riding to the end for OFTR man, OFTR we all stars..we so amazing,..Yeah we (so amazing3)..

Aye man yeah these ****** stay hating, they hate me..Why because I'm amazing, so amazing.. Aye man, yo ***** wanna come over to my place get faded & get ******..Uhh Imma beat her up..I Chris Brown dat **, call her a Uber then send her *** home packing,.. ain't no sleep overs wit me *****  Noo , you should already know that OFTR noo we don't love these **'s, noo we don't trust em too..Uhh
I be too busy to be sexting & picking up my phone but ***** **** I do give out the best quickies tho **,Yeah..I'm on my grind for the whole day, Noo I can't sleep, Yeah I'm doing whatever I gotta do to feed my family & developing my business into a multi billion dollar industry, but I ain't bending over or ******* ****, forget that sweet Starship type ****.., Yeah **** all of dat , OFTR we got our own agenda man, keeping it real & funky, everyday, Yeah Uhh..I'm getting so stronger everyday..I'm smoking on that strong Hulk smash ****, please don't interfere wit me or else you will be MIA, Aye mane..,I'm so amazing..Uhh.
I'm on my sonic Flow, I'm going so fast, I'm rolling some more grass while I drive man, I been drinking too ****, my ***** I might even crash,..Yeah I'm crazy but you can't call me lazy mufucker, you just looking in from the outside man, who the ******* think you is..Uhh


Only my Heavenly Father can judge me mane,
(Nobody else , Noo2)..*****, Yeah Young Ston a King , Yeah..Uhh Young Ston a g, Yeah Uhh.., Young Ston the man **,..I keep going in, & I ain't pulling out, let's go..Uhh..Yeah
They say I'm crazy, they call me lazy, but they don't know that there is a weapon that's been inside of me, bout to get me so paid *****..so paid Yeah..Yeah..(I'm about to get paid man2)..(I'm about to get paid Yeah3)..
/Yeah..(so paid2)/3..I ain't being (no slave2)..man..Uhh

They say I'm crazy,...
They say I'm lazy, they call me crazy, they call me lazy, they say I'm lazy,..They call me crazy..Uhh..***** I'm amazing, Yeah..(I'm amazing2)..Yeah ***** (I'm amazing3)..Yeah ***** (I'm amazing3)..I'm so amazing, Yeah..

I'm amazing everybody when they doubted on me my *****, They  said I couldn't do nothing but just be a problem, well **** they was right about one thing, Yeah I didn't have a job for a long time  mane..young *****, I usta just sit around the house dream about my future & write hits all day long mane,..Aye but I always had a plan to go out to get what is mines homie..Aye this world so **** evil they gott a ***** like me set up for failure already but I will achieve, & smoke a J wit Farrakhan to discuss being invole  in the Future Revolution for my people..Aye Yeah man..

These demons won't block my vision, man they underneath me Yeah dawg, Yeah I like to roll up Yeah I like to drink alot my ***** , so what, I live my life so you should live yours..Uhh my ***** live it up..Uhh,Yeah Young Ston these busters said I would never ever make it too the big leagues but now they all following after my foot steps  mane.. dawg these succers all around me, & stay tweeting me asking for a **** handout bru, hell naw get the **** up outta my zone, Im not ever associating myself or ever  doing business with ***** *** fakes,..Yeah..Aye.. ***** ***** stay on yo route, don't hop in my lane dude..

You lames copying after each other in Atl mane & I'm doing my music my own way ****, I was the greatest already without nobody even knowing about me, Imma living legend, I prosper forever Yeah, Uhh..Young Ston I'm amazing , so amazing, Yeah ***** I'm amazing, so amazing.. So amazing, so what they can call me crazy dawg, I'm so far away from the haters mane, I'm so elevated, Yeah they can call me crazy all they want ,but no they can't call me lazy, because *****..I know what I am..

I'm amazing Yeah Cuhz.. (I'm amazing3)...Yeah (I'm amazing3)..(Yeah I'm amazing3)..I'm (so amazing2)....
Ayee..Yeah they  say I'm lazy, They call me crazy, They call me lazy, they say I'm crazy,..
/*****.., Yeah (I'm amazing2)../4
Haaaa,(so amazing3)..I'm (so amazing3)..
***** I'm amazing, Yeah ***** I'm crazy,but I ain't even 5 steps close to being lazy..Uhh I'm amazing.. (So amazing4)..Young Ston

I set out to find love with the right person
I  stayed single because I didn't want to get hurt
Been down found self respect not giving it up
Standing tall hoping the right people come around and stay
Never wanted to get my hopes up so I stopped caring
The reality is it meant everything
For years I was bullied and looked down on for not having a job
Found I can't rely on anyone if I wanted or needed I go do it myself
I got back into the dating world my heart took a beating
Gave her me that's all I can be
Went all in with no regrets or escape route
I give it to god believe something better will come out of the struggle
If not I'm meant for better not settling for less

I REMEMBER here by the fire,
In the flickering reds and saffrons,
They came in a ramshackle tub,
Pilgrims in tall hats,
Pilgrims of iron jaws,
Drifting by weeks on beaten seas,
And the random chapters say
They were glad and sang to God.

And so
Since the iron-jawed men sat down
And said, "Thanks, O God,"
For life and soup and a little less
Than a hobo handout to-day,
Since gray winds blew gray patterns of sleet on Plymouth Rock,
Since the iron-jawed men sang "Thanks, O God,"
You and I, O Child of the West,
Remember more than ever
November and the hunter's moon,
November and the yellow-spotted hills.

And so
In the name of the iron-jawed men
I will stand up and say yes till the finish is come and gone.
God of all broken hearts, empty hands, sleeping soldiers,
God of all star-flung beaches of night sky,
I and my love-child stand up together to-day and sing: "Thanks, O God."

No they can't stop god,  naw they can't stop Jah...2

  Living in a world full of fake ,Im tryna go my own path but they want me to be the same, its  like the opposition out to get me, scared ..naw its only fear in the heavenly, only one that can save me is JC, Im tryna live my dreams  but it seems  that we living in the matrix mane..like you have to sell out to get ya stage,  Im so  tried of the fake, Im so tired of being trapped in this maze( this world) is fading and ****** too blind to wake,Uhh.. I woke up & cut my string/ Cuz Im  a leader ment to be , a ***** that believe in a higher power that's over me , & I  praise him and pray ..These trials I go through just strengthens my faith , I won't be at the bottom for too long mane..I'm just tryna reach out to the people before its to late,  you can be your own mane or follow everybody else its up to you to live free ,**** ,imma do me despite what a hater have to say , they just jealous, they just wanna be me, they just mad cuz I want better homie /they need to stop being so afraid to speak the real mane, better then being a slave for a corporation that don't care if you go to the grave , All of these mainstream rappers sounding the same , wearing dresses and nail polish like a ******, ****** is gay tryna confuse ya mind mane/  but I'm here to speak the  real like Pac before the grave..Yeah I'm  looking for changes , I know my goals can't be reached in one day , I know I have to work hard to achieve, **** a  handout I take what I want mane, ayye..

( I'm so tried , I'm so tried, I'm so sick)
Of all these fakes /my ***** **** mainstream/ I'm too real to sign my life away /Mom I  just need you to pray as I walk in this evil world everyday..I will have no fear in the beast.. I will always remain true to the streets..(Yeah ***** fucc mainstream..fucc it..2)

Uhh like my ***** Wiz said..The money come, The money go..Imma always stay the same dawg..I'm never gonna be a **..Imma stay on my feet like a magnolia soulja..with my family right beside me too..You fucc ****** keep playing around.. You might just get hit...Uhh..It might be a gun ***** or it might be a fist..Uhh..But I ain't   seen nothing..& I'm not telling ****..Like a real ***** always do.. Imma just mind my business dude... & Instead of stressing  about a fucc ***** opinion my dude,You just gotta  do you..My ***** just do you...& have faith..

( I'm so tried , I'm so tried, I'm so sick)
Of all these fakes /my ***** **** mainstream/ I'm too real to sign my life away /Mom I  just need you to pray as I walk in this evil world everyday..I will have no fear in the beast.. I will always remain true to the streets..my (***** fucc mainstream..fucc it..*2)

Yeah you just gotta keep having faith..Let a fucc ***** hate..Of course the pain  is gonna come..Its written.. My ***** you gotta be strong & go through it..Yeah cuz after the storm..Its a *** of gold underneath the rainbow..Yeah you just gotta go hard..My ***** you just gotta have faith..Uhh..Imma real *** young *****..no, I never been perfect.. Of course I ****** up many times..Im growing up fast..& I just want better..But its like the system is made to keep us trapped in the ghetto..Im giving all of my ****** some real power..This is my ghetto gospel *****..Rest in Peace to all of my real ******..Uhh..I'm the real Makaveli.. I told y'all ****** I was coming back..Uhh..Yeah my  *****, **** all these wack *** rappers thats selling out..I'm rapping for the real that's it..These ****** keep claiming they so real..but not like my Outlaws..We stay smoking ****..I'm elevated from my  flesh..So I do what I want..**** the money mane..I do this for the people..That's stuck..I do this for my  ****** in them jail cells..& for the young ****** that's dying on the street young..Uhh

Daylight fades too quickly
and leaves you struggling like a dead fish
against a time limit you have no intention
of keeping or realizing, in even a small fashion.
The money runs out.
The money always runs out and
everyone is looking for a handout
no one wants to give.
Especially those who can afford it-
it's like a void;
a golden density not even light can escape.
Makes me wonder; "Is the money really power,
or is power just power,
and the hierarchy and patriarchy and system
just keep whatever stains in place, despite their incompetence?"
History seems to provide ample answers to the right questions;
Why does the day feel so short?
Why does retail labor feel like a pyramid scheme?
Why does work feel like prison?
Why are employers so scared of unions?
Whatever, right? Those ******* would give you an answer
after three separate commercial breaks and a survey.

Everyone views the person under their foot as less than human.
It's how we're able to procreate and sleep at night
[a night that comes quicker every day now].
A curtain over a birdcage; we're all just dozing off.
******* around.
Studying everyone else's face,
looking for a nervous twitch to decipher
whose bluffing,
believing we're doing swimmingly in our own *******.
The next generation built on our corpses, secrets and lies.
Corpses, secrets, and lies.
Let the world burn if we can make it past daylight.

I walk across
to Hannah's flat
in Arrol House
and knock at the door

Mrs Scott opens
the door and stands there
she's a short thin woman
with a face of granite
with a slit
where her mouth is

whit is it?
she says
her Scottish accent
rough as stone

is Hannah home?
I ask

I dunnae kinn
she replies
HANNAH
she bellows
over her shoulder
Benedcit is haur fur ye
she adds
scowling at me

jist coming
Hannah replies
from back in the flat

yoo'll hae tae bide
Mrs Scott says

and walks back inside
leaving me
on the red tiled step

I look into the interior
of the flat
and smell breakfast
having been cooked

I look back
into the Square
kids are playing
near by
on the pram sheds
and over by the wall
girls are doing handstands
their feet
against the wall
dresses falling
over their heads
showing underwear

sorry about Mum
she has a mouth on her
Hannah says
where we going?
she asks

thought we'd go
to the South Bank
see the Thames and boats
and have ice cream
I say

do I need money?
she asks

just about 2/-
I say
for bus fares
and ice cream

I'll ask Mum
for a handout
but wait for the answer

Mum have you 2/-
I can have?
Hannah asks

fa dae ye hink
Ah am Rockerfeller?
nae Ah huvnae
her mother replies

no problem
I say to Hannah
I'll have enough
for us both

are you sure?

yes don't aggravate
your mother more
than you have to

so Hannah gets her coat
and we walk off
through the Square

she's like that sometimes
Hannah says
she's as tight
as a wing nut

we walk down the *****
and up Meadow Row

I ask her how her father is

she says
he's Ok but in
the doghouse more often
as not with Mum
but he's a softy
to Mum's hardness
but Mum says
he's soft in the heed
but he's lovely really
Hannah says

-I know her old man
he's English and a bit
simple after helping
to empty out Belsen camp
in 1945 where some
he told me were
more dead as alive-

we wait at the bus stop
she with her dark hair
pony tailed
with a tartan skirt
and white blouse
and me in blue jeans
and white shirt
and quiff of brown hair
and hazel eyes

she with a budding beauty
with her mother's
touch of tongue
who if roused
could give words
full lung.

She's got that peasant stink stuck to her
radiating failed dreams and passed-over advice
speaking to the untold quantities
of filthy, illegitimate children
birthed through pale and quivering thighs.

Tattered, low denims
faded, high-cut blouse
full head of ratty, unclean hair
propped up in a high-rise hair-spray style
that hasn't been popular in the trailer parks
for more than a decade.

She always worked real hard
yet always put failing-foot forward
and though I asked,
she could never tell me why -
she never, I think, knew herself.

It doesn't matter though
she'll just fall again
fall to her knees before another he again
fall into the welfare lines due to another newborn again
fall back down into what she knows again.

She saves her non-handout-cash
for the spending on endless streams of hash,
bottles of paint for nail and eye-lash
-because she believes, as she's told,
that she's worth it -
even though it's real clear that she's not
and that
it's real clear that she's one for looking-on
and never acting upon and yet,
I cannot help myself
anymore than she can -

I have fallen
completely and pointlessly
in love with her.

Sometimes I wish I could talk about the pain an hurt that I hold inside..
I guess it’s just a matter of maintaining self worth and emboldened pride…
That, and I hate revealing the scars and wounds I take time to carefully hide…
Because I’m pretty sure that’s not a look of empathy I’m seein there in your eye…

See, I’m usually the last man in the line lookin for a handout or pity…
And sometimes I’d rather stroll at night alone and get swallowed up by the city,
than go out thinking about how I’m feelin hollow an still tryin to act witty..
But it’s a good thing I got drive to get past it and I thank my father that he instilled it in me..

See I grew up a good kid on the wrong side of the tracks, just a half a block past hope..
Had a childish dream of bein a politician or a lawyer but here I am, still *** broke...
That life was stolen when the last bit of air was gasped from my fathers throat..
It wasn't his fault he passed away that night, I just never learned to cope..
Instead I went out an found another life, I stayed hustlin an lightin up dope..
Constantly lookin at my morals dying through a smokey ****** scope...
A shell casing of self loathing almost destroyed the work of my loving folks..

Still through it all my mom an sis never gave up on me though..
Matter of fact, they fought harder for me at times than I did, that's the love I know!
Real talk, my big sister probably saved the life of her little kid bro..
That day she dragged my *** to college, pointed me forward, and told me to go!

I didn’t change overnight though an I’m still walkin forward on that road..
Yea, I’ve stumbled to the point that all I got left now is ****** nubs for toes..
But one foot keeps falling diligently a step ahead of where the other goes..
An aching reminder in every stride that pain and I are forever juxtaposed…

Burned into my consciousness, it’s seared deep with a long list of heartbreaks and R I P’s...
Coupled with the dull ache of lonely nights, lost love, and shattered beliefs…
These thoughts clatter around in my head whether I’m awake or asleep..
But with twin sides to every dagger, it also keeps me sharp on my feet..
Cause I don’t think there’s a heaven with angels pluckin harp strings on a golden street..
It sounds too good to be true… when it ends, I think we just skid to a stop, a whole six feet deep…

To me, there ain’t nothin heavenly about a grave, no matter how elaborate the headstone…
I know from experience that cross displayed won’t ever give you a hug or a friendly welcome home..
Even so, I still persuade myself to open my heart an truly love my fam, now I never fear the unknown..
In order to cope I’m self taught, my lesson plan to shed words instead of tears, formed into a poem..

So I live with the pain inside and hurt that glows deep in my bones and I’m learnin to happily explore it..
Call me a *******, but I figure if I gotta suffer a beautiful life on earth, I might as well be smiling for it..

Sick of being stuck awake,
I should probably bake a cake,
Stuff a file inside, then sit for an hour of wait,
Another hour to cool, use the tool to pry my mind from this cage
Blow out the candles, the world becomes my stage
But I fall flat on a crowd with button eyes, deaf ears,
Rusted mental gears, and smiles looking at me queer.
"Hi I'm Ryan, I'm a poet. I belong here."
Reading to a generation that skipped reading,
Stuck feeding off of the **** for free
Asking for another handout that a past life made them believe
They deserved, too delicate, while I stay thick like corduroy,
Poking fun like I should take some ilk, you're too soft
I destroy you, still drinking mother's milk, you're soft as silk.
Don't make me spell it out, we are cut from different cloth.

I've sat with my life choices happy as an oyster
In a month that doesn't have an "R"
People walk through the door and try to raise my bar,
You couldn't come close, don't judge those who trudge
Through mud and sludge then take a second to coast,
I'm still a star while others whack the green,
Barely even keeping up with par.

I don't even have enemies, I get angry with my own mind
That tells me I should be on a steady grind
Then find myself too tired to stay awake
Too awake to fall asleep, let's write it out,
I never was one to be good at counting sheep
I took to counting breaths, counting beats,
Never couldn't count on me, have a seat.
Let's talk it out and bake a cake,
Another file filed so I can free this cage,
I flee the stage.

An open hand
Not a handout
An open mouth
No food for it.
I need loving
Nourishment.

A handgun protects
A handout will ****
Greed is a method
Love is a skill
Just care for yourself
Sad means your ill
People don't change
Lies that we tell

My sister – camping on the coast
Muttering over macaroni
Fixing salad
Talking to a seagull

“George” mews like a cat
awaiting dinner
Waddling web-foot along the stony cliff
To him – life is a handout
against the backdrop of the setting sun
Garlic bread, spaghetti, chocolate chip cookie –

My sister adopts things
What was ever wild after?
Even this “Master of the Wind”
eats Italian tonight!

Till the “Alpha Bird”
younger stronger
spots the eye of orange on plate of white –
Whirls in on protest and demand
George responds in kind
Intruder seizes a meatball
George squawks and lunges
his last...
_

The sunset on the Maine coast tonight
enthroned in vaporous haze
Imbued with fragrance-- ocean rose
The sky-- delicate
mountain laurel pink
bleeding into purple
where the tallest spires of spruce
have stabbed upward
From the coastline's rock
comes qweedling of the robins
calls of sea birds in the peaceful distance....
__

        ….George struggles in Alpha's grip
on windpipe
Meal forgotten
as nature serves its worst
His neck arched back
Wings fluttering desperate
in his last display
a spray of feathers
Strength will take this day
Plunge it into faint squawks
George dissolves limp in quivers

as Alpha--
weightless victor
lifts away

Suzy cries out
despair at loss of little friend
        “I can't! I can't!

I rush out to hold  
his last limp sigh

...tossing his gray and white into another sky

This old drawing I made for my brother.
Nothing to look twice at.
An odd choice of paper for a drawing,
the shadows of ink caught my eye.

Some forgotten handout
from some forgotten class.

a situation is the outcome of its context. It cannot be judged separately from context, because it would not have arose without it.

Context. What is the context for me?
So many factors
some more subtle than others
each the cause for an effect.
Is that what they call "chaos theory"?

the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future.
Something about dependence on initial conditions...

What are they?
I'm sure I can find the origin.
My birth? wait no... my parents... no grandpa-...

... no... even further back
if you want to make apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.
That far, huh?

Kind of a big picture.
An Earth-sized map of the Earth.
Hurts my head a little.

You can find me in my blanket, where the world is not so big, and the possibilities not so infinite.

But for some cruel jest are not we all perennially ailing…
Are not our lives just pictures passing by?
We, blindfold, in their wake are trailing,
Are hardly ourselves… And at the best of times
We solely hope yet for another handout
At someone’s twisted mercy and before
We ever realise it’s us we cede so freely
It’s far too late… We sob and try no more.

Shall not we fight, defiant, our doubts and envy?
Shall not we hold the fastest to our dreams?
And from our deepest selves shall not we draw our powers
When all is lost and there’s no life within?

It’s down to us to down the cup we’re given.
There is no shame in failing. All we can
Is to keep going on, perennially ailing,
However cruel and short our span.

I need a job.
To start living, start earning some money, am begging.
Begging you like Madcon
The cv handout goes on, and on.
Like a record that's skipped,
beginning to feel like I've been tricked.

It's not like I wouldn't work hard
I'm willing to work hard for my pay,
willing to work everyday,
willing to earn my way.
I ain't fed on greed,
I only need what I need,
only one mouth to feed.
I'll even work on my knees
scrub till my fingers bleed

I'm like a seed sprouting, roots up routing,  with stem as long as my sadness has resided.
Pent up emotion continuing to grow.
As the roots begin to take hold below.

Take hold of my tongue and its words, my heart and its love, and my lungs and its breath.
Got Nothing left; to push through to the surface beginning to feel its all worthless
What's the point here?!
I'm stumped.

"I JUST NEED A JOB YOU... Chumps"

Feel like I should take a jump.
Not a jump of suicidal intention, just a jump for attention
Attention for a life to begin.

For a business to take me in
give me the experience I lack.
In return I'll give back: hardwork, effort and sweat.
Which will help me to show that I'm able to grow.
And I deserve to leap out
from this pit,
trudging in ****.
From the depths of this dirt and weeds
where it all began as a seed.

A seed, a thought, a prognosis.
So now it's my time to show this;
Show what I've got on the surface.
Show that I am not worthless.
Show from a seed I have grown.
Show that I deserve a home.
A place to call my own.
Then once I am there I will know...

How?

I'll have blossomed

an earlier draft of this barely satisfactory missive ex post facto, i chomped asper with upper dentures upon evincing a couple of typographical errors, in up rye or draft, and did not wanna dodge being a spell bound stickler for typing words correctly.

though no obligation to trot out this fixation sans zero misspelling tolerance, a compulsion with any concomitant obsession found me reposting before a repast of dessert - so there Ghost of Marie Antoinette, wherever you might be hiding - i can have my cake and eat it too!

Minus trimmings and over stuffed ego freezers,
but altruism, civility, Dharma *** ethnocentrism,
gratuitous homogeneous internationalism,
karma mosaic opportunism, quitessential righteousness,
unpretentious vivacious wide world yipping,

brouhaha dutifully emphasizing friendliness,
antithetically booing critical, popularly pugnacious
spoiled trump petting uber western yikyak,
zealous antipathy craving everything.
---------------------------------------------------------
a hypothetical, mental, rhetorical thought question
   occurred to me just moments ago
sans, milk of human kindness bubbles frothily
   upon major American holiday,

   whereat figurative bro
   thar and sisters exhibit philanthropic ambitions
   especially, towards indigent that crow
for bare necessities

   other than
   when Thanksgiving rolls around, and dough
nuts to dollars even most frugal misanthropes
   play feigned charitable card egoistically glow
with ambient benevolence, civility,
   diligent energy, and friendly hello

and sundry pleasant greetings
   hook hood be some
   soon tubby rich entrepreneurial stranger
   ready to make shares available vis a vis  IPO

   to dirt poor anonymous guarillas G.I. Jane or G.I. Joe
   who cross paths with each other,
   even those one doth not know
when ordinary biases, callousness,

   denigration...doth full low
out the mouths of hoity toity MainLiners
   towards working class people - mow
awe less trying to remain financially afloat,
   and with plea for handout
   would receive an emphatic NO!

Thee exception to unspoken aristocratic rule
   arising on feted buzz
   feed ding occasions where oboe
players invoke cobra to deliver riches galore to the 'po

whom sincerely show gratitutde,
   yet wonder why status quo
reserves select calendrical dates for handouts
   proffered after standing in a row
of similarly bereft individuals aware at stark

   outpouring overt nurture minded, humanity
   (with perchance a guest appearance by Sean Hannity),
this public denouement,
   an atypical venue for his television show

where generosity spills forth
   from said personality and others alike
blithely, demonstrably, fortuitously, happily,
   jubilantly, lovingly, modestly, poignantly,
   where an announcer speaks thru a mike

to open their doors and hearts asper,
   those down and out
   pushing belongings along the pea king pike
of broken tureens with
   only a mangy dog as companionship,

and though I admit tubby hyperbolical,
   hypocritical, hypothetical hypoteneuse of hippopotamus
   no charity less valuable then self and spouse,
   whom both experience spike
in anxiety since net income purportedly
   below the poverty level, though we reside

   within subsidized housing (outliers
   here at 2 Highland Manor Drive),
   yet random acts of an effortless smile,
   cordial greeting to passersby, or
   waving fellow drivers right of way,
Page Number Three:

such minimally polite services today,
the most within my limited monetary hi say
means, which behavior aye strive ray
   dee to maintain zero cost politesse, which doth pay
highest dividends, which reciprocal acknowledge may
be the greatest reward,

   whether or not a response elicited tis quite o kay
the satisfaction arising breeching comfort zone
   viz exposure therapy lighting up gray
matter analogous to a cerebral Christmas tree
   and any regret avoided, asper congenial efforts    
   generate “hi” kickstarts my day.

Homeless. Crazy.
Everything is smooth.
No,
no one really knows enough.
No one cares enough, or gets it.
Close to charity,
all is oppressive.
Keys on treble, wishing
everything was ******* brilliant.
My planning is a bet that
it all comes part unevenly.
Yeah,
neon smokescreen,
lime green cigarettes,
and I'll leave you to carry
that sentiment on your
shoulders.
I hope you feel empathy like
a child that's ****** the bed;
warm and embarrassed,
take as a symbol of
habitual  weakness.
Take it like a pill with tap water
that sticks in the throat like a brick.

Next door to inhumanity.
Every day is slightly
darker
than the last.
****. forgot the punchline…
something about how daylight fades
and darkness falls.
If we could all be so clumsy and respected.
A "feared klutz."
Anyways.
All the geniuses are dead,
and I hate most writers;
Snarky, uppity, *******.
They're all dirt now.

I passed a man who spoke gibberish,
but ended his mush mouth with some
statement about getting food.
I told him, "I got nothing on me."
I lied. Of course I ******* lied,
I had almost $270 dollars in my wallet,
cash.
I don't even know
what  I'm supposed to do with the money.
Just **** it away, I guess.
Start looking for another handout myself.
I can see the lines-
washed out, skillfully ignorant or oblivious
&
whoever said I was a loser first,
won the grand prize.
Some truth in the
universe.

I apologize for what you read here,
Some people may not believe what they read here.
You see, my generation, is shot down on all accounts
I don't play a victim in this scene, I take a higher route.
They brush me off as joker, dreaming of waking up
I've been climbing trees for fruit but now I'm on the ground shaking them up.
I'm not looking for a handout as my career track shows
But who am I, among these gods, to deny a poor man clothes.

See I'm living in a world where, when I'm old and grown,
The social security I'm paying into will be unknown,
Men and women my age are going on war tours
Left their minds overseas and come back abandoned poor,
Still forgetting what god I'm supposedly fighting for.
I sit patient as they tax my metophorical tea
Then turn on the TV and see riots in the street
As if this history just isn't skipping a beat
I couldn't care less about your race or sexuality,
About your religious ideology, or the identity you see.
I'm looking you point blank and just asking if you're happy.
Because these streets look so bleak
While holding a connected world in my hands,
Still so afraid to speak because everything has to be
So contradictory and couldn't we agree
That my generation is bad
But the previous one raised me.

A lady I work with, she works eighty hours a week
Her old man's at home wearing medical bills as shackles on his feet.
She keeps fighting strong and he keeps pushing on
But they ******* them and take the cane their standing on
Maybe I'm naive but this system just seems so wrong.
You can tax me for education,
Take a dollar for someone's medical bills too
This money is so common, there's only one of you.
I'm not looking to pick a fight
I'm just stating what I believe is right
Throwing down my pen, cutting sharper than a knife.

We flipped small coins for fun
and like Apache arrows flew into the morning sun
calling curses on the day,
this was the way we knew.

Ceaselessly the air swirled round the sacred ancient hunting ground until we found the buffalo and John Crow said,
'better dead than being brave,we are the slaves of appetite'
and then the night of death rained on and soon the buffalo were gone.

Bones and stew make bedfellows too and this is what we've got
the empty stomach
empty cooking *** and not a beast seen anywhere.
No happy hunting ground,no arrows leased,no feast,not least no children born,no warming sun,harsh winters come and we must run away
this was the way we knew.

Soldiers blue and few we were
rifles,gunshot,
did we dare to dream tomorrow would arrive,could we,would we learn to live and survive on reservation land,live hand to mouth,or would we move on South to Mexico
where peasants till the soil and shattered spirits go.

This was the way when plainly night became our day and pipes of peace were smoked no more,
ruled beyond a different law
the rule of handout,get out,turn round about and cry
the way of life we knew did die
but we the children are living on, in stories told in elders huts,where cuts of jerky hang on skin lined walls and voices hush as the old one calls for spirits that he's known to rise
and cries again at so much pain and so much lost
and all it cost him and his tribe.

Describing monuments to men,is like paintings of the mists and when you think you've got it almost right
the swirling buffalo moves off again into the endless night
it's difficult,impossible,I can't explain except to say,
'that, what is pain but loss and heartache'
the breaking of another lance and one more agreement,one more given chance,
One plain speaking man of breeding
leading
his people home.

The wind is foul.
The rain dribbles down my neck as I queue and stare uncertainly at the Uber Eats backpack in front of me, wondering who might have ordered foodbank takeout or how the Uber guy had come to need a handout and what he might feel about delivering Friday night treats while wondering what he'll eat tomorrow.
The wind is foul.

I believe that
every bone has a story
that even the sun gets tired
and
that's why it rains /
I saw you waltzing
in and out like, you'd gotten lost
you keep sayin' in
everyone else's tongue so I'd
finally forgotten what you sound like;
it's been, all chop & pour anymore so,
I gently shut all of those, doors against
locks I'd given away the keys to.
they'd find me out the window,
into wet gardens of snails and worm
a stolen bird with no nest
doesn't want a handout
just more time to
make back her bed

She did not intend to be with to him
Though she did care for many of them
She's refused many and few
But She'd never fall for Don Quinn

She'd been to many places and many a ride
She'd seen many faces and broke mini man pride
She paid no mind to the attention of men
She did not desire the hand of Don Quinn

They would jump and trot and stride
Speak and shout And whisper lies
They were merely entertainment for her eyes
A trail of dead hearts lay broken that tried

Still steady was the stature of this man named Quinn
All ready from levies he battled within
With family with money and with the closest of friends
He weathered and learned and discerned to grin

While others were eager to dash in front or behind
Don Quinn had a plan he thought worth the time
For she never took pleasure in being pushed off her line
Don Quinn for the win had a plan more divine

While others took leisure and gusto to sway
Her focus was steady and kept on her way
So Donny took heed while walking this day
Still she was not looking she need not be saved

He tightened his noggin and sharpened his eye
He gathered his dignity and he leveled his guide
She continued to dismiss the distractions of guys
He paced himself on this path he would try

What was his secret or his future demise?
Would he falter fluster or fall before her thighs?
No. Because his aim was the same as her prize
He was becoming by running towards the Skye's

So when she got there he found her right by his side
She was not looking for Donny or a handout freedom
All she needed was a companion with whom to share a sunrise
Dr. Quinn practiced medicine while building a horizon
he was willing to walk wait and work towards their golden Skye's
Mr Quinn out did many a men simply by fixing his vision

i'd like you best wrapped up under the axles of my truck
but i'd rather not have to pay your brother to clean it up.
get the **** out of my home town
your driving the real estate value down.

in other words:
go back where you came from.

we don't
need that liberal faggy ****
i'm a man.
i'm a man.
i'm a man.

but i love the way my baby looks in that white summer dress caught around the warm summer air,
with flowers tangled up in her hair.
and the amber sun looks good in her eyes
i'm a man.

**** a ******, stab a ***
make my granddaddy proud.
love my baby, she's WASP like me
we're gunna start a family.
i **** her good, god gave me seed
you know i sow it as i please.
ultimately-
i'm good.

got a gun, bring it to school
always with me. i know i'm cool-
in case i need to get those sunni-shiite *****;  
shoot my teacher if i fail a test.

it's okay.i'm cowboy.
i'm good.

jesus loves me, he told me so.
******* Hey-Zeus, he mows my lawn.
-be ****** if i let them use the good bathroom  
it's all right they'll be deported soon.
and it's good.  

back in the city, jesus-  girls' ******* drop.
filthy ***** and cherries to pop.
but blondie looks good.

follow her home. i'm a really nice guy.
don't understand what made her cry.
just keep
*******
her anyways.

feminazi ******* wanna blame me
there just mad that they're ugly
jealous of my success
there all just ***** anyway.
*******.

and all those ***** livin' off the government's dime
handout *******. all of them should just die.
time to rise up
time to be
family man.
i.

oh, i'm a
good ol' boy,
i'm good.
(you know i'd **** you if i knew i could.)

but i love the way
my baby looks in that white summer dress caught up in the ******* air,
with flowers -like a promise- all in her hair.

"Believer"


[Daisley - Osbourne - Rhoads]

Watching the time go
And feeling belief grow
Rise above the obstacles
People beseech me
But they'll never teach me
Things that I already know (I know)

Dreams that have shattered
May not have mattered
Take another point of view
Doubts will arise, though
Like chasing a rainbow
I can tell a thing or two (That's true)

You've got to believe in yourself
Or no one will believe in you
Imagination like a bird on the wing
Flying free for you to use (OK baby)

I can't believe they stop and stare
And point their fingers, doubting me
Their disbelief suppresses them
But they're not blind
It's just that they won't see

I'm a believer
I ain't no deceiver
Mountains move before my eyes
Destiny planned out
I don't need no handout
Speculation of the wise

Hey there, I'm Joe Sixpack,
an American full of pride.
I don't want no welfare state,
I don't want no free ride.

And I don't want no charity
'cause freedom don't come free.
I just got four priorities,
they're ME, ME, ME and ME!

I just can't stand the government.
Tax, I don't wanna pay.
Don't want no lazy welfare bums
to **** it all away.

Don't want no ******* FEMA
after flood or hurricane.
Don't want no public healthcare
to fix someone else's pain.

But if my house blows over
or if I get unemployed,
and I don't got insurance
and my health's getting destroyed...

Well, then you'll see me change my tune
and I'll be first in line.
Sayin' "I deserve a handout",
"Oh poor ME" I'll ***** and whine.

In a moment, the news.
Until then, we'll turn to the nation's capitol and have a word with...
Condescending self-important motormouths
Narcissistic bloviating gas bags
Useless over-coiffed talking heads
Disingenuous glad-handing power seekers
Smarmy bootlicking Ivy League backstabbers
Government funded flatulating wind turbines
Spit shined Armani wearing handout seekers
Grudge holding influential bureaucratic petty tyrants
Overworked browbeaten ladder climbers
And, if we can find them, a few nonpolitical working Americans.

my time is constantly split
spread like butter over too many slices of toast
weekends spent between homes, too many 'homes'
seconds and hours broken up into segments
too small for someone to sustain speaking
seconds sectioned off to celebrate a million things at once.

they say everything is made up of atoms- is time?
splitting my time is like splitting an atom.
it requires more energy than i have and makes me smaller the more times i do it.

my body is scattered across the town
parts of it across the ocean or miles up the motorway
the body isn't me anymore
the body has a duty
i don't mind
the body is a handout that i give to people on my rounds

seconds pass me by without a second thought
the hours in the day are not sufficient
and the body is split
but it doesn't mind.

These trips by the county boys,
Being further deputized as burly, armed elves
Tended toward the grim,
Taking them on roads way up in the hills
Where pavement was the stuff of fantasy
And the home-sweet-homes
Were ancient pock-mark and rusted single-wides
Or jerry-built additions uneasily affixed
To some abandoned hunting camp or outbuilding,
Third-hand rugs or tarps covering
Hard ground, possibly augmented with a sprinkle of sawdust,
And you learned not to do more than exchange hellos
With the parents (this just one more minor indignity,
One more for-today-only handout,
The toxic mixture of resentment and self-recrimination
Never far from the surface) and head for the kids
As quickly as politeness allowed, the smiles
(Sometimes positively beatific, others suitably wan,
Knowing that tomorrow would be another day
In a series of just another days)
And upon leaving one such place, a couple of the boys
Heard an incongruous tinkling, this place
Far enough from town and insulated by bluff and pine woods
Where it couldn't be from St, Mary's or Faith Baptist,
And turning the corner toward where they were parked,
They happened upon a black bear,
Improbably wakened and wandered from some nearby cave,
Toying with some improvised wind chime,
Comprised of old graters, 50s-issue percolator stems,
Silverware liberated from some Denny's or school cafeteria,
And as they backed away to seek
Some alternate path to their vehicle, the younger of the pair opined
Must be some angel getting his wings, hey?
To which his partner, who knew these hills
And their sundry denizens all too well replied
You get that bears attention,
You're mebbe gonna find yourself on the waiting list.

standing at the corner
begging
for a handout
you'll take anything
or so you say
   coins
    coupons
     dollars
       a cup of coffee
  something
anything
to help you get through the day
so i gave you an ad
    a help wanted ad
and you looked at me bewildered
as if to ask
why?
what will i do with this?
   cram it up your ***
is what i thought
   use it for all it's worth
is what i hoped.

There's always YouTube or some tunes on iPhones and Soundcloud,
not one for being pompous or too proud to take a handout
I put my hand up for more,

MORE?  

righteous indignation from the Beadle,
'remember your station my boy'

Dickens is never available at the library where they lend books,
the books are but Dickens is far too busy or dead.

and thinking Caruso's first name was Robinson was my biggest mistake.

But
it takes all sorts and I like Allsorts especially the liquorice ones.

You leave
Drops of spray paint
Like an alley cat

The musky trail still fresh
You move from city streets
To train yards

You travel the continent
Not asking for approval

Not asking for a handout
To pay for the occasional fine