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Cecil Miller Feb 2016
You wouldn't welsh on a bet with your ******,
And you wouldn't go to bed with the mob.
You wouldn't mess with a street gang ****,
No matter if he's crab, or slob.

You wouldn't backstab a man on death row,
Cause you know he just might **** ya.
If you've got the gumption.
You wouldn't have it long,
If you cross Evil Nurse Sheila.

You shouldn't be like the fool who tried
To play games with her heart.
She left him a crushed, empty man.
Well, he was doomed from the start.

Sheila isn't a ******,
And you'd better not let her hear
You snickering about her at the social club.
You might not have time to fear.

Sheila's makes the headlines
Each time she tries to settle down.
She plans to live a carefree life,
But soon she has to leave town.

Everything she does
Is warped, but in the name of love.
Except when she hates your guts,
When it's Sheila you've run afoul of.

If you've never heard her story.
You'd best take this advise.
If you cross her path just keep walking,
You best not look back twice.

Evil Nurse Sheila's got a heart of stone
That looks like a heart of gold.
If you are responsible for it's tarnish,
There's no hope to which you can hold.

Sheila takes no prisoners.
She don't take any guff.
If she thinks to give you a warning,
You'd better not call her bluff.

You wouldn't want to rouse her wrath,
Because her fury won't be tamed.
She's restless, bold and beautiful.
She cannot be contained.

It seems things have been quiet.
She's been off the grid some time.
If she thinks that you might suspect her,
You may be her next crime.
Sheila Carter was a soap opera villianess played by Kimberlin Beown on the sister soaps The Young and the Restless and The Bold and the Beautiful.
I am extremely pleased that my favorite soap actress, Kimberlin Brown, liked this poem after I shared this link to her facebook page.

fans know Sheila has been featured in the Bold and Beautiful episodes a lot in the last couple of months.
David Walker Dec 2012
Origins
written and directed
by
David Walker

Inspired
by
the films of
Quentin Tarantino
David Lynch
&
Rob Zombie

There is method
To his madness

                                                        ­                                                                 ­                  January 2013              
                                              ­                                                                 ­                       first draft









1. EXT. Run down project apartment complex - 3:00 am

A dark, tall figure with long black hair and a trenchcoat opens the already cracked red door.

MAN:
I'm looking for love in all the wrong places.

                                                        ­                                                                 ­                                       CUT TO:
INT. Apartment 3

A typical roach infested apartment with a kitchen built into the living room. 3 GIRLS are on the kitchen floor. GIRL # 1 one has black hair with big lips and a curvy frame and she is wearing a pair of Tripp pants and a black bra barely covering her ample *****. She has a flesh colored rubber hose tied to her left arm. GIRL # 2 has dyed rainbow colored hair, a nice smile, and a skinny frame. She is wearing a pair of tore blue jeans with smiley faces and cute in jokes written on them, also not wearing a shirt with a lacy blue bra on. She has a spoon with water and black tar ****** inside it which she is heating up with a silver Zippo with the word "Skittles" engraved into it. GIRL # 3 Has long naturally red hair, glasses and an extremely voluptuous figure. She is wearing tight black pants and a black shirt with thin sleeves. She is inspecting a covered syringe with an unsure look in her eyes.

GIRL # 2:
So, do you wanna do it or not Jane?

Snatches the syringe out of JANE's hand.

JANE:
I'm not sure. How long have you been doing this ****?

Girl #2 takes the orange cap off the syringe revealing a small needle.

GIRL #2:
Since after I graduated. About 3 years. Liz you ready?

LIZ:
As ready as I am for dat sweet tang!

Girl #2 giggles. She sticks the needle into Liz's arm, blood mixes with the brown fluid inside, and she pushes the plunger down. Liz leans back into Girl #2's arms and Girl #2 gives her a kiss.

LIZ:
I love you, Julia.

JULIA:
Well, I love you too.

JANE:
You guys are so gay!

(OS):
Save that **** for the ******* customers!

                                                     ­                                                                 ­                                       CUT TO:
Other side of room. A greasy looking MAN with short faded black hair and a scar going from the corner of his mouth to the right ear is sitting in a beat up recliner cleaning his Uberti 1873 Cattleman revolver while smoking a fat blunt and watching some kind of high budget **** with Sasha Grey in it.

JULIA:
Sorry, Mike. It didn't stop you from leaving me and Liz unsatisfied and bored, did it?

LIZ and JULIA laugh. JANE has a nervous look in her eyes.

MIKE:
Very ******* funny you wore out trick! Am I gonna have to smack the sass out yo mouth?

MIKE gets up, puts out his blunt and walks over to the GIRLS gun in hand.

MIKE:
Or am I gonna have to give your little friend a scar like mine.

LIZ:
Mike don't!

MIKE SLAPS JULIA with the side of his UNLOADED revolver and grabs JANE by her hair.

MIKE:
Who the **** are you, anyways *****?

JANE:
(stuttering)
I was walking down the street earlier today and I ran into Julia and Liz. They went to school with my sister I think. Let me go!

MIKE:
So you're a young'n. Well you have some nice big *******!

MIKE RIPS off her shirt exposing her *******. He begins to squeeze the right one. JANE SLAPS MIKE HARD!

MIKE:
*****!

MIKE lets go of her hair. Jane runs to the other room grabbing her shirt. LIZ stumbles towards him and PUNCHES him in the nose.

MIKE:
That's it! You little *** dumpsters are dead!

MIKE picks up the REVOLVER, runs to the chair where the bullets are and tries to reload. JULIA wakes from her daze. We see him load 3 rounds. All of a sudden the DOOR gets broken down and the dark clad FIGURE from the scene before pulls out a BERETTA M9 with a silencer attachment. MIKE FIRES 2 shots at him haphazardly missing both. The MAN LAUGHS and FIRES one shot that MIKE's crotch catches.

                                                       ­                                                                 ­                                       CUT TO:
2. INT. Next door in Apartment 2.

A MAN and WOMAN in their early 40's are smoking a joint and seem disturbed by the gunfire.

MAN:
(coughing)
What the hell was that?

WOMAN:
Sounded like gunshots. Do you think we should call the cops?

MAN:
**** no! There is a pound of chronic in the bedroom closet! Just pray whoever it is doesn't come over here!

WOMAN:
Okay. Are you gonna pass that?

                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                     CUT TO:
3. INT. Apartment 3.

The smoke has cleared. MIKE is begging for death and BLEEDING out everywhere, JULIA is in a daze, dumbfounded by what she just witnessed, LIZ is cowering in fear, crying, and JANE just came out of the bedroom with her TORN SHIRT on and a terrified "Oh my God" expression. The unknown assailant has a devilish grin upon his face.

MIKE:
Godfuck! **** me you sunuvabitch! Godda--

The MAN obliges. He fires a single shot into his RIGHT EYE.

MAN:
Well, looks like I got here in the nick of time!

JULIA:
(blankly)
W-Who the **** are you?

MAN:
That is of little importance right now. Who are you foxy ladies?

JULIA:
M-My name's Julia. That girl over there (points to Liz) is Liz, and the ginger is Jane.

MAN:
What pretty names! Well, I have a question. Will you three lovely young ladies gather round that despicable looking chair and listen to what I have to say, or are you going to run? Keep in mind I have rope in my trenchcoat and the fact I mean you no harm. I am just a lonely man with a story to tell, and the way I see it, what with that bruise on your sweet face, you kinda owe me.

JULIA:
I think we can stay. I just wanna know your name.

MAN:
Ahh, but I am a man of many names. My christian name is Derek. You don't need the last for now.

DEREK walks to the chair and sits down. He waves the GIRLS over.

DEREK:
C'mon I just want to tell my tale. Look, I will put the gun under the chair as a sign of good faith that neither you girls or I will start shooting the place up again. Are we square ladies?

JULIA:
What do ya say guys?

They gather in the kitchen.

LIZ:
This guy has a ***** loose.

JULIA:
Yes, but he saved us from our ****. We should humor him.

JANE:
I think he is hot!

LIZ and JULIA just stare at JANE.

JANE:
Sorry, but he is.

JULIA:
So it's agreed. We will listen to his story, silently pray he doesn't **** us and leave afterwards.

The GIRLS walk to the chair. DEREK has lit the blunt.

DEREK:
Ahh, so you have decided to join me. Good. Do you guys wanna hit this?

LIZ and JULIA shake their heads no.

JANE:
I will.

DEREK:
Great. Now, where do I begin. I suppose everybody's roots stem from childhood, so lets go back, oh say, 20 years ago.

                                                           ­       FADE TO BLACK        
Against black, TITLE CARD

October 15th 1995.

                                                          ­                       CUT TO      
4. EXT. Suburbia circa 1995.

There are three boys between the ages of 6 and 9 playing in front of a grey HOUSE with a white MINIVAN in the driveway. Little DEREK is a scrawny 6 year old boy with short brown hair and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figure in his hands. The 2 other BOYS ages 7 and 9 are picking on him and trying to take away DONATELLO.

DEREK:
Leave me alone or I will whoop your ****.

BOY #1:
Whatever! You are scrawny and lame. Give us your Ninja Turtle now or we will beat you up!

BOY #2 picks up a STICK and starts hitting DEREK with it.

BOY #2:
What are you going to do? Get your daddy? Oh, wait...that's right, you don't have one!

The 2 BULLIES start laughing. A look of hatred fills young DEREK's eyes. He catches the STICK and slaps BOY #2 in the face with it. He then tackles him and starts beating him mercilessly. BOY #1 runs towards the PORCH and knocks on the DOOR. DEREK'S MOM answers. She is in her mid 30's with brown hair and casual clothing on, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of "coffee."

BOY #2:
Derek's beating up Josh again!

DEREK'S MOM:
Well, good for him! Bet that little pecker snot deserved it too. Now, Brad...why don't you take you and your friend on home before I tell your dad you play with Barbies.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
My mother was a sweet ol' broad!

BRAD:
(sighs)
Okay, Ms. Walters, but you do know you are going to have to pull him offa Josh right?

DEREK'S MOM:
(sighs like Brad)
I suppose.

DEREK'S MOM and BRAD walk to the front yard and GASP when they notice that DEREK has knocked out 2 of JOSH'S baby teeth, both in the front and broke his nose, which is bleeding profusely.

DEREK'S MOM:
Derek Charles Walters! Get the **** up offa him!

DEREK:
(crying)
He hit me with a stick!

DEREK'S MOM:
Well, now I'm about to!

She picks up the STICK and beats his *** with it several times.

DEREK:
******* *****!

DEREK'S MOM, infuriated throws the stick down and SLAPS him across the face. DEREK runs away.
He runs to a wooded area in the back yard as far as his legs can take him.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
Do not weep, for on that day, I met God and Satan incarnate and it turns out they existed singularly in my head.
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                          CUT TO:

5. JANE:
Like a conscience?

DEREK:
Much more. These guys are in the room right now and only I can see him. Satan led me to you guys tonight! Who knows what kind of CRAZY hijinks are in store!

JULIA:
That's it I'm outta here! C'mon gu--

DEREK fires of his M9 1 time.

DEREK:
Now, listen to me you dykey, ****** *****. I have 3 more rounds in this ******* and one
of them is reserved for you if you don't sit your tight *** back down.

JULIA sits back down scared to death. DEREK regains his composure and is "all smiles" again.

DEREK:
Phew! I don't want to hurt anybody. I just want someone pretty to listen to my ******* story. ****, if you want, I will ask you guys about yourself later on, but for now I'm going to introduce you to my best friends.

JANE:
Who are they again?

DEREK:
Ah, you were trying to pay attention. I will remember that. They go by many names. One can be called "God", "Heroic Harry", "The White Knight", whatever you envision as good, this **** is it. He is the reason you guys are still alive.

LIZ:
And the other?

DEREK:
Ahh, him. He can go by "Satan", "The ******", "The Angel of Death." He's the reason ol' crusty here no longer bothers you.

LIZ:
So you're basically ape ****, right?

DEREK:
Pretty much! Now where was I? Ah...yes

                                                       ­                                                                 ­                                    CUT TO:

6. INT. Small wooded area behind the house --- Early evening.

DEREK has made himself a nice little HANGOUT in the woods! there is a trunk with tons of comics in it, an arsenal of sharpened sticks and rocks, Batman action figures, and a Game Boy Color. He is drawing a picture at the moment.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
There I was in my element. ****** at my mother, then all of a sudden, a deep, angelic voice rang out.

VOICE #1:
(OS...of course)
You don't have to hate her, you know. She loves you.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then another, this voice sounding more playful and mischievous then the other.

VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, for how long? Do you think she meant to have you?

DEREK:
Where are you guys?

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then they appeared.

A 13 YEAR OLD BOY with BROWN hair and a FLANNEL overshirt over a Nirvana T-SHIRT with baggy torn blue JEANS with stains on them appears.

BOY #1:
Don't hate your mom.

VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, watch her close.

DEREK turns his head. We see another BOY roughly the same age with slightly long BLACK hair and a TRENCHCOAT over a Nine Inch Nails T-SHIRT with tight black CHICK PANTS with a CHAIN leading from his pocket to his BELT. He has a lip piercing and he is smoking a cigarette.

DEREK:
Who are you guys?

BOY #1:
Just think of us as older brothers your mom can't see.

DEREK:
Wow! I should introduce you guys to my friends!

BOY #2:
No!

DEREK:
Why not?

BOY #2:
You are the only person that can see us. Don't go telling anyone and don't talk to us in front of anyone. People will think you are nuts!

BOY #1:
Think of us as two ghosts that give you advice. Don't listen to him though, he'll get you in trouble.

BOY #2:
Shut up! Or I will kick your *** again.

BOY #1:
Not in front of him. He doesn't need to see that ****. Not now

DEREK:
What are your names?

BOY #1:
That's up to you.

DEREK:
I'll call you Joe, and him Jerry.

JOE:
Works for me, for now. Call us whatever you feel like calling us whenever you like. If you wanna call me ******* and him poophead, go right ahead.

DEREK:
Okay, but for now you guys are Joe and Jerry.

JOE:
We are going to leave now. We will show up when we think the time is right. Sometimes you will see us others you won't, but we are always with you.

JERRY:
Even when you ****.

                                                          ­                                                                 ­                     CUT TO:
7. INT. Apartment 3.

LATE 20'S DEREK:
And then I went back home and they disappeared. I reconciled with my mom and for the next few weeks I didn't see them. Brad started hanging out with me again and school was good. The years go by and still no sight of them. 4 years pass by. It's 1999 and my tastes changed. Instead of Ninja Turtles and Batman it was KISS and Freddy Krueger. By this point me and Josh had made up and Brad was in middle school. And so we go to where me and the voices meet again.

8. INT. Taft Elementary
A class of roughly 25 children in your average 5th grade home room with a stout middle aged gentleman teaching. JOSH and DEREK are in the back row sitting side by side.

TEACHER:
...And that's how the metric system works.

JOSH:
(to Derek)
Dude, did you check out RAW last night? The Undertaker crucified Stone Cold!

DEREK:
**** I missed it. I was doing homework.

JOSH:
(loud)
****!!

TEACHER:
What did you say Mr. Jarvis?

JOSH:
Sorry Mr. Cannib. I forgot to do my homework.

MR. CANNIB:
Josh, Derek, outside!

LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
The old man had taken kids out of the classroom before and they always came back with tears in their eyes. As we walked outside I heard a familiar voice.

JERRY:
(OS)
If he touches either of you, kick him in the nuts!

MR. CANNIB:
I told you boys too many times! None of this **** in my classroom! Josh get over here you little *****!

OL' TEACH GRABS JOSH by the NECK.

DEREK:
Hey ******* keep your hands to yourself!

CANNIB begins to throttle JOSH. DEREK pushes him off of JOSH and KICKS the TEACHER in the nuts with FURY about 3 times and jumps on top of him while JOSH watches holding his neck.

JERRY:
(OS) While we see Derek's mouth moving

Look here, *******. You think you can be called a teacher for drinking on a farm, ******* cattle and beating children so you can have Summer vacation every year? *******, you spiteful sad man.

DEREK SPITS in the *******'S face and begins to PUNCH him when JOSH pulls him off.

JOSH:
Dude, the door outta here is right there. Lets go to our lockers, get our **** and get outta here.

DEREK:
(Breathing heavily)
Did I just do that? What the ****? Let's get out of here...now!

                                                    ­                                                                 ­                                           CUT TO:
9. EXT. Taft Elementary
A bunch of playground equipment next to an alley with a fenced in field. JOSH and DEREK are walking down the alley. It is sunny outside but about to rain.

DEREK:
That wasn't me that did that.

JOSH:
If it wasn't you who was it?

DEREK:
It w...

JOSH:
(Interrupting)
It reall
a shot in the arm,
****** then blood.

one flash of burgundy
touches the mud.

grown like a child
from nothing to dust.

black in the arbor;
it's better to rust.

sicker than tired;
darkness can come.

aim for the wicked,
one hand and a thumb

clutches haphazard;
pins on my tongue.

dumping my innards;
sticky and stung,

not for the rectory;
a person undone.

better than death:
purposeless fun.
Ivie Nov 2013
I don’t think I fear anything more than being rejected; I have been rejected more times than the counting a 5 year old knows

Little kid isn’t afraid to jump in puddles, splashes of mud cake his jeans hems and droplets of mud line on his chin to cheeks to his hairline and

He does his little dance out in the street if he hears his favorite song play, he sings lullabies in broken voice, messing up all the words, but smiling nonetheless

He is fearless, careless and blind to the world’s cruelty.  what happens to us? Does society change us to such an extent that I rather not post anything than post 2 lines on which I am going to judged mercilessly?

I hate it, when you don’t reply to my texts, I hate that I am left hanging up in the air, hands outward, toes clinging on to metal bars so I don’t fall off

Tell me what is wrong with me? I am not afraid to hear it. Just tell me why can’t you like me?

What is so wrong about me? Days like these I want nothing more to go back to being a 5 year old; I had nothing to worry about,

just pouring flowers into white sheets ,colors that ran out of petals and trees that looked more like a nest of green lines

And dancing, round and round, like a ballerina, laughing, giddy, looking upward in the sky, smile so wide that if lifted my mom’s health problems and money problems that plagued my daddy

I don’t think I want anything more to be just wanted and needed; nobody ever makes me feel that way,

I always feel like I am an extra, on the movie set, I just really want to be ****** of someone

For just once, I want to be free, away from the clutches of ravens, I want his fear of rejection to just vanish, and so I can do crazy things, and figure out who I am and who I am supposed to be
thevagabondking Apr 2013
I don't make light of the darkness
i lived within all those weeks?, months?,
years?, spent in a run down home with
windows covered in garbage bag curtains

mornings spent drinking three dollar wine
by the bottle till the bottle was to heavy
or my need to much

calling in the big help, the needle man
would needle me and i'd see her again

only she was not her, she was someone else
each time
sometimes
she wasn't even a she, maybe it was a he
or a they, or a them

whatever they were,
he or she or they were my hero
in-between the ******
and the wine
addicted
turning on you
you’re more toxic
than ******
scroll fluid
in my veins
you're dangerous
a sweet poison
harmful to my health
I fill myself with you
of your essence
every fiber of me
wants to feel you
your voice
your words
your smell
your hands
your mouth
light me up
and raise me
to dizzying heights
and they throw with me
in adrenalin
descents
that leave me breathless
you’re never enough
darkness takes you away
and I’m  in withdrawal symptoms
you’re  hot oil
in my veins
burn
my nervous system
my heart
is covered with pus
a thin and  unquenchable
itchy
crawls under my skin
my brain cells
seeking frantic
satisfaction
in wrinkles of memory
dig every corner
crave a drop of you
forgotten on  the bottom
of an empty bottle
you’re toxic
abstinence
doesn’t give me  peace
I’m alienated in a whirl
of strobe lights
sweat
dehydrated
confused
find me
take me
save me
glass can May 2013
"I don't know just where I'm going"

Arms encircled around porcelain, clean,
wavering strength, and eyes closing feebly

"when I'm rushing on my run, and I feel just like jesus son"

There are many more people than I want to see.
I pull up against the wall and, for balance, I lean

"and I guess that I just don't know, and I guess that I just don't know."

whiskey, for the Father
marijuana, for the Son
prescriptions, just for me

"I have made the big decision, I'm gonna try and nullify my life"

Still though, Lou Reed isn't dead, just clean
and so, this night, just won't bode well for me

"it shoots up the dropper's neck, when I'm closing in on death"

It is hard to remain dignified when in a wasted state, vomiting.

"You can't help me now guys, all you sweet girls with all your sweet talk"

It is hard to remain dignified when someone attacks my integrity.

"And you can all go take a walk"

It is hard to remain dignified when I am acting so senselessly.

"Oh, and I guess that I just don't know,
oh, and I guess that I just don't know "

I try to sleep through,
while foreign fingers swirl softly on my sides, to feel my *******.

"And that blood is in my head,
then thank God that I'm as good as dead"

I try to sleep through,
while a small ring lies atop of a postcard, with an Indian head.

"then thank your God that I'm not aware,
and thank God that I just don't care"

I guess, I just don't know.

"and I guess I just don't know
and I guess I just don't know."*

after the echo, I need to leave.
so I go, again, and press repeat.
Play the song, through.
Lauren Sage Sep 2013
It's the knife of not getting what I want it's
Smelling your chest, inhaling your scent
Your sweat drives me wild, I'm jealous I'm not the same for you and

Feeling you on me, your palms tracing down my skin,
Christening shivers with your fingerprints,
My body melding into yours
Frustratingly unfair, and you don't feel the same, and why-

In the library, when I disconnected myself from your chest
Even though every smell of you was ****** and
Every heartbeat was a syringe,
I lean up and whisper I want you,
And you tell me to be quiet.

You slay romance.

And in over a year of us, and no one else
(And I wonder, what would elses be like?)
Under a thousand days but more than 500
In an imperfect symmetry of silent games and angry longing

I want to make love to you quietly,
I want you to instigate it
I want to lie and feel wanted, not be reprimanded for every stray moan
I want you to want to hear me
With such a burning anger,
The unfairness that I want it all for me, and all for you

I want us to be seamless.

So fluid and streamlined that it's impossible to tell where

You begin and I end.
Mister Granger Sep 2018
Argema mittrei


Parading in your shade of grey
with fragile wings
torned to bits by the harrowing winds
of angry voices reminding you
that you are not a butterfly.

Tormenting taunts
feeds the loathing that grows inside
An assassination of a ******'s pride
reminding you that you are not a butterfly
As though moths were never meant to fly.

As if your wings didn't carry you
Across the reflections of buried moons
And how you rebuilt your tattered wings
From scattered dreams that buried you.

You are a different breed of beautiful.
CassieRose May 2013
You injected my trust, the same as your ******
You drank my pride as whiskey.

You're not worth my tears,
Or time.
So don't stop and look back,
Don't pretend I was ever your addiction.
Your cheap drugs and **** excuses are all you need;
Don't stop and pretend your drugs would hide your faults,
Or protect you from mine.

You're not worth my love,
Or forgiveness.
Lewis-Hugo Feb 2014
The choir sings
as freckles on pale
 ignites,
pipe ***** 
fingernails alike,
and the young beauty smiles from frame,
melts into the scar with no name,

hat casts shadow over face taut with pain,

and the choir sings,
until we meet again.
I will tell my son not to do
Drugs obviously but ****
That's like priests telling child
**** peddlers it's not right to *** kids

So I'll have to resort to this:
"son please do as I say"
And not what I did and probably
Still do when grandpa for the day

Takes u away to play,
So I'll tell him things that made
Me a hypocrite so don't have ***
With girls u don't love and I'll say

Always use a ******, even though
It really takes away
From sensation like immigration
Deported it from the land of play

Never use the service of a ******
Even if she has 2 kids
And u think fukking her would help
Her feed em, cause that's just sick

But then Ill feel so guilty from my
Hypocritical ways
Like not going to church but sending
Him with his catholic school to pray

As echoes of my words that say
**** is no gateway to others
Are heard in my head but now I'll
Preach it so over protective I smother

And suffocate, and screen his dates
And call him on the phone
Until I'm that parent ur friends
Make fun of, never leaving him alone

Cause I can love myself but a clone
In my son I would hate
But if karmas real I maybe in
For a scary ride of parenthood...great

Cause as I think back I realize
That my parents would freak when they
found out about about ****, which
makes me think of all the **** I got away

With, and I start to flip, so I
Debate starting to hide some devices
All over my apartment and tap the
****** phone and no I don't like this

But it needs to be done,
after all He's my son
I had no ****** brain and I was
dangerous, imagine him, not dumb

I brought u in this world son!
So u better bet I can take u out
Now I'm saying **** I heard and said I'd
never say even though i Promised myself

I don't trust a mall Santa or his
****** ****** elf And mrs clause is a ****
Tell me the truth son! Is he ur drug
Supplier, I saw his knee under ur ****!!

Maybe I'm just paranoid plus he's
Not even one yrs old I'm trippin
But I'm not so crazy if family guys
Accurate maybe my kids like Stevie Griffin

Trying to **** my girl, ya! Good luck
I been trying for years
But can't get away wit nothin cause who
Ur ****** is prime suspect and here

Is where I try to convince myself
To just let the kid make mistakes
The girl next store will be fine,
Let him learn on his own that ****

Was the wrong way to go
Even if she was already a ***
All I want is to make sure he doesn't
Go down the same path I know

That I'm lucky I walked through
Without dying before I had u
So Julian at 16 yrs old ima take my
Belt like old school people would do

And beat ur *** with it like it was
A million beatings in one
Then explain that was for all the ****
U do and will do, and all that uve done

That u know u wernt suppose to do but Without me knowing,
Then never say **** to him again and
pray while I support him when growing

And get a pair of lawyers in cause
My pair-a-noias actually apt
And maybe one day he won't hate me
For random drug tests for crack

******, ***, methamphetamines
And anything else
That feels good, as I religiously raid
His room, then end up doing the house

After finding nothing in ur room
Screaming where is it, where is it
I know ur up to something cause u have my blood in u "explicit, explicit""

And ask him paranoid fuelled
Questions in anger, killing his joy
U missed ur period this month didn't u!
Don't lie to me!! .."dad ***?..I'm a boy?!!

Then embarrassed and frantic
I'll ask him If he's sure
Then hed say yes dad I promise,
I'll never be stupid as u were

...or at least I hope. Just please god
Dont let him suffer
For my mistakes. Guide him to diffrent
or I'll **** him&give; his name 2 his brother

Ok I'm just kidding, I want my
Kid to be living
I want him to be educated, successful
Well respected and giving

And Julian if u read this one
Day, I hope u know I worry
And maybe u don't understand right
Now but trust me u will when ur 30
B Irwin Feb 2017
I’m learning to jump through rain puddles again,
even though I was afraid that some were full of glass.
I am starting to believe in superheroes again even though in between then and now,
I realized that heroine and ****** weren’t spelled much differently.
I’m starting to put the bandaids on my own scathed knees,
and whisper comforting words to myself when facing my dark, empty closet.
My social anxiety sits on my shoulders, but I am tipping him off of me,
and finding the childish ability to create friendship by just simply saying
“Hi, I’m B. And we’re friends now.”
The notes that I find in my lunchbox are the ones I left for myself,
saying “You got this! P.S. I hope you enjoy your fruit cup.”
Grey skies have always clouded over my mind,
but today I bought a rainbow kite and flew it through dusty, dreary weather in the park by myself.
I have been feeling so low,
that I forget how good it felt to climb a tree and be up so high.
There are still glow in the dark stars hanging above my bed,
that remind me even though I can’t see them, the real ones are always above me.
I have been so concerned with changing,
that I forgot the power of regaining.
When somebody else makes you feel inferior,
and you believe yourself to be less than you use to be,
remember that you once thought dandelions were flowers,
until somebody else told you they were weeds.
Lana Leandoer Dec 2014
rip me apart.
tell me now that i am worth your ridicule.
ostracize me please.
that is exactly what i need.
tell me how i am not worth anything.
my family doesn't even love me,
and that's alright by me.
when i wake up,
i'll remember you yelling in my face
i'm worth less, oh am i?
yep.
i know.
******* ****  ahhhhHHHHHHHHHH
ALRIGHTY
i'm feeling good now.
i'm just gonna go upstairs now and draw a picture of
a teenage, african-american girl with wild, unmanageable curly hair shedding every ounce of water in her body
out on this here paper.
i may play some metal
or maybe old school rap.
it's all right.
everything is perfect, family.
don't worry about me please don't.
i'm okay really.
i don't think about death every second of every day:
monday tuesday wednesday thursday friday saturday and sunday-
nope.
not once have i layed on my grungy carpet and tried to scratch the flesh off of my fat arms and
bled.
i would never even think to do **** a horrendous thing.
i love me so that's enough, right?
but when the love that i have for myself
starts competing with the love that my family is supposed to have for me
then maybe things may become difficult.
it might start to become difficult for me to love myself the way i should be loved.
im ******* fantastic.
but who cares if I see that?
if no one else sees it then might as well be a *******, right?
if my parents interrogate me every ******* time i leave the house
like they have caught me shooting ****** in my room,
what will stop me from actually shooting up morning, afternoon, and before bed?
Xyns Oct 2018
I inject magic
on the page
with my pen

Just like
You once did
With speed
and ******
Aaron Reisinger Jul 2015
God knows I've tried not to notice,
As the ninth comes around.
It has been five months of,
Alcohol and ****** to fill your absence.

I still remember what it feels like,
To have you hug me and say that everything is okay.
And I can still hear your voice at night.

You have no idea how much I have spent,
To try to erase the pain I feel inside.
You fell asleep one last time,
And a part of me went when you died.

I won't shed another tear,
No, I won't cry again.
I swear I won't cry,
Except maybe one last time.

I shake as I clench my cigarette,
Burning between *******.
I shake as tears cascade around me,
The taste of liquor my only friend.

I shake as I aim for the shot,
Hoping the ****** will stop my heart this time.
I see blood mix and push the plunger down,
This high is my only friend.

It has been five months without you dad,
But I feel as if has only been a day.
I still feel you cold skin beneath my fingers,
And wish death could have stayed away.
ATL Sep 2019
poetry is dumb to me
as it sits beneath this ache-
this ache that becomes my body.

i’m a ***** in an alley,
as bold and as beautiful as a newborn child;

throwing pennies at the feet of
****** addicts and billionaires.

i don’t know why i love searching for food in waste bins full of burnt-out cigarettes,

or why electricity is  
always running
underneath every scabrous sheen of skin-
i’m starting to think that hearts and brains are cliche.

when i was young
my cliche
started quaking
at regular intervals

i wished it to be a water balloon
so i could drop it on the sidewalk
like a kindergartner.

now it reeks of chemicals-

i’m soaked in ethanol
probing all the people that pucker at the smell.
yoking
Savio Apr 2013
I thought Van Gogh had it figured out
he fell in love
and cut off his ear
he died july 29 1890 from a self inflicted gun shot wound
He painted
He painted the sky
He painted men women bedrooms flowers shoes street corners chairs boats and fields

I thought Basquiat had it figured out
******
NYC
He painted memories in the present
August 12 1988
NYC apartment ****** overdose

I thought Picasso
I thought Warhol
I thought Stalin
******
Buddha
Had it figured out

but sand fills our shoes in dry texan sun
and the dog howls
howls for its mother
howls for its brother
howls for its sister

I thought the dog had it figured out
eating insects
smelling my hands
eating the ham on the floor

I thought Hemingway had it figured out
Late at night
reading Old Man and The Sea
Suicide July 2 1961
12-gauge English shotgun

I thought Fitzgerald had it figured out
I thought Ginsberg
I thought Kerouac did too
drinking across the neck and back bone and gutter lips of America and back

I thought Bukowski had it figured out
the cigarettes
the wine
the women
the type writer
the sad nights accompanied by cockroaches and a city that is indigestible

I thought Phillip Glass had it figured out
Beethoven
going Def
Mozart lost in his grave
writing symphonies for Death and his cruel tripled eyed angels

I thought
The drunkards were lost
The Junkies were ankle-less
The Mothers were done for
The Fathers had given in
The Young
True
The Elderly
gazing  through the bifocals of heaven and hell
The Prisoners cemented in Time
I thought the Dead
were the ones who published our Dreams

I thought the painter
had it figured out

So I painted

I thought the pianist
had it figured out

So I played the Piano
and listened to the bilingual codes of the keys

I thought the Ballet dancer
had it figured out

So I watched her
I studied the movements
and the bruised toes
looking for a design of an answer

I thought the Poet
had it figured out

So I wrote a poem
and I saw the world.
Chris Feb 2015
1:52, Saturday afternoon
Aunt and grandma chatting through sips of tea
About a poor couple, light perished so swiftly
Now-cold bodies riddled with ******.
I thought quietly to myself:
Did they die contently? In each other's arms?
Or did those arms instead grip
At the fading sensation of skin
Begging not to let go,
As the euphoria turned to pain
As death crept into their bones?

It's times like this, during thoughts of these,
When my mind leaves the room
And travels towards thoughts of us
And how if I had to die, I'd die in your arms
Or in bed, with our bodies almost touching,
Smiling at the lightning that dances in the spaces between us,
Can you feel it?

And at that moment of collapse
When my lungs stop rising
I'll draw in my last breath of you
That darling smell of yours, indescribable.
So I must ask,
Could that couple have possibly felt
What we can feel when we lay in the dark,
When I trace roadmaps onto your body,
When your warm breath paints words
Around the nape of my neck?

I don't know. I don't care.
It's easily just as deadly.
But there's nowhere I'd rather be
Than addicted to you
At 1:52
On a Saturday afternoon.
Jonny Fastball Feb 2015
A MUSE MEANT
With sticky sweet, ****** brown eyes
Comes endless nights, with ***** and stick sighs.
You course through vessels, pale contrast skin
With a little gasp, comes underneath grins.
Staircase spirals, stolen glances, everlong lashes
Bottom lip biting conversation with dashes-
On and lower and lower and on-
Cigarette snuffs and now I’m gone
To drip and slip, release and grip-
Shy mischief nibbles and strawberry lips.
Now I’ve done gone into murky beginnings
Slinky, ******, backboneless endings.
Line after line, the trail sure does grow
The plunger pusher’s heart with continuous flow.  
Sedate, irate, mercifully numb
Turn the page with only a thumb.
Dance on irises, flecks of honey brown gold
Take that lip and forever hold.
One above another till the surface comes
Drown me before I can count all the sums.
Addition is love, so too addiction
One plus one, subtract constriction.
The mix tape girl’s heart a falling sparrow
Doesn’t this vein seem a bit too narrow?
I’ll try nonetheless……or lessthenone
To fit this silver mouth in with haunting fun.
Shadows move but I grab a hold
Curl and breathe is all I’m told.  
I run my hands through cold sweat hair
I won’t let go, I would not dare.
Your timelapse kiss, someday I’ll miss
As I flatline, collapse, evaporate and list……
Jordan Frances Feb 2015
Childhood best friend overdoses.
Current best friend's dad dies by cancer's ***** hand.
Makes a new best friend
Gets a boyfriend
No, scratch that
Gets a guy who wants to be her boyfriend
Isn't that what you've always wanted?
Goes on her first date
Quits smoking
Starts smoking
In the pretentious town where popular kids are too good to smoke cigarettes.
Tells the wannabe boyfriend who is nine years older than her
Recovering drug addict
Unstable
She doesn't do clingy
When she begins to cling to a boy
Two years younger than she is.
Lets the first boy text her constantly
Doesn't stop
Wants to tell him to stop
Won't stop.
Hangs out with bums and cheats
Or, recovering.
Reconnects with a grade school friend
Watches her relapse two weeks after returning from rehab
It was only alcohol.
****** was her drug of choice
Alcohol reigned second in command.
***** her ex
As her grandpa lays dying
The only words she hears from him are
"I love you."
Funny how her ex says the same thing
They sling "I love you" across their lips
Swinging them left and right
Like popcorn across a Christmas tree
Empty sockets of air
Then ****
Gone.
Everything is
Gone.
Can't reason with herself
To stop.
Seems to be the consistent pattern
*She can't stop.
A B Perales Mar 2014
Only a fool
could believe
there was nothing
waiting on me
on the other side
of all of this.

It could
be riches or
could be death.

Or maybe even a brown
haired beauty
with amber eyes
and blood red lips.
A touch so gentle
the cracks on these prison
walls began to weep
at her touch.

A fresh bottle already opened
next to a clean glass
already filled.
With an ice cube afloat
that has melted just enough
to chill the sting.

Or a pistol locked
and loaded with
malice and
****** left in its
wake.

A friendship yet to
be formed or a
lonely bar keep with
a half truth tale
to tell.

A moment of calm to be felt
at the sight of the
theater that is
the sky and the
sea at sunset.

I'd be lying only
to myself if I thought
there was nothing beyond these
deadened hours
and wasted days.
Nothing waiting as patiently
as a poor man in a well fare
line,for me.

It could be anything
or anyone of those things.
Or it could be death in the form
of a ****** fix,
a vengeful enemy who's
had too much to
drink and too many
rounds for him to miss.

A drunk out for a
Sunday drive,
or a strong enough
wind that felt
the need to fall an
ancient oak
right on top of me.
donia kashkooli Jan 2017
i still make an effort to take a
picture sitting on the back of the bronze
pig outside the pike place fish
market every time i'm in the big
city. not many people know this
but that pig has a name; rachel,
and she's seen more things than
most people in this ol' world.

break-up blows, make-up kisses,
the man walking alone at 1:30 AM without
a coat and gore-tex in the midst of a wet
winter ****** binge.
the new kid, the east coast kid
starting his jewelry biz in '86,
and kurt after he put washington state
on the map - knowing better
than anyone that fame made him
sick. the east coast kid's curly haired
3 month old daughter in august '98,
the 15 year old boy's face after his
chinese fake id scanned,
the invasion of the bloods,
the invasion of the crips,
the tear gas burning the corneas
of our eyes when we tried to
protest.

everyone else disappeared into
the atmosphere,
but she stayed.
and i have no doubt that
rachel, the bronze pig
that's stood in the same spot
at pike place market for
31 years
has got a soul
in there somewhere.

*-z. vega
JA Doetsch Dec 2013
I bet you thought I didn't have anything left in the tank.  Bet you thought that I was done giving mind blowing advice on how to approach this crazy thing we call life.  Well...you were wrong.


1.  Often cases, how good a story you end up with is inversely proportional to how good a decision it was that led to it.  Don't be afraid to make some bad decisions every once in awhile, because those are the stories you're gonna be telling for years to come.  Even when you know it's a bad decision.  Sure, you might wake up naked in a ditch on the New Jersey turnpike with a some blurry memories, a hangover, a tattoo of some girl named Francesca on your chest, and an ounce of black-tar ****** shoved up your ***...but you know what?  You started this little adventure at a black-tie dinner party in Santa Monica, so I'm willing to bet some interesting **** happened between here and then.

2.  Don't be someone who never breaks the mold.  When you're lying on your death bed and someone asks you to tell them about your life, do you want to lean over and whisper to them that you always did exactly what people expected?  That you carefully listened for society's cues on how to represent yourself at every point in your life?  **** no.  You want to tell them you broke off the road and went searching for the oddities that this world has to offer. You want to tell them that you gave the ******* to society and did what you wanted because, you know what?  It's your ******' life and you only get one shot at it, so you might as well make it memorable.  Being normal is boring as hell.

3.  Talk to everyone.  Talk to them about uncomfortable things.  Talk to them about their hopes and dreams.  Talk to them about their fears.  Just ****** talk to them.  Real conversations always leave you with something you didn't had before.  Real conversations make you think about your positions.  Get passionate when you talk.  Challenge their views and allow yours to be challenged as well.  Do you think you know everything?  Yeah, I bet you do.  Why aren't you out solving everyone's problems then, you selfish *******.

4.  Whoever you are, be proud of that.  If you're not proud of who you are, chances are you arent happy with yourself.  If you're not happy with who you are, change something.  If you're still not happy, change something else.  Still not happy?  Guess what.  Change another ******' thing. Are you happy?  Good.  Now change something else anyway, because an interesting life isn't built on stagnation.

I hope you've all learned something today.

Also, I'd like to remind you to never take advice from strangers on the Internet.  That's just stupid.
Alif Mohd Fadzly Oct 2014
She is my guardian and my mentor,
She is my greatest ******,

Shame, god love her more than I do,
Everything suddenly vanished,

The world became dull,
Life became worthless,

Every love, every passion, every devotion  abducted without sympathy,
Leaving only sweet memories to be kept as treasure.
Robert Guerrero May 2013
Your beautiful brown eyes
Lay vacant six feet below
Where I now stand
I still remember that day
As if it just happened today
Your phone still holding my number
My phone on my bedroom floor
I stole my mothers car
Just to drive the six miles we were apart
You must of planned it perfectly
Your wrist already slit
I heard the gunshot
As I rushed into the house
Your bedroom door locked
I yelled "I'm coming"
Knowing I couldn't save you
I held you for an hour
Before the cops arrived
I felt your body go cold
The life leaving your fingertips
Yet through it all
Not one tear fell
I hate myself because of that
I loved you
You were the only perfect thing
Now here you are
Statue limbs growing colder
Eyes no longer brown
But white eggs rolling
Into the back of your head
What possessed you?
Was it the heartbreak of your former lover
That ****** bag didn't even come
To you tear parade funeral
Was it the loss of your father
And watching your mother
Fall into a deep depressed syringe of ******
Was it the lack of attention
I could barely give you
Due to my own familial problems
If I wouldn't trade places with you
I was stronger than you
But I can't take it anymore
I visited your grave last year
Last time I saw you
Last words I whispered in your dead ear
"I'll join you later, I'll live for you"
I upheld my promise
What possessed you?
To **** yourself
And waste the years we shared
I hope you're happy now
I wish I could of saved you
Jeremy Duff Jul 2012
We used to smoke **** together by the school.
You were practically my sister and I loved you.
You always had the good **** and you always had cigarettes.
After a while **** was not enough.
You showed up with ***** one day and we got *******.
This went on too long.
We feel into the habits our parents warned us against.
We blew off friends and family,
we lost relationships and trust but we had our **** and our *****.
We had each other and that was all we needed.
I remember when we shared our house and how happy we were.
I would go to school because you made me.
You would go to work so we could afford our life.
When you got home, always a quarter after six, we would drink.
One day, a Tuesday, you came home with junk.
You said it was good stuff, you knew the chemist who made it.
So we snorted.
That's when it all started.
We snorted, every time more and more.
After maybe three years that was not enough.
You were the first to stick that needle in your arm.
I followed with the same ******* needle.
Next was ****.
I stayed away from it but you shot up. Twice a day for months at a time.
You quit your job and cashed in the money we had been saving for a car.
I started to hate you.
I ******* hated you and I told you everyday.
Eventually I kicked ******'s demon off my back.
I smoked **** and watched you fall apart.
Their would be random guys at our house and you got only god knows how many diseases.
All so you could get your ******* fix.
A year ago today was the last time I saw you.
I hope you read this and I hope you ******* hate yourself, Carol Dean.
I grew up chaotically
in dichotomy, my hands
in between the walls carrying bi-polarities
“cradles! babies that squeal
for fear of strangers,
mothers, where are the mothers,
where is the family, have you disappeared
in McDonalds and KFC’s?”

Flashing Christmas lights throbbing
in my left eye, so colourful I don’t know
directionality, temporality burning me up
losing me up, inside these sights I feel a, a
maze in again, and up again…like
a ****** on a horse-
“there are aliens outside!!”
though, on the other side
just
air
in my right eye. I see air, extending.
all the gentle blue hum of the air.
it goes, breathes, in and out.

Lalala,
mmmmmmmm
It's so satisfying man.
Tell everyone about it.

While everyone sleeps,
I creep into the boardrooms,
where they hold their secret meetings.

There are certain syndicates in charge
of things like this; devising plans,
scratching heads, drawing charts,
painting on brains,
with paint by numbers.  

But go on, (shuffle awkwardly),
for i am no emasculated lion
courageous in defeat,
i am merely a rose,
left lying on city streets.
Lori Mack Feb 2019
My son goes to prison in 5 days... everyone sees the man who steals and uses ******... I see the sweet, gentle, loving boy I raised. When I visit him in jail, behind the glass is not that man you see. To me it's that 10 year old boy who sang "beautiful" by eminem to me when I was having a bad day. I see the 5 year old who started climbing cliffs on camping trips while I held my breath, I see the 12 year old who loved to bmx and was an amazing parkour,  I see the 9 year old who was filled with excitement when he got to meet mike row from ***** jobs and be behind the scenes. I see the 7 year old sledding down the hill with a huge grin whose picture was on the front page of the steamboat pilot. I see the teenager who tried so hard to help me and his brother survive on the streets and find food in dumpsters. I see the 15 year old who came and took his brother from me off the streets to give him a better life. I see my beautiful newborn as he is being placed in my arms for the first time. I see Brandon Scott Mustagog one of the most amazing talented human beings I have ever met. I see my son whom I love with everything in me. I know you can not see these things. I know you only see ****** and crime. But please when you speak of my son keep all of these things in mind.

L. Mack
2/2/19

— The End —