"hoodlum" poems
Sorry to...
Hit yo noes
like a brick of green
Like the grass that grow
nourished by the Celtic saints that know
Man tell a lie better make it true
if you don’t, then what do I make of you?
Now Wonder Woman
no wonder were human
bringing Brooklyn
some thunder hoodlum
My baited brown eyes look up and down you
Mile marker .66
and I’m still hitting this
crisp as a chrysalis
you may be the eyewitness
of my fist to this
more like the wittiness
of my pen tip dipped in ambergris
I get around you get the gist
healing hands I mend the cyst
with broken hands I gripped the rich
don't understand
don't worry
like Krishna I persist
zzzz Slept on like
The buzz of viciousness
**** the violence
turn the red to VIOLET
just look right through my eyes slit
Now and then
divine feminine deigned
to grace my face again
turned fake eyes to grin
false pride, double subs, and sin.
Complete appreciation, genuflected form reflected in
this fertile goddeSS
who puts the seeds in season
She see through SnakeS and reedS when
She based in wiSdom
reaSon
designed to take the basest race
from darkest depths to airs of divine space
till we’re flushed with grace
some are hushed by my ace in the whole
I'm a S33ker throwing axes
but YOU better only call me
an axehole
when
I
mis
s
.
***** simple as this.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 12:22 AM UTC
Hoodlum’s hanging ‘bout the corner block
Waiting patiently all day, everyday
Chose the wrong path, no coming back
Users two, that have no fear
Eagle eyed and bouncing here
Payin’ for a simple shot of gear
Death has struck that corner block
Legends leave, then newbies flock
Mothers pain, worse than news from Iraq
Yes it haunts us, ghetto lives
Slain by bullets and kitchen knives
Never able to wed our future brides
Users two, just felt the fear
Eagle eyed and bouncing here
Once done, nature will expel their gear
Whilst playin’ in the gangland night and day
Hoping his brotherhood won’t go away
Hoping as their bodies start to sway
Forever searching for respect
Wanting to live, but waiting for death
Hood life, that’s all you can expect?
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 7:10 AM UTC
Since then...I allowed my heart to take whatever form it wanted.
I trusted the process, letting the heart mould itself as it is supposed to.
I had ample faith that the end is far....little did I realise the end is right next to me.
At first, it felt like a bulldozer had savaged my entire being.
Your words left my mind empty, without a way forward.
A deep grave of hate slowly formed...that is where you would end up.
As appetizing the thought...I want nothing to do you.
Even you residing in my den of enemies is not worth it.
I have done a thorough clean up of hoodlums and heartbreakers like you.
You seem so pointless. This anger towards you is pointless.
I look forward to the treasures that will bloom from this. I'm convinced there are treasures.
You have no hold over my dreams and I refuse to allow my heart to slump in your filth.
It was hard, felt like the world was dumped on my shoulders, soul dark and heavy, mouth dry and tears flooding my living room.
But after a serious self-talk....I remembered my worth, remembered you mean nothing to me....you have no hold on my destiny.
The love you spoke of was and is fake. I don't need it.
I don't need that sort of make-believe love which has no truth...
The kind that loves the idea of love...yet despises love itself.
I have no place for thieves and liars....robbers and fakes.
My mind keeps telling me this is for the best and that better days are to come.
I feel sorry for the one you chose, she knows nothing of your hoodlum ways and smooth tongue.
Coated with every lie possible yet disguised with a fake-romance finish.
She knows not of your empty heart...
your inability to be real...
your other side...
your effortless ways of hurting another...
precious time which meant zero to you...
your exhausted yet experienced hands..
your over used 'I will wait for you'....
your conniving ways disguised by caring efforts...
your smile and charm packaged by pure deceit.
She is clueless. And so in love....I shake my head in despair for you dear sister.
I trust you will not endure the heartache I did.
I hope he will see you a better person than I.
I trust he repects you. Genuinely loves you.
She will bear the brunt of your heart smashing ways.
I am done and over the 'could haves & would haves'...
New day brings new opportunity.
Time to listen to my soul and feed my mind.
Re-enjoy the beauty of living and re-mind myself of may chosen path.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 1:21 PM UTC
I. Summer pictures litter her walls
Glitter infestations
Second grade yearbook
And a signed portrait of that one indie celebrity.
What’s his name?
Jimi Hendrix?
Or Rob the Bone Crusher?
Was it that guy from New England?
With the Iced Tea, and the apartment?
You know that really, really big condo.
II. in 1995 you were all hot and heavy
******* and bumping in the clubs
Sinking your teeth into whatever
Or whoever you could find
Like ****** and some of that crystal ****
You said you liked the way it felt
When it ran down your veins
III. I remember the nights you cried
You said you’d feel this way forever
And I said well…probably.
IV. 7 AM, you’re still out clubbing.
Out on the streets like a little hoodlum
Looking for your fix in the alleys
Of a suburb of your suburb of Minneapolis.
Anything you can shoot, smoke, snort or swallow
You’re down.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 4:33 PM UTC
**They call me a canker,
they say I'm deceptive,
with an absinthe in my hand,
They call me a cahoot,
Abandoned in an abattoir,
They made me a psychopath,
They hurt me and beat me,
With all they had,
I said I am what I am,
They say am possesed,
With black magic,perhaps,
or maybe just a dark spirit,
So collapsed,
They say I look daunting,
Someone who's flummoxed,
Someone who's forlorn,
And a little hoodlum,
but i simply can't make them understand,
I am a labyrinth,
Full of difficult,
passages and paths,
Through which finding out is complicated,
I've had macabres,
which i handled by machetes,
The madder i got,
The smarter they,fed it,
With heaves of sickness,
they got me misspelt,
They didn't know that,
I, a psychopath,
was "okay" in my own way,
they mistreated me,
Misplaced me,
Misunderstood me,
Underestimated me,**
Look! I've come up!
still they were they,
They didn't stop,
So I cut them,
And beat them,
And scared their crap out!
Hit me with a dagger,
Hit me with a knife,
I'LL STILL BE ME,
EVEN IN MY NEXT LIFE.
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
It's not like I like going out so much because I hate my family or because I'm headed down a bad path of drugs and party life, it's just that I like to forget how empty I feel and spend my life with people I enjoy and have a good time until it's too late.
Can't stop, won't stop.
I need to meet new people.
I need to meet people that are as down for me I am for them.
Let's do stupid things together like 'Dine and Dash' or lie to our parents, tell them we're sleeping over at each other's houses, and go on a road trip for the weekend.
Let's hop fences and do hoodlum things in the night and make up elaborate lies saying how, "No, it wasn't us who wrote 'Eat Shit' in paint on your car."
And for God's sake, let's be there for each other, and genuinely concerned as if it was our own problem, and know there's something wrong before the other can even utter a whimper.
I want someone who I'm not afraid to call my best friend without the fear that they don't feel the same way.
I want someone who knows what I want,
I want someone who knows I write, who knows what my goals are,
What my favorite movie is and knows that this is a trick question because I don't have just one.
I want someone who knows I feel like this.
I want someone who can figure me out.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
I AM a hoodlum, you are a hoodlum, we and all of us are a world of hoodlums-maybe so.
I hate and **** better men than I am, so do you, so do all of us-maybe-maybe so.
In the ends of my fingers the itch for another man's neck, I want to see him hanging, one of dusk's cartoons against the sunset.
This is the hate my father gave me, this was in my mother's milk, this is you and me and all of us in a world of hoodlums-maybe so.
Let us go on, brother hoodlums, let us **** and **** it has always been so, it will always be so, there is nothing more to it.
Let us go on, sister hoodlums, **** **** and **** the torsoes of the world's mother's are tireless and the ***** of the world's fathers are strong-so go on-kill, **** ****
Lay them deep in the dirt, the stiffs we fixed, the cadavers bumped off, lay them deep and let the night winds of winter blizzards howl their burial service.
The night winds and the winter, the great white sheets of northern blizzards, who can sing better for the lost hoodlums the old requiem, **** him! **** him!..."
Today my son, to-morrow yours, the day after your next door neighbor's-it is all in the wrists of the gods who shoot craps-it is anybody's guess whose eyes shut next.
Being a hoodlum now, you and I, being all of us a world of hoodlums, let us take up the cry when the mob sluffs by on a thousand shoe soles, let us too yammer, **** him! **** him!..."
Let us do this now ... for our mothers ... for our sisters and wives ... let us **** **** kill-for the torsoes of the women are tireless and the ***** of the men are strong.Chicago, July 29, 1919.
1.5k
When did the measure of your worth become a brand?
Banded sneakers, streaking vibrance,
vibrating mobile nuzzled in hand.
These do not make you.
Backward cap, for a new era,
sagged pants, swagger stance
for this hoodlum hoody wearer.
These do not make him.
Gucci bags and other tags,
designer purse, cursing contraband,
fake names make her gag.
But these do not make her.
They say don't judge a book by it's cover,
so why a person by their assets?
if it were asserted by another...
Belongings do not a person make.
Kindness, courage, compassion, heart,
personality, wisdom,
even a love of art.
These a person make.
Take some time to introspect,
inspect the way you see yourself,
You'll be happier for it I expect.
You make the person.
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 3:00 PM UTC
**In this world.
Hate-driven acts are applauded
And the hunger for power
remains deep-rooted in our hearts.
Disregard for life; ****** and war,
All in search for what will one day end us.
To each his own, left alone.
Every man for himself.
Peace; OUR corrupted illusion,
The Forbidden Fruit takes over.
As pain constricts our joy
We are left out in the storm.
Tears of a mother for her lifeless young
In her unnatural arms.
Copper hairs, metal burdens haunt
Her mind.
Vivid divisions between The Rich
And the poor. The serpents chauffeured in black greed through
poverty-ridden streets.
Gun shots. Duck, pull, dodge, ****
Endless Enmity.
We are.
It.
Decaying skies, Black Murk.
Falling Heavens. Remnants of beauty
Stolen by hell.
Blind destruction. Burning cold.
Wingless Doves, Hoodlum Pigeons
And Voiceless Parrots.
Stolen freedom,
inHuman.
Darkness reigns from dawn through dusk. The sun has died, leaving the
Moon in mourning. There is no
Morning left in this night.
Painful truths, heartbreaking lies.
Bitterness consumes every breath
Calamity at every corner.
There is no history; only history's repetition.
Let the story
Of our ruthless ruin
Be known.
How We Have All Been HIT.**
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 9:46 AM UTC
Coca - The name of the planet where the story takes place.
Morphine - The name of the city where the story takes place.
Abby White - A ********** who lives in ***** Alley.
Willie Dun - A politician and a lawyer in the city of Morphine. Willie Dun is Honey Bee's boss.
Honey Bee - The Secretary and one of the many lovers of Willie Dun.
Name of the streets in the city of Morphine
******* Boulvard
Corrupt Avenue
***** Alley
SlutVill Road
Gangster Street
Hoodlum Drive
Needle Road
Addict Street
****** Avenue
**** Street
**** Lane
East Ecstasy Street
***** Square
Lustful Lane
Revenue Avenue
Killer Road
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
A change of the hair is a change of the mind
Every single style brings you closer to find
The you that you like most or like most of the time
Plus it's fun to switch it up and imagination shines
But I hate that were judged on the style that we choose
And what's created is a hate over what they think is you
But they really don't know man I swear they'll never know
What goes on under the fro they think they know but they don't know the truth
They see you happy and they label you bad and uncouth
All because of the styling that you put on your roof
They say that he's a murderer, a hoodlum, he takes women's fruit
And I reply "do you have proof?"
John Wilkins booth had great hair
He still killed our leader
But you judge me with a blank stare
I swear this life is unfair
Society is so jacked
Accusations so whack
I wonder if as people have we gotten our freedom back
Cuz it's looking real dark for that bit of grace
Please don't make me start on what I think about this place
But I digress, just know that I'm aware
Of the problems and abuse that happens over hair
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
He said Talking to you makes me feel like such an *******
and I replied with the fact that I'm not doing anything, maybe it's just you.
If the shoe fits and it looks nice, I'm not telling you to take it off Cinderella.
Don't you have to be somewhere at midnight?
Not trying to be rude, I just don't have the will for this fight.
Just please, please, let it go tonight.
Am I doing the right thing?
Somewhere down the lines got blurred, and I should go home, if I knew where one was, or for that matter anything.
I run my vacuum late at night,
I have no other time I know for others it's not a delight.
I just don't see why it's not socially acceptable,
to understand not all people have the same schedule.
I guess I'm a hoodlum,
just because I sleep all day and work all night.
I'm just a dumb kid, and nothing I will ever do is right.
Truth is I'm so **** tired, and too old for this.
Don't ever let anyone guilt you for a single moment of bliss.
Sometimes people want to be alone, and that's okay.
but in a break up someones always gotta be painted to be the bad guy.
You didn't do anything wrong, but you started it.
You might as well end it.
Who stabs someone only halfway?
Pierce the heart, push that blade in all the way.
Don't be shy now, there's no time to cry.
You know they'll still bleed anyway.
He said Talking to you makes me feel like such an *******
and I replied with the fact that I'm not doing anything, maybe it's just you.
If the shoe fits and it looks nice, I'm not telling you to take it off Cinderella.
Don't you have to be somewhere at midnight?
Not trying to be rude, I just don't have the will for this fight.
Just please, please, let it go tonight.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 7:24 PM UTC
-I like to look at troubles and break from disasta
-It's hard at times but I know I can masta
-I feel at times they got'a leash on me but leashes can become unhooked
-So from my past I unhooked from the loop and booked
-I got ghost, I shook, and I had the mindset of'a crook
-Though I never acted out like'a hoodlum
-Potential I never saw in myself or maybe I'm too humble but either way swings the pendulum
-In more ways then one reality can shock you
-It can prove you to be the biggest foo'
-Most people sleep with the fake and despise the truth
-Everybody now and then can use a warm touch but then again a cold one will do
-Cuz it ain't fake no mo' when the truth slaps you with the obvious
-Cheek on swoll and you know it is
-Hate me or not, you know its some of the truest...
-I know cuz I was best friends with misery
-Still cry when somethin' reminds me of an old memory
-I fight it cuz I refuse to let it get the best of me
-What do you wanna know? I'm an open book
-You just gotta read between the lines on every page when you look
-Just more things to talk about
-When people doubt me, I tell 'em "You doubt me cuz you took the judgmental route"
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 7:19 PM UTC
THE FALSE ALARM, THERE WAS A PROBLEM, BUT UNEXPLAINED
YOU SEE, THERE WAS A PROBLEM, WITH THE SPACE STATION
YOU SEE THE TERROSISTS DID GET ABOARD THEIR SHIP
AND FORCE A SMALL PROBLEM, AND THEN TOOK ME AND PAUL HOSTAGE
NO THERE WAS A PROBLEM, AND YES, THE END OF THE WORLD COULD BE NEAR
BUT NOBODY CAN E4XPLAIN THIS, CAUSE IT IS PARANORMAL
NOTHIN MORE NOTHING LESS, PLUS THAT MENTALLY ILL MAN
WHO WAS KILLED FOR ILLEGAL CAMPING, ALSO YELLED THESE CURSE WORDS
YOU FUCKEN ****** ******** FUCKEN POLICE MEN
YOU SHOULD BE THE ONES UP HERE AND NOT ME
BUT YOU DON’T FUCKEN CARE FOR THE MENTALLY ILL, ONE LITTLE FUCKEN BIT
I WANT TO BRING MYSELF BACK AGAINST THE POWERS OF BUDDHA
AND **** THESE POLICEMEN, BUT THAT BREAKS THE RULES OF THE BUDDHA
AND THE TERRORISTS TOO BRIAN AND PAUL OFF TO THE SUN
TO STRAP THEM DOWN, TO NEVER LET THEM GO
PLUS THE TODLER KILLED BY THAT HOODLUM IN SYDNEY
SAYS THESE WORDS, AS HE IS MY UNCLE RAY
**** YOU, WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TOO,
WE CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS, WE CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS
IT’S WRONG TO HASSLE THE LIVING, SO I WANT TO
BECOME A NEW LIFE CREATED BY CRONUS MY LAST ADULTS LIFE NEPHEW BRIAN
THE TERRORISTS ARE KEEPING BRIAN AND PAUL STRAPPED TO THE SUN
EARTH ARE SAFE FROM THESE TERRORISTS, BUT NOT IF YOUR CRONUS LIKE ME
UNCLE RAY JUMPED UP AND SAID, I WANNA BE FAMOUS, I WANT TO BE A FUTURE PRESIDENT
I WANT TO LOVE LIFE, AND LIVE LIFE TO THE FULLEST
I WANT TO SAVE MY NEPHEW BRIAN FROM THE TERRORISTS
TO EXPLAIN, THE WORLD IS HARD, TO GET WHAT YOU WANT
WITHOUT ANY KNOWN QUALIFICATIONS,
BUT I CAN GET QUALIFICATIONS FROM BEING IN MENTAL HEALTH SHOWS
AND ONE DAY BE A FAMOUS PERSON
BUT WHAT THE NEWS SAID, THE SPACE STATION WAS A FALSE ALARM
NOTHING WAS WRONG, WELL, NOTHING WAS WRONG THAT COULD BE EXPLAINED
FOR EARTHLIKE ACTIVITY THAT IS
NO IT WAS SOMETHING, BUT IT WAS UNEXPLAINED
BRIAN AND PAUL, FIND THEMSELVES STRAPPED TO THE SUN
TO GIVE INTERNET BRIAN ALLAN AND JACK VIDGEON A MUCH BETTER LIFE
AND FIND A WAY TO GET AWAY FROM THEIR UNEXPLAINED KIDNAPPINGS
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 11:49 PM UTC
*I can see how much you missed him,
I can hear how much you cried for him,
I can feel how much you loved every inched of him.
If only I was just like him, would you feel the same for me too?
I saw the day you smiled out loud,
I saw the day you fell in love and pride,
I saw the day you said ‘Yes’ to the one you loved.
If I can be like him, will you say ‘Yes’ to me as well?
I saw you freaked out in your room,
I saw your wounded fingers bleeding like a hoodlum,
I saw you trying to **** yourself and meet the Doom.
If I can pull a trigger at my head in front of you, will you mourn me too?
If I can be like the one you love,
If you can see and feel the love I have for you.
If you can sense my presence and be with me,
Will you be happy and smile forever?
Or stay with me and say it’s Now or Never’?*
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 11:55 AM UTC
i did a funny thing today:
i went right up to my shower
head, you know, one of those
reflective kinds where you can
see your face warping into the
funniest shapes (i didn't laugh),
i went right up to it and watched
as my mouth filled up with warm
water over and over again; and
spilled out over and over again too,
like pools and waterfalls or blood
and drowning (morbidity isn't
really my style, but i went with it),
for an hour, at least.
afterwards, i brushed my teeth
and noticed the hoodlum shadows
underneath my bright blues that
used to be so beloved by my
scatterbrained spanish teacher
and the sweet lady who helped
to surgically extract four pieces
of usurping bone from the corners
of my mouth.
i think one existential crisis is quite
enough for one day, thank you.
********* i forgot to shave.
Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 10:10 PM UTC
tearing shreds into my tiny heart like a ravenous wolf, how could you?
you have no love or compassion for the atrocity that you have endowed onto me
you have no soul, no concern to turn yourself around instead standing there like a smug hoodlum proud of your obscene work
having no care in the world that you have shattered the last ounce of hope and dream that i once had
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 12:10 PM UTC
Should i pretend this isnt happening?
this distant fog I'm drifting through
I'm in this haze of trials and tribulations
Should it be ignored?
Should it be faced?
When in my peripherals there is always some
shadow lurking about.
picking away at my brain
then swiftly disappears.
It honestly gives me a ******* headache.
with a tap tap of a pencil
the beat of a some ghetto *** hoodlum car passing by.
some unimportant individual
with unsubstantial advice and "unbiased" opinions
with meaningless passerby conversation
that i wont remember when i go to sleep.
on some unintelligent debate without true stone cold facts
and i'm observing this
and listening to this
and i just think....have these people not read a single book in their life?
anyway, a problems only a problem when you make it a problem.
and you only make it a problem because you can't find a solution.
and you cant find a solution when at every string you reach for
is broken or tied in a knot.
now wheres the resolution in that?
where's the stride, the hope?
and all along i'm wondering, is it the posture in my back?
and your standing on your tiny tippy toes hopping to and fro
yet there you stand.
in the fog, alone.
Sep 21, 2011
Sep 21, 2011 at 10:32 PM UTC
maybe i could feel you
if i hadn't lost my heart
(not courage, though, i've got that one)
the kind that lets you start
to find the sun on a rainey day before other eyes can see
the heart that gave its life for you
when it ran away from me
i tried to keep it in my throat
to sing you pretty songs
but i swallowed it by accident
my belly's full of wrongs.
maybe it's for the best,
my hoodlum of a heart
i'm sure her space can be replaced with
men and food and art.
that's what my teachers tell me
so it must be (is. what's. so?)
i hope you don't run too fast, baby
and that you don't have far to go.
Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 7:04 PM UTC
Emmett Till
Trayvon Martin
Michael Brown
Who's next?
Please tell me!!
Who's next?!
Who's gonna get added to the list of young black men that became early angels
Who's gonna get added to the history books for the next generation???
It could be you
It could be me
It could be genocide
So it could be we
Slavery you ask
I swear it's still here
Racism that's been embedded into souls just now seeping out of there
It happens everyday
But just swept under the rug
This so called justice they speak about
That's just the mother's receiving a few hugs
No sympathy from the offender because he knows he'll get off
Really there's no need for a trial because WE know he'll get off
I'm tired of wearing certain colors for the "in memory of's"
I'm tired of hearing "justice for" and "R.I.P"
I'm tired of it because all of my people are slowly dying
Well I mean being killed
Lives being taken
So have you figured out who's next???
Maybe my name will be on those posters.Maybe people will be marching for me
Has that ever crossed your mind
That at anytime your life can be taken because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time
Because someone of a different race has too much power
Because his people will stick by his side down to the last hour
That hour he gets off for killing that "hoodlum" or ****
That boy that was going to school and had never done drugs
"I pledge of allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the republic for which it stands one nation under God indivisible with liberty and justice for all"???!!!
Is that true to you?!
"I pledge allegiance to MY PEOPLE of the AFRICAN AMERICAN DESCENT and to the PEOPLE for which I stand ONE ARMY under God with LIBERTY, JUSTICE, RESPECT, AND PEACE for ALL"!!!
So is it you?
Is it me?
Could it be genocide?
So is it we?
WHO'S NEXT?!
PLEASE TELL ME!!!
WHO'S NEXT?!
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
Youre just like your father she said
not knowing that she was right
just not in the way she meant
the way she meant was that he was
a spitfire
a hoodlum
the kind of kid who'd start every fight
she didnt know however that he drank cheap beer
just like his father
for the same reasons
his clammy hands clasped around the neck of the brown bottle
as if he was trying to hold on to the little bit of fight he had left in him
he smoked cigarettes just like his father
for the same reasons
the smoke burning his chest
filling the emptiness that was left there from the many lovers who took what they wanted and left
he was broken and hurting deep inside
just
like
his
father
already emotionless and hardened from the years of struggles in his life
just like his father
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 12:00 AM UTC
Punk, Hoodlum, Delinquent,
I'm the one who's the heathen
While your the one who's deceiving
Never asked for help finding an identity
I don't need something to believe in
Maybe some answers on why I'm still breathing
Nobody to trust, even Pastors slither when preaching
Rebel, Insurgent, Agitator
Obtained the belief "The Man" can't shape me
I'm not as easy as some of my peers
I won't just let you mentally **** me
That's why teachers,police and parents
All corrupted officials hate me
I'm not tied to religion
So not even your crucifix can break me
**Indigo, ****** Alien**
This puzzle piece too deviant to fit in your society
My blood too filled with Bohemian pride you see
I fell to this planet when our stars collided
It was depressing to find so many people divided
So I'm fixing my shuttle to travel back to Planet X
No I won't listen to your mixtapes on the way
If its just a ballad on guns, thoties and ***
Money and drugs aren't moral values they're demerits
Peace, Knowledge and Love what we all must inherit
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
This lack of inspiration is exhausting
because I need to write to feel
and right now I am as emotionless as a lampshade
yet as emotional as a broken hearted hoodlum
this emotional paradox is draining the juice that keeps me running
it is content but it is confusing
the only solvency to this whirlwind of blankness
is unknown
enter into calculator
no solution
this lack of inspiration
a mirror can't even show me who or what or how
the music that enlivens me no longer strikes me as perfection
and it's strange because this darkness isn't dark
it's not light but it's fluctuating
fluctuating like an unsteady heartbeat
and jesus,
I hate religion
what is this feeling of nothing
emotion: blah
it's pathetic
where are the words that used to save me
where is the poem that made me proud of what I had to say
all there is right now
is ranting
and confusion
and **** this because
I can't seem to articulate whatever it is that
I need to say
so **** this
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 12:37 AM UTC
the mezcal incident, now
that was surely one doozy/
started out with a shot of Patrone
no lime or salt at ten in the morn'/
at this strip joint in Wicksburg
where they advertise
two hot babes three skinny one's
and one big mama,
on their marquee, which is one of
those lighted portable signs plastic letters things
the kids like to vandalize by
like on the Natural Light Deliverance Tabernacle
I minister at occasionaly, we have one of those ,
had In God We Trust , lettered on it on saturday.
Sunday, at eleven, when we arrived for worship ,
it said in dogs we gust,
limited letters to arrange so,
I got the teen hoodlum gyst/
I ramble on so much, wouldn't
blame you
if you lost interest,
but anyways/
this day, what I mentioned early in this,
started out fairly innocent, a drink
a gander at female utilitarianism,
and a shot,
thing about tequila
sitting down you don' t know how ****** up you are
get up, try to stand and wow!
I keep digressing,
that day
hell I ******* forgot/
Sorry to lead you on.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 7:22 PM UTC