I didn’t choose to be born this way
How life starts we really have no say
You know we can’t help the way we look
So don’t judge me like a cover of a book
Just because I look this way don’t defy me by it
Yeah, I maybe african-american I will not deny it
On a job application I’ll put down “black” as a race
As a dark chocolate color has covered my whole face
When I look in the mirror that’s all I’m gonna see
I’m stuck this way so I’m just gonna let that be
It don’t feel good knowing your ancestors were slaves
And how they were severly beaten when they misbehaved
I’m gonna be like this forever so I’m making the best of it
Yeah I may not find it enjoyable and I may not even love it
But this was how I was created so all I can do is deal
But you know, how I look is way different from how I feel


You won’t see me living the ghetto
Or use the word “*****” to describe my fellows
Doo-rags are okay but it’s because of my messy hair
Don’t say I’m a hoodlum even though I might not care
So what if I like jersies, that dosen’t mean I’m a ****
I’m not a typical black man, you won’t see me do drugs
Don’t need that **** to better myself
Proving myself I don’t need your help
The suburbs is the place that I wanna stay
I perfer to live like that, I don’t care what you say
I don’t want to be on the streets
‘Cause I’m not some homeless freak
You may not see me with a diamond chain
A crime-free life is what I want to maintain


Never will I sag my jeans all the way down to my knees
Unlike most folks, my boxers are not meant to be seen
I will not put shiny rims on my teeth
That’s not even close to being neat
You might see put on gangsta clothes
But not hear me go and call a girl a “**”
Or slap them on the backside making ***** calls
Won’t see me hitting up on them in the halls
Or whisper in their ear, begging them for ***
That’s really disturbing and incrediably sick
Really, how can a guy think or even be that way
Chasing after every girl they desperately crave
The city is where you usually roam
Many of you call the streets your home
Speaking in slang that I can’t actually understand
Don’t wanna be that way, that’s what’s who I am


Just because I’m part of your family dosen’t mean I wanna live like you
The streets are not my place to live so I don’t even wanna be in your shoes
I was not raised to jack people up
Don’t like how I am? too bad, tough!
I’m agaisnt gang violence and want no part in it
Never robbed and jacked someone, never done it
Coming from a black guy I know it sounds strange
But hey I’m not here to amuse, impress, or entertain
I’m just telling it like it is
It’s how I really want to live

I thank my parents for giving me a decent name
And not something obscene or anything strange
As many black names contains apostrophies
Which you know is something nobody really needs
I usually perfer proper language over ghetto slang
Knowing people talk that way is really a shame
I’m part of you but yet we speak different languages
Not all blacks speak that way, that’s the way it is
Don’t get me wrong, I really have love for all of y’all
But your behavior and actions is making me appalaud
Stealing and killing people from your own race
You think it’s funny but it’s really a big disgrace
After doing that, how can you look yourselves in the face?
Through the civil rights movement we all loved each other
Now all of you are there on the streets killing one another


For goodness sake, solve your problems through words
Not through guns, knives, or even through racial slurs
It’s really not worth all of this
All of this is making me sick
Making me ashamed to be a black man
****** in cold blood I cannot bare to stand


Okay so enough of this, so let’s move on
It’ll take me forever to describe what you did wrong
Lived a life in the suburbs so long I feel that I’ve become white
Sorry black folks but it’s really white females that I like
Been that since birth I really don’t know why
I like their eyes, their face, I really cannot lie
I’m respectful of girls of all races
Don’t take it the wrong ‘cause I like girls of all races
But I’m most likely interested in girls with white faces
I like seeing white girls go at it on MTV
Then see black chicks fight on BET
You can say hello to me and we can even be friends
But you as a lover of me I would not even recommend
A church where blacks shout out to lord is not where you’ll find me
It’s not my religion, not how I think of faith, not something I need


You may hear Biggie Smalls playing from my bedroom window
That don’t mean I’m ghetto I’m just trying to my life simple
I’ll cheer for Obama when he becomes president
But the streets will never ever be my residence
You may find me weird, you may think I’m obscene
But that’s the life I choose to live in, that’s just me

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-****, ****, ****.
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 ****, ****, ****-for the torsoes of the women are tireless and the ***** of the men are strong.Chicago, July 29, 1919.

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.

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.

In the hood, we the real the Robin hood  
as we take the money from the rich folks
distribute them to the poor folks
but everyone thinks
we're the *******

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?

This cobblestone led me to
as I skated back a righteous fro
swooning over tin men
with rugged qualities
and wholesome care,
lending me arms
and legs as spares,
to appease to this nomad
trundling for yarn spun lips.
So fine so fine
this great divine
tie back your hair
and cross your arms
this wanderer is aware
with a hoodlum snare
and fully aghast
to these pretentious fiends

the one positive aspect concerning Tucson’s blistering heat is what women wear on display are details one would never notice or think about if it were not right there in plain view an evident preference based solely on sweltering circumstance is no brassieres yet vogue goes beyond this lovable lapse women being fashion mindful arrange interesting medleys of flimsy diaphanous chemises various lengths of shorts thin-threaded summer dresses peculiar styles of tresses and fairly informal shoes or barefoot in essence everything about women’s wear in Tucson is noticeably informal revealing to the eye the barest facts that said there are those who fall under the dictate of Latin or Goth influences regardless how scorching the sun black is their uniform and finally the no matter what season or time of day hooded sweatshirt set and their hoodlum world

2

nightlife in Tucson is dull for a big city ex-resident several Friday evenings a month he visits plush bar arriving about 6 PM sitting at bar sipping 2 sometimes 3 drinks chatting with whomever then walking home about 7:30 - 8 and that is his rather sedate social life but on this particular Friday night with full moon 2 days away and Venus in his thoughts he thinks to go to sky bar outside monsoon rains are letting up opaque gray sky fragrance of creosote in air he looks at reflection in mirror feels deep depression

3

they are supposed to meet meant to meet destined fated to meet but they will not meet because there is a season for love in a person’s life but that time is gone it is too late for him too many hearts racing then erased lies deceptions disappointments nights alone under-appreciated without love so many years too much bridge under the water concerning her she is emotionally occupied her dog Sweeny on last legs a drawn-out too personal sadness to share besides she is not looking for an older man possibly a younger man who can ease her fears of loss and aging

4

the drainage system in Tucson is not well thought out when it rains it floods she wears Chaco sandals wading through puddles feeling intoxicated by scent of creosote after divorce 20 years ago she became drunken drugging **** until she adopted Sweeny changed her life it is like she is feeling relapse knowing Sweeny will be gone soon she cannot bear the thought decides to start at the Buffet total losers bar then work her way north up 4th Avenue a lot of ground to cover

5

an older man with loud gravelly voice and pink eye introduces himself as Frank says he moved here 25 years ago from New Jersey accent still intact orders ***** martini pulls out 6” KA-BAR military knife throatily grumbles i manage she decides she’s had enough of the Buffet does not finish drink decides to skip the Shanty Maloney’s O’Malley’s glances in the windows of Che”s sees gossipy **** she does not want to run into crosses 4th Avenue looks in the window at Plush sees self-important **** she does not want to run into crosses 4th Avenue again settling for seat at Sky bar

6

he gazes at her and his heart melts she is so lovely in subtle alternative demeanor it would be easy to admire her for rest of his life if he were female he’d want to look just like her but he sees she is not interested in him he looks away remembers the first step when he looks at a woman he searches for qualities that attract him because he wants to desire her yet this tendency creates an imbalance or disadvantage he is rendered weak to a woman’s beauty or whatever traits he idealizes self-realizing this propensity he turns his gaze away

7

she glances around large room notices him smiling at her eyes glance passed him she thinks he looks remotely familiar but the mustache appears ridiculously out of style too much character in his face he appears small maybe 5’8” or 9” probably drives a mini-***** just not her type whatever then she remembers the first step when she looks at a man she searches for qualities she is critical of because she wants to be impervious to his power

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 ****' 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.

YOU SEE I ONCE PREFERRED TO BE A HOOLIGAN, TO AVOID GETTING TEASED



YOU SEE YOU SHOULDN’T DO THE CRIME, IF YOU CAN’T DO THE TIME

YOU SEE I SHOULDN’T TREAT ME LIKE A KIDNAPPER OR HOOLIGAN IF YOUR NOT PREPARED TP MUCK FAMILY FOR ME

YOU SEE PLAYING COOL FOR FAMILY PEOPLE WITH A FEAR OF THEM TEASING YA

AND MY ONLY SOLACE OS TO BE A HOOLIGAN, SAYING, YOU ARE A LITTLE FAMILY KID

TEASING THE COOL HOOLIGAN IN ME, YOU DO WOOSEY FAMILY GAMES

WHILE I PLAY WITH THE BIG DUDES BY THROWING BEER BOTTLES ON SCHOOL ROOVES’

YOU SEE I LIKED THE SOLACE OF A HOOLIGAN, BECAUSE I WAS BEING PROTECTED

FROM BEING TREATED LIKE A WOOSEY FAMILY KID, BEING A WOOSEY IN EVERY STRETCH OF THE IMAGINATION

I WANTED REALLY TO BE A BIG FAMILY PERSON, BUT THEY CAN’T UNDERSTAND

THAT I DON’T WANT TO BE A LOSER, MAN, I WANT TO BE A HOOLIGAN, CAUSE, I THREW BEER CANS ON ROOVES, MAN I’M COOL

AND CRACKING BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE ROADS, MAN I’M COOL

I WAS A BIT OF A TEASER IN THE CLUB, MAN I’M COOL

YOU SEE I GO OUT TO BIG NYE RAVES, WHILE MY YOUNG MATE GROWS UP TO QUICKLY, MAN I’M COOL

I PLAY COOL FOR FAMILY KIDS PLAYING WITH THEIR FAMILIES, MAN I’M COOL

I STOLE A HAT FROM GRACE BROTHERS, MAN I’M COOL

I TEASED MY DADDY, ONLY BECAUSE NO MATTER HOW MUCH MY DAD CARED FOR ME

I NEVER UNDERSTOOD HIS PARENTING SKILLS, HE WAS A GOOD DAD, I NEVER UNDERSTOOD IT, SO I SAID TO MYSELF

YOU NEVER TEASE A SON OR DAUGHTER, UNLESS YOUR SON OR DAUGHTER CAN HANDLE IT

YOU SEE DAD WAS TEASING ME, BUT I THOUGHT SAYING I WAS A HOOLIGAN GETS RID OF THIS AWFUL TEASING

I KNOW DAD, WASN’T REALLY TEASING ME, HE THOUGHT I WAS LOVING BAD THINGS

BUT TELLING ME TO EAT NICELY OR CALLING ME A FOOL, DOESN’T DO ANYTHING

OR LAIGHING AT ME DOESN’T WORK EITHER, HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE A DAD,

BUT I LOOKED AT HIM AT BEING A AWFUL TEASER, FINE, I MIGHT NOT LOOK STRONG, BUT THIS CAN HYPE PEOPLE UP

I LIKED HOW DAD, STOPPED THESE STUPID SITUATIONS, I HATED ME AND DADS LITTLE FIGHTS

I WAS TRYING TO DEFEND MYSELF, I DON’T WANT TP LIVE IN CANBERRA IF I HAD ENOUGH MONEY

TO LIVE ANYWHERE ELSE, I DON’T WANT TO GO TO THE DENTIST, I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A FIST FIGHTER

I AM A LIFE FIGHTER, I AM PREPARED TO RIDE AROUND ON A SCOOTER, RATHER THAN DIE, SHY

NOTHING CAN **** BRIAN ALLAN, I WILL FIGHT FOR LIFE, CAUSE I LOVE LIFE, I LIVE LIFE LIKE IT’S ONE BIG ADVENTURE

I KNOW DAD CARED, BUT, REALLY, WHETHER I CAN FIGHT OR NOT LAUGHING AT SOMEONE WHO IS POOR IS NOT CALLED FOR BAZ BOY

I DON’T LIKE FIGHTING USING FISTS, THAT IS FOR LOSERS OR PEOPLE WHO ARE HAVING PROBLENS

I WANTED TO CHANGE DAD, CAUSE HE WAS MY DAD, I UNDERSTAND MY BROTHER AND MATES

BUT I CAN’T UNDERSTAND DAD, HE WASN’T REALLY SYMPETHEDIC TO MY NEEDS AS A DRUNK

AND I HATED THE VOICE, MY BROTHER WAS LIKE DAD, AND I AM TOO WOOSEY TO BE LIKE DAD

UNLESS YOU TELL WHAT YOUR PROBLEM WAS, WELL I’LL TELL YA

MY PROBLEM WAS, I HATED HOW DAD, WANTED TO TEASE WITH THE ADULTS

YOU SEE, I PUNCHED HIM, SOMETIMES SO VERY HARD, I HATED BEING TREATED LIKE An IDIOT

OR A LITTLE WOOSEY FOR LIFE, DAD TRIED TO HELP ME, BUT BECAUSE MY BROTHER REALLY HELPED DAD GET HIS WAY A BIT

I NEVER WAS GOOD ENOUGH TO DAD, AS LONG AS I WORKED AND NEVER COMPLAINED, DAD IS HAPPY

BUT AS SOON AS I STARTED TO BREAK THE FAMILY CODE, DAD SAID YOUR STILL A LITTLE SHY BOY, BRIAN

YOU SEE I HATED BEING TREATED LIKE A LITTLE SHY BOY OR A LITTLE WOOSEY

DAD SEEMS TO LOVE TEASING PEOPLE WHO HAS PROBLEMS WITH  VOICES

AND I WAS TRYING TO TALK TO DAD AND MUM, AND THEY SPENT THE WHOLE TIME PLAYING WITH THEIR FUCKEN MOBILE PHONES

AND I SAID CAN YOU PLEASE STOP, HOW WOULD DAD FEEL IF I DID THAT TO HIM, I DID DAD HATED IT, LIKE WHEN I ACCEPTED BEING A SLOB

YEAH I AM NOW FEELING HAPPY ABOUT BEING A SLOB, AFTER DAD, DECIDED TO PLAY WITH HIS MOBILE PHONE

LIKE THE RICH ARROGANT DUDE HE WAS, HE NEVER SEEMED TO UNDERSTAND ME. I DIDN’T AS FOR FUCKEN SCHITZOPHRENIA, ****

AND DAD IMPLIED HE ONLY PREFERS THE PEOPLE WHO ARE COOL, IF THE PERSON, HAD MOJO ISSUES, DAD LOOKED DOWN ON THEM

MAKING THEM FEEL LIKE A LOSER, I TOLD DAD, YOUR A LOSER, YOU ONLY LIKE CHRIS, YOU TOLERATE ME CAUSE I AM YOUR SON

I MIGHT HAVE FUCKEN SCHITZOPHRENIA, AND I WILL NEVER BE EVER AS COOL AS YOUR PRECIOUS CHRIS

I KNOW, YOU CARED FOR US, IN THE SMALL PICTURE, BUT WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME MOVING TO ADELAIDE ONE DAY

I WANTED TO GET AWAY FROM MY PARENTS, CAUSE I AM NOT LIKE THE ****, WHO SUPPORT PARENTAL RIGHTS

MAYBE THAT IS WHY I AM NOT A PARENT MYSELF, DAD, NEVER LOOKED AT ME AS BEING A COOL PERSON

I HAD TO FUCKEN BEHAVE, I DON’T DO BEHAVING, I DO PARTYING

MUM AND DAD HATED ME TELLING THEM MY NAME AT THAT NYE CONCERT IN MERIMBULA

BUT I DID THAT, ON THE OFF CHANCE, I CAN BE FAMOUS, THE MESSIAH SAID, ALL PARENTS ARE LIKE THAT

WORRYING AND WORRYING, LIKE A PACK OF MOTHER HEN’S

I CAN’T HELP IT, IF I LIKED HOW THEY ACTED, AROUND THE TIMES WE FIGHTED, THEY WERE COOL THEN

PLEASE *******, I DON’T WANT TO FIGHT MY MUM NOW, SHE DOESN’T WANT TO BE LITTLE COOL

LIKE SITTING ON THE COUCH, THAT IS WHY I NEED TO BE REFORMED

UMMMMMMM REFORM BRIAN ALLAN   UMMMMMMMMMM BRIAN ALLAN IS NOW REFORMED

WELL, NOT YET, BUT, I WANT TO RID STUPID VOICES, OF EVERYONE TREATING ME LIKE A BABY

TO FUCKEN LEAVE MY HEAD, I DON’T WANT TO BE A BABY, I AM A GROWN UP, WHO IS CREATIVE

UMMMMMMMMM    I AM A CREATIVE ADULT  UMMMMMMMM I DON’T WANT TO BE TOUGHENED UP

UMMMMMMMMM I AM A ARTIST AND A WRITER AND A YOUTUBE ****** AND ENTERTAINER

UMMMMMMMMMM I AM A CREATIVE ADULT, TO GROW UP TO BE COOL, MAN

I HATED DAD TREATING ME LIKE A LITTLE YEAH MATE YEAH KID, AND I HATED PAT DOING THAT TOO

BUT UMMMMMMMMM THE ONLY ADULT I AM IS A CREATIVE ADULT, DUDES, I AM A CREATIVE MAN UMMMMMMMMMM

AND 1 2 3 4 DO THE SCHITZOPHRENIC, JUST BECAUSE YOU WORK DOESN’T MEAN YOUR NICE

YOU SEE WITH MEDICATION I CAN BE NICE, OH YEAH MATE YEAH, I AM SCHITZOPHRENIC

1 2 3 4 DO THE SCHITZOPHRENIC, I WANNA PARTY, LET ME HANG OUT

THE MEDICATION I TAKE, CAN REALLY REFORM ME, OH YEAH MATE YEAH I AM SCHITZOPHRENIC AND PROUD OF IT

YOU SEE, I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A CRAZY COWARD, CAUSE I AM NOT A COWARD, I AM A FAMILY PERSON

WHO LOVES LIFE, AND LIVES LIFE TO THE FULL

I LIVE LIFE LIKE IT’S ONE BIG ADVENTURE, AND I HELP PEOPLE ONE BY ONE, THE BUDDHIST WAY, EVERY BLADE OF GRASS

I AM THE COOLEST DUDE IN CANBERRA, WHO HAS SCHITZOPHRENIA

ONLY RICH ARROGANT WITH NO REGARD FOR POOR MAN WELFARE WOULD TEASE ME

CAUSE I HELP POOR PEOPLE, DUDE, I AM POOR, BUT I AM PLANNING A TRIP TO ADELAIDE FOR NEXT YEARS NEW YEARS

I CAN’T CHANGE PEOPLE BUT I CAN CHANGE THEIR OPINIONS OF ME, I AM COOL, NOT SHY, OK ****

WITH THESE PROBS, YOU UNDERSTAND WHY I WANTED TO BE A HOODLUM, OK

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.

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

mi pequeno mexican hoodlum
allow me to love you
y dame tu corazon
dime que eres honesto
voy darle muchos besos
Hay no escape de mis abrazos
si abres la puerta

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

-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"

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’?

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

*******, 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

Polly

Polly she was a psych major,
But minds she couldn't read. Page
her instead
with words in your stead.
And her beauty you'll get engage(r).


Courtney

Courtney and whiskey and game of thrones,
Tyrion's wisdom satsifies jones,
The dragon so epic,
But White Walker get it,
While visually feasting on bones.


Georgia

Georgia a mess,
White hair from the stress
Her beauty sublime
Pausing time no contest.


Rachel

Rachel abate chu,
you know that I couldn't
For weirdness is awesomeness; serene.
Now who wouldn't appreciate
deviate from our normality
Plus gin is for winning
a truth known unanimously.


Wilhelmine

Wilhelmine sublime in her majesty,
At the helm for intersectionality
Butler'd be proud
Preferred pronouns abound,
(And **** what kind of band are you rad in b?)


Selene

Selene full of sugar,
What music dya cover?
(I mean if it ain't free form jazz,
It can't lack razzmatazz)


Nassem

Nassem with beret and flowers,
Entrancing, enchanting for hours,
The men did all swoon
For no finer a tune,
Their blakcouts a sign of her powers.


Tanya

Tanya does shine,
and **** ya so fine,
Entwine our being
in blissful combine?


Denise

Denise pretty sweet ****** her thumb
the saliva like juices of plum
She'd still **** it now
If she'd stuck with the how
Instead all her coolness undone.


Kate

Kate so great,
And gin drink elate,
Dya wonder bowt cool stuff?
Or leave it to fate...


Felicia

Felicia appresh ur adventure (I do)
A coolness some people should start to accrue
It feels your speal will carry enjoyment
What spoils you foiled like Gandalf's endorsement?


Rachel

Rachel is boring?
A fact left adorning,
Conversations a **** up
For ****** who are stuck,
I'm sure you're a truth worth adoring


Ilydia

Ilydia sublime in all of her glory
But without a bio, she's lacking a story


Caoimhe

Caoimhe relieve ya with tales of Kirk
But Picard is the ****** she'd rather you ****,
A sailor mouthed hoodlum
beguiling with *****
that'd harbour a vegan inert ;) ;)


Annabel

Annabel, man her well
into her *******?
Sneaking round farmer's fields
down for some... snogging...


Kathrin

Kathrin, laughin with wind in her face,
Riding her gas powerer car every place,
Her lectures a feature of questions renowned,
Or else you can find her with face fraught (not sound!)


Gabby

Gabby her sense of humour is dark,
A chicken who's picking the losers apart,
Some rabbits who slumber by her majesty,
With floppy ears, carrots, and cuddles of glee....

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.

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

You see way back in the nineties I was a hooligan from way back, but I didn't really like my father despite him being so nice to me, I said to mum that I don't understand what bugs me in dad, but I still fought or teased him, because he couldn't be my kidnapper in his previous life because all my childhood lives that were kidnapped while my dad was my dad, you see dad might've been a foe from when I played footy as Albert Waldron, yeah that might be right because I might have been a bit scared of talking about that thinking dad was an atheist or a non church going Christian who believed in heaven and hell like my mother
I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk to dad about what I see in him
Because he was my dad, I know he was nice to me, but at that stage I hated his authority that he brought up, and as an adult I fought back, I was visioning war veteran or maybe he was a footy star when I played footy as Albert, you see I treated dad more like a football mate than a dad like I said how are you going cobbler and dad said mmmmmm a little boy mmmmm
He never said that exactly but in fact he was wondering why I was fighting him by saying come here briany why are you fighting us and I ran off saying oohhhh you are just a football mate but mum and dad were worried about me, and despite me still acting like a spoilt little brat, they said give him medication to calm his anxiety
Down, because my problem was anxiety and mum and dad got in my way, and I was drinking to get rid of my previous life thoughts but I became the person I never wanted to be, sometimes I told dad I was a hooligan and he said a hoodlum which was his name for a hooligan but really I was just thinking that isn't me to think things like that and before my dad's mother passed away, I yelled at my parents because they gave me a ****** room while they got a good room and dad really annoyed me, you see I might have been seeing this football player I fought with as Albert Waldron
You see dad was finding it hard to get through to me but I was thinking football foe, I have no idea why I teased dad, he tried to joke with me and all I see in him is that footy watching man
And despite him not watching the footy with me, I still saw them in him, ya know a cool kid to pat and Lyle even if I wanted to be with them because I was the footy fan of the family because I was Albert Waldron back in the late 1800s and early 1900s and I might have remembered dad from the crowd or an opposing player or even member of the pub I drank in and I was hearing voices in the pubs as I mucked around with the footy players as they called dad a great big old fogie
And I was him but I still was scared because I was still thinking of people being nice to me, ya know treating me like a little cool kid to the drinkers
But I had to grow up because I am not Albert Waldron anymore
I was in my mobile home and I was visioning people going about their duties like running and jumping having fun and fighting tying each other up
And I visioned dad getting really worried but I saw the football supporter coming down to rib me about Norwood losing but it was modernised by the raiders and the swans who weren't very good back then and one guy in the pub yelled at me for drinking from the jug and I said
Mate, I am just having a beer
You see there was a different atmosphere at the pub with dad
Yeah, I know it was father and son but when scott showed up
I was hearing voices from back
When I was Albert Waldron in my previous life
Scott was a fellow player and dad was this man cheering
I thought dad was teasing me
But really I was hearing his previous life as the old
Man in the Norwood football club, you see dad was in the middle of my voices and dad told me I was on my way to having an heart attack from smoking and drinking but I gave up drinking and smoking to try and stop the fighting but I fought dad for the last before September 11 2001 and that is where the voices stopped
But that wasn't true, that was where dad got sick of me and that was where I was determined to be Santa Claus but dad and mum was worried because of my past as a kid chaser from when I was st Nicholas of AntarcticIa and Blackbeard the pirate but mum and dad were worried about that we were fighting about that and I was visioning that old man at Norwood pub of dad's previous life and I was santa for 10 years and now my mind is saying dad is your dad but whether he was that old man in Norwood pub or Betty Campbell now, he was still my dad

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.

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.

strict obligations to mind technique -
a range of techniques to identify
a paced scribble done haphazardly
for the effect of unquestionable timing
as time itself question, settled
for lazy afternoons and volumes upon
volumes - well, the bore of schoolchildren
being taught the standard of communication
as grammar in all its guises and adding to
this the identifiers of poetics, shackle
them in metaphor conscious expression
and they'll excessively rhyme -
e.g. yeah mm, yeah, birches of the brood,
mm, yeah, wave to the navigator
and limousine driver, mm, yeah,
mm, yeah, ******* in the alley, poetry
the ultimate straitjacket of language
use, so many constraints, mm, yeah,
******* of rodeo doing disco with a hand
spare waiting for prompt of the **** salute -
mm, yeah, pottery and poetry are moulded
although pottery with the hands as one,
poetry by exchanging patterns of a tennis
statistics of serve depending on what's
more accessible via the index through to the thumb;
mm, yeah, birches in the hoodlum choir -
knuckle dusters and nail clippings among
broken skulls - already the constraints of grammar
we all yawned at, then came poetics
and the second tsunami of disgruntling -
father grammar, son poetry, the holy ghost
a multiplier of yawns among gradations from
a* through to f - like a musical scale -
now i realise i joined the abhorrent crowd of
artistic expression, i never knew could be so
**** unauthentic, maybe the missing orchestration,
the prophetic voice in the wilderness -
the lack of materialistic concern for bees' wax
to accumulate for envious purposes -
a hole with chlorine-cleansing chemicals
that's neither salt or sweet water and no wish -
a massive bathtub and a different form of ******* -
i know teaching grammar is like teaching poetry,
too many rules, too many rubrics, lists and lists
of things happening but not actually happening -
the faking of poetry on account of identifiers
as marked accessibility and respectability -
but never the essential coarse experience -
so some forgive the excruciating test of grammar -
they say 'if comprehensive therefore satiated' -
but then the anti-poetry with an army of instruments
uses only rhyme to akin itself as to why
B. Dylan's lyrics were debated in poetic circles -
i really did choose the wrong art -
or perhaps i'm only saying that because i can
create quarters for four agile limbs to comprehend -
let's say one celebrity had photo-sensitive
epilepsy - the stability of scarce lightning
against the lunar and solar cycles - but then
overexposed to a syringe of phosphorescent luminary
injections of insomnia -
the modern ailment summarised by insomnia
in all the totals asserted - the fear of death
entombed, now the fear of not ably falling asleep
or the fear of not sleeping at all;
indeed a heresy some might say -
but in Dante's theology i find purgatory as
a courtroom - the judgement necessarily passed -
depending on what duality you are a disciple of(: / i.e.)
hell (your own company)
                                             x
                                               heaven (the company of others)
or
    hell (the company of others)
                                                      x
 ­                                                        heaven
                                                          ­  (your own company);
indeed no chiral assertions,
                since both add up to a pitch-perfect coordinate
                with parallelism's coordination of (+,+);
                 neither subtracts the other's accumulation,
                perhaps in the interchange
                (+, x), (-, +), (-, x), (+, ÷) -
                after all there can be worded expressions
                of utilising pure mathematical
                symbols to understand political
                dynamism -
e.g. (by adding you multiply the chance)
        (by taking away you add to an understanding)
        (by taking away you multiply the chances
         of non-recurrence or recurrence)
         (by adding you end up dividing
          the chances of expressing the Σ);
all in all, a chaotic foundation approves to architectural
order tumbling down into prone attempts for
new truths stabilised by vogue of the times
and later dismembered and disavowed from practice
and admiration.

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

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?!

"One big happy family I thought"
Oh no no, that was me,
Comforting myself
Trying to pretend it was okay
What is wrong with you?
I am not a hoodlum
I do not go out to "rub elbows"
I thought these days were the past
I thought I could stop worrying
Correction they were forgot about…
For a short while, we'll their back now
"One big happy family I thought "

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.

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

Now is the start
We’ve gone apart

This is a start
On your mark, fresh start

You will be okay, you're smart
Please be strong and stay on your guard
Going separate ways, return eachother's hearts
Hit the eluding bulls eye, stay sharp

Now imagine and see
How happy we can be
When no one has to lead
And never need anyone again
Our souls are not condemmed

Now I promise I’m sane
The time we kissed in the rain
Sensual pleasure, ****** pain

A thousand smiles, a single frown
Go further down the road
Paintings in the mausoleum
Even further down the road
Follow the coyote, follow him
The shallow lies that made you cry darling

The coyotes warm
Ripped and torn

Follow the coyote, he’s been so good to me
Head north, tread east
Paradise, pandamonium and a good nights sleep

I’d runs in the woods
If I could
Run in the woods
If you would
Can you remember where you stood?

A boy sat and drank his milk, then went out and killed
******, stealing, fighting
He’d done it all

He went to the house where the old man lived
Came through the door

To the house where the old man lived
Threw him to the floor
He had done it all

And he wanted more
He felt no remorse, no shame to hide

“We have a new technique we can use to turn him into a member of society instead of a hoodlum”

“I was cured alright”

655321

Come on now follow us
Come on just follow us
Deep into the underbrush
Take your time, no time to rush

This is where it starts
Where we part

This is the start
So near so far from the start

You’re everything to me
But it’s not meant to be
Now we begin our lives
Where does the future lie?
At the start