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Jerome Revilla Nov 2011
I used to put these headphones on.
And at once, the whole world was gone
And the music did no wrong
Till I found myself doin’ it all day long.

But I still kept these headphones on
Because my headset drowned my strife,
Cut through it like a knife,
Till I was bound to the music for all my life.

I used to sit in earnest at my computer chair
ITunes and my iPod in hand as I prepare
Another playlist.
Indecisive between hip-hop and RnB
While I let humanity’s problems sit on a wait-list.

But I just left these headphones on.
Not a care or thought about global pollution
Amidst our world’s confusion
All signs pointing to a troubled conclusion,
But yet, me and my headphones ignore the solutions.

Why? Because music forever plays,
That even when solutions were raised,
I just sat there…
As the environment died everyday.

Because all I did was listen to these headphones.
As I laid awake in my bed,
Nothing running through my head,
Except music,
And I felt alive listening to the words that was said
When in reality Inside I was dead

But I still left these headphones in
So I can block out my parent’s groans when
I know that I have disappointed them
Maybe I’m just missing the point again.

And all the while my dads fist connecting with the door
As he has always done before, in the past
Choosing to ignore, with music full blast
I found myself more and more detached.

Not only my parents, but even the politicians are itchin’
To get me to listen,
Hopin and wishin that
This generation would eventually find its ambition.

I used to think that iTunes could do no wrong.
And that it was all I ever needed
Because all it was to me was a program full of songs
But I didn’t like where my life was headed.

And god it’s amazing, the word iTunes.
Such a fitting name
Because I tuned my friends out
And there is no one else to blame
As I tuned my parents out
Our relationship will never be the same
As I tuned the world out
Now look at who I became.

So now I’m taking these headphones off.
Because I don’t want to stay connected
Acting like I was totally unaffected
When in fact, the world around me I neglected
So I’ll change,
No longer will these headphones hold the reins
I am cutting off all of my chains
And I know a life ahead of me still remains
That without these headphones,
There is so much more to gain.
I wrote this on 12/2010 as a spoken word piece. During this time, I was in a low point of my life with my low grades, failing relationship with my girlfriend, and constant fights with my parents and my poor health due to living next to an oil refinery. I turned to music and relied on it to forget my problems. I soon realized that i cannot hide behind songs and i had to face and solve my problems instead of running from them.
fairlyfreaksome Jul 2015
spining spinnig spinning spinnging spinging spinining spinning spinning psinngin psinnging psinning spining psminnng psinng psing spinning itching tiching tiching itching itching ithcintign itching ithc nihting itching itching itching my chgest chest chet chest chets chest chesth ches thchc chest chest chestch sthech sethch schesth chesth seht esht eshthe sehches stghse tpanic panic panic panic itching panich painc itchingpainic pinaibng pinc ananc intching paning cnians pannigba sicthicn itcthing itching ithcing itching ithchi nhelp help help ehple help e helpe helpe helpe help help help ehlp ehlpe help ehple go waay away waway away away away aya away away away waya waya awaya waya away awaya no i don’t wnat o ts see ll you this coffee get the **** out of my ****** gface itching itchin gnaimial itching reage rage rage rrage gar eget the **** cis ssifi ficuking ishaf sisth ge tou to fmy fauck ceuang face te get out of my faucking *******  ******* **** ing ******* fuckng icing ******* fufking ******* tufkc thing face get the **** out of my face get the **** out of my face get the **** out of my face and leave me alone get the fucki out to foi my face and leave me alone spinning sinning range tulnnel vision tunnel spinning tiching cehst panic get out o fmy face i don’t want to sell you foccefe and you are n’t going to e to to to to to tip me anyway you ******* **** head yet the **** out of my afce and leave me the **** anlone i have n’t taken a break a break a brak breath in like like like twnety minutes breaht ebreathe breathe abreathe breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe don’t tell me to ******* breathe i know to ******* breathe rage rage rage rage tag r rage reag e aasdna breathe brathe breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe breahte breathe breathe breabdth rbreathe breathe breathe rbaein out in out in out in out in out in out in out in out in out in rythm rhythm rhtrm why the **** is that work word do so why the **** is that word so hard to spenl wp swhy the fu ck wiuy why the **** is that word si focukning hard to spell foeaajsdg why the **** is thwa why the **** is tha twor what why the **** is that word so hard to sle why the **** is that word os why the **** is that word so hard to spell rhyhtm rhyr rhythem rhythm tryhtm in out in ou to int out in tih rhythm rhytm tr intching itching itching ittchahinsdg in out in out outu ihn out in iuth out it ou th hei is this poetry hooray i wrote something go me look at all those words on the page i put thise there **** yeah go me hooray i was creative with my panic attack good for me good for ******* me now i guess the next step is to just go insatne and get drink run right horay hooray hooray three cheers for me i wrote something and it’s gonne anga nd id it’s gonna get me a million ******* dollars because i channeled ma my rf **** ing rage and that’s what epeople whatn ranwt ranw ran ran want wri sfsa tir right i it’s jurat rage riage rajfjs rb braeat breathe breathe breathe breathe breahte btrahet breathe i can’t ty e i can’t te i can’t tpye n d i can’t type ab ica i can’t type and breahte a ti ci  i can’t type and breathe at the samet ime i can’t tyime i can’t y i can’t type and breathe at the same to i can’t tiy i can’t type and breathe at the same timy i can’t ta i can’t type and breathe at the same time but maybe when i fguyre maybe when i figure out how to t mabye maybe when i figure out how to do that i’l act maybe bw maybe when i figure out how to do wh wm maybe wheni figure out how to do that i’ll write something that doesn’t make me want to **** myself but for now i detes i but forno but for now i detest ever ev but for now i want to stab every sing le but for now i want to strange but for now i want t o but for now i want to strangle every wrod that comes out ofmy ******* ******* useless garbage handss
Bre Shaw Jan 2014
Throw the wind this way.
Point one way with one hand,
and take mine with the other.

Bring me home to your mother.

I'll wear a dress,
But I confess,
the dirt on your face
makes me hate lace.

**I'm just itchin' to be free.
g clair Nov 2013
While hearing a jingle
from somebody's Marmy
I bake on a warm parchment sheet
Cut out to be single
but one in an army
of gingerbread men I will meet.

Don't know if I care
that this life is so scary
or just that I fear saying so
and not that I know
but I hear that it's hairy
out there so I'm just laying low

For better, for worse, I can promise far better for me
if we all had no clue
a blessing or curse
I'm gingerbread,  Ma'am
and a hell of a good soldier too.

We're golden brown guys
with a raisins for eyes
at first glance,  not by chance,  like the others
but The Gingerbread Men of Company Ten
have a mission: to stand with our brothers.

I'll fight to the end,
for I am what I am
  and that's reason enough to defend
just give me my gun
don my uniform, hon
my baker, my maker, my friend.

You've had all your fun
when the mixing was done
with rolling and stamping my fate.
I live now to serve
and not to be served
a desert on a decorative plate.

I was mixed up before
but I've figured the score
from the moment I came from the oven
that you had a plan
for this gingerbread man,
not my fight but my plight you'd be lovin'.

So just give me a hand
kindly help me to stand
and salute all the men who have gone
into battle for this
a man's right to exist
and be more than a treat to chew on.

and in fact, if you will
I'd much rather still
to be the manning the front lines, I'm itchin'
to run 'cross your floor and head straight for the door
to release all my men from your kitchen!
Jenneve Micaela Feb 2014
Ayee mudda fuka
da uda dae i hada severe itchin in my inna elbow
i went to da doctor an he be like
who da ***, **** my office u lil ****
an i be like
***** u best nawt be telling me da flippidy flop on da who dat paddywhack crackerjack i **** u i **** u
theeeeeeen this ******* *** ***** wantsa charge me $40
an I'm all liek
***** i got 7 kidz 2 f e e d
an he liek
idc pay up u lil ***** b 4 i pop dis **** out
¿Tu madre¿
911 illuminati✈
******* ain't **** in 2000's i don't trust em
they show they ***** so **** 'em
buck 'em down smack downs with the gun in hand
leave a permanent frown in school i was a clown
after the money the green crack scene king
everything turned reality from a dream
now a loc on the loose lookin' for a caboose
so i can tap it like rabbit smokin' jokerslike a bad habit
show up boy if ya want to watch these slugs dump up on you
still a ***** been real since i was an embryo
don't matter the scenery or scenario down for my barrios
turn 15 keys to 75 G's nigguh please 
i don't mean to brag but i got street cred **** the feds
and cops to 502's tryna get a brother on a catch 22
learned game from the wise my eyes
filled with blood from **** im tokin'
throwin' a peck harder than woody woulda
carvin' haters with barbed wire
im Crazy never lazy with my trigger aim high not low
hop in the blue midnight 64 pinin' the baddest cabbage
raw savage spittin' cavi flow open up ya holes
with my hallows ya swallow casket follow
but ain't no love lost toss out the best of 'em
now they sleepin' with the rest of 'em
ti's the retunr of the G me replica of the E
they may forget you i but imma keep you alive
though ya dead and gone
im continue stompin' much luv from Texas to Compton

So what the ****? ****** bumpin' gums
talkin' loud but sound like they got ***
in their mouth watch ya mouth boy
i ain't comin' to play
deals from Montego Bay parlay in the streets Texas to LA
i smoke muthaphukkaz like a philly
get off the ***** silly crazier than a hillbilly
fuedin' cities show none pities
to muthaphuckaz the world is a ****** up place
too many after the paper chase
from ladies to hoes rich to poors weak trend to populace fashion shows
i opened doors
thats locked dont give a **** thats why i keep the pistol cocked
knocked off'd another now ya blood on the concrete
duck nigguh! now ya *** a sleep a creep
on the real thought really doe
i don't rock diamonds or pretentious jewels
just man made rules **** religion along with a stool pigeon
my hands itchin'
cuz im urgin' for another ****** plan with the pistol hand
to **** propaganda can't tha
stupid *** media nothing but ******* hidin'
behind tubes muthaphukkaz
come out come out so i can show ya what the
hallow points about
i may get killed for keepin' to real
i put that on my kids and my biz
by the way my muthaphukkin' name is!!!
_
Jack Torrance Feb 2019
How many days have you spent,
and how many days has it been?
How many days have you went,
without eating,
focused on breathing,
trying to make this make sense?

How many pill bottles did you sink,
and how many bottles did you drink?
How many hours did you think,
about the ending,
wrote a message without sending,
looking at the bottom, standing on the brink?

How many times have you heard,
that what you’re doing’s absurd?
Opening your mouth without forming words,
addicted to addiction,
an addict who is itchin,
listening to the voices who are constantly stirred.

How many drinks will it take,
until your body finally breaks?
How do you get rid of the shakes?
Constantly feeling,
but never dealing,
hopefully you’re here to see the daybreak.
Yo I got skillz by the millions
With tons of ammunition
Who ******' with the commission my mission
Is to control the rap game blow fish tactics
From ******* who **** quick my **** stick
Slick leave em with one eye patch cookin' up another batch
Can ya catch
The madness of real ***** with multiple figures money surpassin' the aurora
Hardcorer grim explorer non could ignore tha
Deadly pedigrees sheddin so beautifully
Im feelin' like Mango Slade cuts through like a blade
Lyrics colder than the words from Chuckie
Coastin' spells I do it well it ain't hard to tell
While ya souls fail another body destined to hell
It's Yosef ninth gate chillin' over ya crates
Like a demon intervention got ya nerves
Penchin' and itchin' soon to be twitchin' and inchin'
My every move I'm takin' ove the earthly ground
Bow down what's that it's the Southside
Breakin' em down so ya bound to drown


My armed men stack men from the guns
That back bend to the roads ya
End
No longer boys to men to deaths I comprehend
Takin' on deadly sins seven to chose from
I'm makin' chaos from USA to the New Jerusalem
And who's dumb? Enough to **** with me
While I'm on my Crazy *** leavin' ya stunned
And outdunned and who can
Come?
Against my magnificence layin' hellish scents
In the forms of an emodiment
Who could stop it
Since adversaries are culprit let the snakes
Shake and take away these painful memories
Yeah I'm dreadin' ya head missin' the feds
*** I got more bread than Pillsbury dough
So quick with the skills and I
Know
Suckas don't wanna go toe to
Toe
**** mics worse than Exodus who can plex with us
The coldest strong as a swingin' boulders
Knockin' ya head off ya shoulders I thought I told ya
Southside stay running with hidden
Soldiers
Joel M Frye Mar 2011
I love my gun.
I love my gun.
You can drink and chase your women
Till the morning sun,
But Lordy,
how I love my gun.

From the time I get to work
My blood begins to boil,
When I think of gettin' home
To rub her down with oil.
With her **** against my shoulder
Lookin' down her sights,
I could hold her in my arms
And keep her close all night.
Well, my trigger-finger's itchin'
for a little fun...
Lordy how I love my gun.
This one's both kinds a'music...country AND western ;)
Gather ‘round, warriors. This is your time.

This is your time to shine. It’s your day in the sun. It’s one-of-a-kind, o ye cheaters of death, but this is, nevertheless, your finest hour.

You found a home in war. You entered into a contract with bad company and gave up the rights to your body, your mind, everything but your mortal soul. They took advantage of the circumstance and you wound up deep in a bunk hole, hiding behind the tenuous wall of a manure pile. Bullets whizzed by your ears, fear possessed your frames like a demon taunted by the Lord. Death swooped in to put it’s fear into you, but you all laughed in his face and spat in his eye, turned your back on him without saying goodbye. Perhaps “See ya later” would have been appropriate. 

But no matter, husky gladiators. It is time to rest from your battle. It’s time to put away your swords and scabbards, your spears and your slings. Your automatic machine guns and your hand grenades. Your potent strains of anthrax and your agent orange. Surrender your arms, troglodytes. Cast them to the ground below. Consider the clatter they all make as they fall to the pavement. Take it in, breathe it all in, make it yours…

…for it IS yours.

Sorry, we didn’t get around to telling you. It was always yours, we just figured you would find it out on your own if you wanted it bad enough. No, I would agree: that is NOT fair. And I would also say this to you, “Fairness is a relative concept. When you consider the value we placed on you actually knowing this as a fact…well, I think it should be pretty ****** obvious. Don’t be a *****, you give all servicemen a bad name when you do that, you know?”

But enough of the self esteem-building fodder all, that is not why I have gathered ye here to-day. Nay, not even close. I have brought you all here together because I wanted to be the first to tell you. You’re all going home. That’s right, you’re homeward bound. Soon you’ll be able to pack your **** and take a southbound train to ride. You’ve lost your minds killing innocent civilians, you’ve struggled to keep your eyes open most nights, as staying awake meant staying alive. But you’re going home! Warm nights tucked between clean linen sheets. Soft goose down pillows to bore your heads into. The smell of coffee in the morning, bacon and eggs if you’re lucky. The prospect of another day that won’t be defined by the number of lives you’ve ended between sunrise and sunset.

The journey home will be a victorious one, indeed. You shall see it from the comfort of a first class seat on the most expensive airliner we can afford! A small bottle of gin or whiskey is only a few feet away and all you have to do to get one is ask the attendant. If you ask nicely I don’t doubt she might let you have more of those little bottles than administrative policy usually allows. But she sees it in your eyes…you’re a grizzled soldier. You’re still warm to the touch from the heat of battle. You know this. This is who you are, it’s what we made you. And she will sense this. It will drive her mad with desire. Her knees will quiver, she’ll blush, she’ll radiate ****** charm…but all you’ll be able to think of is that Vietnamese farmer with the plaid shirt. 

A ***** plaid shirt. Dripping with dark, brown mud, he smiled at you from beneath the brim of a straw hat that looked as if it had seen many better years. A smear in the drying clay was on the right side of his face where he’d wiped sweat. His lips were dry and cracked and his nose was a little runny. 

The buttons on that plaid shirt were the cute mother-of-pearl finish jobs, the kind that snap shut real easy. How many men would have noticed that? How many of the sharpest minds in the known universe would have missed how his left boot didn’t quite seem to match the right. But you caught it right away and you stored it into that immense data bank that is your United States Marine Corps certified brain. 

If only you could forget it, though. Right men? I see a few tears in a few eyes. I know I’m on the right track here, so if you still think I’m not talking to YOU, I have an invitation right here in my back pocket that will entitle the man to whom I give it a 6 month stint in the back of a mess peeling spuds. You don’t want that, now, do ye? What? No takers? I thought not.

But where was I? Oh, HOME, that’s what I was on about. You all have very nice homes, no doubt, and I’d bet there’s not a single one of you who isn’t just itchin’ to get back to ‘em. Is it the one you grew up in? Is it one you just bought? No matter, when you leave this place it will either be in a body bag or on the better side of Uncle Sam, who looks after all of those fine men and women who have risked life and limb in his service.

So what’s it going to be, worms? Death? He calls often here, and don’t think I don’t know that his is the song of the siren to many a worn out Spartan. But faileth not, loyal comrades. 

Will it be insanity? Will the wage of life and death struggle prove to be nothing more than a tug-of-war between lucidity and madness? Yer going home, grunt, why should it matter? Either one’s better than lying face down in a pool of your own guts. Don’t worry about it, just get on the plane. Baby, it’s your ticket to ride.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

I stepped onto the tarmac with a firm determination to forget the last 2 years. Maybe even the last 15. I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m just tired of looking for an answer. I’ve listened for the still, small voice of reason and wisdom, but it seems to have stayed behind in the battlefield. Probably where it belongs. 


The night was cloudy and the stars shone like pinpricks in a dark black veil that covered the most brilliant light…ha, I almost said “life”…I may not have been too far wrong there. I wanted to cut the cord of gravity, float through however many miles it might take to reach one of the punctured holes. Then I would tear the fabric and crawl into the other side. Disappear into the brilliant aura.

Only a dream, only a wish. I drug my weary frame from the bustling airport to the highway. An old two-lane road, dangerous after dark. It doesn’t bother me. It’s purpose is to facilitate the traversing of distance from one point to another. I could care less about where it could lead me. I only knew that I would not turn back no matter where I wound up, so I stuck out my thumb and waited for someone to give me a ride.

Does anybody stop to give rides to strangers anymore? I wouldn’t. It’s not something I condone. In fact, I have only done it once in my life, when I was just a kid, before seeing “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer”. After watching that seminal film I resolved to never, ever pick up hitch-hikers again. I wasn’t going to help anybody on the side of the road, either. **** being a “good Samaritan” if it means getting my brains blown clear out of my skull, flung to the side of the road like rotten fruit. 

Despite all of this I still had my hand stretched out, thumb in the universal position that signifies the need of transportation for the “down-on-his-luck” traveler. I remember asking myself what could be more pathetic. I was reduced, by circumstances beyond my control, to hitching or hoping that someone might be clueless enough to pick me up.

Yet, that is exactly what happened.

A hookah smoking caterpillar sat behind the wheel, and he seemed glad to do a small kindness to me. He could tell I was a veteran of psychic wars. He felt obligated, I was sure.

“Hop in, friend,” he said. “I can see that you’re a little down on your luck. I been there ma’self a time ‘er two. Just throw yer pack in the back seat and climb up here with me.”

I wasn’t shocked in the least that a hookah smoking caterpillar was driving a GMC Jimmy east on Route 66. It did, however, give me quite a shock to think that he would pull over and offer me a ride. I am no fool.

“Off we go,” I said to him. 


The road was a long one that took us out of the state. As we crossed the line the caterpillar turned the radio up real loud and started singing along to a Journey song they were playing on the classic rock station.

“Ooooh, wheel in the sky keeps on turning,” he wailed. “I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow!!!”

I turned to him. “You have a very distinct grasp of Steve Perry’s vocal mannerisms. Have you ever sang professionally?”

“Oh no, not me. I could never go onstage in front of a lot of people and sing. I just don’t have it in me.”

“Well, you aren’t afraid to sing in front of me. What’s the difference between one stranger and a hundred strangers?”

“Oh, it’s not that. It’s not that at all,” he repeated. “I had a friend who used to play and sing in a lot of the bars on the circuit between California and New Orleans. It was a job to him, you know? He told me about a lot of the stuff that goes on in those places. He told me how one time he was singing a Roy Orbison song when some pool-shooting loser throws the cue ball right at him. Beaned him on the forehead, BOP! Had to hurt. Said the bruise swelled up so bad directly afterwards that people started calling him “the Elephant Man”. I was a beginner in the days when he regaled me with these anecdotes and mister, I’ll tell you, he put the fear of God in me. I was so terrified of getting conked in the head with a pool ball that I never pursued the craft.”

I felt a tinge of sympathy for his plight. “I’m sorry to hear that. I bet you would have been a star if you’d gone for it. Bigger than Steve Perry, even.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t feel cheated or like I’ve missed anything essential to my happiness. As long as I’ve got wheels, my hookah and something to put in it, I am a happy caterpillar. Remember that: I am merely a caterpillar.”

“I will do that, but you’re a caterpillar who could kick Steve Perry’s *** any day of the week!”

“Wheel in the sky keeps on turning!”

“**** straight…I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow!” 

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

The caterpillar held the wheel steady and kept on truckin’. He sang along with every single classic rock song that came on the radio. From Kansas to Boston to “Sweet Home Chicago” he knew them all and, to be perfectly honest, he did a **** good job. He belted ‘em out like Springsteen, he crooned like Bryan Ferry, he croaked like Joe Cocker, he wailed like Janis Joplin, he screamed like that dude from Slayer. No two ways about it. This hookah smoking caterpillar had serious talent. 

I was curious. “So, mister, what to do you do for a living?”

“My friend, I am a mortician. I deal with death every single day. I do a job that most folks would find distasteful and not a little disturbing. And yet I love my job. I do, oh yes, I do. I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the whole world.”

“Sounds interesting,” I said. “How does a man get a start in a field like yours?”

“It’s not too hard, really,” he replied. “You come with me, I’ll make you an apprentice. You lookin’ for work?”

“No, sir. I can’t say that I am right now. Still got a little cache stashed away from military days.” I made a gesture with my hand that signified that I was grateful for the offer, but would have to pass. “Maybe one of these days I might change my mind. I think I could handle it. I’m not squeamish. No, not at all.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could handle it. I can tell by the way you look straight ahead, you don’t look back, you’ve got a grip on everything in this world and you think there’s nothing that could ever shake your foundations, whether it be from the east wind or the west. The north or the south. Do I read you correctly?”

“I reckon you do. I’ve had a hard run most of my days. Experience has taught me one lesson, but it taught me good and well: Nothing is as you really think it is, and it could all be gone tomorrow. ”
Slur pee Sep 2017
I got bars; they rattle inside my empty brain
I got pain; it’s shaped like the things that make it fade
I got hate; lain by the hands of the guy hiding inside my face
I got erased; from every place I safely encased betwixt my rib’s cage
I got rage; fighting against the machine operating the man
I got plans; to say “I got plans” but they’re empty promises
I got remitted; from whatever it was that god had written
I got smitten; with a boy who makes my vices start itchin’


I got to scratching and I don’t like what I’m sniffin’

-SLuR
Once Upon A time, there was a small white house, with a white picket fence, and an impossible to get out of driveway.  There lived a girl who loved to eat.  I remember her as loving to eat she lived directly across the street, and I know size does not determine the makeup of a person, but she did not look like she loved to eat.  She was thin.

She loved water, swimming, drinks poured until the cups were brimming
Family guy and Ink master she was molded like plaster
to the screen on the tv in her environment where she felt serene.

I remember a five foot seven girl pumping the pedals on a way too small yellow bicycle
as difficult as trying to melt butter on an icicle
she was strong, and she loved colors.
She was the youngest of two sisters and a brother, make no mistake there were others.
Scout Biddy Boo Jazz and Bella too, Jazz had a special spark in her bark.
Whenever I came into the kitchen, Jazz would be crazy itchin for me to give her attention.  She’d lie on her back, belly up, with sweet brown eyes like chocolate syrup and I could never resist.

There are things in life that some of us can just never resist.
Like an all-expenses paid free trip to Hawaii, or just really fresh pineapple.
I can never resist reading the cap of a Snapple, but I’ve saved a lot of money with this girl I knew who lived in a small white house with a white picket fence and an impossible to get out of driveway, because she already knew all of the facts.

She already knew a lot of things, I’m sure she still already knows a lot of things.
I don’t know what exactly she does know as the continuation of time remains in constant flow,
I have not talked to her in a while or so.
But if I had the ability, to travel back in time and reinvent any crime,
I’d go to the moment before she signed her soul to the devil.  
I’d rip the pen from her hand like a splinter
that’s been stinging her family’s index finger for way too long.
I’d erase that moment from history and if she wasn’t such a ******* mystery,
I’d be able to turn on my local cable and not worry about seeing her face on the TV.
I need to stop thinking about that because I know I’m never gonna call this cat, until a hurricane hits a city, leaving it calm and serene or until she approaches me and wants to get clean.
Maya Oct 2018
Been itchin' to step on the toes
of some politicians, ditchin'
the sneakers and hitchin'
the anger, an armor of agression,
clothes of choler, cursing the
contempt-ridden regressions of the system.

Edgy kids turn into violent adults,
You have the right to remain violent, folks, 'long as you're getting something done and not lounging lazily,
waiting for things to change by
themselves, putting your drive on a shelf, hazily remembering what you actually believed - go **** right off and leave.

Stick to your guns.
I'm so sick of saints and nuns advocating for peace. Peace is a piece of giving up belief. "Friendly Negotiations" to talk you out of your convinction, turn convicts into martyrs and we'll see which side you really trust.
How can you believe that peace will will solve problems when it just causes feelings to be pent up?
People are competitive, wanting all that opulence in the posthumous, and peace is a puzzling problem, not a solution.
Peace would be basic if human nature wasn't so acidic, mixed with the tension of a complex society, your peace is about to burn a hole in the walls of government.
The only peace for me is death.
Ideals are nothing without people fighting for them with every last breath.
Go out and scream as long as you're making noise.
Rip limits to shreds, and raise your ******* voice.
just a person being angry in a cafe at six in the morning. yes, this is edgy, i am aware but I wrote it for myself, not you.
Zach Mooney May 2013
It was there he lay thinkin' 'bout his day
the closing days of the year last,
'twas then he'd be a man, and have to sail under his own mast
but the winds stagnant as they be he'd nay sail out his own bay
sad as the sea, his heart heavy as the anchor weigh
like n' anchor on da' sea below he shows the rust of his past
he sits alone with his eyes lost; heavier than stones of ballast
wishin' for not soft winds, but torrents of a blistering storm night and day
N' 'bitious young lad, itchin' to go
But like the Anchor he'll stay, below the ladder's lowest rung
Unlike the Anchor he be, he strives to be a Sailor Free
Silly as it be the barnacles and rust be all there be, the angel's last song sung,
No runnin' away, no cargo to hide away in stow,
No words left to say, only a lump at the end of the Anchor's tongue.

z.m.
Bowedbranches Jul 2021
Haven't set up an alter
In I dont' how many moons
The few times I tried
I truly knew the futility of it
And understood
That security, for me, is fleeting


Just another thing
That seems so easy for the others
Oh no dont applaud
My  baby brain  for its
Whining,ll just make it worse
So the other day after
I snatched the sage you left
For me outside your window sill
(Thank you btw)


I instinctively started
Making YET ANOTHER ALTER
Then broke down for the 5th time that day
"How could someone like you ever deserve a home"
Then I had remembered  
That Im not allowed to
Have a safe space

I'm a drifter
Pushing the limits
My health is at risk
Every minute
No one to care
Whether I die or live  

Sitting on my hands
In a thicket
Praying wishing waiting thanking
God that I woke still broken
Throwing up stuff
Everytime I tried to move

Hunger
Hurt
Thirst
Hate
Anger
Thankful
Stay low
on your toes
Heatstroke
Dryheave
Please No
Please make it stop
Oh god here it comes again
My Sweat drips endlessly
Chiggers bit my skin
So it wont quit itchin'

Bites that bother until next week
Typical....
All I want is a place to hang my hat
Or hopefully lay my head without trip wires surrounding
Me
All I want is to oggle my alter and call on my angels and my God
Without being on constant alert
Watching my own six

Bc your own brother will turn on you
Don't get comfortable
Dont relax
Dont unpack
Dont believe
A ******* thing they tell you
Prove me wrong then

Haven't had a mfr not turn
Haven't seen anyone actually keep their word

And why cant i set up an alter without it being destroyed?
My week has been hectic sporadic challenging. This poem was written in bits throughout the course of this week i realize im all over the place and my head space is caving in
Zach Mooney May 2013
What could be more disheartening
than to fail those close to you
And to thus fail yourself-- watching success depart

No goal, no ambition
No passion, no itchin'
I know not who I am, to I
to others' outside my mind's eye
No longer a longing.

A world outside
One separate in

If they do  not care

why should I
kenye Dec 2013
Your past
has constantly got you
trigger
finger itchin'
pulling
at the stitches

Tempting you to spill
your insides out
To re-write love on your arms
Like you meant the cuts
To cut the conversation short

Capitalizing
a blood loss
in a blog
of glamorized
self-inflicted
battle scars

Some masochistic pride
pulled you into the abyss
Where do you draw the line?
Between exploitation
and raising awareness?
Michael Murphy Nov 2015
Sometimes I start to crack a small smile as I slowly open one eye

I smell food in the kitchen, so I stop my itchin, and off the couch I do fly

He's opening cans, he's opening cans, I'm so happy I'm up on my toes

I haven't eaten in days, what's a day anyway? I'm not sure that anyone knows

Scoop it out, scoop it out, oh wow, he's mixing it in

He's looking at me, he's smiling at me, so I know my feast will begin

I could give him a kiss, he's the one that I miss

When he's gone it's just not the same

He's the guy with the food that brightens my mood

If only I just knew his name!

Dave? Nope, Jack...hmmm or
aisha Dec 2010
Got this anger got this substance and I never saw it comin
Cant deny, nullify, pain will only satisfy
this primal urge, joyous purge, of everything I ever loved
whats the point, hit this joint, still I cant erase these thoughts
of jealousy, anger breed, this animals growin inside me
teeth snared, heart bared, acting like u really cared
but what the ****, reality struck, what is love no sacrifice
ugly truth, ended youth, forgiveness got me itchin
lice
what if I don’t feel like playin nice
what if I say **** it and jus roll the dice
pullin the trigger got me real enticed
if I was you kid, id go run and hide
I got issues that im failing to keep deep inside
Like my father up and leavin me high and dry
My mothers deep need to constantly lie
The fact my boyfriend cant learn to apologize
My friends creepin around like I got no sight
But I am so ready for this ******* fight
Victory tastes sweet. Ready to take a bite.
All of these emotions got me mesmerized
Right from wrong blurred, now im hypnotized
Feel like I wont stop til ive terrorized
Need to do the justice that ive been denied
The devil in my eyes is gonna rectify
im comin to get you but first lemme get high
as far as im concerned for you this is goodbye
Tami Binger Sep 2013
No!
You just don’t understand
I am not a traitor
That is not my intention
I don’t regard myself as being a colour hater
My intentions are good
I only desire to stand out
Not to blend in.

No!
You just don’t understand
They don’t want a filthy raven
But a holy dove
Don’t tell me I’m foolish
For hungering after a look of a few
There are thousands of black masses
But only a few of you

Please just listen
I am uncomfortable, I am tormented
My soul is itchin’ beneath my skin.
Release me from this pain I’m in
No!!
You!
Just!
Don’t!
Understand!!

I do not despise the Race
Just the colour of my Face
In essence my decision will not change

And now before has become after
My face has pealed, 2 months since healed
The attention I once craved, I now wish will go away
Behind my back, I only hear snickers
Sadly this time, my fate I cannot change
So after all, I guess you were right
It was I who didn’t understand
Butch Decatoria Dec 2016
Well...

I heard it from Pookie

Who's real tight with Sookie

You know 'cuz

They're twins 'n all

And they're both from the neighborhood

When it all went down, guess they seen it too

Eyewitnesses times four

You know 'cuz

They two got a pair of blinkers

You know --peepers! Oculus instruments

You know ... These! (Wink wink hint hint)

Brown eyed, blue bright

Or "whatever you say Iris!"

She was the one with the twirly hair

And the swirly speech

Rollin' up on all of her

You know ... Gelatinous gelatina ****

Rubberneckin'

Don't mess with this!

"Uh huh"

"Nah ah, oh no she didn't ..."

Throwing ghetto out her mouth

Talkin about. yo mama

So PHAT

(Pretty Hot & Tempting)

For a rotisserie or deep fried in Crisco...


And you know

If the chicken heads are plucky and loud

Clucking chis-miss rumors

About

How she did done killed her molester

"Down that poor dirt road"

"I can still hear the gospel sang,

the surrounding churches'

Southern love to be loud, wafting

With the breeze through the long grass

Walking, closer to home, a hush...

Back when we folk were shiny skinned

With sweat of Summers' Lovin

Or late night lullaby in' ...

Baby's lil babe

She said he couldn't fall to sleep

Until this Final one"

When it all went Smack!

Talking for no reason now

(Just wanna be heard)

Throwing shade in the hot shadows

Her hollering voice

Reciting not laws but what's right for sho'.

A weeping willow

A peacock

A desperate clarinet cry

Look here now ! Don't miss out !

And that was when Pookie & Sooky

Took home mama Mook,

Who's complaining like Chubacca

Furry as the Wookie

Drunk as the fish in Tequila Seas...

But whatever battle she took to words

In the shadow of

Bars brawls and loss of conscience,

Everyone here / neighbors hear

The hoods we're in

She said the clouds! in the sky

"They was the lot of them

throwing most heinous shade!"

And whatever

You took from that there blathering

Wagging tongues

Talking smack. (That's on you)...

In the dim domain of drank and diggitty

They carry the haunch away


Three shadow figures

one is itchin' at her arm...

Smack

Throwing Shade.
CK Baker Jan 2021
I’m itchin for a tender
to serve me up a brew
with a couple wiley pals
it’ll surely be a few!

We’ll hoist a couple pinters
gobble up some wings
break the quips and banter
with a lyric that’ll sting!

fin
Kessler Dec 2015
I do this and that
for rent and cash.

If school is what you're gettin at,
I may get back, pick up a class.
A Math or English isn't bad...
Couldn't hurt, I don't know.

I'm sittin back with Rick and Max,
relaxin after hittin turf.
Kick and pass, not hittin herb,
well that too.  Kickin back.
A fresh brew, I'm sippin black
in afternoons to focus.

Pen and pad, a middle view.
A poem, a written rap.
I'm sittin at the moment
on Youtube and itchin ***.
Take a deep breath, dont stress
Your face is sweaty, plams are heavy
Your attitude is fire, up for higher
But on the surface your calm and nervous
Never forgetting with what you have was over
NOT
Get on the cabby, change your abilities
Hit up the blasphemy with your rice burnin *** to me
Punch me not, you had one hit one chance to take
Make amens and hit the spot but where you rock
Is where my chance failed,
it turned around an hit the ground
Faster than the fat man who fell to the ground...
BALLED FIST HURL AT YA
WHILE YA FALL TO YOUR FEET
GIVE ONE CHANCE AND HE'LL **** YA
IN THE MOMENT
YOU GOT ONE CHANCE TO MAKE THE RIGHT
WRONG IS SOMETHING THAT KILLS THE LOT!
Blood drips down your face, your a putrid disgrace
Tears are hot, feeling like a Melting ***
The skin boils and foils yet your regrets toil mercenaries who are paid to retort their moral
Make you grasp your souls strength
Call it hard knock, call it half cocked,
Give me a scent that replenishes with repent
Reprimand me for all that I said
NOW I GOT THE WORLD ON MA SHOULDERS
LITTLE TO LIFE WITH THE NEW WORLD ORDER
GIVE ME GOLD OR ALL THE BOARDERS
BRING IT NOW OR BACKHAND THE RULER
AND ILL BE ****** IF I EVER LET YA GO
IN THE MOMENT
YOU GOT ONE CHANCE TO MAKE THE RIGHT
YOU BETTER FIGHT IT OR TAKE FLIGHT!
Get up on the edge where the place is the when
Would you put yourself on your feet again
If you had that problem progressively following
Facilitating itself itchin'
Where it kills itself in digression
With your dreams fulfilled
The grudgeless tension
Feasting on the suspension
You'd have never let it go
IN THE MOMENT
MOMENTUM FLOWED AS THE FIRE GOES
GHASTLY DENYING OUT OF THOSE SPYIN
OVER THE HORIZON SETS THE GOOD KAISER
SWOOPING OVER LOOMIN YA OUT
In deseption you fall from the aggression
This fight has driven out of sight
From what you thought was right
Might is what you had, now your nothing
And the enemy has won!
IN THE MOMENT
YOU LOST YOUR FIGHT
GIVE THAT DISREGAURD TO YOUR BLITHE
BELLIGERENT BUST YOU POPIN YOUR MOUTH
MUFFLED MATTER COMES OUT
ITS RED RULE
SO IT NOT COME FROM DOWN SOUTH
so cold and broken
Merely unspoken
Coughing up lament
Showing yourself........ Truely some self disrespect
Take your loss and uphold it
Create something more than a foiled moment
Get back up cuz
IN THE MOMENT
YOU GOTTA MAKE WRONG TO RIGHT
SET YOURSELF UP FOR ONLY WHEN REDEMPTION ONLY SEEMS RIGHT!
Inspirational little get up an fight
Feelin' them death
goosebumps
smokin' on that humps 
lookin' for the chumps i dumps
the clip relentlessly now ya restin' peacefully
in the morge poor george
nobody wont remember ya
givin' the props to the glocks that pop
make ya body drop
like a tear from the sky cloud 9
open up ya body put it on the flat line
one mo' time daily crimes
drama infested drugs invested
im  a replica of pharmaceutical companies
its a part of me
to **** thrills **** capitol hill keep the steel
ready hold steady
cuz when i pop on to ya dome
ya won't feel no pain
execution style im wild young crazy
i got nothin' to loose on that grey goose
sippin' with little codeine and get all the fiends
itchin' twitchin'
for that last hit
don't buck unless ya wanna taste ****
me killa sho no love them suckas
me heartless
come with ya flesh
watch me rip ya to pieces
like body went through a meat cleaver
never bluffin' zigzags ya know we stuffin'
watch back when the gat splat splat
to my all my enemies
ya know where you can find me at??
 
to all my people livin' in satans prisons
keep yo mind strapped
and tapped out let the guns rain out
as we pour a blessin'
got the whole nation stressin'
cuz real thugs cant be tested and
this for my deceased homies
n homettes take a sip of moet
with a blunt to blaze
to the old times ****
i wish they was here to kick a few rhymes n my mind
half dead envisioned myself ****** red soaked in Egyptian sheets watch what every enemy speaks
knowthe rules *****
and dont follow no *****
i got the laydown its the art of war
muthaphukkaz aint listen
or payin attention
to the end times how many signs?
do we ******' need
but too many strung out off that bomb **** but popped out the seeds
n regrew my own thoughts
in the garden.of my mind
watch out for one time
cuz they itchin' to put a brother on the flal line
this for all my real gs
that aint scared to die
and if we die watch the thugs
in the hood multiply
check yo eyes
ya braille son god callin' me home soon to heal the wombs
but i know my purpose is greater
so **** a hater
i got the tactics of a true soldier immortal words
being spoke through inhales of smoke neva choke
uh i feel dead people tryna reach me teach me
the worlds coming to E N D
but betta believe ill dump
til my whole army is with me
and the clips is empty



though i wanted to be the toughest on the block
i didnt get a check til i was face to face with a glock
**** i hear deaths tick tock
beforehe pop
he gave me some mercy?
maybe it was the lord speakin' to me?
through telekinesis
now i gotta prepare for this thesis
scatter my drama like reeses
better believe they'll be back again like a whistle in the wind
times goes on life flows on
and ill be rappin' til they early morn
cant stop wont stop the music
its in my soul down for this ghetto blues
gotta short fuse but dont loose
control my mind and body
gotta focus killuminati
aint nobody takin' **** from me
ill die for this **** my family
thugs og to tg and the little homies
who gotta push dope in the blocks
in the late night yea the ghettos in a struggle
but them ******* canr even see it with a hubble
as i bust like a bubble ya know im addicted to trouble
yea we dont give a ****
about the law
51 states with a million plus ****** dawnin' an AK
takin' heed to the words i say
and let the blood spray
it was a good day dont go astray
even though we get worried
just tradin' a little tasteof war stories
Aniq Ahmad Aug 2018
Never knew someone would come and take my life
Never knew someone would come and haunt my night
Never knew someone would come and make it all right

Tell me why I can't get no peace
Tell my why I feel like Im on lease
Tell me why you are my show piece

I wake up everyday
I wake up everyday without sobriety
Like whole night you've been my diety

Two hundred bucks in my hands and I'm wishin
I wanna take you out cuz I know Im missin
You caught and lit me up with ignition

Ever since I got your text Im itchin
Like fish outta sea Im twitchin
****, My head's filled like Im lynching

If you trynna run away from my space
I'll hit you like a school bus without trace
Got myself tied and I can't chase
Yo whos the mack
Is that brother with the same rap
Or the brother that's finna snap
Out of reality
Yeah I know your kind
But ya can't keep me blind
Blame everything on the white man
Please understand
I know history is a thang
Of the past
******* I put on blast cast
My villain time for the killin'
In the midst of the night .we stay hovering like
Ghetto birds in flight
Hidden in plain sight
Down for the fight
But everytime I fight
It seems like my brothers .wanna
Keep me down under
In this concrete jungle hard to be humble
When everybody out for self
Keep techs on the shelf
But you scared to claim that
Ya black .now ask ya self
Who's the Mack????



Born in the 80s rolled out the 90s
Tried to hide my feelings
But it seems to find me feelin' grimy
Ever since I was raised
In a society that's been caged
Animal instincts scared to blink
Cuz my eyes might
Miss somethin' gotta watch for
These fools dumpin'
My heart's steadily pumpin' jumpin'
Cause I'm itchin' for the real
**** the mass appeal slipped the meal
Cuz real
Soldiers move smooth and fast
Quick in a flash
Make em think I'm close
When I'm really far away
Yeah still I clutch the AK pray
Harder on darker days .even though real rhymes hardly pays
N I'm barely makin' a stack
N they say I slack
Now ask ya self who s the Mack?????
Michael Marchese Feb 2018
Like Upton on fungal brain Jungles, I speak it
The deepest state secret, like Snowden I leak it
On Wikis more tricky than Dicky’s fiat
Money bloodied, tick tock the livestock market rot
As the eagle lie nester’s internment investors
Drop freedom on chemical weapons-grade testers
These A. Smith’n westers who don’t lift a finger
To hijack your minds with it itchin’ the trigger
Then burning cross names off of Madoff Hit lists
To redistrict restrictions like cuffs around wrists...

As 3/5th ye Old Hicks still insist that it’s fixed
By the millions of ALIEN votes that exist
The same gips enlist Contras to slaughter the poor
Till this livin’ Hell Salvador’s dyin’ for more
Of that Hindu Kush ghoul so azul in Kabul
The brown jewel that digs crowns Abu Ghraibyards to rule
Where brave hero in shooters survive all a lone
Like a drone, without home,
For some Chairman Dow’s throne
Gets us cheaper white collar depictions of good
Guys with guns who run colorful, bad neighborhoods...

Where the pyramid schemers cell nightmares to dreamers
And deal ‘em in doses of “just say no” *******
Allowed in their Aryan race tractor pull
Bible Bull Connor full metal jackets of wool
Clothing wolves upon little red silenced and shamed
Ad some Hunger bowl Games, ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!?
Well then I’ll end with this sort of "alternate" fact
There’s a Desert Storm post-truthin’ nukes in Iraq
Where you won’t see ‘em comin’ from Russia with love
Such a villain be chillin’ like Putin.gov
Title the world, once I branded, ex bandit, cats cant stand it,
Watch me out land it, crashed on plymouth rock, hard knocks,
From the cops, when my homie had to make the quick drops,
Slouchy, mighty touchy, when the shotti, next to me, easy,
Come easy, go rilling in dough,
Pillysbury style, saw miles, before I walked my first dials,
On the phone, tryna get a wet bone, link back at the zone,
My home, my throne, guard it like Jeffer-son, soothe baritone,
Paul Williams, of the industry, pass cloud nine to ten, chemistry,
Check the geometry, of my lady, back side banging mercedes,
Whoa!, to our future kids, if we got problems ma, let's just dig,
Solve our own problems, before the media robs em, stab em,
With the vocal, shot off words like a pist-al, slows sips of cristal,
Ice dripping off the crystal, ***** of a disco, sparkling slow mo,
Take it back, to the soul train, dance hall, baby let's ball gall,
For your love, from others sisters to brothers and many others,
Love to spread, the butter haters under, slash the thunder,
Lightening strikes, before midnight, picture my sight iight,
Cold dreaming, dont waste the *****, succubus tag teaming,
I must be seeing, things ain't so supreme, I'm a just a humanbeing,
Mortal, but my souls immortal, saw life after death, it was pleasant,
Had undercover peasant,
Worship the presence, over the past, listen to the music, back mask,
Hold up, unveil the last, break the task, move fast as Nash,
Power bomb ya intellect, with the shells of my medulla, selects,
Bring down ya threats, no sweat, but heat off my baguettes,
Icy dripping wet, like girls pearls, I'm still taking on the world,
Hold my status, the baddest, since Jesse James, detain the lames,



Made on the back burners, of sin, born in, to a false religion,
Call us stool pigeons, for playing a masculine positions,
Saw ambitions, of wishing  twinkle star still mixing, kissing,
My dreams goodbye, just another lullaby, so gangstified,
How many of ya peeps tried, failed and hoped you died,
But I took the critics, and buried em, with a fist of rhymes,
Dimes, over pennies, watch em turn Guinea, more than plenty,
Rhymes I got, keep it going til I body rot, its bone **** plot,
Take the bullets from malcolm, and Kennedy, reload it,
Unload it,at my enemies, playing friends of me, raunchy cronies,
Form a rap colony, with no apology, resurrect my ancestry bodies,
Come back, revert the track, murk the masters, of the disaster,
Nat Turner, blaster with the burner, independent learner,
Since the schools, failed me as a, successful earner,
Had to learn tha, hard way stress was building away, always,
Caught a smoke sessions, wild days of my hay day, blazing hay,
No delays, on time, all I saw was, dollar signs, snake lines,
We was all made to fail by design, see the peace sign, rewind,
Check the history, ain't got nothing to do with freedom see?,
Society for what, it really is, put that on my mints n kids,
Future ain't nothing, too bright two shades of butter white,
But I'm a still a *****, focused michete sharp as finger trigger,
Itchin, for a twitching, fast as a blast, now ya mans, in a cask-
-et, looking well fit, tuxedo snort rush fast adrenaline like DeVito,
Cab riding, off the cookie show, mystery meat glow,
Soylent green, love a diva surpeme, like a scorpion stings,
Sings of siren, got me admiring, pretty girls spark the swirls,
Got the little boys, puberty yelling, but without a noise,

— The End —