Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP thinking you are superior.
STOP believing you are entitled.
STOP acting in ways that are unfair.
STOP executing in ways that destroy, in ways that ****, in ways that harm.
STOP dominating ruthlessly.
STOP being threatened by a faith growing the fastest in the world, a faith apart of your history.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP the madness.
STOP the evilness.
STOP hiding behind lands with money and power.
STOP partnering with men dressed in thobes on thrones drenched in oil.
STOP being a thief - taking things that don't belong to you, occupying places that aren't yours.
STOP the ego.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP discriminating.
STOP hating.
STOP colonizing.
STOP cozing up with missionaries who divide Muslims, who **** Muslims and innocent others.
STOP listening to your loud-mouth desire to control and start listening to the calm, just voice of your God.
STOP being the bully of the world.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

When Muslims and others begin to think.
When Muslims and others aren't afraid to think.
When Muslims and others individually and collectively don't fear speaking up.
When Muslim lands with Muslim leaders start practicing what they preach and stop turning their heads and putting their fingers in their ears.
When non-Muslim lands with Muslim leaders stop being fearful and start preaching using the Quran and the life of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), with an understanding of God's words in the Quran and the words of the Prophet.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders abandon their pre-occupation with making money to provide comforts for their own families and children and begin concerning themselves with speaking the truth and doing right to ensure the comforts of all families and children.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders stop playing politics and begin speaking about politics and the hard issues affecting Muslims, humanity, our world.
When Muslims start holding themselves and holding their religious leaders accountable.
When Muslims and others start supporting their God-fearing, truth-telling, justice seeking leaders and role models.
When Muslims and others really believe Allah hu Akbar/God is Greater than and La ilaha illallah/There is no God or Authority but Allah or God.
When Muslims start seeing and understanding those who perceive and practice Islam based on a particular school of thought...Sunnism or ****'ism or Sufism, etc. and those who do not align themselves with one particular school of thought or ideology as all one Ummah, one brotherhood, one body.
When Muslims and others end resorting to the cultures of their countries and ethnicities and begin relying upon God's culture, one that unifies and strengthens all.
When lands of the world start making alliances with Al-Quds and with Palestine.
When humanity acknowledges the hypocrisy of Zionist Israel and the disaster and mayhem it has caused the world.
When the world realizes the criminality of Zionism.
When people of the world start thinking and acting globally and not individually or nationalistically.
When people begin to see, understand, and act in ways that reflect that the Muslims of Al-Quds and of Palestine are oppressed, grieving, struggling, bleeding members of one human family.
When each of us STOPS and thinks of them and their situation and the siege of the sacred Al-Aqsa Mosque and what role we all play.

by: Najwa Kareem

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP thinking you are superior.
STOP believing you are entitled.
STOP acting in ways that are unfair.
STOP executing in ways that destroy, in ways that ****, in ways that harm.
STOP dominating ruthlessly.
STOP being threatened by a faith growing the fastest in the world, a faith apart of your history.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP the madness.
STOP the evilness.
STOP hiding behind lands with money and power.
STOP partnering with men dressed in thobes on thrones drenched in oil.
STOP being a thief - taking things that don't belong to you, occupying places that aren't yours.
STOP the ego.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP discriminating.
STOP hating.
STOP colonizing.
STOP cozing up with missionaries who divide Muslims, who **** Muslims and innocent others.
STOP listening to your loud-mouth desire to control and start listening to the calm, just voice of your God.
STOP being the bully of the world.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

When Muslims and others begin to think.
When Muslims and others aren't afraid to think.
When Muslims and others individually and collectively don't fear speaking up.
When Muslim lands with Muslim leaders start practicing what they preach and stop turning their heads and putting their fingers in their ears.
When non-Muslim lands with Muslim leaders stop being fearful and start preaching using the Quran and the life of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), with an understanding of God's words in the Quran and the words of the Prophet.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders abandon their pre-occupation with making money to provide comforts for their own families and children and begin concerning themselves with speaking the truth and doing right to ensure the comforts of all families and children.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders stop playing politics and begin speaking about politics and the hard issues affecting Muslims, humanity, our world.
When Muslims start holding themselves and holding their religious leaders accountable.
When Muslims and others start supporting their God-fearing, truth-telling, justice seeking leaders and role models.
When Muslims and others really believe Allah hu Akbar/God is Greater than and La ilaha illallah/There is no God or Authority but Allah or God.
When Muslims start seeing and understanding those who perceive and practice Islam based on a particular school of thought...Sunnism or ****'ism or Sufism, etc. and those who do not align themselves with one particular school of thought or ideology as all one Ummah, one brotherhood, one body.
When Muslims and others end resorting to the cultures of their countries and ethnicities and begin relying upon God's culture, one that unifies and strengthens all.
When lands of the world start making alliances with Al-Quds and with Palestine.
When humanity acknowledges the hypocrisy of Zionist Israel and the disaster and mayhem it has caused the world.
When the world realizes the criminality of Zionism.
When people of the world start thinking and acting globally and not individually or nationalistically.
When people begin to see, understand, and act in ways that reflect that the Muslims of Al-Quds and of Palestine are oppressed, grieving, struggling, bleeding members of one human family.
When each of us STOPS and thinks of them and their situation and the siege of the sacred Al-Aqsa Mosque and what role we all play.

by: Najwa Kareem

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP thinking you are superior.
STOP believing you are entitled.
STOP acting in ways that are unfair.
STOP executing in ways that destroy, in ways that ****, in ways that harm.
STOP dominating ruthlessly.
STOP being threatened by a faith growing the fastest in the world, a faith apart of your history.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP the madness.
STOP the evilness.
STOP hiding behind lands with money and power.
STOP partnering with men dressed in thobes on thrones drenched in oil.
STOP being a thief - taking things that don't belong to you, occupying places that aren't yours.
STOP the ego.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP discriminating.
STOP hating.
STOP colonizing.
STOP cozing up with missionaries who divide Muslims, who **** Muslims and innocent others.
STOP listening to your loud-mouth desire to control and start listening to the calm, just voice of your God.
STOP being the bully of the world.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

When Muslims and others begin to think.
When Muslims and others aren't afraid to think.
When Muslims and others individually and collectively don't fear speaking up.
When Muslim lands with Muslim leaders start practicing what they preach and stop turning their heads and putting their fingers in their ears.
When non-Muslim lands with Muslim leaders stop being fearful and start preaching using the Quran and the life of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), with an understanding of God's words in the Quran and the words of the Prophet.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders abandon their pre-occupation with making money to provide comforts for their own families and children and begin concerning themselves with speaking the truth and doing right to ensure the comforts of all families and children.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders stop playing politics and begin speaking about politics and the hard issues affecting Muslims, humanity, our world.
When Muslims start holding themselves and holding their religious leaders accountable.
When Muslims and others start supporting their God-fearing, truth-telling, justice seeking leaders and role models.
When Muslims and others really believe Allah hu Akbar/God is Greater than and La ilaha illallah/There is no God or Authority but Allah or God.
When Muslims start seeing and understanding those who perceive and practice Islam based on a particular school of thought...Sunnism or ****'ism or Sufism, etc. and those who do not align themselves with one particular school of thought or ideology as all one Ummah, one brotherhood, one body.
When Muslims and others end resorting to the cultures of their countries and ethnicities and begin relying upon God's culture, one that unifies and strengthens all.
When lands of the world start making alliances with Al-Quds and with Palestine.
When humanity acknowledges the hypocrisy of Zionist Israel and the disaster and mayhem it has caused the world.
When the world realizes the criminality of Zionism.
When people of the world start thinking and acting globally and not individually or nationalistically.
When people begin to see, understand, and act in ways that reflect that the Muslims of Al-Quds and of Palestine are oppressed, grieving, struggling, bleeding members of one human family.
When each of us STOPS and thinks of them and their situation and the siege of the sacred Al-Aqsa Mosque and what role we all play.

by: Najwa Kareem

Petty crimes have become felonies. Youth programs have been replaced with the jail house. God has been replaced with do what you feel. No one cares what happens to a generation lost. Drug addicts are warehoused in cell blocks, instead of being offered programs to get clean. Forgetting that some of our neighbors are human seems to be the grand scheme of things. There are those who will not change, but some can be saved. It is time to throw a lifeline to those who want out and time for us to stop throwing our children away. Return them to the knowledge of God and give them back some hope. Instead of jailing America, lets find a way to bring them home.

I like cussin’
I even researched the word.
It ain’t cussin’
There’s an R that is not heard.
We’re talking of cursing,
The taking of God’s name in vain,
Back when it was blasphemy.
Those days will never come again.

It ain’t the same way
Like it was back in those times
When spitting on the sidewalk
Was a jailing crime
And black people had to walk
Down in the gutter.
There were words back then that
Decent folks didn’t utter.

Well, I ain’t religious.
I don’t go to any church at all.
It ain’t that I am evil;
I’m not riding for some fall.
But there are times
Like when you hammer your thumb
That saying “Oh fudge!”
Sounds just plain old **** dumb.

I am not sending
Anything or anyone here to hell.
It’s just helps
To say hell or **** or fuckaduck
When you have to yell.
A shuckydern don’t fit the bill like
A shouted “****”
When you are *******, raving
Ready to spit.

I totally understand
That some words have a place.
Calling people *******
Can be seen as a huge disgrace.
But I still insist
That many times in a conversation
The word *******
Just fits the momentary occasion.

So, scoff if you will.
I’ll try to play by your nicey-nice rules,
But there are people
What are nothing but ******* fools.
I do hope you pardon
My not liking any more pleasant words
When someone says
The dumbest **** I have ever heard

Chapter 1

Looking down at this bar with its variously brown stained boards beneath its
glossy finish reminds me of a surfboard I wish I could just get up on and ride a
wave out of this place.This place full of people with their devil horned hand
gestures and uneducated mouths uttering ridiculous thoughts to me.constantly
coming after me with their thoughts about rock & roll,heaven,hell,love and
deception.The real deception is that there's life in this bar where I find
myself time and time again.There might as well be bars instead of walls,we are
all jailing ourselves I think as I take a big sip of draft beer to momentarily
ease the brain.but just as soon as I replace the glass to the coaster paying
careful attention to return it to the wet circle mark where it had rested before
the thoughts start again about the crowd I am not only surrounded by but am
among one of the abused and scared running away from the truths we have
desperately locked away in places as obvious as the lyrics of our songs,cowards
confronting no one,nothing except beer drenched microphones and crowds just as
loathsome to stand there and watch us and are repetitive garbage we
unidentifiably call art.                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                                          Theodor­e why are you sitting here I think to myself as I
light a cigarette and take and take a deep drag,a drag that seems to relieve me
for a brief second from the anger and desperation.Theodore Francis Boone why am
I called this,what  could my parents have possibly been thinking,were their
intentions to high,could they have been thinking I may be a discoverer,hold a
seat in the senate,fast talking lawyer with a phone full of numbers of people
that want to be around me,well Theodore you are none of things tonight here atop
your ripped fake leather barstool here tonight.I clicked the bar three times
with my lighter took a drag and as I did I felt a tap on my shoulder Reluctantly
I looked over at an oddly attractive girl standing there with a sort of perky
stature and my fears were loose as I anticipated what she could possibly
want.                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                        She mumbled words that at the very least I could care less about especially
with them being drowned out by the music being played at decibels better suited
for an outdoor venue.Great show she said my name Tabby can I by you a
drink.Tabby I thought for a second looked at my beer clicked it twice with my
fingernail took the last **** on it and then gave her a quick look and said
thanks and then returned my eyes to my empty glass.I turned my head back around
to her and said I'll have a draft,just a draft she replied? absolutely I said
just a draft.With guitar distortion consuming the smoke riddled air like a buzz
saw I felt her tap me on the right shoulder just as my draft arrived on fresh
coaster and she proceeded to ask do you guys play here often?I don't know I
added as she relentlessly continued with the questions.I one worded my way
through them until finally she let up for a few minuets and I returned to the
draft she had bought me.As I took a sip I thought maybe she was getting the
picture that I didn't need a Tabby or anyone else for that matter in my life who
felt like talking about the band or how often we played here in this prison.                                                          ­                                                              
  ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                               But just then,just as I thought it maybe over I felt another tap on my shoulder and
as I turned she handed me a torn in half bar napkin with her phone number on
it.As I folded it she laid the other torn half in front of me and asked if I
could give her my number and I wrote it down thinking to myself why would she
want to talk to me again ,I had been pretty lousy company.She the torn paper
with my number and placed it in her purse.I took the last pull on my beer paying
close attention to finish every drop then stood up tapped Tabby on the shoulder
and made my way out of there.                                                           ­                                                                 ­                             As the door closed and I was now on the outside the
ringing in my ears became apparent while  making my way down the street in an
almost silent peace.This was always my favorite part of any day the quiet of the
night walking with little distraction.The city seemed so much more beautiful
when it wasn't full of people aimlessly wandering around it.Sure there was the
occasional drunk or druggie but they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them
most of the time ,it was sort of a mutual respect at this hour of
night.Generally it was the blaze of the daytime when the distasteful wanderers
where most displeasing.The boss's the politicians all those daytime degenerates
those are the ones to worry about,the bankers and the such.Those that think they
got it that think they are ahead of the game and got it beat,they always seem
way to persistent on getting me involved uncreative tasks,No none of them where
out here tonight to bother me and I could enjoy my walk home.

Looking down at this bar with its variously brown stained boards beneath its
glossy finish reminds me of a surfboard I wish I could just get up on and ride a
wave out of this place.This place full of people with their devil horned hand
gestures and uneducated mouths uttering ridiculous thoughts to me.constantly
coming after me with their thoughts about rock & roll,heaven,hell,love and
deception.The real deception is that there's life in this bar where I find
myself time and time again.There might as well be bars instead of walls,we are
all jailing ourselves I think as I take a big sip of draft beer to momentarily
ease the brain.but just as soon as I replace the glass to the coaster paying
careful attention to return it to the wet circle mark where it had rested before
the thoughts start again about the crowd I am not only surrounded by but am
among one of the abused and scared running away from the truths we have
desperately locked away in places as obvious as the lyrics of our songs,cowards
confronting no one,nothing except beer drenched microphones and crowds just as
loathsome to stand there and watch us and are repetitive garbage we
unidentifiably call art.Theodore why are you sitting here I think to myself as I
light a cigarette and take and take a deep drag,a drag that seems to relieve me
for a brief second from the anger and desperation.Theodore Francis Boone why am
I called this,what  could my parents have possibly been thinking,were their
intentions to high,could they have been thinking I may be a discoverer,hold a
seat in the senate,fast talking lawyer with a phone full of numbers of people
that want to be around me,well Theodore you are none of things tonight here atop
your ripped fake leather barstool.I clicked the bar three times
with my lighter took a drag and as I did I felt a tap on my shoulder Reluctantly
I looked over at an oddly attractive girl standing there with a sort of perky
stature and my fears were loose as I anticipated what she could possibly
want.She mumbled words that at the very least I could care less about especially
with them being drowned out by the music being played at decibels better suited
for an outdoor venue.Great show she said my name Tabby can I by you a
drink.Tabby I thought for a second looked at my beer clicked it twice with my
fingernail took the last **** on it and then gave her a quick look and said
thanks and then returned my eyes to my empty glass.I turned my head back around
to her and said I'll have a draft,just a draft she replied? absolutely I said
just a draft.With guitar distortion consuming the smoke riddled air like a buzz
saw I felt her tap me on the right shoulder just as my draft arrived on fresh
coaster and she proceeded to ask do you guys play here often?I don't know I
added as she relentlessly continued with the questions.I one worded my way
through them until finally she let up for a few minuets and I returned to the
draft she had bought me.As I took a sip I thought maybe she was getting the
picture that I didn't need a Tabby or anyone else for that matter in my life who
felt like talking about the band or how often we played here in this prison.But
just then,just as I thought it maybe over I felt another tap on my shoulder and
as I turned she handed me a torn in half bar napkin with her phone number on
it.As I folded it she laid the other torn half in front of me and asked if I
could give her my number and I wrote it down thinking to myself why would she
want to talk to me again ,I had been pretty lousy company.She the torn paper
with my number and placed it in her purse.I took the last pull on my beer paying
close attention to finish every drop then stood up tapped Tabby on the shoulder
and made my way out of there.As the door closed and I was now on the outside the
ringing in my ears became apparent while  making my way down the street in an
almost silent peace.This was always my favorite part of any day the quiet of the
night walking with little distraction.The city seemed so much more beautiful
when it wasn't full of people aimlessly wandering around it.Sure there was the
occasional drunk or druggie but they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them
most of the time ,it was sort of a mutual respect at this hour of
night.Generally it was the blaze of the daytime when the distasteful wanderers
where most displeasing.The boss's the politicians all those daytime degenerates
those are the ones to worry about,the bankers and the such.Those that think they
got it that think they are ahead of the game and got it beat,they always seem
way to persistent on getting me involved uncreative tasks,No none of them where
out here tonight to bother me and I could enjoy my walk home.

Life was an upward battle
Of intense personal frustration,
As we were treated like cattle
With unabashed discrimination.
And those of us who existed
Without rights or respect
We had a stronger hope
Than we had reason to expect.

When some of us reminded
Jesus said love your brother
They made up ***** jokes
Used ugly names of our mothers.
Some invented a phrase to use
That said God Hates *******.
They seemed to imply that God
Treated some children like maggots.

Rights were something given
At birth to regular human beings
To other people who were living
But justice we were not seeing
Because justice was not for us
It was for heterosexual whites.
The rest of us had few rights.

True, it was not legal to **** us
But in court things went elsewise.
Police and judges carried on
And covered their acts with lies.
With them bad could be good.
They behaved themselves oddly
Jailing and imprisoning us
Claiming it was all very godly.

And, today, with communication
Such an instantaneous entity
Things have gotten a bit better.
We’re still surrounded by enemy
That quotes a bible they don’t read
And block those any attempt to heal
Wanting instead to make hatred
And legal discrimination real.

Brent Kincaid
4/7/2015

I grasp for you,
But if I handle you too much you dissolve.
You are far and I welcome you into me.

Your white face used to be so good to me.
Now I’m burned by your look
And fade into nothingness in your presence.

Thinking of each other is safe
As long as we don’t put too much attention there.
When we cross that line my heart is left foolish
As though I’ve broken a law or moral code.

Nothing is so sweet as when I think of you with a smile
Smiling back at me.
Was it something I did to merit your happiness?

Flesh and bone
Commitment and honor
Are all gone now.
What is left is the emptiness we show each other
And happiness for now.

I no longer long for your hand,
But long for your happiness
Even in a hug from you if you are happy.

But if you are cold today a hug will cause pain.
What did I make you think of?
Was it my insanity or jailing that you remember now?
Or was it that all the pain is gone and that you’re glad I’m no longer close?
This gladness is bitter anguish – not being liked.
But you tolerate me, something my sister and friends do as well.

The Gothic Poet
Chapter 1

Looking down at this bar with its variously brown stained boards beneath its
glossy finish reminds me of a surfboard I wish I could just get up on and ride a
wave out of this place.This place full of people with their devil horned hand
gestures and uneducated mouths uttering ridiculous thoughts to me.constantly
coming after me with their thoughts about rock & roll,heaven,hell,love and
deception.The real deception is that there's life in this bar where I find
myself time and time again.There might as well be bars instead of walls,we are
all jailing ourselves I think as I take a big sip of draft beer to momentarily
ease the brain.but just as soon as I replace the glass to the coaster paying
careful attention to return it to the wet circle mark where it had rested before
the thoughts start again about the crowd I am not only surrounded by but am
among one of the abused and scared running away from the truths we have
desperately locked away in places as obvious as the lyrics of our songs,cowards
confronting no one,nothing except beer drenched microphones and crowds just as
loathsome to stand there and watch us and are repetitive garbage we
unidentifiably call art.                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                                          Theodor­e why are you sitting here I think to myself as I
light a cigarette and take and take a deep drag,a drag that seems to relieve me
for a brief second from the anger and desperation.Theodore Francis Boone why am
I called this,what  could my parents have possibly been thinking,were their
intentions to high,could they have been thinking I may be a discoverer,hold a
seat in the senate,fast talking lawyer with a phone full of numbers of people
that want to be around me,well Theodore you are none of things tonight here atop
your ripped fake leather barstool here tonight.I clicked the bar three times
with my lighter took a drag and as I did I felt a tap on my shoulder Reluctantly
I looked over at an oddly attractive girl standing there with a sort of perky
stature and my fears were loose as I anticipated what she could possibly
want.                                                        ­                                                                 ­                                                           She mumbled words that at the very least I could care less about especially
with them being drowned out by the music being played at decibels better suited
for an outdoor venue.Great show she said my name Tabby can I by you a
drink.Tabby I thought for a second looked at my beer clicked it twice with my
fingernail took the last **** on it and then gave her a quick look and said
thanks and then returned my eyes to my empty glass.I turned my head back around
to her and said I'll have a draft,just a draft she replied? absolutely I said
just a draft.With guitar distortion consuming the smoke riddled air like a buzz
saw I felt her tap me on the right shoulder just as my draft arrived on fresh
coaster and she proceeded to ask do you guys play here often?I don't know I
added as she relentlessly continued with the questions.I one worded my way
through them until finally she let up for a few minuets and I returned to the
draft she had bought me.As I took a sip I thought maybe she was getting the
picture that I didn't need a Tabby or anyone else for that matter in my life who
felt like talking about the band or how often we played here in this prison.                                                          ­                                                              
                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                                     But just then,just as I thought it maybe over I felt another tap on my shoulder and
as I turned she handed me a torn in half bar napkin with her phone number on
it.As I folded it she laid the other torn half in front of me and asked if I
could give her my number and I wrote it down thinking to myself why would she
want to talk to me again ,I had been pretty lousy company.She the torn paper
with my number and placed it in her purse.I took the last pull on my beer paying
close attention to finish every drop then stood up tapped Tabby on the shoulder
and made my way out of there.                                                           ­                                                                 ­                             As the door closed and I was now on the outside the
ringing in my ears became apparent while  making my way down the street in an
almost silent peace.This was always my favorite part of any day the quiet of the
night walking with little distraction.The city seemed so much more beautiful
when it wasn't full of people aimlessly wandering around it.Sure there was the
occasional drunk or druggie but they didn't bother me and I didn't bother them
most of the time ,it was sort of a mutual respect at this hour of
night.Generally it was the blaze of the daytime when the distasteful wanderers
where most displeasing.The boss's the politicians all those daytime degenerates
those are the ones to worry about,the bankers and the such.Those that think they
got it that think they are ahead of the game and got it beat,they always seem
way to persistent on getting me involved uncreative tasks,No none of them where
out here tonight to bother me and I could enjoy my walk home.

Time to concoct something the doctors can't counter
Callous my temper with imitation, an elation that makes an earthquake feel a bit sounder
If I told you I was a chameleon you would think I'm a laughing sensation
Like a small town crowd of people with personalities no deeper than flounder
But if you hit me I temper like brass in a manner of class saturation, trying to become a metal that cannot be bent or shaken by voices that are louder

Your mirror's can't see me, only you
I copy and pasted your binary in my caffeine induced computer architect blues
If I told you the color of envy was green, would you see right through my chameleon mirage tailored J. Crew

My scales aren't slimy, although you'd figure so by the way I march around in the conviction of my intelligent muse
I'm so perfect in being perfect, it's almost a clue

But paint me another color of your choosing, to mask the mask I'm wearing over my bruising
You wouldn't know what I scream behind all that I'm hiding because it's sealed under all of the mumbles of my crying

I'm calling your faintest noticeable attraction to grow to know my horrendous transaction interactions
When you sit in your desk chair with your tobacco relaxion, judging every crescendo of my orchestra tastes and core reactions

What say you demon for your jailing taxes, and your horns and your perfect brand named wood stained glasses?
Your cuff is off, your deliverance remarkable, you're becoming a ******* classic just by the stale look that your grin passes
Im not ready for aerobics, I'm not elastic, most will tell you if you try bending me into fantastic, I'm not very static
That's why imitation is suicide when you're not dynamic, looking down the barrel of a factory stack of envy plastics

The poisoned soul, tainted--
victim of its owner's own hand.
Twisted;
tight and coiling as a filth soaked rag;
contentment, elation's enchantment,
wrung like water clouded the filth of grey--
cast from the fibres' binding
binding life to purpose. Worthless.

Popping pills
to cure an invisible ailment.
Smartphones, gems, unhumble hovels,
ineloquent words impotent
to wash the essence sickness--
treating symptom rather
circumstance. Jailing the spirit in
sedation's purchased trance.

The cure found not in
possessions procurement but
by moments in time too brief.
A loving embrace, the hand of a child,
smiles and laughter--
relief to soothe
the poisoned soul poisoned by
sadness.

Of the silence in this mind
Life once taken isn’t sacred
Staring at a mirror with one’s self, half-naked
After learning to accept the pain, there’s was nothing to escape it
One could make it better than fate ever did  

Can’t understand what one was doing; just escaping
Jailing one’s self with their own personal hate and
Hiding away from the mental wardens that one stayed with
Discarding one’s self to remember that one had a very hand in
The destruction to the very world one was contained within

One believed it’s right, so the argument is always “*******-
go fix your life before you act like you’re a **** God.”
It’s a long way from accepting all the blade does
But it never fails and the lines eventually fade off

Could be a saint and come to one’s defense
Or shut the **** up and watch from the ******* fence
Worn this mask so long, one tends to forget to fake it
Disillusioned to one’s self and all the things that make it

More lines to breathe across the skin appear soon
A novella of pain with no words to read through
Handling a smile like accessory to hide instability
Always showing through, but truly just a shell of ‘me’
Despite the calm you see
Through laughs and jeers
One still feels lost and uncontrolled
Everything warm when one’s heart turned cold

No chance to correct it, just craving an exit
Took the knife last night, now the demons are rested
Took the chance last night, now dried and decrepit
Relapsed again tonight, and one’s mind is repressive
Wrote about a horrid time, and now it’s all depressive

Happy stars and pussycats, unicorns and other ****.

©2015 Neal Emanuelson

Just 15 years, 2 months, and 18 days ago, we made a promise
A vow of unconditional love and devotion to each other
A pact, united as one, made to simply protect one another
Our memories are woven together,
Thread by thread and line by line
To crate a single human being
Made of the body and the mind
My soul is my immortal, heaven-sent and never whole
And my bones, my skin, my body— just a temporary home
This home has been broken, held up by the white beneath my skin
Mistreated by my soul’s selfish beating called sin
You have sealed up all the windows, and locked all the doors
You have trapped me inside of myself, creating a series of civil wars
This is a letter to you, my punching bag, my security blanket, my
       canvas, my betrayer
This is a letter to you
My body

A movement of the mouth, a gasp for air,
A mutter of sound, and two legs moving as a pair.
A thought occurred to us, just children, learning to control ourselves.
We are able to go on, now, speaking aloud what the story tells.
As a single being, united as one,
We are able to understand what we see,
We are able to dance, and sing, and run.
We are able to let the words crawl through our veins
Just to spill out of our hearts to cope with our own pain.
We are able to create,
We are able to live.
We, a body and a mind, are able.

We transform from child to a teenager,
As a single human being
Our souls change from a whole, to a one with a hole
Leaving a trench where our innocence had been.
The mind convinces itself that you, my body, is jailing me, innocent girl for a crime she had never committed.
The mind convinces you, that if you try to stand, every bone in your legs will shatter into a million pieces.
The mind convinces my eyes that the person I see in the mirror is an unknown face, string back at me.
The mind convinces itself and you that the only way to fill up this crater of demons inside; Is by torturing your beautiful skin and drowning the evil in every drop of blood, and every tear ever shed.
The mind convinces itself and you, my body, that there is no reason to be.
There is no reason,
To create
To dance,
To sing,
To run.
To live.

Time passes by, and the years go on,
We simply survive the life we are meant to live.
As one being, we venture through the valleys of hell,
My immortal being strives for the heaven it craves from the inside of this cell.
The mind imagines a place it has yet to find,
But our legs are unable to jump just that high.
So we envision a staircase.
Step by step we climb up, until they come to a stop—
We’ve fallen from grace.
Our bones, cracked, and all out of place
Our hearts, crushed under the weight,
Of our broken souls, ripped open and stripped of any hope,
Leaving us in the control of an evil fate.
We are irreversibly broken.
And we have no reason to be fixed.

In the back of our mind,
Even as the time has gone by,
I’ve thought about apologizing, but our mouth always responded with a sigh.
Now, I, eternal and never whole, realize that there has always been a doubt in my soul.
Maybe it is my fault.
I am sorry. I truly am.
I am sorry for taking you for granted when you took me as your own
I’m sorry for kicking you out when all you needed was a home.
I’m sorry for every time I stare at the mirror and never like what I see
Because you are content with me, and only me.
I’m sorry for telling you to shrink, shrink, shrink, when all you wanted to do was grow.
I’m sorry for concealing your light when all you waned was to show your natural glow
I’m sorry for not thanking you every time you healed my skin to seal and protect my soul, and I want you to know that you, and only you, can make me whole.
I finally realize that although I always hurt you,
We did make a promise.
We made a vow of unconditional love and devotion, and protection for one another.
A body with a mind, and a soul with a heart,
We, as a single human being, are able.
This is a letter to you, to my beautiful painting, my sweet salivation, and my armor through the fight, my torch when there is no light.
This is a letter to you,
My body.

When I ate with you
in Merrion Square,

flicking rain
from my eyes

as it wandered down
from the jailing trees,

had you already decided
to leave me?

There I sat, thinking
I was Orpheus,

come to Dublin
to return my lover

to my world,
not looking back

at what she did,
not ever looking back.

There you sat, knowing
I was Eurydice -

to be given one last longing look
before I was pulled

from Merrion Square,
from Dublin, raked over

the sea changes,
until all I had was the dark,

the jilted dark
of the bedroom

that doubled
as a hell.

The cares in the world are as little
As the arcs your eyes make
When you smile--
Whenever you smile.
This interaction--soul to soul,
Silly, with both stares bending, ending
In laughters. I cannot pair my thumb
To the lower detail of your lips.
I cannot cuddle your pains
In the past. I cannot quite conclude
How your hips sway me
Towards hope than to surrendering.

You are the type that needs
Chasing, after falling for.
I have to be happily ever after you
Or be sad forever.
I am the lovesick
Wanting to be the one
Who feels for you,
For your forehead, your neck,
Assessing for fever
In vain.

The little I do understand
About love,
I forget little by little.
Little by little, I petal you
To the glory of such force,
Of such feeling, its truest,
Simple and bravely.
Slow is the death we die for love;
Forever is what it takes.

Dear, in the darkest days of life,
My love, my only, I want you
To save your life
That is also mine. I want you
To take everything necessary,
For you to start a new one.
Leave sorrow. Take air away.
I won’t be selfish of all-you
For all-me.

I won’t be jailing your heart
For me,
For the best things in life…
…are free.*

© 2014 J.S.P.

Spot deals,market steals and the poor man feels the pinch,
we ought to lynch the lot of them,
those jolly brolly grinning swagmen.
The bank brigade with brown suede shoes use your cash,lose,and then cut a dash or cut and run
it's no wonder that we think they're ****.
I never won at monopoly which is what I see when I look at them,the hotel,motel,tell us all to go to hell men,
**** them.
I'll bury my pile in the ground,sod the compound interest rate,you can kiss my **** or wait and see when monopoly crashes what will be.
weeping and wailing? they need ****** jailing and we need our heads looking at,at that.
****** the lot of them and ***** to the brollymen and tell me when the cashier comes to say,
'there's no credit in your account,maybe later today'
and that's futures trading,more ****** raiding of the shilling,too ****** willing to rob and to steal and another spot deal hits the mark.

Ink dabbed on empty sheets
Jailing behind lines
Almost lost memories
What a perfect sublime
Ink and pages
Of almost forgotten memories.

Things Worth, Or Not, Remembering:
T.S. Eliot,  O.L. Poetry and the Passage of Time

<>

“Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present

All time is unredeemable.

What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.”

T.S. Eliot
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

<>

Only in a world of speculation, but what if,
There was no such world, one speculates,
Where safely looking in both directions as
We cross the alleys and boulevards of now is
NOT required; living in series of moments,
a steady spasming of venturing, and always,
something gained, something lost, but never,
additive, cumulative and more sensational
than experiential and we have no memory,
and thus no prejudice for or against!

Living with constant aspiration, not reckoning what are
Things Worth Remembering, is that not more than
no footfalls, only footsteps, to new love, renewed love,
possibilities of all doors opened, and we take each day
as it is given, banishing longing, jailing regret,
believing round every turn is a new fragrant, radiant rose garden,
or not…but perhaps means eternal, forever looking.

O. L. Poetry

It was one of those days
Started with the shower
She wanted to join me
Which in any other day would’ve been great
But her best friend was sharing it sort of to speak
It was a sympathetic sort of share
Which was true
The wife did leave me on the Friday
To visit her mum
Coming back on the Monday
So technically she lied
Coming back on the Sunday
A good lawyer would pick up on this immediately
Granted, when I told her best friend she had left me
I maybe forgot to mention it was only for the weekend
Anyway, back to the problem at hand
The shower has packed in love
Okay sweet chops, I’ll be naked waiting for you
Right love, oh god don’t go into the bedroom
You *******
She went into the bedroom
So anyway, since it was Sunday, I popped out for the rolls and papers
He did this every Sunday the Lawyer explained
Two Police cars, sirens blaring flew up towards the house
So as the Judge stated, jailing her for 90 days, taking into account the mitigating circumstances in this sorry affair
Could have been a whole lot worse I suppose
So I was at a loose end, and a visit to the hospital was long overdue
Naturally I took the obligatory grapes and flowers
Technically she was still the wifes best friend
But my god, if you could’ve seen the venom coming out of that one good eye
I swear, if she could speak through that wired jaw
I would have got a right ear bashing
So i sat down on the bench eating my grapes, thinking
I do hope they two can put this behind them
Probably laugh about it in 83 days.

Mirror, mirror,
By the wall he hungs,
A little flame on a melting candle,
Dancing beautifully within his cornered edges

She whispers, asking,
"who's the fairest of all? "
"In this room drowning in darkness,
And of the night, young and calm"

His voice vibrating and clear,
"truly in this room, you, above all"
"But of this night, lone and quiet,
The bright star besides the shadow of her moon"

"Gracefully they travel many nights,
Across valleys and plains,
Beyond deserts and thick forests,
And over endless covers of unknown waters"

"Together, I have seen many seasons,
Through the freezing cold of a jailing winter,
And the scorching heat of a summer hell
As like always, glancing through that window from this wall"

"Attracted to her beautiful twinkles,
From the beginning of this world,
To this very moment, with each passing second,
And may be, to the world's end"

She dances once and twice
Bitter, broken by the weight of his words,
Before, finally, blown out of life,
To rise as smoke, into the milky way

Painting a dark cloud
That even in her despair,
Her tears shall fall to soak the earth,
To soften, and swallow her beloved mirror

Taking my affections for granted,
Laughing in the face of my feelings,
Jailing me in the friendzone forever,
Ignoring my obvious sufferings in this matter;

I can barely face the sun,
Praying the golden ball never comes through,
The darkness has become my companion,
Not interested in any other opinion;

Until I found something quite interesting,
Never knew I had it all in myself,
There, in the corner of my resolve,
The mustard of strength to evolve;

I shall outgrow this phase,
Loving you is not a criminal offence,
Now that I  have turned this corner,
I really do not have any bother.

South Africa

The rainbow paled in South Africa
the end of apartheid has ended, freedom for all.
Not quite, the poor in Soweto are getting poorer.
The difference it now consists of white poor as well.
The new leadership behave like the old one corruption
and shade dealings.
South Africa is practically a democratic one-party state.
Or was democracy and equality brought on too early?
It takes time.
What is there to say when people riot and burn down
the places where they buy their daily bread and have to walk for miles
to buy milk for their children, other than an act of despair.
Big business is doing well, thank you.
But nothing has been done to alleviate the suffering of the poor.
The rainbow state has lost its lustre.
If you wonder why the poor ran amok was the jailing of Jacob Zuma
Despite his failings, he has an African heart, which the new elite, dipped in white culture,
failed to see.
He is the chieftain dethroned and Africa bleeds.

I'll tell you what's on my mind. If you think we doing fine? What if illusion was a crime. Sure dreaming seems to be. Cause my country criticizes  in ink, Poets, writers, painters in a blink. My country that is confused between it's old and it's new. A tradition and knowledge gone, trying to find a new truth.

Seems we're always in a rush but never on time,
Catching the cartoonist was easy, a ****** or murderer takes time.
Forget about jailing politicians for their crimes.
Cause we all know that takes years and tears of time.
The comfortably accepted discomfort that grows.
From the potholes and bad roads now shooting rockets without checking pockets.
Left behind and ignored is a vast mass of people.
A basic requirement hard for them to get. Lives under threat. Somebody who voices out is shot in front of the crowd.
The crowd ignore, windows and doors shut down.
Cause within the confinements of the 4 walls I'm safe.
Now I'm like a pigeon with closed eyes.
Who believes the world's fine if I just turn the other side.
Well, good luck everyone, choosing what is right.

survival mode Liban
the logos of the statement just like any other
some curse it like it's some occasion
maybe it just needed a vocation
instead of the maybe
so the intelligence of its diction comes at cost
that one of its mind jailing mine
the ability of writing today is the lack of writing tomorrow
why does it have to be
for the words
to be a hostage
of the momentum of a pen
the golden age of today for me is the golden age of tomorrow
again with the maybe
or maybe not
already noted a 'useless' spot
the older I get the smaller I feel
from the exposure to the lots of the real
the younger I was the bigger I felt
from here
from the bubble of the lots of the real

                                                           ­                                -------ravenfeels

“Lock her up!” Trump’s fans would yell
At campaign rallies in 2016.
Trump just ate it up, for he
Loves to see his fans make a scene.

Over and over, Trump would harp
About Hillary's emails, and then,
When his subsequent rally occurred,
He started in all over again.

The alleged mishandling of classified docs
Became Trump's wild and crazy fixation.
The mere mention of jailing Clinton
Would get from his crowd a loud ovation.

It didn't matter that there was no proof
Of willful negligence involved;
To lambaste Clinton in any way
He could, Donald Trump was resolved.

We know that Trump engages in conduct
That he accuses others of doing.
The FBI has taken his classified
Docs, and now the man is stewing.

In office, Trump had signed into law
A bill cracking down on anyone
Willfully mishandling
Classified docs. But what has he done?

Exactly that! Allegedly.
How ironic if we should find
That Trump is guilty and sentenced under
The very same law that he had signed!

Covering up his many wrong-doings
And breaking the rules with pomp and glee
Have been Trump's M.O. from the start.
But will it blow up in his face? We'll see.

-by Bob B (8-28-22)

Police fronting blue lives matter,
What are they some type of smurfs?
Treating minorities like they Gargamel,
Not even wizards yet we treated like a curse.
Can shoot us in the back, pretending all is well.
And go back home for some dessert.
Than the next day go to church,
To praise and yell.
Yet can’t hear us yelling for air,
When they knees on our necks,
What part of that is to serve and protect?
We are taught to respect authority,
Yet can’t keep in check?
But when power is left unchecked,
It becomes corrupt.
And for a department of corrections.
It certainly is anything but correct.
When they be jailing innocents,
Simply because their colour, makes them the usual suspect.
It shouldn’t be like this.
But in this world, the simple fact is.
That there ain’t no true justice.
For people like us.

But maybe in the next life!
Yeah maybe in the next life.
Things will be alright.
Things will be alright.
So, here’s to the next life.
Here’s to next life.

A life where I no longer worry,
About people following me,
In stores because their convinced,
Imma start stealing.
A life where I no longer worry,
About cooperating with my hands up,
Wondering if the officer is gonna shoot me.
In the back of my head than claim they did it defensively.
Getting away with ****** in the first degree.
And being able to come back home to their families.
Unlike the lost souls they took out discrliminintly.
I know that not all cops are bad,
However, they do have a gang like mentality.
By that I mean.
They defend each other’s actions even if they are guilty.
And justify it as loyalty.
I call it corruption and disgusting,
But maybe that’s just me?
And truthfully if good cops defend bad cops,
That makes them just as bad in my opinion G.
It’s like watching a bully continue to bully.
And not doing or saying something.

But maybe in the next life!
Yeah maybe in the next life.
Things will be alright.
Things will be alright.
So, here’s to the next life.
Here’s to next life.

Taking my affections for granted,
Laughing in the face of my feelings,
Jailing me in the friendzone forever,
Ignoring my obvious sufferings in this matter;

I can barely face the sun,
Praying the golden ball never comes through,
The darkness has become my companion,
Not interested in any other opinion;

Until I found something quite interesting,
Never knew I had it all in myself,
There, in the corner of my resolve,
The mustard of strength to evolve;

I shall outgrow this phase,
Loving you is not a criminal offence,
Now that I  have turned this corner,
I really do not have any bother.