racism and stereotypes
I’m not chief keef but that’s that **** I don’t like
especially when I’m judged like when people say that I don’t “look right”
cause I tell I’m samoan so I’m supposed to be big and strong
and playing some stereotypical sport like football
it’s just an ethnicity, like anyone else, relax
but on a more serious note, I feel bad for the blacks
tell me why a few weeks ago, my roommate is walkin’ down on mill ave.
and he sees some girl sittin’ alone so he comes over cause he just wants to chat
but as soon as he approaches her, she gets all tense and afraid
cause she’s over here fabricating some image that he’s some kind of troublemaker, like the dude from the movie crash, you know the one with the braids?
I find that **** ludicrous
that many people out there judge off the color of someone’s skin and think they knew all of it
all of who you are and all of how you act
so you supposed to be a gangsta on the streets cause you young and you black
or the only explanation for the brotha with the beemer is he be workin’ that corner sellin’ out dime sacks from his nike knapsack or maybe he’s just one of those cats that likes to rap and occasionally slangs crack
but no, he can’t be no college educated man
he’s wearing a nike outfit and his skin is all black
and don’t even get me started on all the idiots that judge Hispanics and call ‘em wetbacks
what the hell is wrong with this world?
latinos are arguably the hardest working people around
but jose and carlos must be illegal cause they’re holding a shovel and their skin is all brown
so let’s get a group of racist ******* to push sheriff joe arpaio to introduce sb1070
good job Arizona, you’re now the most hated state in the country
cause we don’t like Mexicans cause they’re taking all the jobs that we could have had
but let’s skip the fact that they’re willing to work twice as hard for half the pay with no insurance to cover their back
how do you disrespect anyone, who’s willing to do all that?
and as we go over these issues with all the minorities
racists begin to develop a sense of hate for those that make up the majority
the white people
this girl in class may have not have been paying attention or got an easy question wrong
so let’s just whisper under our breath that she’s just another “dumb blonde”
let’s just assume that she’s daddy’s spoiled little girl cause she has a coach bag
and that she has a lotta of money, no rhythm, and above all no ***
and her daddy’s daddy’s daddy must have owned slaves back in the day
so I’mma use that against her if she ever misbehaves
and act like the majority of her people haven’t matured past that stage
and since they seem like their living well, it must be safe to assume that they were born privileged
and that they’re completely oblivious to the sufferings of other races and completely ethnocentric
*******
all these stereotypes and racist assumptions, *******
why can’t we,
live in a colorblind society,
where all races can connect without the animosity?
well, the answer is, we can, but it starts from us
stop the racism, stop the stereotypes, stop the hate, and begin to trust
in people of all colors with different mothers
like the cliché goes, don’t judge a book by its cover
so just because he ain’t a brother
that don’t mean you gotta give him the cold shoulder
so, if everyone can, I need yall to do me a favor,
I need you to love you, love him, and even love me
love her, love them, love everyone equally
and as for me? I’mma just be me
regardless of what people assume, I have the right to act freely
cause I’m not trynna be the center of attention or the definition of perfection
I’m just strivin’ to be proud of what I see in my reflection…

‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.

The light pollution
from the lives of little people
in the big city
reflects off the lowriding clouds,
the same way my knees reflect
in the little puddles
from the big rains.

It hurts my eyes to look up
without sunglasses,
hurts my lips to think of tasting
the subway oil that
drip
drip
drips

I speculate at the transformers,
part automatic, part people
in their pre-ripped jeans,
learning to get their Ns
to drive themselves away,
yarn trailing from their sweaters
like parade float streamers.

Citizens run so fast
to catch the early train home,
freefalling down the stairs  
breathing in the exhales
of the other racer’s exhaust.
Marking their triumphs
with participation ribbons.

The pacific pants at toes,
a puppy that only occasionally misbehaves.
Impatient for attention,
waves wagging back and forth,
up the imitation river,
past the downtown.
Kicking the sea wall with it's gravity boots.


The geese are on hiatus
until they can take back the city.
Making the drains overflow,
creating their own habitat,
they’ll strut their haughty markings,
distinguished from orcas,
away from any saline nonsense.

Were we to retrain the population
to turn blind eyes,
we’d be much more efficient,
stop wasting time contending
to society’s obsession
with documenting itself.
But then, what would we do all day?

Creating light pollution
must give immediate gratification.
Once all the lights are turned off,
the influence won’t continue,
creating a lack of permanence,
making our need to be remembered
seem trivial indeed.

You hired me to be a cook at your restaurant.
I'll cook but I won't do everything you want.
When you said what you wanted, I said no.
I'll cook the food but I won't peel the potatoes.
I won't peel potatoes or anything else either.
Your daughter is accusing me of ****** harassment and you believe her.
The truth is that she desperately wants me to be her *** slave.
When I refuse, she becomes vindictive and she misbehaves.
She tore her dress and said that I attacked her.
I'd had all I could take so I finally smacked her.
I won't give in to her demands, if I have to, I'll take her to court.
She's the ugliest girl I've ever seen, her face is covered with warts.
Because I won't be her piece of ***, she tries to get me in hot water.
I won't peel your vegetables and I won't sleep with your ugly daughter.
When I got this job, I thought that I would love it.
But I've decided to quit, take this job and shove it.

After long dark,
you can find me in my mind;
taming serpents; kissing girls.
You may not understand
why I've been the way I am.
You're under-educated
and that's only half your fault.

Sometimes I am imprisoned
within the waves of an ocean
that always misbehaves --
but it's not my fault; just the
way the god rolls: making halves
and making wholes.

After the short syrup of light,
you can find me hiding, true;
pulling off ticks; kissing boys.
You may not comprehend
the way I'm fumbled together.
You're under-educated
and that's only half your fault.

Always I am imprisoned
within the crash of culture;
my thoughts treated like worms;
my illnesses considered contrived.
But it's not my fault; just the
way you guys roll: ignoring halves
for conventional wholes.

cyclic lingering

disconnected rambling

the same words rearanged

breathes shortening

impotent bargaining

the same pattern misbehaves

Ive always walked this way

hormonal litter cursed by anatomy

hyesteria



weepy futility

uncharacteristic of one so bold

the words of tongues

drag mud through wounds

a voided heart : not so





deep breaths

stand strong in misery

mindfulness, like a drug

disconnect and call it religion

pacing pacing pacing

thoughts;



I bleed for the words of others

For both praise and scheming lies

I wish to leave this haunted soul

but I

But I

but I ...what?

need to run?

to hide?

to hold my ground?

we'll see as it comes

a controlling women's worst nightmare

Embarked my usual train of thought,
raging hormones fight fiercely to win.
There you are now, vividly brought,
in pure thoughts full of sin

Tossing & turning in bed,
a typical lustful insomniac.
Tearing my blanket, pulling on a thread,
and watching the ceiling like a maniac.

I stare in empty spaces,
anxiously awaiting you now.
I'm going mad with your perfume traces.
I even smell it on my dress, I don't know how.  

I lay there restless for a while,
until i hear your voice.
You walk through the door to serenade me to sleep
I say "touch me." and you like that choice.

Bite me, I love when a lover misbehaves.
Breath me in the midnight heat.
Crush on me like the strong Pacific waves.
Come closer, come sense my heartbeat.

Sleep deprivation. We argue.
Over a lovers' argument,
You say "A million times I love you"
I say "Your love, is my lifetime accomplishment"

You lay a kiss, ever so adorning.
Slip into your dream as I slip into mine
and when we make it to the next morning
then darling I guess that's a good sign.

The noise surrounding misbehaves;
The presence of devotion.
Covenants made until the graves,
Or some heart's first emotion.

The adorned comforts in delight,
She is curled up yet open;
Clingy with ladybug wings bright
And the actions soft-spoken.

Deep within a chamber of blood
This pinprick of loneliness,
Pulsing with an empty deep thud;
Wishing the same - to caress.

a jezebel in past memories
or was it the men who took over--

after all it was there tendencies



a town like hell in past memoires

or was it the house of god--

after all that is what it transalates;

or is it just a fraud?



change comes.

change goes.

so add your sums,

find the pimps and hoes.

it's reality i love.

the sound of the siren.

but in this economy were getting fired--

when the jobs should be a hirin'

but i don't mind the flame

this mind of mine is one you cannot tame

take the torch, to burn the web--

he would rather see that black widow dead.

but i enjoy life, even the poison.

lay down in that bed,

ask for a little bit of arson

to go with that martini--

choices are in the end an action

with a consequence

can you see the beauty?

a cage, a prison, a fence

or is it just a fraction

of the picture;

maybe it is just a mirror

and the thing you see deep within

is just the sight of fear

and we learn to look away

because hard truth doesn't seem quite okay

we lie to you, to ourselves to ease the pain

each and every day.

****, I'M LOSING MY MIND

as the clock ticks it's time.

is it in, or just sane?

the answer is one we must create--

not find.

but we still keep ah searchin.

lookin for that love.

lookin high and low,

under and above.

we wait, we go.

we hate our libido.

cause baby you just want to **** fast, then slow

then walk out that do'

never ask for any mo'

i guess it's just my mother ******* ego.

so eat the pineapple raw.

get caught in satans claw.

break the pieces to the jigsaw.

cause i care, and i don't.

i contradict my each and every thought.

but these wars seem to have already been faught.

and all i seem to have got

are these bombs

and many a gun

we'll use them in your front lawns

teach your children it is fun!

so cut off the leg and an arm

it's in the tradition of a religion

when a girl misbehaves.

but my father told me

thats what he would do if he followed those customs too.

and words no longer penetrate my heart, nor soul.

i just let them go.

you can't hurt me

just try to insert thee.

see the pain you will be in.

all because of fornication--

it can be as brutal as the storm of an ocean,

but maybe as sweet as a potion.

and i'm not lookin to find a person

to listen to my every word an...

****

cause right now thats how i think of it.

i slept alone before i met you,

and i will sleep alone post-abuse.

this is why i choose to refuse;

to live in hell.

to be the jezebel.

to kiss, and tell.

instead i shall choose

not to be defeated and lose

but to keep my soul, to choose not to sell.

just look to the future, and excel.

We cage our animals
The way we cage our men
Some may call it cruelty
The way we lock them in

We go and lock the man away
When he misbehaves
But with the animals we kindly say
We're just trying to save

Just who are we trying to save
All the wild animals from
Is it from themselves
Or is it all from us

And what about man
In the same way
Is it them or us
That we're trying to save

It's the classic case of
Monkey see with monkey do
And of who is watching who
Inside this man made zoo

You're the answer I hear
when learning misbehaves
friendship running off around hedges
with rounded edges
calling me to figure out the facts
behind neatly pruned leaves
learning what is covered
when they cease
to scatter and dodge

I follow the delectable hints
to where the giggles grow
louder now I'm led toward
your near indecent scent
the flowers in the borders
wriggle with unbound glee
whilst love hides with held breath
in hidden indents

you dare to press up close
against an idle post
where radiance warms
to a chance find in prospect
expectant that your dalliance
will escape my notice
but I see it blooming in pupils
where love's not faked

I find you on a hunch
in the midst of hesitations
when I tease the bush
apart like two explaining pages
opening answering lips
brimming with wild questions
each kiss a knowing release
to lush and flowing fields

that day that friendship faced
the truth of love's sweet tutelage

GOD THE DEVIL AND BOB at easter


today it’s good friday and bob delahunty was going to church to have a

hot cross bun feast, and a hungry poor buddhist was going into the church

and asked bob, why do the christians like to eat over easter, what is it all about

and bob said, it’s a time where families, forget about their differences and share

a big celebration, with hot cross buns today after their service and then on easter

they will host family get togethers, where the kids are forced to hunt for eggs

that the parents hid in the garden, it is a very good day, and the buddhist man said

why can’t christians be nice to each other every day, like us buddhists ands bob said,

well, i guess your right, but life hands us problems to fix, like divorce and family quarrels

and battles that can’t be resolved, you see we are always away from loved ones and easter

is a way to keep updated on where our loved ones are, and then the buddhist asked bob

why can’t they scype every night and then bob said, buddy, no person really wants to do that,

actually, it is great to give families fun at easter, like sending kids on easter hunts, how radical dude

and have great hot cross bun morning teas, where we all can feast, yeah, if we did these things every day

we would get so fat, and kids will be so greedy, and we need every city in the land to pop

open the champagne corks, saying HAPPY EASTER DUDES, AND TO ALL A HAPPY FEASTING

you see easter if you add an f, could mean, the annual feaster, but we took the f away to make you feel great

and then the buddhist said, ok but what if you were fasting in a remote country and you had to knock

back the hot cross buns and easter eggs and bob said ok, yeah, if your fasting you must say no, i am on a diet

and the buddhist said, what if you went to a nightclub and got heavily ******, from vodkas and rums etc etc

and get too drunk on easter saturday, are you still expected to roll up to family get togethers on easter sunday

and bob said yes, then the buddhist said, how do you cope, HOW THE **** DO YOU COPE

this is how, you sing

god is the devil and the devil is grog

god is the devil and the devil is grog

god is the devil and the devil is grog

especially round easter time where drinking may send you back and forwards to the sink spewing

and the buddhist asked bob one thing, before he went to tiabet, he asked, is there really such thing as a devil

because every night i drink a whole bottle of wine by myself and bob said, well if the devil was grog i think

i am the devil, cause, grog is my cup of tea

and the buddhist went home and bob left saying this one word, misbehave, everyone who drinks grog misbehaves

and there is nothing wrong with that, bob said happy easter and went back to the devil’s hideout and the buddhist blessed him

saying, the devil, there is no such thing

I treasure  my blossom / like a flower she shall grow and blossom
I cherish her skin /fearing the worst when day it will rotten
I curse the moon / faces he changes some grin some scheme
I hold her face closest  / when she misbehaves , outside in woods , to the window she will scream
I pleasure my blossom / poems she begs for so I will always write more
I answer my blossom / questions of home ? but here she will stay , here where it is warm
I dream of my blossom / her pedals lose color  in colder season
I pollen my blossom / by moon fall we will know if conceived was daughter or son
I bury my blossom / this cabin is silent but loud  like wind
I cry for my blossom / our child starved without a drop of milk
I need a new blossom / a daisy field is over the hill
I find my new blossom / but another gardener is there ; another I shall ****
I walk with my blossom / she holds onto my wrist tight with love
I carry my blossom / through the doorway as newlywed
I fight for my blossom / scoundrels or sheriffs couldn’t fathom our celibate matrimony
I lust for my blossom / how she smells and reminds me of my last family
I yearn for my blossom / she cries with tears - soul curling  callings of pompous proportions

S H E . N E E D S . T O . C A L M . D O W N .

I pet my blossom / hum out what she needs to hear now

“The day we decay in the casket we share ; we will stare so close nose to nose. No need to breath so faint and vigorously into my ear , Im here , my dear , forever through death. Let the worms feed on us both , when our story is told , in books or songs of romance envious audience will dance. Hold onto my flesh if you need some more , in the cupboard I stored , another layer for warmth. You smell of dandelions your hair like straw , I swore I saw your shattered kaleidoscope garnished glare elsewhere before. Your soul is sown onto my own how humbled I am to have you back home. Sleep now. H U S H . N O W. Wipe tears of joy off of your porcelain skin. You will wake to my eyes , every day , every night , I will hum you asleep sing you my eulogy again again again. My most precious flower , with such a solemn smile  , lips so cracked kiss so sweet , your flower will bloom with a blossom none have seen. Goodnight fare love greet me with glee inside your dream.”

the ambience of woods / the sirens of crickets
I close my eyelids on the floor beside my blossom
s i l e n c e

Every night my spiritual start suffering of the damaged that
I had done it, within lots of harmful misbehaves in my past life.

Will you ever forgive me, and demand to the clouds with a
Few drops of forgiveness, to wash myself away of all sins.

My mind is starving to read your bible, my soul is thirsty too
Meet with you, my heart is alive like me believes about you.

This Christmas I will spend my entire time, praying to The Lord,
To meet with you in my dream, to confuse you that I want

To be a soldier, or even slave in your kingdom, because earth
Forced me to be a sinner, but now I want to be your follower.

I believe that tears won't make me blind anymore, because
Remembering of you in my life, is the joy I only ever wanted.


26/10/2014

You've made a sensible decision,
joining these ranks of stomped-on stand-in's.
I'll be your Virgil and guide you through
the ropes too often learned at lashing.

Don't overlook the import of choosing
proper cause and duly sainted miens.
Be better judge of princely nature,
for when he does stray, it's you we'll hurt.

The world has no shortage of ******, and
to keep the knife at bay, befriend him
you must, lest he misbehaves solely
for the pleasure of watching you writhe.

If it comes to that, all you'll have left
is to pray, he meets an untimely end,
and loads your back with shuffled-off cares
to scape back to the wilds whence you came.

It's raining again.
Wet hair almost drowning her.
Riding bicycles on empty streets.
Hair running free.
Flicks on shoulder blades.
Blades that aren't sharp.
Just soggy.
Like a smelly dog that misbehaves.
Hair that's not trained, nor restrained.
No bands of Alice.
Nor elastic.
No coronets or diamanté.
Tatty nylon hair nets.
Holding hair in place.
Makeup running down her face.
Heading back to her place.
Wants to find a towel.
Like me, she loathes umbrellas.
And her bicycle is rusting fast.
Anyway, has anybody ever ridden a bicycle while holding an umbrella.
(c)Livvi

Isn’t it all games and bets?
With my sweet little marionettes
Charmingly they fight my wars
Dancing to my twiddling force

Happily I watch them give in
To the daily new laws I spin
Dear puppets what choice do you have?
But to dodge from the president’s wrath

Thus I command you to fight
For what should be ours by right
Oil, gold, land and power I lust
Looting the weak must be shushed

To hell you say I should make my way
Blaming me for the wars we play
Remember it was me who was named
To comply the wishes our country claimed

Even you’ve got marionettes to your ease
Gladly abusing them as you please
Power and wealth society craves
It’s not just me who misbehaves

My successors will replace my place
Juggling with morals they will face
For the system was painted by society
And now it pains our humanity

It’s me there in your sunrise eyes
your swaying hips, your sunset thighs
like tasting sun kissed lemon pies
writhing in your sun soaked ties

My fingers gently wisp your breast
Bite your petals, kiss your chest
Holding you when you need rest
Restrained there at your own behest

It’s me there lapping you like waves
Exploring all your hidden caves
Sensual your body craves
So wild as it misbehaves  

But soon it will be you I’m sure
Who’s pinned me on the sandy floor
Begging me to beg for more
Begging you to touch my core

It will be us then side by side
Arms entwined but neither tied
No foolish thoughts nor foolish pride
No fears or feelings we must hide

Just us there in the fading light
And us there in the quiet night
Again, when next the sun takes flight
Like two birds soaring to great height

Then gently fading out of sight
Yes, gently fading out of sight.

Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.

Violence begets violence, hate begets hate
this issue must end before it's too late

it's one thing to spank, quite another to beat
whether its done at home or out in the street

public embarrassment just angers your kid
resentment will grow of which you'll never be rid

families then broken bonds forever lost
public beatings have a terrible cost

this circle exists and there is no denying
in the end what you'll find is a parent who's crying

wondering why their kids have lost all respect
when their beatings have been a form of neglect

sparing the rod is not spoiling the child
when it's most often the rod that makes the youth wild

parents wake up, if it's fear that you want
what you will gain are regrets that forever will haunt

your child needs you to be their greatest hero
don't treat them in a way that you appear as a zero

the mother in Baltimore in that brief little session
has taught to her son a truly terrible lesson

there's a form of discipline, one that's way over the line
that when their child misbehaves, they've learned that beatings are fine

you see beatings get passed down to the next generation
when the kids beat their own kids, it's a regeneration

nobody's been listening, the problem's not gone
the circle continues and the beating goes on

Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.

Smoke fills the air,
we are aware.

As we sit and talk,
the evening stalks.

The subtle sparks,
the night, dark.

The fire is a light,
the black is a fright.

The scorching air crawls my skin,
the darkness lingers, the evil twin.

A side with blazing, red, hot heat waves,
the other side, cold and it misbehaves.

The dissonance, twas' a blissful feel,
and so my mouth kept sealed.

and so my mouth kept sealed,
and my mouth kept sealed.

Thank you air for being there.
Thank you water for wetting things and drinking down the dryness that comes in waves when climate misbehaves.
Thank you fire for melting the marshmellows and heating my back.
Thank you earth for giving me onions and potatoes and carrots and beets and mushrooms and basketball players like Shaq.
Thank you God for the love in my heart.
Thank you Mom for kissing my ear, and
Thank you air for being there.

No one can explain
What a son is for mom...
He is mumma's greatest strength
Her love for him is intense....

From comfortable kiss to cuddle
From cleaning **** to feeding food...
From being  teacher to corrector
Her contribution is unmatchable...

They are like a needle and thread
Without each other imperfect...
Loving his wife the most
But his mom the longest...

When hubby misbehaves
Son would always act brave.....
She raises son to respect woman
Making him a good human....

At the age of eight, I thought I was dying
You held me close and you started crying
Because you were not lying when you looked in my eyes at the monster you despise.

For years you let it eat at your soul
Now its child thrives within me,
draining my energy,
draining my happiness,
tugging on my chest
ringing in my ear.

Eight years on I learned
different monsters
occupied the souls around me.
Four years on I learned
that this monster
will never leave me.

I learned this monster
is good some days
and misbehaves on others
Because this monster
it's not in me
it’s part of me.

It is just about how I raise it.

My lust for life
can never dry.
It’s called desire.
As the Nile,
it flows for miles.

The song I sing
cannot be silenced.
It’s called desire.
As ocean waves,
it misbehaves.

This burning fire
can never be extinguished.
It’s called desire.
As the sun rises
it reprises.

i read up on new articles posted
reassuring me that clear skin is still a possibility
i see the bumps on my skin
physically causing pain to my well being
and socially causing bumps in my everyday life
at night i drown my face in chemicals
i moisturize when my self esteem is low
im online looking at people that will never know
the pain and the embarrassment
genetics gone wrong
a type of new skin
that’s second hand
that’s poorly made
with clogged up pores
and for past months lately
i don’t know if i possess beauty anymore
no one could ever begin
to tell me that people only care
about beauty within
when i examine my looks
i never seem to win
when do i go out?
it just depends
on my bad days
with skin that misbehaves
my bed is the only thing
that truly sees me
and on my good days
with skin sort of okay
i pick apart myself in other ways
i might have a inflamed case of body dysmorphia
and it’s not rare for me to cry
before getting through morning time
when i wake up from slumber
the amount of pimples on my face become a number
a number that controls my life
and the way i live daily
and turns my life from a yes
into a maybe
one time there was a week
i pretended to be sick
when i wouldn’t go out
and hang with my friends
they asked me what’s wrong
i said just a cough
but something else was wrong
i simply had enough
maybe i need therapy to see my potential
but it’s hard to be happy
when you can connect the dots on my face with a pencil
and the bumps on my face
have sets bumps for me in life
but i pray soon that
i will love my image again for just one night
this is how acne ruins my life

When the moon shows up
and the tide comes around
wild waves hit upon her
blinded sights and sounds
she gasps for lifelines
bobbing in whirlpool  
he didn't hear the breathless grasps
for crying out loud!
nowhere for righteous strife
he dug his graves with
immature misbehaves
drunken dreams has sunken  
even if compassion has cooled
she remains the great recliner's tool
loving herself
so she could never hurt others
time to put him out of source
and cast her last remorse
for mortal of his fate and force