You're the Wacky Wolf-man,
Tearing through our pages with a single huff.
Breathing life into us little piggies,
Blasting your way through the daily fluff.

You're the Word Wizard.
Leaving us in awe and in dribbles.
Waving your wand,
Conjuring magical and spellbinding scribbles.

You're the Living Legend,
Almost like a deity of some sort.
Garnering shiploads of admiration,
Through words of encouragement, banter and retort.

You're the Bad Boy Bard...
Never mincing your words.
Unconventional, you howl amidst the flocks...
You never did chirp like the birds...

You're the Minstrel Mobster,
Shooting your Tommy, never missing.
Flicking forward your fedora,
Strung lute ever smoking.

You're one Cool Cat.
Fending off haters with a bat.
Everyone just wants to be that.
Like a superhero whose symbol is a bat...

You're a Gem Generator.
Cogs and gears churning the jewels laid
Machine malfunction! My system's jammed!
Well I guess that's just it... Enough said!

In ’68 Hutch and me,
Sitting at the bar drinking
Our third cold beer.
In a semi Fern Bar
Laguna or Newport Beach
Which now, I’m not sure.
It was around nine or so,
A week day night,
The place more empty than not.

She came in alone, made
Entry like the dramatic host of
A TV show. As if she were the
Center piece on the nations
Thanksgiving Dinner Table.
Over dressed to the nines,
Lots of color, heavy make up
She didn’t really need.

Her perfume scent hovered
Around her like a cloud of insects  
On a hot summer night in a wet meadow.
Kind of made my eyes water up.

She perched daintily like a dancer,
Upon a bar stool,
Three empty stools down,
Nodded the bartender her regular order.
A martini, a double it was,
With but a dab of vermouth.
One green olive on a stick.
The glass was prechilled as if
It had been waiting only for her.
She pounded that first one down,
As if the stem wear was a shot glass.
Another full stem glass appeared,
That one also quickly consumed
Two bright red lipstick stains all that
Remained in or on the stemmed glass rim.

Her main task accomplished,
She audibly exhaled,
As if tired or relieved.
I couldn't tell which.
Turned around on her stool to face
Hutch sitting closest to her.
“You boys Marines.” She declared,
More than inquired.
The close chopped hair cuts
giving us away.

Hutch just nodded, he never did say much.
A ****** just back from The Nam,
A dark scary guy of few words.

She opened her fur trimmed cloth coat,
exposing two very nice stocking clad legs,
And just a quick flash of red underpants.
Rotating towards us so we got a better shot.

She announced her name,
like as if we should know it.
Our blank stares informed her we didn’t.
Her face was to me, somewhat familiar.  
From movies in the 40s or 50s.
We were early 20 guys, she much older,
Trying hard to look younger, not succeeding.

Soon she was sitting right next to Hutch,
Two more Martini stems had come and gone,
Her lipstick finger prints upon them.
And still Hutch had not spoken more than
Three or four words.

She bought us a pitcher of brew,
Hutch grunted a short bit of gratitude.
We didn't have to say much, she was in charge.
It was all about her, she rambled on and on
Speaking volumes saying not much at all.
Beating back her crushing obscurity,
With flowery reminiscence recall,
Of glory days, long gone away.
Important for the moment, if only to her.
It was all; “me and I, I did this, I was that,
I slept with him,
And him and him”.
How about so and so?  I asked,
“No Darling not him, he was gay!
Still is.”

It was not long and she was touching Hutch.
On the hand, the shoulder, she was working him
With languid hungry looks from her big baby blues,
And the message could not have been plainer,
Had she held up a large hand lettered sign.

I don’t believe she was a “Working Girl”,
Just someone very lonely seeking to find
Herself, and some company for the night,
All to prove that she was still alive.

Looking at her, I could only think,
How sad and pathetic she seemed,
How desperate her plight.
To humble herself so,
In that dingy bar, among strangers
She did not know, Acting yet, still
On the only stage she could find,
Staring in her own bad ‘B’ movie drama.
In that dingy smelly bar.

Hutch and her left after a hour or so,
He never told me much about it.
He was unofficially AWOL for three days.
I covered for him, kept his name off the
Missing Morning Formation Reports
and the Daily Duty Lists.
No one cared to check. Our unit made up
Of mostly guys back from the war,
A pretty loosey-goosey outfit.

Once in a while now I see an old movie,
most are Black and white, Film Noir stuff,
And there she is, a much younger her,
Looking pretty **** good,
Not real big roles they were,
Claimed she was in the chorus
Of "Singing In The Rain" in '52.
To this, I can not attest,
watched that film several times,
But I never saw her there.

Had parts Playing damsels in distress,
A mobster’s gun moll a time or two,
Or unhappy Play Girls on a bar stool.
I guess it was type casting that done her in.
Or maybe she got a little too long in the tooth..
A sad ending to a short B movie career.
Life ain’t easy, even for a so called “movie star”.
Fame is not all it’s cracked up to be.
A smattering of fame, apparently worth,
Nothing at all.

hand slaps shoulder knee rhythmically that’s called hamming the bone sitting on a street curb singing making up lyrics i got a transitor sister loves cossack named jake he rides Cherokee chopper all he’s ever known is hate he’s going down underground where a man can be a man wrestle alligators live off the land ebb flow i don’t know racing chasing hair-pin turning at 150 miles per hour downshift to 3rd spread the word sweet sour naked flower touching skin deep within defies all sin with a grin speed speed speed all i need i’m getting off coming on you tawny scrawny bow-legged pigeon-toed knock-kneed Don Juan Ponce de Leon Aly Khan all wrapped up into one going to have ******* good time good time tonight i feel like an orphan mom and dad seem so far away tonight i feel like an orphan you make me feel this way hand slaps shoulder knee rhythmically hand bone hand bone

Odyseuss drifts job to job construction worker office assistant waiter whatever he does not understand how road to recognition works continues showing portfolio to art dealers but they react indifferently he does not know how to attain notice in art world begins to suspect there is no god watching over souls instead he imagines infinite force juggling light darkness creation destruction love hate Mom and Dad insist he can earn respectable income if only he will learn commodity futures like cousin Chris Mom says you can work down at the exchange and paint on the side a part of Odysseus wants desperately to please his parents he considers perhaps Mom is right for the time being maybe build up nest egg it seems like sensible plan he wonders why Dad and Mom never speak about money how to save manage they treat the subject as forbidden topic Odysseus has no idea what Dad or Mom earn or investment strategies Odysseus is about to make serious mistake the decision to get job working at commodity exchange needs deeper examination why is he giving in to his parents what attracts him to commodities trading is it Chris’s achievement and the money? does Odysseus honestly see himself as a winning trader or does it simply look like big party with lots of rich men pretty young girls is that where he wants to be why is he giving up on his dream to be a great artist does it seem too impossible to reach who makes him think that? is he going to give up on his true self? he halfheartedly follows his parent’s advice begins working as runner at Chicago Mercantile Exchange several friends including Calexpress disloyalty for entering straight world commodity markets are not exactly straight in 1978 clearing firms pay adequately hours are 8 AM to 2 PM over course of next 6 months Odysseus runs orders out to various trading pits cousin Chris rarely acknowledges Odysseus maybe Chris feels need to protect his image of success perhaps in front of his business associates Chris is embarrassed by Odysseus’s menial rank and goof-off attitude maybe Chris senses what a terrible mistake Odysseus has made

Chicago suffers harsh winter in February Roman Polanski skips bail in California flees to France in April President Carter postpones production of neutron bomb which kills people with radiation leaving buildings intact in October Yankees win World Series defeating Dodgers in November Jim Jones leads mass-****** suicide killing 918 people in Jonestown Guyana in December in San Francisco Dianne Feinstein succeeds murdered Mayor George Moscone in Chicago John Wayne Gacy is arrested

darkness descends upon Odysseus his heart is not into commodity business more accurately he hates it he loathes battleship gray color of greed envy he resents prevailing overcast of misogyny he meets many pretty girls yet most of them are only interested in catching a trader it is rumored numerous high rolling traders hire young girls for sole purpose of morning ******* remainder of day girls are free to mingle run trivial errands commodity traders typically trash females it is primitive hierarchy Odysseus bounces from one clearing firm to another then moves to Chicago Options Exchange then Chicago Board of Trade on foyer wall just outside trading floor hangs bronze plaque commemorating all men who served in World War 2 Uncle Karl’s name is on that plaque Daddy Pat bought his son seat hoping to set him up after war Uncle Karl’s new wife wanted to break away from Chicago persuaded him to sell seat move to California Uncle Karl bought car wash outside Los Angeles with Daddy Pat’s support Mom and Dad encourage assure Odysseus commodities business is right choice they promise to buy him full seat on exchange if he continues to learn markets they feel certain he can be saved from his artistic notions the markets are soaring in profits cousin Chris is riding waves a number of Chris’s friends are sons of parents who belong to same clubs dine at same restaurants as Mom and Dad Odysseus is not alpha-male like Chris Odysseus is a dreamer painter poet writer explorer experimenter unlike Chris who has connections Odysseus starts out as runner then gets job holding deck for yuppie brokers in Treasury Dollar trading pit Odysseus holds buy orders between index and middle fingers sell orders in last 2 fingers arranged by time stamp price size in other hand holds nervous pencil he stands step below boss in circular pit in room size of football field full of raised pits everything is traded cattle hogs pork bellies all currencies gold numbers flash change instantaneously in columns on three high walls fourth wall is glass with seats behind for spectators thousands of people rush around delivering orders on telephones flashing hand signals shouting offers quantities every moment every day calls come in frantically from all around world space is organized chaos sometimes not so organized fortunes switch hands in nano-seconds it is global fiscal battleground rallies to up side or breaks to down side send room into hollering pushing shoving hysteria central banks financial institutions kingpin mobsters with political clout daring entrepreneurs old thieves suburban rich kids beautiful people pretty young females abound big guns **** in same air stand next to low-ranking runners everyone flirts sweats sneezes knows inside they are each expendable Odysseus is spellbound by sheer force magnitude he feels immaterial only grip is his success with girls it is not conscious talent he grins girls grin back Chris’s trader friends recognize Odysseus’s ability they push him to introduce girls to them it is way for Odysseus to level playing field he has no money or high opinion of himself he simply knows how to hook up with girls

1979 January Steelers defeat Cowboys at Super Bowl Brenda Ann Spencer kills 2 faculty wounds 8 students responds to incident “i don't like Mondays” in February Khomeini seizes power in Iran in March Voyager space-probe photographs Jupiter’s rings a nuclear power plant accident occurs at Three Mile Island Pennsylvania in May Margaret Thatcher is elected Prime Minister in England in Chicago American Airlines flight 191 crashes killing 273 people in November Iran hostage crisis begins 90 hostages 53 of whom are American in December Soviet Union invades Afghanistan 1980 in November Ronald Reagan defeats Jimmy Carter one year since Iran hostage crisis began

he meets good-looking younger girl named Monica on subway heading home from work he has seen her running orders on trading floor she is tall slender with long dark brown hair in ponytail pointed nose wide mouth innocent face she confides her estranged father is famous Chicago mobster Odysseus recognizes his name they talk about how much they dislike markets arrant disparity of wealth between traders and themselves Odysseus says i hate feeling of being so disposable worthless Monica replies yeah me too he tells her if i was a girl i’d ******* myself to several handsome generous traders Monica acknowledges that’s an interesting idea but who? how? which traders? do you know? he answers yeah i know exactly who and how Monica says if you’re serious i’m in i have a girlfriend named Larissa who might also be interested i’ll call Larissa tonight following day Monica approaches Odysseus at work agrees to meet at his place after markets close that afternoon Monica and Larissa show up eager to learn more about Odysseus’s scheme Larissa is petite built like a gymnast giggly light brown hair younger than Monica he lays it all out for them cousin Chris and his buddies the money ******* both girls are quite lovely he suggests they rehearse with him he will coach them on situations settings techniques girls consent for 4 weeks every afternoon they meet at Odysseus’s place get naked play out different scenarios he shows girls how to pose demure at first then display themselves skillfully fingers delicately pulling open ***** spreading wide apart buns working hidden muscles he directs each to take up numerous positions tasks techniques then has them switch places he teaches them timing starting slow gradually building up rhythms stirring into passionate frenzy having two mouths four hands creates novel sets of possibilities one girl attends his front while other excites his rear he positions them side-by-side so he can penetrate any of all four holes he stacks them one on top of the other many other variations after reaching ****** several times making sure to reciprocally satisfy their eager needs Odysseus dismisses girls until following day finally after month of practice Monica and Larissa feel confident proficient primed Odysseus arranges for girls to meet with 2 traders through Chris most traders have nicknames Twist who is hosting event is notoriously wild insatiable on opening night Odysseus behaves like concerned father Larissa and Monica each bring several dresses and pairs of shoes Odysseus helps them choose suggests Monica ease up on make-up he styles Larissa’s hair instructs Monica to call him when they arrive again when they leave he requests they return directly to his place Monica wears hair pulled back in French twist pearl earrings sleek little black dress black stiletto heels she stands several inches above Odysseus Larissa wears braided pigtails pink low-scooped leotard brown plaid wool kilt just above knees brown suede cowboy boots he kisses each on lips then pats their butts warns them to be careful mindful Monica winks Larissa giggles more than an hour passes as Odysseus sits wondering why he has not heard from girls suddenly reality hits he does not want to be commodities trader and certainly not a **** this is not how he wants to be known or remembered Odysseus wants to be a painter and writer Monica and Larissa are good sweet girls whom he has misguided he calls Twist’s place Twist answers Odysseus asks to speak with Monica when she comes to phone he questions are you all right Monica answers yes we’re fine we’re having a fantastic time why are you calling what’s wrong he explains you were suppose to call me when you arrived i began to worry i think maybe this whole arrangement is a bad idea i want you to call it off and come back home i don’t want either of you to become prostitutes i love you both and don’t want to be associated with dishonoring you Monica says it’s a little late to call it off but we’ll see you when we’re done kissy kiss bye Odys another hour passes then another he frets wondering what they are doing after 4 hours as he is about to call Twist’s house again doorbell rings Monica and Larissa both giggling beaming Odysseus can spot they have a coke buzz Monica announces you should be proud of us Odys we got each of them off 2 times we left them stone-numb and tapped out the girls open their purses each slaps 5 hundred dollar bills unto table Monica says this is your cut Odys we both got a thousand for ourselves he replies i can’t touch that money we need to sit down and talk Monica demands no talking Odys take off your clothes he insists i’m serious Monica i’m never going to send you out again Larissa claims there’s no turning back for me i had too much fun Monica  pleads come on Odys we’ll be good we promise now take off your clothes Twist and his buddy never attended to our needs i’m ***** as hell Larissa where’s that little bottle of dust Twisty handed you

Chicago Monday night December 8 1980 Cal and Odysseus sit at North End they're on 4th round feeling buzz the place is lively adorned with holiday decorations Cal says you’ve changed Odysseus questions what do you mean? how? Cal says the commodity markets and your cousin and his friends they’ve changed you when was the last time you painted Odys? are you dealing coke Odysseus looks Cal in the eyes answers they’re so ******* rich Cal you can’t believe it one drives a black Corvette Stingray another a ******* Delorean anything they want they buy girls cars clothes condos boats yeah i’m dealing coke to Chris’s friends it’s my only leverage remember the Columbian dude Armando we met at tittie bar? i score from him and keep it clean Chris’s buddies pay up for the quality i don’t remember my last painting maybe the black painting i never finished after breaking up with Reiko Lee a girl falls off bar stool crashing to floor at other end of bar Cal says Odys, you better play it careful you’re messing with the devil got any blow on you suddenly bar grows quiet someone turns up TV volume they watch overhead as news anchorman speaks slow solemn camera pans splattered puddle of blood pieces of broken glass on steps to Dakota Building Cal looks to Odysseus John Lennon has been murdered Cal waits for Odysseus to say something tear rolls down cheek Cal glances away stares down at floor they drink in silence

Not from a James Bond Flick
He is Mr. Big who was slick
I see you grasping for air
Yeah Mr. Big was beyond compare
Mr. Big was a Gambling and Player Mobster
You could say he was large like a Lobster
Mr. Big stood 6’3 dangerous tall
He was also known too all
He appeared like a Monster if he was to attack
In fact, if you were to hit him with a baseball bat it would crack
Money and Ladies is what Mr. Big was about
When it came to romantic interludes, it would be oh Mr. Big in shout
Mr. Big was heavy in Gambling
Heavy sums in money, and if he didn’t win, a few broken bones on oppositions
Well Mr. Big was large and in charge and didn’t need any permission
After all, Mr. Big had the name for a reason
It had nothing to do with seasons
Yet Mr. Big was a big spender
He wore expensive Diamond Rings, and Gold plated Bracelets with Custom made suits
Mr. Big was big in business pursuits
He also had tattoos on both arms that read, “BIG BY CHOICE”
When Mr. Big enters a room attention is mounted on the spot
Woman would stare upon stare and couldn’t stop
The woman were like butter and would melt just by the sheer size of Mr. Big
I should also mention Mr. Big had bulging muscles on his arms
Mr. Big might be considered as a King Kong alarm
One could always see a mobster with detail
Everything to gain and nothing to fail
One time Mr. Big got into a fight with another Mobster known as “The Shield” and Mr. Big’s suit sleeves Jacket rip with stress from his anger
It was apparent of the look at Mr. Big’s biceps being a tip
But that didn’t stop the Shield in intimidation
So the fight was on
The mission, there’s only room for one mobster and that’s Mr. Big, Chief Mobster
Mr. Big and The Shield had their bout
There was definitely no way out
The Shield attempted to toss Mr. Big but he was too big
You dig
Mr. Big picked up the shield like it was nothing
It was as if the Shield was weights
Mr. Big later dropped the Shield hard, and the Shield was knocked out cold
Mr. Big was powerful and bold
Well Mr. Big won and proved he was the true king pin
Mr. Big wants you to wager your bets
This is as good as it is going to get
Mr. Big conquered and saw
No need for me too go further and continue in explore.

A mob boss for president…
Yikes! That's what we've got--
One who profits from crime
Without a second thought;

Who keeps his family close by;
Who's close to each paisano;
Who looks less like a Lincoln,
And more like Tony Soprano;

Who praises convicted felons,
And pardons them as well;
Who cares less about country
And more about his cartel.

Loyalty is his mantra.
His underlings owe him all.
He sounds like a mobster when
His back's against the wall.

He'll rip you a new one if
You ever decide to flip
And prove that you're a rat,
Or try to give him the slip.

"Flipping should be illegal,"
He brazenly repeats.
Without it he knows there'd be
More crooks on the streets.

A power-hungry bully:
It's his goal to be one.
Listen to his rhetoric:
"I know a rat when I see one."

His fixer threatens reporters
And does the boss's bidding.
But when he seeks revenge,
The boss isn't kidding!

Driven by ambition,
Egomania and greed,
He lets mob ethics guide him
To always take the lead.

He's the kind of guy
You read about in books.
Watch how he surrounds
Himself with other crooks.

Those who cooperate
With law enforcement will find
That he retaliates
If ever he's maligned.

Top decision maker,
He gets such a thrill
Promoting or demoting
Anyone at will.

Having a no-good mob boss
As leader strikes a nerve
Because it's hard to accept
That that's what we deserve.

-by Bob B (8-25-18)

Lamppost of crystal's
shadow light
It's me against me
shadow-fight
Looking out my window
I see the field
I am sitting with
my napkin fold.

Words moved__
unbelievably**

Looking at my ring hot steam
Exploded so conceivable
Did I imagine?
So intricate and fine
But invisible, in the tile cracks.
I can see a shadow face.
Please get him out of my South
Hampton house.
He's so out of place.
I never want to see his shadow face.
So swiftly shopping fighting the crowd
hunk's of  *** all over the City

I'm sold congratulations, I win me
Harry Winston diamond.
Jarod was fighting, with my jewel's.
On the titanic vessel
Something shadowing your Pupils

Exploring love at any cost
picking up the artist
historical love fossil?
He  gave her a necklace from
the shadow of his smile
exquisitely detailed tasseled

My lover tilt's me forward.
I go toward the  light Shadow fight
Hansel sometimes loves brutal
So gone Girl Gretel.
Someone is following me,
in my shadow

I was holding, Twin set croissant's
I see his sun-shadow, in the meadow
Hello, it's Me
and my shadow
The cafe black-catsuit,
he's jumping over my latte
So suited like a checkerboard
cake pursuit
So lucky me shadow kiss fairies
and elves.
Something moved me going through
my Carbanet shelf's 

Surprisingly angry. Oh! My
He's hungry
Beastly
Feastly
Shocked Ghostly
The Dutchess of Windsor

All I will be is this shadow
hanging with
  his ***** laundry

Model shoot fighting dart
Victoria secret *******
The best  silken qualities
Breaking into my house.
Was my spouse?
shadowed by too many boxers
GQ models "Guilty "Quarantine"
I'm dreaming White no shadows
of Christmas
Like an oracle of the ornament's
his shadow lip's
looking behind a cup
My mind boiled coffee grind
  every  second, broken record
I am the singer I  say hello shadow
hit my vocal chords made
the record

Robin red breast bird frantic
Sometimes life is cruel desperately
seeking  housewives  of New Jersey
Such high taxes
Getting hooked on Prozac- cheater faxes
The Christmas tree so ******* towers

Too many Jack shining, all writer's
winning April showers
Penpals writers and fighters

 African violets artist booming with
  lover's kisses seem's ingenious
But I'm not listening

His shadow follow's me I fight back
Somehow like I am pacing toward the
    Gotham city bat eye winged the
train track. The speed of heart attack
       "Crystal's Powers Comeback"
  So transparent batman flying so defiant.
Fairies with lucidity his shadow hot crime.
Right  at the same time
How I wished I was overlooking the water,
with my  Key -lime pie.
Please don't  shadow me
Or lie to me
To rob me again.
What's to gain, your invisible men
Met my virginity key.
Looking out my window

Face touched my back
monster vision,
not exactly love infusion.
I felt like I was having a
blood transfusion.

Sun-catcher caught my eye's dreamy
mad-hatter meadow
Mobster Gotti. Shadow proof

what about the book proof.
So vividly,
shooting, at windows,
cherry tree lost its shadow.
Ancestor's sign's leaves fight family
from the distance broken heart.
But Bette Midler sing's, knock's out all the,
shadow's of the earth distance.
One shadow across my opened heart window,
snow blizzard  blew apart ice my shadow fight
I paid the price started sticking
hearing music satanically

Andy Anderson window call's me?
Flicker's at me, it touched a part of me,
how it trembled me,
the familiar beat
I stumbled got down to my feet
looking out my window
Immortal sunlight powerful never
left my sight

Deaths Of 2013

My third year doing this.

Paul Walker, Texas ranger,
driving fast leads to danger.
Matt Osbourne was Doink The Clown,
Paul Bearer always wore a frown.
Dennis Farina and James Gandolfini,
always played a mobster meany.
Peter O'Toole, famous actor,
Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher.
President Nelson Mandela,
Dennis Burkley, was a famous fat actor fella.
Lou Reed, is now on the wild side,
took all the colored girls for a ride.
Conrad Bain and Bonnie Franklin,
tv actors who had white skin.
Paul Blair and Stan The Man,
playing baseball, when they can.
Marcia Wallace and Lisa Robin Kelly,
both had ***** that bounced like jelly.
Tom Clancy wrote famous books,
not much on having good looks.
Cory Montieth and Patti Page,
one died young, other of old age.
Jean Stapleton, was Edith Bunker,
Archie always put her in the dumper.
Pat Summerall and Deacon Jones,
played football and broke some bones.
Dr. Joyce Brothers and Pauline Phillips,
they both gave good and bad tips.
Ray Manzarek, from The Doors,
Jeff Hanneman knew all Slayers chords.
Chrissy Amphlett, liked to touch herself,
Caleb Moore's trophies are on his shelf.
Mindy McCready and George Jones,
both hit those country tones.
Chris Kelly from Kris Kross,
Ed Koch is a New York loss.
David Frost and Roger Ebert,
always had words to insert.
Anneitte Funicello from Mickey Mouse Club,
Eydie Gorme almost got a snub.
Jonathan Winters, was very funny,
to come from Mork's egg, made him money.
If you don't know who these people are,
look them up, internet not very far.
For the ones that I missed,
please don't get to ******.

I am a criminal,
So you and the papers say.
They would put me away
For countless nights and days.
Tucked away "safe" in jail,
All for the choice of herbs I inhale.
That they would only have their way...

Yet I am no marauding mobster,
No gangster for hire.
I smoke in the evenings
When daylight is fleeting
And withdraw to my rooms to retire.
I am no plundering pirate
Pillaging your private property.
I go about my day,
As right as I may,
You will find no evil protégée.  

I am spoken in the same breath
As delinquents and undesirables.
The infamously unfavourable,
Mire on our tireless society.
Well I am tired now,
Fatigued.
I've grown weary of living
In your narrow minded
Make believe.

Yet I leave you be.
Keep to mine and own.
It is you who lights the torches
From high deluded throne.
It is you who crafted and rounded
That perfect stone,
Hurled with such indiscrimination
Always many, never alone.

Each night now I wonder,
When I cross that imaginary line.
Such fools we've been,
The waste obscene,
Who really commits the crime?

A man wore silk designer suits
Rolex on his wrist
His shoes were made in Italy
Had trillions in his fist

He had the perfect trophy wife
Kids in private schools
Drove Bentleys and Mercedes
He was no one's fool

He had mansions worldwide
Shopped Paris on the Rue
His address was a penthouse
On 5th Avenue

-

There was a man without a dime
Who lived upon a grate
Where warm air from the subway
Could share in his "estate"

He wore the rags which he had found
In shelters on the way
He sat and watched the rich man
Who walked by that day

His groaning and his mumbling
Annoyed the wealthy man
Who took care to walk around him
As he went about his plans

-

The rich man died a hero
His widow & kids drew hence
His many friends came round about
They spared no expense

The poor begger had no one
Had no money saved
He was thrown on a dungheap
They call a "pauper's grave"

-

The rich man had been lavish
He'd fared well every day
But he was a corporate mobster
So he had hell to pay

The poor man was redeemed of God
That is why he lost his job
He wouldn't serve up to the mob
And so his end was like a sob

He thanked God with his last breath
With grace endured ignoble death

But it had no strength to sting
The angels bore him on their wings

Eternity in everything

So which was the human being
Who had greatest gain?
This is an age old story
But the fact remains

The rich man saw the poor one
Again after his death
In heaven... joyous... SINGING!

While He could not draw breath!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 8/17/2016

Chicago, Chicago, it’s a very big place
Chicago, Chicago, it’s a total disgrace;
Bet your flabby buttocks you'll lose the blues in Chicago,
Chicago, the town where someone sat on my face.

On State Street, that great street, I just want to say
I did things with strangers, both straight and gay;
I had the time, the time of my life;
I met a mobster and slept with his wife
In Chicago, one fine day. Hey! Hey!

Chicago, Chicago, where tragedy struck,
O horror, O horror, what a bit of bad luck;
Bet your flabby buttocks I’ll not go back to Chicago,
Chicago, where my girlfriend got hit by a truck.

On Lake Shore, a fat *****, one fine sunny day
I picked up and we thought we’d go for a lay;
Her husband took a hammer and bashed in her ****
It took a couple of hours to mop up the bits
In Chicago, one fine day. Hey! Hey!

You're the knight
I'm your steed
There are signs
I can't read
There are things
I can't be
The choir sings
When you see
An engagement ring
Will set me free

But you turn into a beast
And I'm your prey feast
So I hide in the crease
Between best and least
Between sinner and priest
Between molasses and grease
I hide from a monster
That looks like a lobster
Mixed with a mobster
Using a humanoid claw
To impose martial law
To avoid my small flaws

You were my Goliath of reliance
Until we collided with defiance
And I didn't know how to cope
With a lycanthrope

You're a mixture of Jackie Chan and Jackie Kennedy
You're in between human man and human centipede
You walk through the quiet land as I hide in the trees
The hourglass empties as the sand tickles like fleas
You're a monster unreal
When this way I must feel
You have the power to give or take my heart
And you've used that power from the start

You're a Tyrannosaurus rex
When you flex
You're a scarab beetle
When you're evil
The combination of the two
Is the reason my anxiety grew

You're a demon
That can ****** loneliness
You're the reason
I've become a bony mess
When I get things off my chest
To expose my organs
And you call it just fun
So I realize you're the one
From the emotions you take
And the emotions I can't fake

So meet me in the shed
And give me Pumpkinhead
To forget the blood I've bled
And the taste of mud I'm fed
So you can be my monster
I'm not worth

Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Thirty-five years to find just fifty
Thirty-five years to find those fifty
What did our government due
  
Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Do the math, it's just plain silly
Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Give the government it's due
  
You can't feel anymore.  Safer?
You can't feel anymore.  Safer?
You can't feel anymore.  Safer?
When government gets us *******
  
They need a lot more time now
They need a lot more time now
Three point seven million years
To catch the other bad guys
  
They sit in their disguises
In a robe on courtroom benches
With their lawyer cladded henchmen
They sit in their disguises
  
Can you call up the police now?
Can you call up the police now?
The Chief is sitting quietly
Protecting family ties
  
Anybody out there?  Save us!
Anybody out there?  Save us!
Save our country, save our babies
Give us mob free lives
  
Forty-seven years of mobster torment
Forty-seven years of mobster torment
Fifty years I've no enjoyment
I may as well just die

Look at the news
How is it the news
When they provide all the clues
Got ya eyes glued to the tube
Knowing they lying to you
Gofund me account
Made over 3 . 8 million just
Just for some.stupid ****
Getting shot by a supposed terrorist
Dont ya see its all publicity
Our enemy is right in front of our eyes
It aint no surprise
But yet you the minorities getting thrown in jail before the sunrise
But theres no uprise
Muthaphukkas is puppets it makes me sick to my stomach
People pay attention to most un important ****
But them when you point out important **** they gotta problem with it
Make up ya minds hypocrites
Are yall going to be down are what?
Cuz america finna bust her gut
She pregnate through evil strain n pain
That mankind has done
Look atthe world take a good look
Its over the sinister forces are already here
Hell they been here
Look around you again
What do you see do younsee what i see
If not this convo cant go no more
Yall muthaphukkaz dont know war
Look at it its right here
Rights being taken hearts being shaken
Why cuz they tell you too
The problem reaction solution works wonders no wonder why poeple
Keep givin up their rights to fight
Political structures get stronger
And we the poor get weaker
The greatest trick they say the devil pulled
Was believing he doesnt exist well?
Look around you *******
The very men who send your children off to die in war
Are the same men that tell you they love you and your service
But then vanishes the compensatiin
When youspent years to reserve it
They dont deserve **** i say riot the white house and that lady liberty *****
Til she touches a laminated casket
Each bullet for each name ya know
This aint no drunk speak this is sober talk
Im already marked
Im like jesus fool im a revolutionary at heart
None could split me apart even if they had an axe im.still talkin ****
Til im dead call me sound hail mary
Ill be in the back sippin hennessey providin pain to my enemies
***** so when ya see bewar ya in for a scare
And one last thing **** the police **** the elite im the true og mobster style
This chronicles of a broken child

Erik
Eruch
uh
How do you spell it?
Stephanie on the stereo
with Sophia ******
stains on the sheets
I still don't know your name is
what?

Erik
Eruch
uh
How do you spell it?
K dot
G dot
com
But there are cookies
on the paper.
Wipe up the crumbs
I thought cookies were coming
Well check you receipts.

Got a lawyer?
Got a broker?

Erik
Eruch
uh
How do you spell it?
Timothy
or timmy
No, not tommy
I'm Tim.
Sacrificing monsters, I started
as him. It. Clown. Bonkers.
Check the roster I'm no mobster. Lawless.
Flawless i'm not.
Scars on this and that
knee.
Broken shoulder I'm holding in my ***. you.
S. S. Mathematical  difference.
Its a distance but I will be there

final option: exit in sight
shall i walk this way?

rachel, eva and samuel being in the room
my tribewords for what i consider family

final option: exit in sight
shall i walk this way?

while you are remaining in this room of memories
while samuel is crying
while eva is sobbing
rachel - dem kid's mother - being desperate

you know what rachel?
we are akin to each other
like characters in sentences:
dots

unlike the undertones of
exclamation marks and exclamation points

samuel is crying
eva is sobbing
cause you guys are in another city
far away

you sent me a message:
"i have to protect the children"

tell me:

from whom?
from what?

estimate: how many fathers does a child have?
spell out how
man and woman
wife and husband

become able to defend and favor their
shadows lips and wishes

is there any meaning?
am i flaying my skin daily?
i am not a snake
i am darkness and light
like the rest of us
bizarre billions made of
languages moral values religions

do i have to skin myself daily?
does this have to mean even a bit?

i don't know bambina
but i am sensing that we are ONE:

blood boomerangs bound
boomerangs bound blood
blood bound and boomerangs

the devil cracked our bound
he grinned and said:
"my lost son i am
looking at you: a man full of doubts

ain't no thang though
i am confirming on oath:
i will be getting rid of your doubts
colorfully
they will be gone

we just need a gimmick

hereby i am passing on the golden goblet to you
there is some stuff in it
to be found in lies and magic"


young jeezy (me ok)

harold hunter (kids, larry clark)

falco (rock me amadeus)

ali (mobster)

dmx (my ******)

fassbender (angst essen seele auf, in englisch: fear eats up your soul)

robin williams (comedian?)

benjamin von stuckrad-barre (writer and addict)

whitney houston (who was really crying?)

angelina jolie (in the land of milk and honey)

sigmund freud (will you lead me to the origins of golem?)


they daily drank from the goblet
the list of my friends is long and enduring

some of 'em died
some continued to live
some decayed with numb limbs
in musty chambers
closed curtains

glossing ghosts above the head of
west indian archie
once a powerful gangster now a broke burnout

but this is one of many countless chapters
my son
ain't we good together boy?

i am confirming on oath:
i will be getting rid of your doubts
colorfully
they will be gone

successful people drink from the goblet;
they are in charge of their lifes
my son

the golden goblet is like heat in the coldness
the golden goblet is like cooling down in the heat of the desert

water
purity
nature and leaves
chemistry and magic

my friends are global
my friends are cosmopolits
by the time some lose the "r" on their path:
they become fiends

but this is one of many countless chapters
my son
ain't we good together boy?

all cultures
all religions
all languages

all my friends love the golden goblet
more than themselves
cause the golden goblet procures them

dear deception

all my friends don't love themselves anymore
but the golden goblet
all my friends don't love themselves anymore
but the golden goblet

devils hang out beyond rehab centres
they listen to the
conversations of addicts
they want to figure out their weaknesses
analyze and exploit them

devil flapped his arms
high up in the skies
cheating god's position
between trees and snowwhite castles in bavaria a state of germany

while the devil was listening to the addicts he held
the golden goblet under the moon's reflections thereupon

the golden goblet was ablazed with light
like a constellation superior to the earthly ghosts of weakness
the golden goblet sparkled

the addicts perceived it
as children perceive candy
as teenagers perceive the defeatable supremacy of grown-ups

they perceived the sparkling
as if you were listening to your favourite song

addiction is emotional
addiction is the blind quest for meaning

the golden goblet twinkled over the roofs of the bavarian rehab centre
and one of the addicts a young woman
looked up into the blackness of heaven
frankly speaking it was sparkling everywhere

the woman suddenly thought:
i have twins
i worked as a *******
i am not permitted to see my kids

in deliverances she spoke:
"i was a *****"
"i have twins"
"i order 'em precious clothes"

a sheen coming from the devil's
pupil
as she expressed her fate

she sighed and said:
"nut doc give me prescription... first i
don't wanna take 'em ***** though
they called (...)
and (...)
and (...)
and (...)

after slinging though" she proceeded with a shivering voice
" my feeling like gold"

her mouth opened widely as if she was hungry
golden sheen

a darkred eyebrow
vibrating ******
bald head full of

holes scars blood

since the beginning of memorizing
devil has been breeding horror:

not to mention the death of g.t.
leaving parents in a daze

not to mention the death of a.k.
leaving siblings in a daze

not to mention when a mother passed away: t.z.
leaving children in a daze

since day one devil has been embroiled in torment
born from the fight of brightness and night
the creature awoke

only in darkness
hidden by the star's twilight
beyond distances
we recognize him

when he is far away from us
like glorified past
on earth though
he embodies the shape of human beings
to be between us
to expose our weaknesses
that's his guzzling his brew and his - blessing

our failing strenghtens him
he be muscle

our illness strenghtens him
he be tizzop

Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Thirty-five years to find just fifty
Thirty-five years to find those fifty
What did our government due
  
Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Do the math, it's just plain silly
Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Give the government its due
  
You can't feel anymore.  Safer?
You can't feel anymore.  Safer?
You can't feel anymore.  Safer?
When government gets us *******
  
They need a lot more time now
They need a lot more time now
Three point seven million years
To catch the other bad guys
  
They sit in their disguises
In a robe on courtroom benches
With their lawyer clad-ed henchmen
They sit in their disguises
  
Can you call up the police now?
Can you call up the police now?
The Chief is sitting quietly
Protecting family ties
  
Anybody out there?  Save us!
Anybody out there?  Save us!
Save our country, save our babies
Give us mob free lives
  
Forty-seven years of mobster torment
Forty-seven years of mobster torment
Fifty years I've no enjoyment
I may as well just die

Another cold day, shouting getaway!
Blanket warm, rent saying getaway!
Getaway is written inside my fridge!
Covid-19 adverts against my rent and fridge.
Let me pull up, wear a mask like a robber.
Let me pull up at my office like a gangster.
Take care of yourself and your crack.
Think like a gangster, your business is your crack.

Mask yourself gangster and getaway.
My sanitizer is my pistol, my finger easy on the trigger.
I distance myself from a man like a mobster seeing police.
Life is all about getting the way forward (getaway)!
My sanitizer is my pistol, my finger easy on the trigger.
I distance myself from a man like a goon seeing police.

-Written By: The Senior Date undefined

Let me tell you about being raised Catholic. When you're raised Catholic, you go to church because that's what your parents tell you to do. That's what they did, thats what you will do, and thats what your kids will be expected to do. If you volunteer as an alter-server, good for you that's mad brownie points and you will probably get the bigger gift at Christmas time. You make jokes out of Sunday school, and mostly just go because they always had Oreos and punch. You memorize prayers that mean absolutely nothing to you as you recite them. You have your First Communion in 2nd grade, and are expected to believe that the bread and the wine are not just a symbol, but actually Jesus Christ's body and blood (because they put it into a magical box the night before and it gets turned into flesh). You go to confession as often as your mom makes you, I've actually been dragged there several times. You are 8-years-old and expected to confess "your sins" which end up being "I fought with my brother" or in my case "I threw a pair of safety scissors at my brother." Or you just end up actually sinning because you are making up lies to tell the priest so it looks like you actually sinned and he can give you penance and then you can go pray a set of prayers and, wah-lah, your 8-year-old, mobster self is brand new and free to go home and play. Then you are in 9th grade, I was actually in 8th grade because I was a year ahead which gave me even less power in decision making..(just kidding, you don't really have a choice) to become a legitimate member of the Catholic Church. You get a sponsor and a Saint name and thats about as exciting as it gets. They don't hold you underneath the crucifix and brand your skin, surprisingly enough. They just swing a aspergillum thing at you and make you recite some stuff. Then you go home and eat cake with your sponsor and they tell you how proud they are of you and give you a dainty cross necklace.
Somewhere in the midst of the whole Parish School Religion process you are filling out workbooks on top of all your other homework with apostle names and words like "mercy" and "forgiven." There is also a week before confirmation where you spend 48-hours in the church basement and they try to convince you that you are there to make a commitment to God, even though you are in 9th grade and all you are worried about is standing at the cool spot on the hill at the football games and not saying anything stupid. I pretty much just slammed all of what being raised Catholic is, but here is the one good thing I took from it.

At the 48-hour thing they have some huge surprise at the end for you. They do the same thing every year, and all your older siblings and kids at the church know what it is but they aren't allowed to tell you. They give everyone a table and a box of tissues and "surprise" here are letters from everyone in your family telling you how proud they are. It's nice, but I'll always remember the letter my godmother wrote me. Let me just start off by saying my godmother is straight-up one of the coolest people I've ever met and if I could be like her one day, I wouldn't be able to complain. She lives in a tiny, brick cottage on a hillside in North Royalton with a beautiful garden and black dogs and a motorcycle. She has seen all 50 states and more, is single and does everything she loves and from what I can see, she is one of the happiest people I know. I've always envied her calm, cool independence and her knowledge about the world. Anyway, she wrote something along the lines of this,
"Lee, you know I'm proud of you. I know I am not the best influence when it comes to going to church, but my church is out in the woods and the whole world"
I've based my faith off of this simple letter ever since.
I go to mega-church sometimes now. I don't really like them that much. They're pretty cult-like too.  They keep the air conditioning too high, but always have free coffee. They always have a really pretty girl with a really pretty voice singing, accompanied by some hipster kids playing guitars. There is a whole section of young adults wearing snap backs and button-ups..I always wonder why they are there, and I bet they wonder why I'm there too because I almost always feel like someone judges me every time I walk into a mega-church; they do a really nice job of using diversionary tactics when it comes to the lgbt community...
This is the sad stereotypical Christianity I have more recently grown accustomed to though and I usually don't let it bother me because sadly I'm not at church for fellowship, sorry that's just honesty.
So why am I there? Why am I going to a mega-church?
I'm going to take a stab at what my motive is here, and I honestly don't know if it will be right.
Maybe I'm there because I like listening to pretty girls sing.. seriously though it always makes me bawl, but the good, happy kind. Surprisingly enough, the coffee is pretty good, even if they give you the smallest cups in the universe. I usually drink all my coffee (burn my mouth every time) in the first 5-minutes while they ask for your money and talk about what's going on in the community kinda *******. After that, a pastor gets up there and I hesitate to put my guard down most of the time he preaches. Usually I think about, "what if this was a badass lesbian pastor, that'd be so cool..I need to find one of those churches." Then I feel bad for letting my mind get off track and then I remind myself that it's okay, I'm human and that's why I'm here.
I've gone to a mega-church on and off for like a year and I still hate the throwing your hands up in the air, clapping kinda stuff. Maybe that's the raised Catholic thing still kind of embedded in me, my mom was always so strict on proper etiquette in "God's house."  I don't like all that ****, though... I can respect it, but it's not for me. So I sit there or stand there and listen to the music and hope the pastor doesn't underhandedly say something ****** about gay people because that would **** to have to find another church, even though it's about time I do. I wont lie, I'm reminded of my strengths usually and find a lot of bravery in myself; in my humility and vulnerability sometimes, in the fact that I play my weaknesses as much as I play my strengths but I don't let them define me, and my ability to pick my battles and save my breath. I usually feel pretty good when I come out, like I can stop fighting with the world about things and stop breaking my own soul for no reason. But things usually go back to the way they were, because that's most of the battle and that's faith. It's an extremely hard thing to come to terms with and accept all of yourself and that you were defended. It will be a lifelong battle of all types of acceptance, and I might never find a physical church I actually like and feel comfortable in, but I always have the woods and lakes and oceans and the world, and that makes me pretty happy.

Shoulders smooth
lips glistening
words dismissed easily
as thoughts
shine, shine, shine
diva eyes
the face plays with
expressions like
an orchestra presents
Mozart

You see me rolling
on the floor
Mr Cool Drool
in a state of the union
your puppy
your mobster
your hit man
hitting on you

Stress sneaked up on me
Like a ninja out of the blues
Like a saxophone player
Weaving an intricate melody
To my internal noir monologue
Like a tax collector striking at night
Or a deadly case of the Creditors flu
Like a group of cut-throat dames
Like fog in the rain
Like a secretary named Velema.
Stress sneaked up on me
When the detective came a-knocking.

He wanted his cigarette back.

I told him I didn't have it
Then the ****** walked in
Quick-finger Teddy
Butcher Saint Merry
Leg-breaker Lenny
Mobster Ricco
Snake Bently
And Marcini of the incredibly gifted hands
Too.
Lead makes a different sound when fired
Glass shatters into tinkling tear drops
Like the heavens weeping.
Plaster breaks.

Stress sneaked up on  me
Like a kiss goodbye...
It's all
Smoke through the city...

Were praying hand’s never giving up.
Getting frustrated & fed up.
Universal World speed of lightning mystery game.
My own known existence up in flame's?

Past not so perfect what’s in every body’s treasure.
Unknown chair darken's my pleasure.
Rumor has it to the very end of the game Scramble.

It what we all experience,no helping hands to connect too

Move be quick show your assets.
Be the leader in charge.
All the bets in the world could change.
It could B something special or just plain nothing,
That unknown chair could take you everywhere?

Journey leads  you in the middle of nowhere
All we are saying is give  peace a chance.
Thing's are looking better in the Riviera
of France..

All these unknown signs violating ones.
People are strange
the door  bell tone's You wanting to be alone
Sitting in your chair, feeling like a misfit.
His Power mind of his suit madly
Taking his hand gladly.

Putting the one piece, right, comfort spot.
what’s in your alphabet, Soupy Sale's, hot

of letters S secluded.
Journey spiritual, awakening, overrated, lady with  
simplest word, turned into wrong word. Marriage
you got separated.

S for smile loving your journey picking out the artifacts
biblical treasures don’t fit religiously.

to your chair or intellectual full of adventure, exotic world.

Charka healing feels the vibrations through another person

Connection you feel desirable in your seat
You planned it well, on your mission.

You know what to expect people bud in to interject.
Being right or wrong you go left his grin he smiled
uniquely you drift.

Somewhere under the rainbow, bad dealt hand Alfred Hitchcock journey demon suspense?Flying Raven Unknown  bird's needing
Spiritual cleansing rinse.

Electric Darth chair danger  force is not with you.
Watch out chair

Home got demolished  it went underground.You needed
2 buy new chair more polished.

Mysterious hit man wants a ransom, that chair heirloom.
Wanting to sit out beachfront, exotic flower's bloom.

Leads you to undesirable world, unknown love seat.

Or someone else sitting in the chair it look like a accident lady killer chair.

Priceless lesson, what vengeance, people have something sounds tempting but beware?

The chair with expectation looking straight in your future
Are you losing time new player, wanting to serve your best blend,
of Coffee he loves to talk  He's a free loader He turn's on  you with a gun he's a mobster.

Torture smile comes back to you devilish grin she tricks you The chair was her weapon, she threw it back at you.

FACE-IT

              Fix- it

      Don't -force- it
  *        *        *        *      
Show- it and embrace- it

Facing a timeless jade
Old show façade
Not a test or a grade
Is it old Holiday Parade?
Old show face privacy
Confidence meet bravery
Facelift grave yard shift
  
*        *        *        *
Oldster-Hipster-once
A-Youngster-Cra­nkier
Scrooge old geezer
*             *
Old City Mobster
Old show face
Gets riskier on the run
Once young gun

Serene but sassier
Getting up earlier
New show wiser
In the right place
Old show face

She invited Joey
to her apartment
on the second floor

and as she opened the door
her dog came
barking along the hall

Shut up Bonaparte
she said
Go away

and the mutt walked back
with its tail
between its legs

to its basket
under the table
and she ushered Joey in

and closed the door behind her
and said
What would you like to drink?

tea coffee coke beer?
Coke will be fine
he said

and she told him
to go sit in the lounge
and once he sat down

he looked around the room
and on the small table
by the sofa where he sat

was a photograph of her
and her husband
taken on their wedding day

she dressed in white
and smiling
and he in a black suit

like a hit man
in a mobster movie
and she came in

with his coke
and set it on the table
by the sofa

and then went out again
swaying her behind
which made him smile

then she was back
with a tall glass
of white wine

and she set it down
on the table beside him
and sat down

and began talking
about the night
he had met her

and her husband
in the bar in town
and how she had invited

him over to meet her husband
and he had bought them
both a drink

and while her husband
talked to his friend
she had flirted with him

and made him laugh
and how after that
they’d all meet

on Friday evenings
in the same bar
and her husband

had invited him
to their place
to play chess

and he remembered
how he used to play chess
holding off letting

her husband win
so he could stay longer
and see her more often

and then she leaned over
to get her drink
and she put one hand

on his thigh
and reached over
for her wine

and he smelt her scent
and the brush of her hair
as she leaned over him

and having her glass
she leaned back
her hand still resting

on his thigh
and that look of mischief
burning in her eye.

The other day they showed on the news a tweet by President Elect Donald J. Trump. It is a very sad situation when you have an illiterate as your newly appointed leader. It's like I told Layne Marie. It only gets it, when it is and never gets it when in possession. I know what you're thinking. This poet did the same thing when he posted poems on other sites. Yes. Guilty as charged. But, Trump didn't pay Mike Tyson to beat up you. And whenever I recover from those beatings I just might get up the nerve to do something about it. DO NOT TELL ME that this country is so ******* up that anyone running for president shouldn't have to take a literacy test. So we have now a mobster that is ignorant of the rules of grammar, leading the way. This is a very sad day. The 14th will be an even Saturday.

A tree has fallen,
in this world of bliss....

The black cat crawling,
among life's tricks...

A poisoned mind,
from what the media spits....

Two jet airliners,
crash brick by brick...

Jets then fly,
and people will die....

Like the burnt at the steak
Witches burnt offering breaks

Proactive earthquake
Tremors trembling late

Cleopatra's Alexander the great
Cut the road and then brakes

Dead cold hearted ache
Sleep with one eye open awake

Apocalypse last days great
Ultimately intimidating fate

I watch the story unfolds at 8:88
AM OR PM with a crate

Meanwhile I'll wait
Like mobster I'm MADE

U seen happy face
Voodoo Mardi Gras mask grace

Dj spinning the wheels of steel
Best lyrics I spill that send thrills
Picture perfect Picasso
Make my own moves like Carlito
Move dinero black don Vito
Keep suckas in check
So stay off my grande bicho
We turn culo into closed
Casket I'm.cold heartless *******
That's my persona
Smoke more yay then T Montana
Took a bite of the forbidden monzana
Tell these fools I don't bang
With panics only frantics
Childish antics make for required carcasses
I'm bark up the wrong trees
Rivalries I love em I'm.above em
Eight levels ahead with mad bread
Hotter than a baker
Brew up the hardest thymes
The lyrical barrister call me Mr
Big stuff Cuz my peace heavy d
Mid weight like hos who can shake
They **** looser than Jello
I'm a president never let me peoples go
Modern day pharaoh with a thorough
Of wisdoms hearts full of clay
Which means I'm cruddy no fears
Show ya real tears like when the shot gun
Enters ya body goin at 200 miles per second
I'm reluctant the only one to ever bless the mic when I recite don't try to fight
Only to meet ya fall and mobster even gall
After me butnnever touch my epitome
In the safe house with my spouse
Tucked in ya blouse
Homes!! Ya minstrel cycle leakin'
Which means ya close to shakin'
Hands with the grim reaper
Puff cabbage make the biggest clouds
Now ya resting lovely open casket
Awaiting to be covered with the shroud!!



Imagine this man, my father or dad
Would guilt trip his children, this story's so sad
Takes half a weeks pay, waves it under their nose
Demands that we write him or the check it will go
  
You crazy old man, you make me so blue
Do you even remember how you made me so *******
Pay attention, a lesson I've learned, so will you
You only get back what you give, here's to you
  
You told me when I was a lad of thirteen
Don't come around I have other family
I don't need them getting confused nor upset
Just leave us alone, the skunk is our pet
  
Or how 'bout the time I was just only three
When the neighborhood mobster did ******* me
You told me "don't just sit there call up the police
But, I have to work so please excuse me"
  
Or how 'bout the time that along with my sister
You let that bad man take his creepy **** pictures
Sue often referred to her dad as her dooshie
And he'll never know what she baked in her cookies
  
You think I don't know how you spoil your son
Normy gets all he can handle of mile high fun
Fine season tickets to all sporting events
For how many years now, since he was ten
  
I had a neighbor, competed with me
I'm sorry I troubled you, what did I think
That you cared?  That you tried?  Did more than nothing?
'Cause you're old now, your children, should they be so loving?
  
C'mon who ya kiddin'?  You had more than this comin'
You should have been locked up to protect my dear cousin
If you're all alone with no one and feel blue
What goes around finally came back to you

I remember prenatal
The feeling of warmth
And mother puking
  
I remember six weeks old
And mother throwing me
Down a flight of stairs
  
I remember one
When mother threw me
Out of her VW's sunroof
  
I remember year two
When her mobster
Boyfriend ***** me
  
I remember three
When I was locked
In the basement with the rats
  
I remember four
And moving
to Nevada
  
I remember five
and Kennedy
Dying
  
I remember six
And learning
Sin
  
I remember seven
And learning
Heaven
  
I remember eight
Mother beat me
With a belt buckle
  
I remember nine
and lying there
Dying
  
I remember
Mother
Happy mother's day