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Matthew Walker Jul 2013
This morning I told myself,
I will write a poem today,
But I ended up just hanging out,
With my friend named procrastinate.

8:30am
I was awakened,
Rolled over and saw my notes,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

10:00am
Lounging around,
It’s my lazy day,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

11:30am
Just finished showering,
Poetic thoughts ran through my mind,
While the water ran through my hair,
But now that I’m out,
I’m busy,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

12:30pm
My dad made me listen,
To a sermon with him,
I almost wanted to write a poem,
But I was preoccupied with Dr. Thompson,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

1:45pm
Money feels good in my hands,
But first I gotta do all this addition,
Time cards ****,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

3:00pm
I haven’t eaten anything today,
I’m starving,
Maybe because my refrigerator is empty,
I haven’t gone shopping in four weeks,
I should pay the grocery store a visit,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

5:45pm
Tacos sound good,
I have no clue how to make them,
But I guess I’ll give it a shot,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

6:45pm
Dang, that tasted awesome,
I should probably make something
Gross so I don’t let these cooking skills
Get to my head,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

7:00pm
It feels so good to sit down,
My new favorite show, Falling skies,
Is awaiting me on amazon prime,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

11:00pm
Four episodes in,
I’m officially addicted,
But I’ll let my brother use the TV now,
While I pass out on the couch,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

11:15pm
Crap…
I was gonna write a poem today,
What the heck am I supposed to write about?
Nothing serious is on my mind,
Depression, abuse, peace and war?
The only peace I’m thinking about is sleep,
Poetry?
Nah, not yet.

11:17pm
I guess I’ll let my eyes open,
It might be time to write a poem,
Not sure what to write about,
I could write about writing a poem or whatever,
Poetry,
Yeah, maybe now.

11:30pm
I’m done,
Here’s your fricken poem, Matthew,
Can I go to bed now?
4/7/2013
brandon nagley Jun 2015
The pilgrim's pull ashore....

Strange glass waves smash their feeble ships...

In the meanwhile upon land
In the distant abyss.....

The wildmen dance in song singing....
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!

Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way
Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way...........

Connecting to the creator
Hellion's to sojourner men
Outlandish semblance
Blush maroon colored skin...

Pinna's stitched into costume
As bead's wrap their neck
Efflorescence garbs their smiles
As sage smokes their chest's

Trace bouquet Smell's as oak
As the Willow's they do gather
Pinecones and nut's the both
Are used, eaten, and slathered

Tis
Their friends with the forest
Watchmen of Cimmerian adumbration
Not thy average native
Not found on t.v stations

They follow not the world
Nor the things of material crud
They gallop exposed
All unclothed painted in by the mud

Their mundunugu's and isangoma's
Their healer's of sickened loma's
Their future reader's
And old time Greeter's

They hash up balm pharmaceuticals
And mix in remedy anesthetics
Antibiotic doctors
Believer's in angelic medic

The pioneers come in
Scratching their heads
Bearing babies of far distance
Bringing disease with no end

They park their Vessels on edge
Of those wild men they call beasts
They plant their flag of hatred
And the redskin's are forgiving treat's

The ivory men draws gun
Whilst the natives draw their god
The pale man doth run
This is native land didst the whitened did trod

The natal men's Architect was stronger
Against the real true brutes
As the shaman sent home those foreigners
Back to England and Europe's coupé

As when the bleached beau's had left them
They went into different song
It goes like this
Please don't miss

These are the original's of the law!!!!

They Carol in fire hot dance...


Wee hee nah wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah

Wee hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah

Hey **!!!!!!!!
mark john junor Aug 2014
internet wingnuts...
nah nah nah whatcha thinkin?
whatcha thinkin....you spelled it wrong
whatcha thinkin...you didnt capitalize
are you satan's spawn you cant write that here
i will come to your house and eat your dog
nah nah nah whatcha thinkin?
ill follow you round tearing you down till you let me kiss you
ill fill your mailbox full of hate till you love me
i will tell everyone what a horrible person you are
till you let me in
who are you....keep me warm....let me hate you
wingnuts....wingnuts everywhere
whoever invented the block list should get a freakin sainthood
whatcha thinking you cant block me
ill just make a new profile
fill your inbox full of hate till you love me
Akemi Nov 2018
Blanket city run along soaked in rain. Idiot Boy wastes his time visiting a passing crush at the other end of town. Slips between two houses and a metal sheet, communal refrigerator in the middle of the road filed with half-empty soy bottles.

Dead bell stop, mocking red blink of the operator. Father arrives, a mess of wiry muscles and hair.

“Hey. Is Coffin Cat here?”

“Who?” Father squints at Idiot Boy’s cap. Idiot Boy avoids eye contact.

“Um.”

Recessed in the blackness behind Father, a Figure says, “You looking for Coffin Cat?”

Idiot Boy nods.

The Recessed Figure turns. “I’ll go get her.”

Father returns to his parched body on the couch, content.

Indistinguishable forms move back and forth in the kitchen to the right. They stop their pacing and glance at Idiot Boy as he passes. Idiot Boy avoids eye contact and slips into the left-bound arterial vessel.

“So this is the heart chamber I’ve been living in,” Coffin Cat says as Idiot Boy enters her room. There is music gear. “It’s pretty comfy.”

“Oh, sick mic,” Idiot Boy says, pointing at the mic behind Coffin Cat’s head.

“I feel like a ghost,” Coffin Cat replies, falling on her bed.

Idiot Boy settles next to her. Animal distance. Intensely aware of his rain-soaked right shoe. “Same.”

Nothing comes out right, intersubjectivity a false God to mediate the impossible kernel of being, nobody can find nor express. Idiot Boy searches for connection. He glances around the heart chamber, at the music gear, but nothing grips. Four pears sit on a table by the window, their skins garish green in the harsh grey light.

Coffin Cat moves from the bed to the floor. She opens a virtual aquarium on her computer; fish eat pellets dropped from the sky to **** out coins to buy more fish to **** out coins to buy more fish. Capitalist investment and accumulation. Every few minutes a rocket-spewing robot teleports into the aquarium to attack the fish. Ruthless competition in the global marketplace.

“No! Why would you swim there, you ******* fish?” Coffin Cat yells as one if her fish is eaten by the nomadic war machine. “So dumb. ****. Why did it eat my fish?”

A knock at the door. The Recessed Figure from earlier enters the room. “Hey, mind if I join?” Their arms dangle like fine threads of hair.

“I like your music gear,” Idiot Boy says, pointing at nothing in particular.

“Idiot Boy also makes music,” Coffin Cat adds from the floor.

The Recessed Figure does not respond. They are enthralled by their phone, streak of dead pixels along a digital chessboard, minute reflection of their own gaunt face in the glass. After an extended period, they decide to move none of their pieces. A gaping coffee grinder rises out of the rubble at their feet. They begin filling it with tobacco from broken cigarettes.

“I’m surprised you’re still playing this,” Idiot Boy says to Coffin Cat. “I swear this is one of those games designed to ruin your life. Get addicted, stop going to work, become a hikik weaboo.”

“Already there, man,” Coffin Cat laughs. “Nah, this is my new job. I’m going to be a professional gamer.”

“Stream only PopCap games.”

Another knock at the door. Tired squander in an endless pacing of flesh. Strawman enters and nods at the Recessed Figure. “Hey bro.”

“Good to see you, man.” The Recessed Figure plugs the coffee grinder into the wall. “You got any ciggys?”

Idiot Boy points under the table and says “Ahh” with his mouth.

The Recessed Figure empties it into the coffee grinder. The device whirs into motion, creating a centrifugal blur, a mechanical and headless hypnotic repeat.

Idiot Boy and Coffin Cat look for horror movies to watch. The Recessed Figure empties the contents of the coffee grinder onto a metal tray. Strawman repacks it into a ****. White smoke fills the empty column, moves in slow motion like an oceanic rip a mile off coast, surface seething with quiet, impenetrable violence.

Idiot Boy refuses the first round. It’s never done him any good. Face turned to smoke and the wretched weight of a tongue that refuses to speak. Headless carry-on as time ticks through the clock face.

The door bursts open. Everybody turns as Manic Refusal or the Loud Person saunters in.

“I can’t believe it. I can’t ******* believe it. They’re selling me off!” the Loud Person says in exasperation. “First time back in New Zealand in five years and they do this to me!”

“What? What’s happened?” Strawman asks.

“Some rich ****** in Australia has bought me as his wife. I knew it, I knew if I came back, my parents wouldn’t let me leave again. Whole ******* thing arranged!” the Loud Person laughs bitterly, before hitting the ****.

“Oomph, that’s rough,” Coffin Cat quips from the side.

“No, you don’t even understand. This is the first time back, the first time back in five years, and I’m being sold to off some rich ****** who owns all the banks in Australia.”

“But like, who is this guy?” Strawman asks, pointing.

“And he’s been reading all my profiles. He has access to all my information. I don’t even have control over my Facebook profile. Grand Larson’s logged in as me, posting for me,” the Loud Person continues. “I met him once in Australia, clubbing, and now he’s tracked and bought me.”

“That’s creepy as ****,” Idiot Boy says.

“So he’s not a complete stranger?” Strawman asks.

“I can’t believe it. I can’t ******* believe it. First time back in five years and I’m being sold off!”

Idiot Boy decides one hit from the **** wouldn’t be so bad. He packs the cone with chop, lights and inhales. Smoke rushes through the glass channel, a swirl of white ether, more than he’d expected. He quickly passes the **** to Coffin Cat, before collapsing onto the bed, eyes closed. A suffocating sensation fills his body. He sinks into the chasm of himself, further and further into an impossible, infinite depth.

“Still working at . . . ?”

“Yeah, yeah. Management. Hospital. You?”

“Like, property. Motions.”

“Subcontracting? Intonements?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Mmm.”

Idiot Boy doesn’t know what’s going on. He feels sick and tries to get Coffin Cat’s attention, but cannot move his body.

“Come on. Sell me drugs, Strawman.”

“Nah. I don’t deal drugs. I don’t deal drugs.”

A strange silence stretches like an artificial dusk, a liminal duration, the hollow click of a tape set back into place in reverse. The Recessed Figure coughs and the Loud Person whirs back into motion.

“I can’t believe it. I can’t ******* believe it. They’re selling me off! First time back in New Zealand in five years and they do this to me!”

The Recessed Figure makes a noncommittal noise.

“I knew it, I knew if I came back, my parents wouldn’t let me leave again. Whole ******* thing arranged!”

Coffin Cat laughs quietly.

“No, you don’t even understand. This is the first time back, the first time back in five years, and I’m being sold off to some rich ****** who owns all the banks in Australia.”

“How about this fella? He doing okay?” Strawman asks, pointing. Everyone turns to Idiot Boy and laughs affectionately.

“Still working at . . . ?”

“Yeah, yeah. Management. Hospital. You?”

“Like, property. Motions.”

“Subcontracting? Intonements?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Mmm.”

“Sell me drugs, Strawman.”

“Nah. I don’t deal drugs. I don’t deal drugs.”

Idiot Boy slowly opens his eyes and stares out the window. The same grey light as before. He moves his arm further towards Coffin Cat, but is still too weak to get her attention. The same strange silence stretches. The Recessed Figure coughs and the Loud Person whirs back into motion.

“I can’t believe it. I can’t ******* believe it. . . .”

As the conversation repeats over and again, Idiot Boy begins to think he has become psychotic, or perhaps entered into a psychotic space. He thinks of computer algorithms, input-output, loops without variables, endless regurgitations of the same result. Human machines trapped in their own stupid loop. Drug-****** neuronal networks incapable of making new connections, forever traversing old ones. Short-term memory loss, every repeat a new conversation of what has already been. The same grey light painted upon four pears by the window.

He’s not sure if Coffin Cat’s laugh is getting weaker with each repeat.

Signal-response. The exterior world oversaturated with variables: roadways, rivers, forests, wildlife — an ever changing scene to respond to — the illusion of depth. Automatic response mechanisms reorient to new stimuli. The soul rises like surfactant, objectified fractal diffusion. A becoming without end.

But within the border of this interior world, the light stays grey. No input, no change; the same dead repeat, over and over, until sundown triggers a hunger response. Lined all along the street, a black box ceremony of repeating machines, trapped in their idiot cults, walls of clay and blood.

Idiot Boy finally gets Coffin Cat’s attention. She helps him through the house’s arteries to reach rain and wet stone, overcast skies. As he shakes in shock, Coffin Cat mumbles, “It’s cold.”

Idiot Boy sits silent on the ride home. Travels through himself. Tunnel through the body or Mariana Trench. Loses his footing before a traumatic void. Leaves the car and pukes.
Quisha Apr 2016
Nah
Nah, just koz that is who SHE be
Does not mean SHE get to treat ME
However the **** SHE want

Nah, that's just not ME, Bee
I heard somewhere I was free, see
Not just YOU that gets to breathe ease-y

'Less pigment based privilege
Affords you your discourse...
Nah.
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
Cusp

Once I wrote these words:

Place your ****** hands upon thy chest.
Let them melt thru and come to rest,
Inside, the battle ongoing, under thy breast.
Watch, eyes open, knowing, fearful.
Swiftly, with no hesitation, from within,
Rip open your body, exhaling the best,
And the worst of what you got.

The cool air rushes in,
Stirring the inside stew of:
Infected grime, shameful desires,
Secrets that should not have been exposed,
The ***** stuff of about your life
that you alone know exists.

Contact with the atmosphere makes
Self-pity dies, blue blood turn red,
The TNT tightness explodes,
Ashamed, you have only one escape hatch.

Now, you are ready to write.

(http://hellopoetry.com/poem/now-you-are-ready-to-write/)

so here I am, hands on my chest,
so unready, incapable of writing,

the battle site changed,
sledding to the top of my head,
moved northwards, mush, mush.

just don't have what's required
to melt that mush open,
just don't have the anymore
to finish this Iditarod race
called my Idiot life.

nobody knows the silences
kept in my treasure box.
nobody knows the nail-beds
slept, bloodied, by this
mthrfking depression,
unexpectedly returned to sender,
unable now,
to write, free and clear.

suffused, this words reappears,
you don't get it, the twilight twinkies
below laughing, twinkling,
middle ******* me,
so not suffused,
nah nah nah nah
you don't got it,
you got nothing.

the words supply, torn and  tired
reappears, now escapee prisoners
before flatlining, crashing
as I am currently 20,000 feet over
somewhere above the Eastern Seaboard;

we may land smooth,
but not in any groove
that fits me anymore.

Here's the sorest, sorriest laugh,
what you are about to read
was eons ago born, and today
birthed.

Happy M.F'ing  Birthday #0
don't even, can't complain fresh,
reusing unused words that never got
devoured, so now, used up too,
like me.

cut by thicket's branches
(that in their defense, maim only to self-protect)
calluses of experience
not enough to survive
what is now needed,
new chapters required.

choruses of repetitive choirs fresh,
inspire but land on surfaces
heart-hardened by fear contagion.

who will know and
who will care and who
will make them all go away,
but me...

so touch my self,  
reminder to self is emailed,
beat the odds so man-many times,
one more time, what's the big deal?


fresh differences,
maybe,

words that are new
not in my vocabulary,
maybe.

Struggle, long lived,
is the status quo,
** **, don't you know,
nobody tole ya?

world's axis is tilted
you can fall off
a familiar horse,
get off course,
so east easy
a gravitational force so subtle,
clueless you're drowning
till the riptide
has liberated your
pockets possessions,
pathetic borrowings
of unoriginal thoughts
you thought you actually owned!
now you realize
new inspirational how to books
keep getting writ,
published for experienced suckers
like you.

so here at the pointed cusp
a crescent shaped tangent,
lines crossed, intersection of a curveball
turning inwards, retracing prior paths,
familiar but tho the forecasts predict
being on the cusp of something,
crystal ball reveals nothing at all.

I fold the little have learned
into a handkerchief
folded three times over,
tied cusp to cusp
with a trefoil knot,
which while
mathematically correct,  
is too easy as my hanky is almost empty
and hobo heart journey scary is thinking
done.
Cusp:

point, apex: as
a :  a point of transition (as from one historical period to the next) :  
turning point; also :  edge, verge
b :  either horn of a crescent moon
c :  a fixed point on a mathematical curve at which a point tracing the curve would exactly reverse its direction of motion
d :  an ornamental pointed projection formed by or arising from the intersection of two arcs or foils
e (1) :  a point on the grinding surface of a tooth (2) :  a fold or flap of a cardiac valve
Tracie Bulkley Sep 2014
I'm the next act on stage.
Good.
It's about ******* time all that needed to be said
Finds a way to get out.

So here's the thing:
I've made mistakes
I've ****** up a lot, and I'm willing to admit that
Because every ******, I learn from it
Unfortunately sometimes it takes more than once.

So my first big ******:
I made love.
18 years old, questioning everything
ANGRY for the first time in my life
Really truly ANGRY
and REBELLIOUS
Like I've never been before.
So angry at a God that presumed
To ask everything of me and give nothing back
Who took and took and took and took
And let others take from me, from others
Especially women, a long long time ago
And maybe they were stupid
And maybe they were awful people
And maybe they deserved it but they were STILL PEOPLE
Still women
Still girls like me
Scared and lonely
Hungry for an outlet for all of the ****** passion
And anger DEAR GOD SUCH ANGER
That had built up inside.

So I was mad
And I felt alone
Except for one thing
Him
He who I now look back on and wonder what
My rational brain could have seen
In a hundred thousand eons of pain and suffering and loneliness
What it could have seen in a rat
In a **** like him
But he wasn't that bad
I'm just angry

We made love
We loved each other
And I had anger
So we made love.
As if loving each other made it alright
Because what they never tell you in Sunday school
What they never really get across with all the
"Shou shalt not's" and "Don't touch that's"
About chastity
What they do tell you is don't do it
But they never ******* tell you why
Because it isn't going to last.
It really just isn't
Even though you think it will
Put that stupidity aside and see for JUST A SECOND
It won't.
Just assume it wont.
And you'll be with someone else
And they'll be hurt
They will actually be ******* SHATTERED
That you didn't save anything special for them
That you have nothing to give them that you didn't first give to someone else.

So yeah, I left.
I'm usually the one that leaves.
Out of 10's or 20's of loves
I'm the one that usually loses it first
Except for twice...
Nah... Nah now it's thrice.
And I loved again
And left
And I loved again
And left.
And at one point I felt sorry for what I did
But nah, that was an illusion
Brought on by the tears he wept when I told him
I had nothing left to give only to him.

Then I met another Him
And I told him early because
I was SO SICK AND ******* TIRED
Of having to hide what I had done
Pretending to feel guilty about making love
To a little **** who I loved once
But no, he wasn't that bad
He didn't know any better
I'm the ****. I am.

So I told him
And he got scared
But then he came back...
Oh my god he came back, I thought he would leave.
And he held me tighter
And he loved me more
And he forgave me
He moved on
He trusted me
But back up a little.

And breathe.

His name was Hunter.
And when I met him, I was dating the guy I thought I would change for
And a week later I left.
And I immediately got googly-eyed over Hunter
But also someone else.
His name was Collin.
Collin got to me first, because,
Crazy thing
He seemed more mature
And like he could handle it better if I didn't want to be attached yet
So I told him I didn't want anything serious
And we made out.

And then I started falling more for Hunter
Because Collin was a one-upper.
And Hunter was sweet and interesting
Intelligent in speech
On our first date
We discussed Neitzche in a ****** local burger joint
And he was beautiful
In my life I don't think I will ever find Adonis in the flesh again
And eventually, after trying very hard
I got him to kiss me
God how he kisses is like tasting wine
And has the same affect on my mind
And excites my body beyond what I've felt before
And that lasted the whole time I was with him
It still hasn't gone away
To this day if he kissed me
I think my cells would fly apart with joy

Now here's where my shittiness comes back in
And makes everything confusing
So I was making out with Collin one night
And Hunter the next
And I told them both
I ******* TOLD HIM
"We are not dating."
I said that.
Exactly that.
Meaning there is NO commitment
NO expectations
YOU can do whatever you want with whoever
AND SO CAN I

Eventually Hunter persuaded me to be his girl.
So I basically just started ignoring Collin
Stopped making out
Stopped hanging out
Stopped talking pretty much
So I could be with just the one I had COMMITTED myself to.
And we were happy.
Until I told him.

Then he was hurt.
He felt betrayed
Even though I ******* TOLD HIM
WE ARE NOT DATING
During that time
He felt he had claim on me during that time
Just because he had kissed me
He said "I wish you had told me how little a kiss means to you
I would never have ******* kissed you."
And I got ANGRY
And then you know what?

I said I'm sorry
I said you're right
I said "I put his feelings before yours, that was wrong, and it will never happen again."
I should've never done that.
I didn't do anything wrong.
And I gave him power over me
That no one should ever have.

We spent the last month or two
In despairing bliss
Knowing that at the end of the college semester
Which had been so short
He would go home to Georgia
And I would return to the mountains
And I had played the long-distance game before
And would not do it again

I should have just taken what I could get

So the last day, we helped each other pack
We cried
So much
Into each other's shirts and shoulders
Hearts breaking but hopeful
For a promise
I promised him
AND THIS IS THE ONLY THING I PROMISED
That at the end of the summer
We would both be available
So that we could try again
THAT'S IT

So I cried my way home
And he took his plane
And we Skyped until 2 his time every night
After about another month
The usual sadness and loneliness hit
Being home is bad for me
I lose sense of up and down
As I feel my wheels spinning on the ice
In the freezing summer between springs
I missed him
So much that I felt empty
I ached and hungered and died every day
Though it was nice to see my old friends again
But the worst thing happened
I remembered that I like flirting
And I had already ****** up once

Why not do it again?
Three more times?

For two months I didn't make love
I ******
Mindlessly
Cuddled for a bit with a friend
Then he'd admit he liked me
I'd tell him I wasn't going to date this summer
And he'd get hard
And he'd get insistent
"We can just be friends with benefits"
He'd say
He genuinely liked me
They always did
One even said he loved me
I had no such emotion for them
I just wanted to not feel so alone

So we'd cuddle, talk, kiss, ****,
And I'd go home every time still empty
Still cold
Still alone
And sad
And guilty
And for two months I wandered around in that hell
Wondering why it wasn't getting any warmer
Wondering how the **** I was still alone
With all these men that wanted me so bad
And every night as I fell asleep I thought about Hunter
Oh God... I could never tell him
No, he would never understand

And he didn't.
When I finally told him
Not because it was any of his ******* business
BECAUSE IT WASN'T
We were not dating
There was no commitment
No promises except that I'd be there in the end
We kept admitting love for one another
Which was a mistake in retrospect
But he had no right to feel such claim on me

The worst part was that he had asked me over the summer
And I had lied and justified
And gotten angry
SO ******* ANGRY at him
Every time he got suspicious
HE HAD NO ******* RIGHT
And I got angry
Because I was guilty
Especially because it wasn't helping
And all I wanted was him

So I told him
Not because he had a right to know
But because I finally trusted him enough
And wanted no secrets between us
Wanted one SINGLE ******* PERSON
Who I could show my whole self to
Tell everything to
Just one
And I wanted it to be him
And he was angry

And oh god for days he was angry
And every night he made me cry
Because I told him to let it out
That it might help
So he called me *****
He called me ****
He called me cheater
He told me that nothing meant anything to me
That nothing was special to me
Nothing physical would ever be special or worth anything from me
But... But I still don't understand
Honesty
That was important to me
That was everything to me
And I had given it to him
I don't understand
Why he walked all over it
Why

That
That's enough
I can't talk about this anymore right now
Ask me again another day
Just not right now

Alright I guess I should anyway

So the last month of summer
I was with no one
I spent every night Skyping him
Every night either crying in the hurt of his angry words
Or singing my love and praises for him
And when he went on a trip and couldn't call me
I took pictures and screenshots every night
To show him I wasn't out again
I was at home
Safe
Alone
Waiting for him

A month it went on like that
Until it was finally one week before school
I drove down to the college, picked him up
He greeted me at the door and I lept into his arms
And he held me and we cried
And there was love
And I felt complete
And I could finally breathe again
And the gasps wracked my body with pleasure and pain

I took him and we spent a week of heaven
In my home in the mountain
He met my family
And they all loved him
And we talked
Once in a while there would be a sad moment
But he said he'd try
He said he loved me
And I had hope...

Why didn't he try?
He left me when we got back to school
Why didn't he stay
I don't understand
I've tried so hard
I've mended fences with God
Hoping he can help me
But it's taking time
And it doesn't mean anything to Hunter
Why?
I told him all of the truth
All of it
And laid myself at his feet
Just asking that when he was done abusing me
Done being angry
Done with his vengeance
That he would love me
And keep me
And stay
But he left
I don't understand
I tried. So hard.

And I can't let go of him
How can I?
I invested my whole self in the warm and golden dream
Of lying in his arms at night
I changed myself to be what he wanted
I changed my mind to match his
What more could I do?

Don't I deserve forgiveness?
Haven't I earned just one last chance?
Dougie Simps Oct 2016
Dear insecure, emotional, overthinking young man

you've come a long way from way back then

you've lost a lot - but had to realize "who hasn't?"

your strong will seemed to be mistaken a lot from your passion

you've missed out on a lot of love by second guessing & never unmasking

why weren't you truly ever satisfied... nah, that's the question that I'm asking...

your abandonment issues pushed away the potential of something ever lasting

constantly fighting the man in the mirror

hopefully with your new life - you see things clearer

no one ever knew, with you...who they were gonna get

you've missed out on a lot of good times wanting to talk

instead of just letting it go and enjoying the time you had left.

Your favorite pills were self pity, self indulgence, ignorance and regret

you never stopped to listen - stopped talking - hopefully now you allow others words to be said

no woman stood a chance... you purposely acted a certain way to avoid the possibility of true love

discretely pushing them away until they saw nothing and had enough.

don't get me started on your lack of living

missed out on a lot of trips, chances and opportunities

I hope now you've filled that void that is missing

you swore happiness was wealth... power...a line of respect

little did you know it was the little things; the calm, the moments
the people and things in life worth it and willing to invest.

you gave up on a few dreams... figured why fight?

countless times your mind would just run... keep you up all night

you were so afraid of success... honestly, I never knew why

you never freed that little boy trapped - stuck in his father's grasp

he was begging for freedom, you left him struck inside

everyday was another day you thought was your time.

I hope you live now

I hope you see the beauty life truly is

I hope you found love

I hope you found this


I needed to write this letter to you - so you can see how far you have come

you can see that change is real

you can see all that you have become

Bland Douglas Simpkins,

that's the man you should be proud to be

no matter what challenges you were faced with

those obstacles were needed, needed to make it to this me

thank those who've came into your life - not all were meant to last

some forced you left - others showed you right

no matter what, some were needed in your past.

So...

Dear future self,

please understand - I'm sorry. For all that I put you through

the truth remains - that without me - just know...

there would be no you.
to the future
Q Jul 2014
Bas!
Mein kya karoon?
Kisne usse meri zindagi meh ahne ki ijazath di?
Kisne usse muje itna darde, aur itna pyaar dekhane ki ijazath di thi?

Kehte hai ke zindagi tab moor lathi hai jab banda sooch bhi nah sakhe,
Aihse raang dekhthe hai joh banda bhool hi nah sakhe
Oonshi gherahi, khamooshi, thunhaee

In num aakhoon ko kisi ne nahi poonchna
Iis khamoosh pal ki khamooshi koi shabd kese bhol paye?
Dil ghabraey
Hai, hai

Aajo,
Muje jungali bulao,
Bas, aake mujme doob jao.
    
*s.q.
"Share like I share with you
It's called reciprocation."


.
Legral onion Aug 2014
My soul honors your soul.
I honor the place in you where the entire universe resides.
I honor the light, love, truth, beauty & peace within you, because it is also within me.
In sharing these things we are united,
we are the same,
we are one.
Jasmine Roper Feb 2017
I asked a variety of people to say the first word that came to mind when presented with the noun “Crisis”

I heard many different responses; “a problem” “a catastrophe” “an unbearable disaster”, and yet, never did I hear the biggest Crisis of all

Education.

E-D-U-C-A-T-I-O-N

Allow me to dissect that word for a second,

The abbreviation for education is made of the first three letters “E-D-U” you find it on website domains somewhere in your textbooks

However the first three letters are the least important.
When you drop that edu you’re left with a word, a word extremely crucial to the English language.
Caution

For people who don’t understand this word “caution” It means to be attentive, alert, to take enough care to best avoid error, danger, or making mistakes.

Uh, funny right, students are constantly punished in schools for mistakes, errors, not being attentive enough.

Constantly being told to “ be quiet’ and to “settle down” or
“Turn to page 155 and and stop looking around”


Let me change this path a little
Allow me to alter your focus for a second

We are speaking of a crisis, one larger than education as a whole. A part of education that has been belittled, spat on, or strapped on a leash and taken for a stroll.

Black education.

Every year our classrooms get larger, with larger quantities comes more diversity. And yet, our units get smaller, and the best education are given to those with the largest dollar.

The truth is, we no longer care about the information we are being taught.
Because it only presents the people and white wars that were being fought.  

It is hard for students to identify, accept and appreciate the information in front of them if it never directly relates to them.

I’m sure everyone in this room is aware of MLK’s “i had a dream speak” or Rosa parks famous word “nah.”

But what about the playstation, wii or xbox you used last night? Thank Jerry Lawson for that, and yes, he is black.

From such a young age we learn about the theories and discoveries that Benjamin Franklin gave
but not once are we told about Lewis Latimer, the man who invented the carbon filament,used in all light bulbs above our heads today

We’re held up to this standard of excellence, they expect us to be cautious, meticulous, and strive for nothing but perfection. Something said to be achieved by a proper education

However please explain how is that education rumored to be so proper when I try my best they say please God stop her.

Black education must be taught or it’ll enlarge as the crisis very soon to be fought.

While I calm down and allow that to sink in
Know and understand
Black education must never end

They say we're too violent that all we do is fight
And yet all we do is look for our ancestors in our textbooks every night

Every head shouldn’t turn towards me on the topic of slavery
If it weren’t so taboo; they wouldn’t have to be.

As i tie up my tongue and sit back in my seat
I continue to pray that history doesn’t repeat
Niel Nov 2020
The Shaktic Yonied con-i-cative chronicle
Receptive magical majesty
Why do I insist to refuse the image
Which given to all for a being
I must, I must. but lust for sustenance
Greed gleamed gem, imaginative benefits
Illustrious acceptances held in receptacles
Analogous referrals for smarmy mastication
She: What a Be. The present of this presence
Shaking her out, letting go of these pretense
And obligative fashions
Of latching ons, to momentary ideals
Peeling them down, because permanence is the illusion

The banana tastes better without the Denial
Whittling woodwork
The sawdust agrees
We push, we push forth.. Hesitant to be forceful
Yet sometimes that's the force in it's own manifestation
When's the plan the being, and the being the plan?
Over exhausting contemplative complications
Isn't just a bean plant To eat the seed
And relish in her nourishment
But that want can be that active fault-line
Tectonically rupturing this productive structure
Impatience of the anticipating ambition
Crumbling foundation of her imaged experience

Perception is the adversary of all this malarkey
Projecting the doubt filter on how perceiving this reality
Realization of creation, the constant remembrance to strive
What's the precidence and where's my mind to?

Blind me!   Blind Me!

To forget the exhaustive duty

        Her beauty is so suiting
    Long to fruit.

To be swooned so soothingly
Ashna Alee Khan Sep 2016
Kabhe pucha hay apnay app say kay tumnay kitnay waday torhay hein?
kabhe pucha hay apnay app say kay kitnay logouin ka dill tora hay?
kabhe pucha hay apnay app say kay tumnay apne eik nazar say kis kis ko apne he
nazrouin mein gerayya hay?
- nae pucha nah? kese din pucho gay nah tou mrnay ka dill chahy ga, zindage kay
naam say chirnay lago gay.
Kabhe pucha hay kay tum Zindage kay naam per eik beyqaar zindage jee rahay
hou? aur phir kehthy hou ''yaar kya krien zindage he esse hay''. Kabhe Zindagi
ke kitaab ko khol kr tou dekho kya kya rakha hay uiss mein. Zindage bahot he
haseen hay sirf hum masroof hein apne duniya mein wou duniya jis mein kuch
nahe sawaye humaray. Ajj loug dusrouin ke mintein krtay hein kay ''ruk jau''
''na jau'' jb kay mery khayaal mein ye loug bhul chukay hein kay '' jis ko jana hay
uis ko jana hay chahy tum apne jaan kyun na deh dou''. Ajj tou logouin ke
zindage andhere hojaate heh jab koe uinka ''dost'' ya ''yaar'' chor jaye aur wo uis
khuda ko bhool jaatay hein jis nay uis ko usse ''dost'' ya ''yaar'' say milaya tha.
Hum loug tou apnay Khuda ko bhe bhul chukay hein. Wo Khuda jis kay pass
humnay waapis jana hay wo Khuda jis kay bagheir humare koe ukaat nae.
Barhay Unchay gharouin mein reh reh kr apnay app ko Khudha samjhna shuru krdeya hay humnay.
Ess zamaanay mein koe kese ka Dost nae hota barha Dost Dost krtay hou na jab doob rahay hou gay
kudhe dekhna kay sab DOST tamasha dekh rahay hogein aur tum zindage ke tarf aanay ke bher-poor
koshishein kr rahay hou gay, tab apnay app say puchna kay ye wo DOST thay jin kay leye tum apnay
maa-baap say laray? uin kay samnay uncha bolay? sharmindage hoi? Ajj hum itnay ''self-obssessd''
hein kay dusrouin ko dekh kay lagta hay chunte jitni ukaat hay uiss ke. Hum apne he Duniya mein
bahot dur nikal aayein hein, asal duniya say bekhabar, asal dostouin say hum la-taluq ** chukay hein.
Hum ajj apnay app mein he kho chukay hein. Apnay rab ko humnay kho deya. Rab ko kho deya matlab
Sub kuch kho deya  ! tou abb hamaray pass koe raasta hay?
-Haan wou rab 5 martaba bulaata hay tumhein apne taraf, jau uiss ke taraf aur apne ASAL ZINDAGE
ke taraf waapse aou.
Raggae tonic Nov 2014
You a ***,
You a ***,
You a ***,
An nothin bout it,
For more information please contact poison control at 647-866-1219
Cause ***** you eaten too much ****,
So pazass yo ***,
Or I shred yo ***** like grass

Or nah
Gratata,
Dis aint nothin but raw
SelinaSharday Mar 2018
ENLIGHTENED
I feel empowered..I'm here to love on me..
here to support me.
yes
love on some me..
so
after seeing how others will take me for granted.
take my sweet gentle nature and ignore it.
fail to appreciate it.
Hurt and abuse me
My time I give my attention I give.
Others may play the games of neglect with me.
After I bring the positivity.
My sunshine my smooth uplifting gift.
I've adopted a better spiritual outlook.
Not goin to lay my pearls at their foot.
My love don't belong on the ground.
To be kicked all around.
Nah nah nah no!
I'm going to say the things I've failed to let flow.
I'm going to release my tongue..
Building up my self esteem a useful weapon.
Its about me keeping going, not being injured by the tragic done.
Stop others from trappling my precious rose petals.
I realize the gift in me, some will not get my specials.
I'm seeking to stay focused.
and enlightened, Aware of my spiritual.
As the purest forms of me unfolds.
By selinasharday
S.A.M 2018
recognized this beauty in oneself, even when others treat you so poorly off and on..be aware stand up fot the gift you are.
TussyLambz Feb 2019
listen here: https://youtu.be/zvKsDjWhETE

I could give this all up fall in love with a new life
Got a new view of a new tribe
What did I do to deserve this new life
looking back percs in petty sacks

Off white china in .1 packs
Point of all this is I took it the max
Could this one book keep me from the casket
God my life has been so tragic

Never enough
Never felt love like I did from the dub
Took it and run like I'm never coming back god
Never looking back on it living in the past, nah Imma let it go

Let it all go I'm a new individual
Coming so lyrical bringing hella visuals
Victim of nothing Imma survivor
Sick and I'm tired; corrupt desire

let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone

let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone

Let me go
I know this road's not easy
It's not made to please me
I leave the rest behind
  
Watch the smile fade from her eyes  
I'm alone  
Many tries now my life is on the line  
And I got no phone

Never enough
Never felt love like I did from the dub
Took it and run like I'm never coming back god
Never looking back on it living in the past, nah Imma let it go

Let it all go I'm a new individual
Coming so lyrical bringing hella visuals
Victim of nothing Imma survivor
Sick and I'm tired; corrupt desire
  
let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone

let me go, God
So I know I know I'm
Free to grow God
Not alone

I want to be free
Locked in with disease
Put me on my knees
Looking for the key

Feel so empty on the inside
Take me then divide  
Struggle then I die
Pretend I'm alive; that's a lie
  
Never enough
Never felt love like I did from the dub
Took it and run like I'm never coming back god
Never looking back on it living in the past, nah Imma let it go

Let it all go I'm a new individual
Coming so lyrical bringing hella visuals
Victim of nothing Imma survivor
Sick and I'm tired; corrupt desire
Devashish Kumar Jun 2015
“What’s your favourite drink?
Really old scotch or champagne.”
“Nah!
Her wet lips.”
13 words
Noandy Jan 2016
Pondok Pancawarna*
Sebuah cerita pendek*

Apa aku harus menyesal pindah rumah? Tak ada anak seumuranku di sini. Tak ada penjual susu yang lewat tiap pagi, atau gelak tawa dari permainan sore hari. Aku sedih, tapi itu bukan masalah besar, mungkin. Toh tahun depan usiaku beranjak 15 tahun, aku tak punya waktu untuk banyak bermain. Rambut keritingku yang dipelihara ibu ini juga nantinya akan kupotong, aku tak mau berulangkali dikira sebagai perempuan di tempat tinggalku yang baru.

Tahun depan usiaku 15 tahun, dan aku takkan punya waktu untuk banyak bermain lagi. Aku ingin menghabiskan sisa usiaku dengan bermain di jalanan sampai sore hari. Sayangnya lingkungan ini terlalu asing untukku. semua jalannya terlihat sama dan terlalu besar, terlalu banyak rumput liar dari rumah-rumah kosong yang jaraknya terlalu jauh, dan dedaunan pohon menjuntai bak rambut kasar nenek tua.

Sayangnya lingkungan ini terlalu asing,

Dan aku tak punya pilihan lain selain menjelajahinya
Dengan senang hati.
Jangan bilang ibuku.

Ibu dan mbah selalu melarangku berjalan sendirian di luar saat pagi-siang-sore-malam semenjak pindah ke rumah yang terlalu besar ini, terlalu sepi ini. Mungkin untuk alasan keamanan. Aku tidak sebodoh itu untuk harus bertanya kenapa. Dan karena aku tidak sebodoh itu, aku tidak menyukai cara mereka—Wanti-wanti dari mereka agar aku tak berkeliaran sendiri.

Mereka bilang dahulu jalan besar di depan sana adalah tempat tengkorak para jawara-jawara pembela negara dikuburkan, dan tiap sore akan terlihat pria-pria muda dengan baju berlumur darah merokok serta makan-makan daun sambil bermain catur di pinggiran jalan.

Mbah tambah berkata kalau di perempatan sebelah rumah ini, apabila aku bermain sendirian, aku akan dikejar-kejar oleh serdadu kompeni tak berkepala yang akan menebas kepalaku, atau membawaku untuk disembunyikan.

Aku tak takut pada hantu-hantu bekas perang itu, aku juga tak tertarik pada mereka.
Kesalahan ibu dan mbah, dalam menakut-nakutiku, adalah menceritakan sebuah kisah yang, entah benar atau tidak, justru membuatku tertarik untuk mendekati sumbernya.

Di ujung gang, yang jalannya sedikit menurun, terdapat sebuah rumah kayu yang dijuluki oleh warga sekitar sebagai Pondok. Padahal, menurutku bentuknya tidak seperti Pondok. Rumah itu tidak buruk, justru didepannya terdapat taman besa. Sebuah gerbang mawar besar memagarinya; di taman indah itu, hanya terdapat lima jenis bunga bermekaran. Aku tak tahu jenisnya apa saja, yang kuingat dari cerita itu, pokoknya terdapat warna merah, ungu, biru, kuning, dan yang paling aneh, sebuah mawar hitam. Aku tak tahu bagaimana mawar hitam dapat tumbuh di tempat seperti ini. aku bahkan tak tahu kalau ada mawar yang berwana hitam.

Mereka menyebut rumah itu Pondok,
Pondok Pancawarna.
Pondok milik seorang pelukis yang kata orang-orang kakinya buntung.

Karena tak memiliki objek untuk dilukis, dan tak bisa keluar mencarinya, mereka bilang pelukis itu menarik gadis-gadis kecil dengan bunga yang indah di tamannya, lalu menyekap mereka dalam Pondok itu sampai ia puas melukisnya. Hal ini diceritakan setelah aku mendengar pembicaraan ibu saat membeli sayur pagi hari 2 minggu lalu, setibanya dirumah aku langsung menanyakannya soal cerita itu.
Seram?

Aneh, bukan seram. Memangnya seorang pelukis baru bisa melukis bila ada objeknya?

Kalau ingin membuatku berhenti berkeliaran dan bermain sampai larut malam di daerah baru, seharusnya mereka memberi alasan yang bagus dan masuk akal. Bukan malah menakut-nakutiku dengan sesuatu yang ditakuti anak perempuan.

Nah, malam ini aku akan menyelinap. Aku ingin mencari tahu mengenai pelukis itu; lumayan, aku dapat mencari kesenangan disela malam-malam yang selama ini selalu jenuh.

Setelah aku yakin ibu dan mbah terlelap dengan memperhatikan apa semua lampu sudah mati, aku melepas baju tidurku dan mengambil kemeja lengan pendek putih yang kupakai tadi pagi, celana pendek hitam, dan suspender yang biasanya kupakai setiap hari. Aku keluar lewat—Ini sebenarnya jendela atau pintu, sih? Bentuknya seperti jendela, terlalu besar, dan memiliki gagaing pintu—Aku keluar lewat jendela-pintu di kamarku yang langsung mengantarku ke serambi kanan rumah yang terlalu besar ini. Tanpa sepatu, aku berlari-lari kecil ditemani lampu jalan yang remang-remang dan rambut pohon yang menjuntai menuruni jalanan lebar nan sepi, menuju Pondok Pancawarna di ujung jalan.

Aku sampai didepan pagaarnya. Pagar besi hitam yang ditengahnya terdapat gerbang dari semak-semak mawar. Aku mendorog pagar yang ternyata tidak terkunci itu, berderit pelan, dan perlahan masuk. Kenapa tidak dikunci? Apa memang ia bertujuan untuk menarik anak-anak yang penasaran kemari? Dan sekarang, sejauh mata memandang dibawah bulan sabit yang temaram, aku hanya melihat hamparan taman bunga yang indah didepan sebuah rumah kayu tua yang mulai berlumut. Seperti kata mereka, dalam remang aku dapat melihat bahwa bunga didalam sini hanya memiliki 5 warna—mawar, yang jelas, bunga sepatu, lavender, violet—Entah apa lagi, aku hanya mengenali itu. taman ini terlihat makin gelap karena tak ada bunga yang berwarna putih. Aku mengambil sebuah ranting panjang yang patah, dan mengibas-ngibaskannya seolah itu adalah pisau untuk memotong dahan-dahan yang menghalangi jalan, aku seorang penjelajah.

Aku melihat taman dari ujung-ke-ujung, sampai akhirnya berhenti ketika aku mencoba untuk mencari jalan menuju belakang Pondok—
Di sana lah aku melihatnya,
Dengan sebuah lampu ublik yang ia letakkan di sebelah cagak kanvasnya,
Ia duduk pada sebuah kursi roda kayu,
Sambil terus melukis dan menoleh ke arahku.
“Nak?”
Ia memutar kursinya,
Dan kakinya tak ada—Tak ada dalam artian, benar-benar tak ada. Seolah tak ada apa-apa lagi setelah bagian bawah perutnya.
“Sedang apa kau kemari? Tak ada yang berani kesini, lho.”
Ia tidak tua seperti yang kubayangkan, tidak setua mbah, dan mungkin hanya beberapa tahun di atas ibu. Kemeja biru bergarisnya terlihat kusam di bawah mata sabit rembulan.
Aku terus mengayun-ayunkan ranting yang kupegang.
“Tak apa, aku hanya penasaran. Kukira bapak cuma sekedar cerita. Ibu dan mbah biasanya menakut-nakutiku.”
“Apa menurutmu aku terlihat seperti orang jahat?”
“Tidak. Bapak terlihat seperti—”
“Ya?”
“Orang sedih, pak.”
“Lho, mengapa?”
“Karena bapak melukis  sendirian jauh dari orang. Aku punya teman yang selalu menggambar sendirian saat sedih.”
Bapak itu hanya tertawa. Dan memanggilku untuk melihat lukisannya lebih dekat.
“Ada apa dengan kakimu, pak?”
“Ini Memento Mori. Kau tahu apa itu?”
“Apa itu?”
“Pengingat kematian.”
Aku melihat lukisannya—Seperti tamannya, aku hanya mengenali lima warna pada lukisannya.
“Datanglah lagi bila kau mau. ”

Ketika aku datang esok pagi, setelah beli sayur bersama ibu dan mbah, (aku menyelinap setelah mereka masuk ke rumah) ia tak ada disana. Aku mencoba kembali malam hari, dan saat itulah aku sadar bahwa ia selalu melukis tiap malam, dan entah berada di mana saat pagi. Aku mulai mengunjunginya tiap hari, tiap minggu, sewaktu kesepian dan suntuk melandaku.

Aku mulai hafal pola-pola lukisannya, gurat-guratan garisnya yang abstrak. Ia tidak pernah menggunakan warna yang tidak ada pada tamannya, seolah cat yang ia dapat berasal dari bunga-bunga yang ia tanam. Yang ia hancurkan, dan renggut warnanya.
Pada suatu malam yang anehnya tidak dingin, justru sedikit hangat, ia bertanya,
“Apa yang kau lihat di lukisan-lukisanku, nak?”
“Hmm.. Apa ya.. Warna yang dicampur-campur.. Lima warna.. Garis putus-putus..”
“Ini warna-warna dan suara masa lampau.”
Aku menatapnya penasaran,
“Kau masih ingat Memento Mori?”
“Pengingat kematian?”
“Kakiku yang hilang ini bukan hanya pertanda agar aku selalu mengingat kematian. Tapi agar aku tak bisa melupakan, dan meninggalkan masa lampau.”
“Maksud bapak, agar tak bisa meninggalkan tempat ini juga?”
“Ya, ini tempat dimana aku kehilangan banyak hal, kehilangan orang-orang yang kukasihi. Aku ingin tetap bersama jiwa mereka di Pondok ini. Rumah tua reot kami yang sudah lumutan.”
“Apa ini ada hubungannya dengan bunga yang hanya memiliki lima warna?”
Ia meletakkan kuasnya dan memutar kursi rodanya menghadapku, lalu melonggarkan kerah kemeja putih lusuhnya; aku lebih suka kemejanya yang biru bergaris.
“Aku dahulu tinggal dengan empat orang anakku, dan istriku. Ia sangat suka berkebun, dan menanam enam bunga sesuai warna kesukaanku kami. Ia sangat cantik, tak banyak memikirkan soal dirinya. Pada suatu hari, nak, ketika ia pergi ke pasar pagi buta, mendung semilir, dan aku masih menemani anak-anak yang belum terbangun—Badai terjadi. Kami lindung didalam rumah sedangkan—Entah apa jadinya pada istriku dan ibu-ibu yang ke pasar pada pagi hari. Yang kutahu, ketika hujan mulai reda dan semuanya kembali seperti sedia kala, taman kami sudah tak berbentuk, kacau. Pepohonan semua tumbang, jalan-jalan dipenuhi lumpur, dan entah berapa lamapun aku menunggu,
Ia tak kembali dari pasar pagi itu.
Cuaca sangat buruk, dan untuk keluarga di daerah terpencil seperti ini, flu bukanlah penyakit yang mudah, nak.”
“Kau kehilangan keempat anakmu karena flu, pak?”
“Tepat sekali, dan setelahnya, aku mencoba menghidupkan mereka dalam warna-warna yang mereka sukai. Lima warna yang mereka gemari di pekarangan kasih ini. Tapi entah bagaimanapun, mawar putih yang kutanam untuk istriku, di tanah hitam yang sedih dan lembab ini, mendadak menunjukkan bercak-bercak hitam yang makin menyebar ke seluruh kelopaknya. Seolah alam bahkan tak mengizinkanku untuk mengenang dan bertemu lagi dengannya,
Seolah kami takkan pernah bersatu lagi.”
“Aku tak tahan, nak. Aku ingin pergi dari sini. Tapi jika aku pergi, siapa yang akan merawat bunga-bunga ini dan mengenang, mengasihi mereka di gelap sana? Aku berusaha keras mengurungkan niatku, dan untuk memaksa diriku agar tak pergi,
Aku memotong kedua kakiku.”
“Apa tetangga-tetanggamu tak berpikir kau gila, pak?”
“Tentunya. Hal terakhir yang kuingat dari mereka hanyalah kursi roda kayu ini.”
“Mereka menuduhmu menculik anak-anak.”
“Aku tak pernah menculik mereka, mereka datang sendiri, dan aku memperlakukan anak-anak itu sepantasnya.”
“Dasar, gosip ibu-ibu.”
Cerita mengerikan itu terus menghantuiku. Tapi aku tak dapat berhenti mengunjunginya. Aku kasihan padanya, bapak itu pasti kesepian;

Sama sepertiku.

Setahun hampir berlalu, dan minggu depan usiaku akan menginjak 15 tahun. Aku akan dikirim untuk tinggal bersama ayah di ibu kota, dan harus meninggalkan tempat ini.
Aku mengkhianati keinginanku untuk tidak banyak bermain dan mulai menjadi anak yang serius,
Aku tidak ingin kehidupan dewasa yang terlihat sepi dan penuh sesak serta hambar,
Aku masih ingin bermain.

Semalam sebelum ulang tahunku, aku melesat ke Pondok Pancawarna. Aku bersembunyi diantara semak bunga biru sampai pak pelukis menemukanku.
“Hei, apa yang kau lakukan?”
“Sembunyikan aku, pak! Sampai dua hari ke depan?”
“Apa? Mengapa? Mbah dan ibumu akan mencarimu!”
“Aku tak ingin jadi orang dewasa yang sedih dan membosankan, aku masih ingin bahagia dan bermain! Besok lusa ayah akan menjemputku, dan aku harus ikut dengannya untuk belajar di ibu kota—Dengan seragam yang pucat dan kehidupan yang ketat.”
“Bukannya kau pernah bercerita akan memotong rambut keritingmu itu dan berhenti bermain-main.”
“Itu hanya untuk menghibur sepiku—”
“Jangan membohongi dirimu, nak.”

Aku menoleh melihat lukisannya—Lukisan yang biasanya abstrak. Meskipun tidak jelas, aku dapat melihat bahwa itu adalah lukisan Pondok ini, dengan hamparan taman harum dan 4 anak yang bermain riang bersama orangtua mereka, berlarian di pekarangan.

“Kuharap aku dapat bersenang-senang seperti yang lukisanmu itu.”
“Hei, ayolah, jangan murung. Kau harus senang dapat bersama orangtuamu.”
Aku hanya membenamkan wajahku dalam lututku.
“Baiklah, kau boleh menginap untuk dua hari ke depan.”

Pak pelukis menggiringku masuk sambil memutar roda kursinya; ia mempersilahkanku untuk tidur di kamar anaknya, dan minum teh malam sebelum terlelap. Aku biasa melakukannya dengan ibu, mbah, dan ayah; tapi semenjak pindah kemari dan ayah harus berada di ibu kota, ibu dan mbah tidak lagi mengajakku minum teh sebelum tidur

Keesokan harinya aku terbangun, cahaya matahari menyinari jendela kamar yang sedikit berdebu ini, namun terlihat lebih indah dan menarik daripada tadi malam. Mainan dan buku berserakan dibawahnya. Kakiku sedikt nyeri saat tak sengaja menginjak empat batang krayon yang tergeletak di karpet. Aku mencari pak pelukis, tapi sebelum menemukannya aku mendengar tawa riang anak-anak.

Aku berlari ke pintu depan yang letaknya kuraba-raba; aku tak tahu. Tadi malam kami masuk lewat pintu belakang. Pintu depan berhasil kucapai, dan dengan melindungi mataku dari sinar matahari pagi, aku beranjak keluar untuk melihat sebuah keluarga bahagia; empat orang anak dan sepasang suami istri bermain, berlari riang pada sebuah pelataran mengenakan mahkota bunga.
Sang ayah, dengan kemeja biru bergarisnya dengan mudah kukenali,
Itu pak pelukis, tapi ada yang berbeda dengannya.
Ia berdiri pada kedua kaki, dan berdansa dengan riang bersama istri serta anak-anaknya,
Tangannya terulur, ia mengajakku untuk bergabung dengannya,
Dan aku menyambutnya.

Kami berdansa, berdendang, dan makan enak sepanjang hari. Saat malam, aku mencoba untuk melewati gerbang mawar dan mengintip keadaan rumahku; tapi tak bisa. Yang kulihat selepas gerbang mawar adalah hamparan taman yang sama, lebih besar dan luas dari ini.

Aku mencoba untuk melewati gerbang mawar, tapi tak bisa.
Seolah ada kain kasar tebal yang membatasi antara aku dan taman selanjutnya.

Keesokan harinya kami masih bermain, bersenang-senang. Aku semakin akrab dengan empat orang anak yang pakaiannya berwarna sesuai dengan kesukaan mereka, dan dapat dengan mudah mengambil hati istri pak pelukis.
Tapi, malam ini,
Saat aku mencoba untuk melewati gerbang mawar, di depan tirai kain tebal itu;
Yang kulihat adalah wajah ibu.
Wajah ibu, mbah, dan ayah yang panik serta berteriak seolah memukul-mukul tirai kain.
Aku menoleh ke belakang,
Istri pak pelukis memanggilku untuk makan malam.
Pagi hari setelahnya kami masih terus berdendang, dan berbahagia bersama. Tapi ini sudah esok lusa, dan aku harus pulang karena pasti ayah sudah kembali ke ibu kota dan tak akan ada yang mengambilku lagi.
Aku mencoba untuk melewati gerbang mawar, didepan tirai kain tebal itu;
Aku masih tak dapat melewatinya,
Tapi sekarang aku tak melihat taman bunga, ataupun wajah ibu dan mbah yang terlalu dekat—
Aku melihat ruang tamu rumahku,
Dengan ibu, mbah, dan ayah duduk termenung menundukkan kepalanya.
Aku menoleh ke belakang,
Pak pelukis mengajakku bermain lagi; empat anaknya, serta beberapa anak lain, berlari mengejar, menarik tanganku untuk tinggal bersama mereka.

Tinggal dan berbahagia di Pondok Pancawarna untuk selamanya.
Sorry for writing in my native language lately ^^
Big Virge Feb 2015
Do You Ever Find … ?
That Words Sometimes …
KEEP On … " Runnin' " …
Through Your Mind … ?!?

Sometimes ...
My Rhymes And Words Are …
...... STUNNING ….. !!!!!

These Days I Find My Word Designs …
Refine And Dine Just Like FINE Wine … !!!

So Here's A Few To Give You … " Clues " ...
of Some of The Ways My Wordplay Moves …

Wordplay … ?
Just … RIDICULOUS … !!!

Volume … ?
Straight Up … INFINITE … !!!

Inception Is … " Synonymous " …
With BIG VIRGE The … EPONYMOUS … !!!!!

Conception …
NOT …. " Inglorious " …. !!!!!

******* NOPE … ERRONEOUS … !!!!!

My Use of Verse Is … " GLORIOUS " … !!!!!

In Fact It's … " MERITORIOUS " . !!!!!!!

Because It's TIGHT NOT Porous ….

Chorus … NO … !!!
Because It Flows …
And Has NO PLACE In …
... " Talent Shows " … !!!!!

TALENT ... ???
Whoooooaaaaa You'd Better KNOW … !!!!!
What I Construct May One Day BLOW … !!!

A Hole In ALL These Shows For … " **'s " … !!!!!

Prostitution …. NO …. !!!
NOT How I Roll … !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Talking of THOSE …
NO TIME For Coc’ … !!!
Or Yes … ******* … !!!

Because My Nose ...
Does NOT House Notes … !!!!!
Where AIR Should Flow … !!!!!

FLOWS … ?!?
I Got …Those … !!!

QUOTES That Rock Boats … !!!
Races Places So Many Faces …

Sometimes My Mind ...
DEFINES … INVASIVE …

WAIT .................................................................­.... !!!

I'm Just PLAYING And Relaying ...

Words of Verse …
From The Thoughts of …
….. " Big Virge " ….. !!!

My Head … ???
It HURTS ... Just Like My Arm … !!!

Because I Write …
Like Those Who Fight …
And Wear The Garms' …
  
of Those Who Choose To ...
YES … " Bear Arms " … ?!?

Violent … NAH … !?!

Big Virge Is …
….. Calm ….............................................................

I'd Rather Charm …
But PLEASE BE SMART … !!!
Before My Words …
Get In Your ... " CLAAT " … !!!
Or Your …... " RASSHOLE' " ….. !!!

Am I Bajan … ???
NO ... But Here's The Quote …

I'm … ENGLISH Born …
So Know of Their Scorn … !!!!!

But Am Now REBORN … !!!
With … CARIBBEAN Views …
Just Down The Road …
From My NEW Bedroom … !!!!!
On BAJAN' Shores …. !!!
NOT Cold But WARM … !!!

I'm HAPPIER NOW … !!!
That I Have FOUND …
A Place For Myself …
On My Parents' Ground … !!!!!

Africa Next … ?

Well … More or Less …
So MUCH of This WORLD … !!!!!
I Haven't Seen … YET … ?!?

Girls … ?!?!?

That's Where This Poem ENDS.

SO MANY Look FINE But I Just Can't find …
One Whose Down To … " Fool Around " … !!!!!

With The Man … Big Virge  ...
  
... " The Connoisseur of Spoken Words " ...

I Guess That's Why … ?
I Write These Rhymes …
And Put In Verse …
Words That … " Traverse " …

That I NOW FIND …

" Run Through My Mind " …..
Listen Here Track from Virges' World Vol. 2 :

https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/3-run-through-my-mind
Stephen Leacock Dec 2020
Me a run around deh place with out
a facemask with my Toyota corolla
Yah a smell yah breath because of corona
Me ah see a gal ah rona
she tell  meh she sista name mona
She ah ware a red dress and deh with deh owner
The thing ah pass name
Corona corona corona
We ah drink with me friends me is deh owna
Me deh with deh gal and me get a bonner
She tell me she want me to bone her
We at the hotel she said she want it in her hola
she ah halla in bed and she name mona mona mona  
She ask me who is me me tell she i am deh landowna
She ask me wha business meh do i tell she i is a mine owner
She want money i tell she Things nah do because of  
Corona corona corona
The thing ah jump from owna to owna
Yah nose a run but yah nah know is corona
corona corona corona
Yah a recover thinking is a cold but is corona
Nuff people ah dead than deh owna
Yah nah know who is deh owna
Deh owna deh owna de owna
Waring a mask looking like a doctor looking for a blood donor
Saving Lives of with the blood of corona  corona
Lady in the bus and cough everyone think she name rona
The man without deh a mask talking to rona
He go home to he wife with rona
The wife nah know but rona
Corona corona corona
Yah belly ah hut yah nah know is corona
Yah kiss yah friend she now got corona
Yah deh work with corona  corona  corona
We get bat ears because of corona  corona
We turn ninja and fight war with corona corona corona
Mortal Kombat with corona  corona  corona   corona   corona  
Ware a mask because of corona   corona   corona  
Blue ***** on yah face corona corona
Kimberley Leiser Mar 2019
For Aimee's birthday the plan was to get her first tattoo. She was a blond hair lady with a wide bust, huge hips and big *****. Her ***** were one of her best assets she loved to see her body as her canvas her  piece of art; she got her  mind set on getting a rose and heart near her ***** and chest.

She went online booked an appointment in the nearest tattoo parlour to book her consultation to meet the tattoo artist who will be working on this project with her and this was where she met MR Pain.

MR Pain was an  average built man with some muscle tone on his legs and arms. He had tattoo's covering every flex of his body. He wasn't much of the talker in the first meeting more of a quiet and down to earth man. He asked

“ Okay what part of your body would you want the tattoo?”  

“She shyly said “my *****”

His eyes gleamed started to fixate on them as he chuckle

“ well that can be arranged”
I hope you have you brought a design or a piece of artwork with you so I can see a visual design of what you what to have done on your skin”

she took out the picture, he attentively looked at it for half hour and said

“heart and a rose…
this…
could take a few sessions…  
depends on how much detail you want in your design”

He randomly blurted out

“Mmm… I love your *****”.

“More to the point – serious question would you to be able to take on pain? think about it first.

I could show you want you be facing up to with an early demonstration just sign the contract it'll be my treat for your 18th birthday do you fancy hooking up for a drink at my place”

Aimee couldn't see much in the contract the print was tiny; she felt his warm gaze and grin darting around her as she tried to make out what it was saying. His eyes hypnotic and calculating

“Do we have a deal!”

Aimee smiled and nodded she signed her name and said
“can see no wrong in that” its only a drink”

Mr Pain with rasping voice replied

“Excellent!”

Aimee shyly said “should I bring anything with me?”

Mr Pain shrugged

“Nah, I got plenty of drink”
everything we need is here at my place,
don't worry bring yourself
will order a taxi my treat”.

As soon as Aimee got home she had  a bath in honey and milk bath oil. Her ***** were like two huge sunken peaches glazed out in the sun. She got out of her bath robe and placed a long black dress and heels with pink lipstick.  All ready for the evening, she entered the taxi the driver was glaring at her  through the mirror

“You look nice!
“where you going to?”
Aimee gave him the slit of paper with Mr Pain's home address:

the cab driver looked horrified
he silently started to mutter to himself

“that place”,
“another victim;
she’s the third woman this week  
I would be careful with MR Pain,
“I have heard many stories”

Aimee shrugged

“Are you sure?
Can't be the same man
I know ”

Taxi driver shook his head.

“For **** sake
another dippy girl,
what's the world coming to
this is why I hate my job”

He opened up the cab door. Aimee stepped out the taxi

“Thanks for the tip.
Have a good evening.
be careful hunny”  

III MR Pain's Headquarters

Mr pain was waiting outside in the garden.  Dressed head to toe black. His grin slightly twisted and eyes gleaming in the sunlight.  

“Good of you to make it.
Aimee looking beautiful,
make yourself  comfortable.
I will be back with you shortly
I'm with another client.

Aimee waited in the living room for mr pain she could hear random screams and sound of crashing whips from downstairs wailing sounds of another lady
crying out
“ yes master will do what you want”

Aimee was  shaken up by the noise but turned on by the intensity of it all. She laid on the sofa and circled around her ******* with her fingers while doing this she was unaware mr pain was watching her through the CCTV camera. His voice loud and commanding

“I take it your ready for the demonstration”

Aimee stopped what was she was doing
feeling startled by his voice and stammering

“Yes- I - am”  

“Excellent – it may surprise you,
put the blindfold on it is on the table
there will be someone that will
take you through to the main room”

Aimee was feeling anxious and shaken now there were so many things going through her mind

what was the demonstration about ?
Why was there whips and screams?
why was the taxi driver talking
about girls being victims  

“I feel tired mr pain
wish to go home”

“Nonsense you got here,
your not going anywhere
you'll love it”

The figure placed the blindfold over her eyes; led her through a dark tunnel. The room was a cold and damp there were two other girls  with blindfolds being chained and whipped to the wall. Their skin looked as if they had at least 2 lashings a day from the whip there were bite marks and bruises around their body pleasure apparently was substituted equally with the pain. Mr pain got his whip ready; Aimee could not believe what she was seeing around her.  

“Your a fraud, your no tattoo artist
your a *******
a dangerous man
I knew I should have listened
to the taxi driver”

Mr pain voice raspy but more commanding now

“Yes you should have your going no where until my little demonstration is complete
then you can go free ”

He took out the gag from his pocket and placed it on her mouth so she could not speak, grabbed out the  whip and gave her a lashing; followed by gnawing on her ******* and chest;

“You feel what pain is"

He laid her on the table restrained her arms and legs she can not move and fight his advances. He licked her *******; making his way to her ***** licking up and down then in circular movements while Aimee was moaning she started to ***; he then took out what looked to be a huge ***** from the cupboard; pushing it into her ***** her eyes rolled to the side she started to squirm, she didn't know whether to squeal or scream  as pleasure and pain were intensified and felt equal in measure. His **** grew in size with now a huge  hunger in his eyes he pushed his **** further into her making her legs weak and squeal he could feel her heat up and ****** all over the table: he then rolled her to the side and pushed his **** into her *** pushing it all the way in he could now hear her muffled squeals as he fill her up with his ***.

“Demonstration is over; your free to go: taxi will pick you up, its up to you if you return for more but if you say anything about this; I will find you and you'll be back here and will belong to me”  

Aimee quickly put her dress on her. Looking shaken and tired, bruises and marks on her sweat and *** on her too she went straight for the cab. The driver took pity on her and didn't charge her  for the ride.  It was all a distant black memory she didn't say a thing. it was all a blur, a dark secret she was worried about the other girls; did they escape in the end from the crutches of mr pain or did they chose to stay there with him: she was just happy to escape and be free.
Bas Aeon May 2015
Your sweetest smile touch my soul
Your sparkling teeth captivates my eyes
Your beauty amazed me
Your perfect like goddess
Your voice turn me on

But ugh"….
I turn my back on you
Your heart is not pure as white
Your like a devil when you speak

Your like a walking bending machine
Throwing bad words all around
You think its good on you
But nah!
It will never make you beautiful
If your soul is full of ****** words.
I don’t understand why most of the living entities loves to speak ****** words. Its like they will die when they don't utter the word.
I didn't have the right shirt on so she sent me home to change into something more appropriate because the people throwing the party were a little bit more than just well-to-do and I did because I generally don't like to argue but my second choice was no better than the first so I left again and then once more until she was exasperated enough to let my apparel go even though I was still less than presentable and I followed her through room after cavernous room adorned with Botticelli and Goncharova, way too expensive furniture, cutting edge electronics wired to speakers that screamed "nah nah na nah nah to ground trembling base until finally we emptied out  into acres and acres of back yard where there were scores of people milling about and a pet killer whale swimming around that would occasionally rise up out of the water to splash guests to their amusement, sometimes grabbing one of them by the leg or arm and gently pulling them down to the bottom before releasing them and back up they would come to break the water gasping and giggling which tickled those wandering about but I didn't get what was so funny at all so my face was that of consternation which in hindsight might have been that last straw because she was looking at me, not with the smile she once had of someone completely enamored and enthralled but instead, her countenance was that of someone entirely perturbed and she certainly was with my ****-poor etiquette, lack of insight and my rather limited wardrobe and it was just then that that whale rose up and crashed down again sending a massive wave that totally enveloped us making me realize in an instant that she might have been right about my shirt, for mine was made of silk and certainly it would have been better to be sporting nylon or rayon or,  at least,  something as wrinkle resistant as polyester for she still looked quite perfect smiling back plastic at the raucousness of those watching and I knew then that I wouldn't be seeing these people at the next big party which weighed on me more heavy than that wet shirt and the loss of her crushed me more than if that mighty mammal had landed on my chest but, oddly enough,  when I awoke from that dream, it was with a lightness of relief finding myself lucid again in a world for which I am far better suited.
“It really is,” I whispered, “It really is a beautiful world."


     “This really doesn’t feel safe,” Jamie said, her voice holding just a hint of fear. She was probably right. By anyone’s standards, this was straight up stupid, and here I had convinced her to come along with me.
     “Nah it’s totally fine. I wouldn’t do anything to put you in too much danger.” I said this without a hint of doubt in my voice, confident as usual. I had to keep the fearless and confident image or she might change her mind. I hoped the risk would be worth it in the end, but I couldn’t really be sure. How could I know unless I tried? If I didn’t try, I would just be left wondering how great it might have been.
     “We are really freaking high.” This time Jamie said it deadpan, more of an emotionless observation than anything else. Again, she was right. I looked down the long white ladder past her. It was probably 80 yards to the ground from where we were. Above us was another 20 yards of ladder, leading up to a narrow platform. We were climbing a water tower. The platform above us circled around the tower just below where it began to bulge outward into a spherical shape at the top. There was no safety cage around us, nothing to break our fall except for the climbing harnesses we wore. Each harness had two straps, each with a clip on the end. One clip would be snapped onto the first rung, then the next clip to the second, and so forth until we reached the top. It wasn’t fool proof but it was better than nothing.
     “But seriously my hands are getting tired. How much further is it?” Jamie was great, but complaining was one of her most annoying flaws. Most people wouldn’t have made it this far anyway. The fact that she had was just a testament to the athleticism and strength she had underneath all that complaining.
     “Close. Maybe fifty rungs. Hang on for another five minutes and we can sit down and rest.” Yet again she was right. My hands and forearms were burning like crazy. I had long ago learned that climbing with gloves on a slick painted surface was asking for trouble, so today we had no protection from the narrow rungs pressing into our skin.
     For the next fifty rungs, the only sound I could hear above my heavy breathing was the clink and snap as each clip was removed and replaced. It was surprisingly calm this evening, the sun not quite finished slipping below the horizon. It was late August, so the temperature was still somewhere in the 70s this time of day. The backpack on my back seemed to get heavier and heavier the higher we went. I could feel the straps digging into my shoulders and trying to tip me over backwards. This bag was far too big for what I was doing, but I needed some way to bring a sleeping bag and blanket up. Finally, my hand left the last rung and found the top of the steel platform. I unclipped from the last rung and snapped on to the hand rail that went around the outside edge before I reached down to take Jamie’s hand.
     “Thank you sir,” she said, “I see chivalry is not dead.” Her hand brushed a few loose strands of long blonde hair out of her face as she stood upright next to me, looking out over the edge.
     “Ok, you were right. This is worth it.” She said in a matter of fact tone. I laughed softly.
     “This isn’t actually what we came for,” I said with a grin, “We aren’t done climbing yet. I just didn’t think you would actually come if I told you how far we were going. But the view is really nice here.”
     “You can’t be serious. I didn’t see anything going up any further.” She sounded rather incredulous.
     “We have to follow this platform around to the other side. There is a set of stairs going up to the very top. At least it isn’t another ladder.” I tried to sound confident, like it had already been decided that we would go on, but I couldn’t stop a tiny bit of a pleading tone from leaking in. I knew there was a small chance that she would want to stop here, but I also knew that going just a bit further would be completely worth it. I had scoped this tower out from the ground several times, using my trusty binoculars that I bargained for at a neighbor’s yard sale. When I discovered the stairs going up past the platform, I used an online satellite map to take a peek at the very top of the tower. From what I had been able to tell, at the very top there was a completely level platform, twelve to fifteen feet in diameter, with a secure looking rail around it. Amazing what a person can find online.
     My hope was to spend the night on that platform, hence the sleeping bag and blanket in my massive backpack. Tonight was supposed to be the brightest and most active meteor shower of the year in North America and the weather had decided to be kind to us star gazers, leaving a clear and cloudless sky for the evening. It would be perfect. Perfect if Jamie would go along with it, that is.
     “You are the worst kind of person,” she said. She wasn’t facing me so I couldn’t really tell how she felt about it. Finally she turned around and rolled her eyes. “Ohhhkaaaay. Let’s go. We’ve already gone this far.” She was used to situations like this. I was the one who always wanted to push the limits, go a little further, risk just a bit more, and she was the one who always asked me to reconsider and then went along with it anyway. I always felt bad for a little while, but I got over it pretty quick. It’s not like she didn’t know me well.
     “You are the best kind of person,” I said with a wink and a grin, “But let’s rest for a bit. My arms are tired now.” We sat down and I took off my backpack, setting it on the platform beside me, digging through a side pocket. I pulled out two bottles of water and a box of Poptarts.
     “Poptart?” I offered, “Snack of champions. All the professional water tower climbers eat them I heard.”
     “How are you not fat,” she replied, taking a delicious cherry snack from the silver wrapper. It wasn’t a question really, it was more a running joke between her and I about how much I should actually weigh. She’d usually joke that one day all the junk I eat would hit me at once and I would wake up weighing 400 pounds. Even though she joked, she wasn’t beyond being bitter about my eating habits since she worked hard to keep a perfect physique.
     Next I pulled out two plain white pieces of paper and handed one to her. I began folding mine delicately into the perfect paper airplane, using the flat section of the water tower for some of the more delicate creases.
     “I don’t know why I hang out with you. You are literally so freaking weird. Like who the hell would bring paper up the side of a water tower just to make a paper airplane.” She laughed even as she criticized. I knew she didn’t really mind. She had on multiple occasions told me that my “quirkiness” as she put it definitely made me more interesting to be around. I guess I was a little odd, but I didn’t really think that was a bad thing. I did what I thought to be amusing or entertaining. It wasn’t my fault the rest of the world didn’t seem to feel quite the same way about life.
     “In fifty years don’t you want to be able to set your grandchild on your lap and tell them all about the time you tossed a paper airplane off the side of a water tower? Grandkids don’t want to hear boring stories. I would know. I was a grandkid once.” Jamie just shook her head with a grin and started folding her airplane. Mine was finished and ready to be launched into the great unknown.
     “This is Air Farce One to ground station Loser, requesting permission to take off.” I did my best Top Gun impression, trying to remember how cool Tom Cruise sounded when he said it.
     “This is ground station Awesome to Air Farce One. Ground station Loser could not be located but we can go ahead and give you permission to launch. Have a nice flight.” Jamie still had at least a little bit of a child left in her. I tossed my paper airplane over the side, watching it glide several hundred yards before landing in the low branches of a tree. Mission complete.
     “What perfect throwing form you have,” Jamie said sarcastically, "You were probably one of those nerds who just made paper airplanes in class all day as a kid." Ouch. Yea, that had been me. Jamie wound up and threw her airplane with all her strength. She had made more of a dart than a glider and it flew fast, eventually landing in a tree considerably further than mine had.
     “You win this round,” I said with mock disgust, only barely able to hide a smile, “Let’s keep going.” I removed my clips from the rail and began walking along the platform. The bulb at the top of the tower was much bigger than it looked from the ground. I could just imagine the thousands of gallons of water above and beside me.
     Eventually we reached the stairs. It was nice of the designers to have taken pity on the poor inspectors who had to climb this far up. A ladder going around the outside of the bulb would have been terrifying. The stairs curling around the side felt much more secure. Reaching the top, there was a narrow platform leading from the edge of the bulb where the stairs ended to the flat space in the center of the tower. There was only a handrail on the left side so Jamie and I were sure to snap our harnesses on. The sun had almost fully set by now, the last tendrils of light just enough to see by as we made our way to the center.
     “Okay this is cool. You know what we should have done? We totally should have brought an air mattress up here and slept or something,” Jamie thought aloud. “I’ll bet the stars look amazing from here. Oh and look you can already see the city lights over there!” I loved seeing her excited. She would take one hand and play with her hair while the other would point at things. It was kind of weird when I thought about it, how she always pointed at things when she was excited. But that was just Jamie being Jamie.
     “You read my mind.” I pulled the sleeping bag and blanket out of the backpack and laid them on the flat steel. I probably should have realized how cold that steel was going to be. Oh well.
     “We are so in sync right now,” Jamie laughed. “This is awesome. You were right.”
     “Wait so what did you think was in the bag?” I asked. She hadn’t mentioned it before and I never said anything about it.
     “Honestly I thought it was a parachute or some **** and you were going to try jumping off the edge,” she laughed, “I would have tried to stop you but I decided I really won’t feel guilty when you die doing something stupid.”
     “Brilliant!” I exclaimed, “I am so going to try that next time!” I wouldn’t really. I liked doing risky things, but I wasn’t suicidal. We spent the next few minutes getting the sleeping bag and blanket situated. I loved the fact that Jamie could be spontaneous sometimes and that she was totally okay with just camping out on top of a random water tower on a Wednesday night. How many people in the world would have been okay with that? I was lucky to have her as a friend.
     We had everything settled by the time darkness fell completely. The climbing harnesses had been stuffed into the backpack and the backpack had been strapped to the railing on the side of the platform. With the sleeping bag laid completely open, there was still at least five or six feet of open platform on all sides of us. It felt secure enough.
     “I also forgot to mention that tonight is a huge meteor shower.” Jamie and I were on our backs, looking up at the infinite blackness.
     “I love shooting stars.” She said softly. Her eyes were wide and I could see her making fake mustaches out of her hair. She had kicked off her shoes and socks and was wiggling her toes in the night air. There was only a sliver of moon, just bright enough that I could see the glow of it on her cheeks.
     “It makes me feel small,” Jamie whispered, “I feel like that should bother me, feeling small, but it doesn’t. It’s weird because it’s almost comforting to me. Here I am, this tiny speck of dust, floating around on a larger speck of dust in the middle of infinity.” She wasn’t usually one to enjoy philosophy, but on the rare occasions she spoke like that, her point of view and opinions usually inspired me. She had a beautiful mind. She just didn’t often care to open up and share it like this.
“It makes me feel like it can’t all be an accident. Some people say that we got here through a series of random and fortunate events, that there is no great plan or design. But I just don’t see how that can be. How can mere chance create something like this? Of all the possibilities, of the infinite infinite possibilities, I just can’t believe that people, that you and I or anyone else were put here by accident. I don’t think that life could be an accident.” She spoke softly the whole time. Her voice never raised or quickened. Words seemed to flow forth effortlessly, as if this all were prepared and practiced. She was able to speak without doubt or hesitation, with such certainty that even the greatest cynic might have stopped to listen.
     She continued on, weaving words as though spells, playing ideas as though harp strings. She talked about her life, telling me things she never had before, teaching me things even I didn’t know. Jamie didn’t seem to be Jamie for the next while. Instead, she seemed to have become a font of wisdom, ideas, and genius. At least, that is how I saw her. She was able to take a single idea, and examine it from all perspectives. It was as though she held it in her palm, slowly rotating it to peer closer. She made connections that I had never thought of, inspiring me to think even deeper, loving the moment. All the while she lay there, watching the stars, wiggling her toes, and making pretend mustaches out of that long blonde hair. Eventually, she turned silent.
     “But what if it is an accident?” I said. My voice was unusually soft. “What if it was all an accident? What if there is no plan, no fate, and no reason for anything? What if there is no beginning or end and we are just insignificant bits of space dust? The idea of it not being an accident just seems so conveniently comforting, almost too convenient.” Jamie was silent after I finished. My heart was beating fast and my mind was alive. I didn’t feel close to being tired.
     “So what if it is,” she said eventually, “What difference does it make? Even if it is all an accident. Even if there is no meaning to life at all, it seems like a beautiful accident to me. Here we are, you and I, able to share this with each other. That seems like a beautiful accident to me. Here is this great big world, all the adventure, all the excitement, and all the love that it is filled with. That seems like a beautiful accident to me. Here is this infinitely huge sky, filled with stars that are incomprehensibly far away. If this is all an accident, it is the most beautiful I can imagine.” She paused for a while longer. “I feel that whatever you believe, it doesn’t really matter. Perhaps you believe there is a supreme design and plan, or maybe you believe that life is an accident filled with chaos. It doesn’t matter. We all live in the same world. We all see the same beautiful sights, we are surrounded by it. It is only our perception of it that differs. I choose to believe that such an incredibly beautiful world cannot be an accident.”
     I was quiet for a long time. Jamie had, for all intents and purposes, rocked my world. Hers was a perspective I had never thought of before. I, who believed I had thought it through from every angle. I, who believed myself smarter than the world. I realized then, at that moment, laying on the top of a water tower in late August watching a meteor shower, that maybe I was not a genius. Maybe I did not have the world figured out like I had believed. Maybe, just maybe, I was just a cynic; a cynic blinded by the misfortunes I had seen and suffered; a cynic disappointed in a world that had not treated me well.
     Jamie took my hand in hers, interlocking her slender fingers within my larger ones. She turned her head to the side and looked at me, still sporting a fake mustache. The sliver of moon was reflected in her eyes just so that I could not really look into them. Her lips were curled into just the slightes
Does it really matter whether or not this world,
Is made from some divine blueprint?
What beauty is lost in either idea?
It doesn't matter if this is an accident.

Excerpt from my book of short stories, Fictional Truth.
ZT Jun 2015
Crush
Him around
Heart starts to pound

Fast, faster
Loud, louder
Hard, harder

Wildly now my heart’s pumping
To my face blood keeps rushing
My cheeks starts flushing

My chest now aching
I stop breathing
Now I’m hyperventilating

This is embarrassing
What if he’s looking?

No,
Oh no...
noooOOOoooo!

....

Nah, I’m just joking
Who am I kidding

He didn’t notice
He doesn’t care
He doesn’t even know I exist
Ever felt like this? Or similar to this? If you haven't experienced one sided crush/love, either you're lucky or you don't feel anything at all.
somethings really
gripe customers to excess
and in the griping
they seek redress
a box with five tablets of soap
isn't as it used to be
the size of the tablets
have been reduced
quite considerably
in years gone by
a bar of soap
had a fuller dimension
but nowadays
there is only smallness
in a tablet's dimensions
the customers are paying
a mint
for an undersized lathering bar
manufacturers of soap
must bring back
the larger bars
as customers
are voicing their valid
nah
nah
nah
nahs
Baa, baa, Green sheep,
Have you any kush?
Yeh, mon, yeh, mon,
Three bongs full;
One hit for ma tyke,
And one for ma ****,
And one for the batti boi
Who lives by caribe.

Baa, baa, Green sheep,
Have you any ******?
nah, mon, nah, mon,
no spliffs mon;
blast from da past mon
aL Nov 2018
Ang saya ay kasama
Kahit na sa pagmasid na lamang
Sapat nang makita kang malaya
Pagmamahal nalang ay itago sa abang

Kung mapagkalooban pa man ng iyong pansin
Ako ay mas makasusumpong pa ng ligaya
Pagpatawad mo lamang naman sakin
Ay ang iisa at natatanging hiling ng aking esperanza

Sa iyong paglisan sa susunod na mga araw
May bagong makikilala't sa atensyon mo ay pupukaw
Samantalang ako'y patuloy na maghihitay pa
Sa aking puso't isip, ika'y dala dala
Sapagkat
.
.
.
.
.
iKaW LaNg ZaP@+ NaH. . . .
Jk
My name aint Ed but i am edgy
Lawrence Hall Jul 2018
This is the Last Straw –
and Something About Sacred Buckets of Holistic Ice Water

****** predators, human smugglers
Starvation in the Sudan, civil war
in Syria, mass executions in China
Journalists murdered almost everywhere
Fashionable infanticide, homelessness
Unemployment, urban terrorism
Mass ******, school shootings, wildfires, racism
An unstable national government
Anti-Semitism, border desperation
Riots, arson, ecclesiastical corruption
****, alcoholism, historical cleansing
Skinheads, abuse, Khardassianistas
Volcanos, the death penalty, free verse
Affluenza, Jerry Springer, The View
Herbal tea, antifa, anti-antifa
And the soul-******* existential despair
Of inspirational singer-songwriters:

Nah, not a bit worried about plastic straws

But I must go now; The Voices are telling me
To pour a bucket of ice water over my head
(As long as it’s not a plastic bucket)
(1965) Transcript

Recorded December 12, 1965 (released 1971, produced by John Judnich and Frank Zappa)

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Hahahaha, you like this? Be weird I have no pants on…

The ecumenical council has given the Pope permission to become a nun…just on Friday’s.

I can’t work with this thing..it’s a…isn’t that funny? Backstage I really loved it and I fooled around with it, but I can’t it’s too…uh…I’ll work around it.

Does it look religious? It looks sorta religious…

Yeah, heh heh…that’s it. That’s faith and goodness. And veneer.

There’s more Churches, and people that work for the Church then I think there are eh, courthouses. And Judges. So actually what it is, Catholicism is like Howard Johnson, and what they have are these franchises, and they give all these people different franchises in the different countries and they have one government and when you buy the Howard Johnson franchise, you can apply it to the geography, whatever’s cool for that area. And then you pay the bread to the Main Office, and you have to keep a certain standard. Which is cool. But it is definitely a government by itself, and I think that’s what we’re doing in Vietnam. Because the Communists are a threat to those jobs. That’s where it’s at, and I think that’s what it’s always been, that those two factions are always *******’ and fighting with each other, and so actually we have the Catholic government inside our government, and they have this ***** with the Communists because they’re always fighting over the work, you know, and when they take over they do them out of a gig, so what happens is that… because Catholicism is here, and the people who work for it are here.

And that’s another big problem, the people can’t separate the authority and the people who have the authority vested in them. I think you see that a lot in the demonstrations, because actually the people are demonstrating not against Vietnam, they’re demonstrating against the Police Department. Actually against police men, because they have that concept of the law that the law and the law enforcement are one, and it started:

“So we’ll have to have some rules, that’s how the law starts, out of the facts, let’s see. I’ll tell you what we’ll do, we’ll have a vote: we’ll sleep in Area A, is that cool? OK good. We’ll eat in Area B, good? Good. We’ll throw our crap in Area C.” So everything went along pretty cool, everyone is very happy. One night everybody is sleeping, a guy woke up pow got a face full of crap, and said, “Hey what’s the deal here, I thought we had a rule? Eat. Sleep. And crap. And uh, I was sleeping and I got a face full of crap.” So they said, well, ah, the rule is substantive. That’s, see, that’s what the 14th Amendment is, it regulates the rights, but it doesn’t do anything about it, it just says that’s where it’s at. We’ll have to do something to enforce the provisions, to give it some teeth. Here’s the deal, if anybody throws any crap on us, while we’re sleeping, they get thrown in the craphouse. Agreed? Guy goes, “Well, everybody?” Yeah. “But what about if it’s my mother?” You don’t understand, your mother will be the fact, it has nothing to do with it, it’s just a rule. eat, sleep, and crap, anybody throws any crap on us they get thrown right in the crap house. Your mother doesn’t enter into it, everybody’s mother gets thrown in the craphouse. Priest, Rabbi’s, they all go. Agreed? OK, agreed. OK, now going along very cool, guy sleeping, pow he got a face full of crap. Now he wakes up he sees he’s all alone this guy, and he looks and everyone is having a big party. He says “Hey! What’s the deal I thought we had a rule? Eat, sleep and crap, and you just threw a face full of crap on me.” He says “Oh it’s a religious holiday! And, uh, we told you many times that you were going to live your indecent life and sleep all day you deserve to be thrown crap on you while you’re sleeping, and the guy said “*******”. A rule’s a rule and this guy started to separate the Church and the State right down the middle pow. Here’s the Church rule and here’s the federalist rule. OK, everything going along very cool, and guy said, “Wait a minute, although we made the rule and…how we gonna get somebody to throw somebody in the craphouse? We need somebody to enforce it. Law Enforcement.” OK, now they put the sign up on the wall WANTED LAW ENFORCEMENT, and guys apply for the job. “Look, here’s our problem, see we’re trying to get some sleep and people keep throwing crap on us. Now we want someone to throw them right in the craphouse, and I’m delegated to doing the hiring here, and, so, here’s what the job is…They won’t go in the craphouse by themselves, and we all agreed on the rule now, and we firmed it up, so there’s nobody get’s out of it, everybody’s vulnerable they get thrown right in the craphouse, but you see, I can’t do it cause I do business with these ******* and it looks bad for me, you know…So I want somebody to do it for me, ya know, so I tell you what, here’s a stick and a gun and you do it. But wait til I’m out of the room, and whenever it happens see I’ll wait back here and watch you know, and you make sure you kick em in the *** and throw them in there. Now, you’ll hear me say a lot of times that it takes a certain kind of mentality to do that work you know and all that *******, but you understand that’s all horseshit, just kick em in the *** and make sure that it’s done. So it happens that…

Now comes the riot, or the marches, and everybody’s wailing and blopblopblopblop. And you got a cop there who’s standing with a shortsleeve shirt on and a stick in his hand, and the people are yelling Gestapo! at him! Gestapo? You *******, I’m the mailman! Gestapo!?

Now. What it is, I think that the people really want to beat the devil. Where that started was with the early, early missionaries. I think that they didn’t really…that’s why the people never could really separate the authority and the people with the authority vested in them. Because, you know with the savages they would teach them the religion, and after the speech the savage would go, “Well, are you God?” “Well, no…but heh heh, what the hell, you know…well, just never mind that, and eh, I can do you a favor, you do me a favor that’s all and, I think that’s the hang up in our country right now, is that, cause you always hear that kind of story about the peace officer who pulled the speeder over and the speeder turned out to be the governor, and he had the audacity to give him a ticket. So the fact that the people repeat that story, so much, that means the people don’t believe that the governor could ever get a ticket, man. So then it’s just the degree of the law that the governor could break. That means he can kick you in the ***, but it’s *******, it’s really not that way, cause everybody’s vulnerable, yeah everybody’s *** is up for grabs. It’s really a groovy, eh… groovy system, and I think that, well the problem I had a long time of understanding the law is because of the language in the law and the fact that instead of taking each word and finding out the case that the word related to, once when I get lazy, and I would apply common sense. And then I got really ******* up.

That’s really weird, I went to the Supreme Court three times trying to get a writ of mandamus, and they kept sending it back, the clerk, they kept saying what the language said append the copy of order in respect of which the writ is sought. And I keep sending this copy of the lower court, they keep sending me back in respect of which the writ is sought. Then I dug, in respect of which, They use the word “of” like I use the word “to”. And ‘respect of’ means this kind of respect. In respect “of it”. So what they wanted, the Supreme Court, we want our judgement that these cats should respect us.

Now the Supreme Court, right now there’s some ******* now with obscenity. There’s an obscenity circus that’s been going on for five years. And I think, I really can’t believe that it’s not settled yet. An illiterate view of the law is that, what’s obscene is ***** ******* and fancy *******. If a guy can tear off a piece of *** with class, then he’s cool. But if the author depicts factory workers, who are not expertise with stag shows, then it’s obscene. Which is just nonsense. A lot of the confusion maybe with the obscenity laws is this: it’s that, the judges who are confused just didn’t read.
Here’s how it works: if a guy gets busted, see, and he raises a federal question and the appellate court answers it, that answer is mine, and yours. That’s equal protection from the law that decision, that one court. So in 1933 when a judge got Ulysses trying to come in the country, you dig, and the customs and tariff people said uh-uh, you can’t bring that book in, you can’t come in the country, it’s obscene. So these people said, no we want the book to come in and we want to knock of the injunction to restrain and they move forward. The judge said OK I’m gonna read the book, but I’m not gonna apply this Hickman rule anymore. The Hickman rule says that, uh, we should judge this book by the part, the portion of it, to the guy who gets *******, quickest. The most corruptible mind in the community. I think, said this judge, we should apply to the average man, the reasonable man, the man with the normal, average *** instincts. To that cat. Then they add the balance, contemporary, to his average age, so to the guy, the average *** instincts, to his average age, his society, that’s all attested. So that means that that rule, when any judge has to judge any work, he always has to apply that rule first, and that was cool. Now goes, they said, well we better narrow it, because what’s happened here is that there is a lot of works of art, that may get people *****, and there’s a Los Angeles ordinance now in 1961 this guy got busted behind, and the judge said “I don’t need any art critics, I know what’s obscene.” But the judge didn’t know in that local court that that wasn’t the question this guy was asking. He said this ordinance is unconstitutional because it doesn’t have knowingly in it, and that’s the principle of the whole American law system, your intent. So how could I know it schmuck when these people told me in the book jacket that this is art. So it, doesn’t, the intent has to be there. So the lower court said *******, and the Supreme Court said ******* to the lower court. And that’s when I started getting into trouble. Because from ’61 on came the argument between petulant lower court judges and the Supreme Court and spoiled rotten D.A.’s. When they lost the case…the city attorney in Los Angeles, every time he’d lose in Washington, I’d get my *** kicked when he got home. Just *******’, *******’, *******’, and still freed the Supreme Court, they keep movin’ ahead, movie’ ahead, their gonna do it their way. Now comes the California legislature, 1961. And the legislature here are geniuses and they came up with some kappa words. They said, what’s the sense of making the artistic merit of a work the defense to a prosecution? Because after the guy’s busted his *** is in jail. Then he has to defend himself. Let’s take it out of the defense to a prosecution move it to an element of the offense. Now it’s a crime to be utterly without artistic merit. That means the guy who makes the complaint the burden is on his ***, to prove it. He’s got to schlep up 50,000 art critics. And after they, if they would accomplish that…You know a lot of people say, well jeez, can’t you find anything that’s obscene, is there nothing obscene? Why we have this desperate need for it now is so many lawyers lost their *** on it, that it seems only right that we should have it. I mean, can you tell me nobody can commit treason? I mean Christ, then to you nothing’s treasonous. No it’s very tough, it’s very tough to stop the information, that’s where it’s all it’s at. Because the word the guy says is of no consequence. What the Constitution forbids is any bar to the communication system. They want nobody to abridge the right to say it one time, and one time to hear it. Nothing in the middle, nobody to tell you before hand that this isn’t too cool, because the information makes the country strong. A knowledge of syphilis is not an instruction to get it. And only if the country can know about…that’s why the Church and the State have to be separated all the time because the Church only wants a certain kind of information from their government, but since we have a lot churches and a lot of different people in this country, we gotta know about all the bad, bad ****, the worst of everything. The knowledge of it to be protected against it. Because if you don’t have a knowledge of it, and you just know about the good, and they just let the good come through, seeping through what they think is good, you end up like ******, cause he really got ******* around by that. He kept saying, “Am I doing it right?” “You’re doing great, they love you.” “Don’t *******, they don’t like me” “They love you, don’t listen to those liars. **** him, who said that?” You really gotta separate the judicial, executive, and the legislative…and the most dangerous department, just the department itself, is the police, the District Attorney. Not the man, but the department is very dangerous for him. Cause it will gobble him up, and the whole reason for the Constitution was that there was like one King, he was the executioner of everything. So they said how we’ll do it now we’ll really make it safe, we vote on the rule, eat, sleep and crap, that’ll be the law constant, then if anybody busts us for eat, sleep, and crap, breaking the rule, they have to go first to the judge, the judge has to look up the book, and then he’ll make a round robin. Otherwise, no one guy. What happens, two hundred dollar police undercover girl investigation. Two hundred dollar call girls. Now there was no warrant for search. Now the Fourth Amendment and all those things because of a bad kiss *** newspaper have been turning into protection for thieves, but it’s not. It’s to protect the executive branch from becoming thieves. Because what happens, without judicial superintendents, in other words, if, if the executive branch can make any inquiry at all without a judge signing it, then he can go the ***** house every night, and he can spend two hundred bucks a night getting laid every night and when he gets caught, “What are you doing?” “I’m investigating.”

But if he’s got a ***** house warrant for search, then there’s no *******. Then when the crap rule comes in, you, you, you, you, and you, no I’m investigating, there it is, cool. Describes particularly what I was searching for, what the complaint was. Because what happens is that you’ve… the money spent on a two month undercover investigation of hookers…maybe $15,000 dollars,, no when you go to court, the ***** is on the stand she’s not gonna say she got $15,000, she’s gonna say “I didn’t get a nickel!” Cops gonna say, “Well, what do you expect from ******.” Maybe he didn’t get the fifteen grand. And that’s where, that’s always the desperate need to control vice. That’s what all the bull, that’s what all the ******* is. If you check the records, there’s not one citizen that bought a ***** book. Every case has been initiated by the police department. So it’s not literature they, just, it’s a big smokescreen. There’s money spent on those books. A fortune ****** away. How many copies of Henry Miller? And they don’t even read em, so it’s all *******. Uh, five dollars, OK, three dollars, certificate…then when it really gets dangerous is, see, what happens, it’s poor people who, like, get hung up with good and evil, except it’s like, right and wrong. It’s like Prohibition. Chicago is still crippled from that, from the disease of Prohibition. What happened is that the moralists who thought they were moral didn’t realize what was happening, they kept saying “yes keep the Prohibition on” meanwhile the cops are making bread on gamblers, and nafka’s and swinging. When it’s the law out in front, then nobody has any excuse. No priests can be in a *******, blessing, kissing them, saving them. No cop can be, no *******, everybody’s up for grabs, that’s it. Stay out of there, that means everybody, no protecting, no local home rule ******. My position is that, since the Constitution says that, there has to be judicial superintendents, that there, no peace officer has any place talking to anyone or making any inquiry whatsoever, search warrant is prerequisite to the inquiry. Because if he’s allowed to make any investigation, for a noise even, then he’s allowed to make determinations of who looks suspicious, and the only people who look suspicious to Jews are Irish drunks, so it’s all ******* conclusions. Who could look suspicious? So we got suspicious looking people, we got N i g g e r Town, ***** Town, ****** Town, **** Town. Yeah, it’s … you can’t hear the noise, unless he sees the crime, solid. Otherwise he can take the police car, and stick in two ex-convicts, friends of his, and say “Look, here’s the area that I’m sworn to protect. We’re gonna break in this warehouse and I’ll lay outside dead. We’ll haul the **** away in my car, if anyone comes on us, we’re investigating, and if we get caught in the interim, we just caught you. Alright, solid? Solid. Well the Sally Stanford thing for Christ sake, they had a different gimmick there, the guy was off-duty, he had an off-duty detective agency, so that gave him an excuse to carry a piece. Yeah, that’s really…that’s a lot of bread, a lot of money. What’s happening, the crime rate see has disappeared almost, and the task force that we hired, are getting bigger and bigger and bigger. There’s never any layoff in the Police Department. Well, here’s what I think happened to the crime rate. First thing, the basic need to steal is like for coal, you know, you’re hungry, alright, so now the economy is up, so that went disappear-o. OK, now there’s a second need to break the law was for some sign of, you’d have some status, there’d be some virility. OK, the fact that now we have health and safety, give these people analysis, that ******* that in the ***, cause no one wants to be sick. So as soon as it could be helped, that ******* up that whole scene. Now there’s just nothing left.

Narcotics, now they finished with ******. I think in 1951 there was like about seven thousand dope fiends in this state and 50 narcotics officers. Today there probably about 15,000 narcotics officers and four dope fiends. 1500 nihiling, testing stations, lupometers…and they got four ***** junkies left. Old time, 1945 hippies. One guy works for the county, undercover, the other guy works for the Federal heat. OK, so finally they went on strike. “Look we don’ use dope anymore, we’re tired.” “C’mon out, we’re just after the guys who sell it.” “Schmuck! Don’t you remember me, you arrested me last week. I’m the undercover guy for the Federals.” “Uh, I thought he was the county guy.” it’s like ***** running around the tree. He works for the Federal, he works for the County. “Look we’re after the guys who sold it to you, OK” “Nobody sold it to me, I bought it from him, I told ya.” “Um, well we…just point out one of the guys.” “Don’t ya know him? There’s four of us, I told ya that.” “Just tell us the names of the guys, cooperate now. Tell us everybody.” “OK, he was a Puerto Rican. He drove a Green Buick.” “OK, we’ll wait for him, OK.” Three days of that schmucky investigation…”Is that him?” “Well I think it’s so an so…I think he was Hawaiian anyway..” “OK, don’t forget, if you hear from him.” “OK, I’ll call you the first thing.” OK, now they finished up with that nonsense, and they says, “Let’s see now, we’ve got all these hospitals, you mean to tell me you guys are going to ***** up that rehabilitation program? You mean to tell me that you’re, if you’re not using any dope, you certainly know some people that need help.” We don’t know anybody, we don’t know anybody, please…I can’t use anymore dope, I don’t like it.” Well, you really are selfish, that’s really, you really don’t care about anybody but yourself. You know we have a center to rehabilitate people with 1500 empty beds?” “I know I’m ****** that way. I’ll try, but…OK.” OK, so now they’ve got dangerous drugs. Now the insanity in that area, is that the reason that ****** is verboten it’s no good for the people. Its…it destroys the ego.
And the only reason we only get anything done in this country, is that, you wanna be proud of it, and build up to the neighbors, and if the ****** schleps all that away, and the guy goes, the top comment he’ll come up with, the guy who builds the building, is “Hey that’s cool..” and that’s it. So it’s no good. It’s no good for everybody, and that’s why it’s out. But that’s…the Source is no good. That’s where it goes right to the source. But dangerous drugs, the connection is Park-Lilly. It’s Olin Mathieson. The source is not bad for the people, so the only difference between the felon is the guy who can’t afford a prescription. So they legislate against poor people, which is really schmucky. Marijuana…I don’t smoke ****, I’m really glad that I don’t smoke it, I’m really gonna…in five years it’ll be legal. But then no one will smoke it anymore, you’ll see. Most of the law students I know smoke marijuana, that’s why it’ll be legal. Yeah.

You know what I’d like to investigate? Zig-Zag Rolling Papers…Yeah, bring the company up on that. Now we have this report Mr. Zig Zag, certainly it must’ve been unusual to you that Zig Zag papers have been in business for 16 years and Bugle tobacco has been out of business for five years. This committee comes to the conclusion that the people are using your Zig Zag cigarette papers to roll marijuana tobacco in it . Aww, ****, that’s right. Lot’s of it. Rolling it and smoking it. You know, I really felt sorry for that cat, what was his name, Wallen….Grand Kleagle cause it’s a repeat of the Communist witch hunt. The fact that the Ku Klux ****, one guy lynched people, that means that anyone who ever belonged to it and knows about it lynched people, which is *******. So what they do, and it’s really… when your *** is on the pan like that I’m sure it’s really frightening, especially when they take you…did, they didn’t…where did they hold that investigation? Oh, that’s really outrageous then, cause they can’t do that, it has to be in the district, he has to be tried by his peers, no matter what, in his district. Because when you take him out of his district, there’s one trauma, cause you take him in a whole different geography, and Southerners are, they’re people of the Earth, they don’t…they’re…it’s a different country. Religious people, and the talk is different then North, and they’re rappin’ questions at him, and he like hears one out of every ten words. And he just, is really frightened, just… Dig those schmucks, they’re ******* – “You’re really not real Ku Klux ****, you’re not spending the money on rope. You’re having good times with it.” Is that ridiculous? This poor cat didn’t want to admit that he was an American citizen. He kept saying I refuse, I refuse, I decline, and that ******* Time magazine, really make always make it seem shabby, the Fifth Amendment. he declined so many times, he mumbled it, and declined, declined. naturally the cat didn’t want to admit anything cause the last time he admitted anything at the Constitutional Convention the carpet baggers ******* his grandaddy ***, that was it, bye-bye, so he’s very weary and wary of the North, because he knows it’s a whole different scene.

And it’s amazing that the Southerner, has no hostility for the *****, the same way as the court has no hostility for me, they have the hostility for the people that defend me. That’s why they yell all that ****/play drop the n i g g e r, to bug them. So it’s the banner fighting between those two people. Oh. Lotta dues. Lyndon Johnson, they didn’t let him talk for the first six months. It took him six months to learn how to say knee-grow. Nig-ger-oh. OK, let’s hear it one more time Lyndon, now… OK, let him pose again, ok..neig-ar-oh…no…can’t you say, look, say it quick, knee-gro! like that. N i g g e r-oh-oh n i g g e r-oh…I can’t help it! i can’t say it that’s all! I can’t say n i g g e r-oh, ******’ in bed and everything, stuttering, I can’t, what the hell, big n i g g r o-oh nahg-raw…let me show em a scar…no no no. Just say it, and say it, that’s it…yeah, he’s completely confused. Well, really, that family is so…that’s really…there’s a certain kind of non-Jewish look, that, they could pass any test. They are the biggest non-Jews in the world. No question they walk right through the line. The wife with the white flannel satchel, a zipper up the front, with red nail polish…she’s beautiful. She looks at home in a trailer park. Yeah. Dig.

There’s…here, it’s so strange. Not the people necessarily involved with the religion but the religion itself, Catholicism. A genius religion. Three years ago I was wondering, I used to do a bit, four years ago, Religions Incorporated, so my view at that time was here’s a rich church, Catholicism, next door is poverty, so it’s hypocrisy. Obvious view, So I started digging, digging, reading really getting into it, and I realized, the reason for the baroque Church, the grand Church in the poverty neighborhood, is that, what the Church is is a school, it’s a method of instruction. And people who have no understanding, who need instruction, don’t know about Philosophy, they can only understand material things. So a raggedy *** guy won’t go into a raggedy *** temple. “I live in a *******, why’d I gotta go in one for?” But if you show him something nice he can understand then you can instruct him. So the ecumenical council really are geniuses and they make some tremendous moves. So I figure there’s a group looks to undermind them. Somebody talked Lyndon Johnson’s daughter into converting. That sent the religion back two-thousand years. That dress she had on, she looked like a Guatamalen slave. Real Philomena at the wedding there, with it’s, terrible, looked like a National Geographic picture. He’s-uh…yeah he’s it’s…showin’ his scar is beautiful, that’s just-uh, that’s just where it’s at, he’s a **** kicker. He’s just a….Yeah, it’s a…it was a mistake. Yeah, cause the presidency is a very sophist….Kennedy was just, yeah just a genius at organization, a sophisticated man, and sophistication just means knowledge, learning a lot of background there. And the other guy is, uh….I’d like to get some tapes of those people, what goes on…yeah, that would really be a treat to hear them. I was just thinking of the guy, you know the picture of Oswald when he got shot. That’s Lyndon Johnson’s relationed face to the other guy, with the big, you know that guy with the hat on? Like a big Texan, “Oh ****”. To be that obvious, to be able to react, “OHHH EAAHHHUH”. Check out that practice, so you don’t get yelled at. “UHHHH UH EAAAHHHUH” You know, why Ruby did it, uh, this is subjective, but….cause he was Jewish, and uh….You know I really wanna…I’d really like to tell you that, I wanna tell Christians that…that….Why I can tell it to you because it’s all over now, ya know. I wouldn’t cop out when it was going on, but it’s, it is all over now. Up to about six-seven years ago there was such a difference between Christians and Jews that, but maybe you did know. But…you…shewww…forget about it, just a line there that was just…And the brotherhood of Christians and Jews was like some fifth column *******, I dunno, it was like a phony dummy board. Yeah, because…No, I don’t think so, I don’t think the Christians did know it, because only the group that’s involved…it’s like the defense council knows it because he has a narrow view, where the D.A., he’s hung up with a bigger practice, so it’s the same with the Jew is hung up with his **** and maybe the Christian…because, uh, when the Christians say, “Oh is he Jewish? I didn’t know, I can’t tell when someone’s Jewish” I say well that’s *******. But he….can’t, because he never got hung up with that ****, you now, who is he Jewish, and Jews are very hung up with that all the time. Why Ruby did it, see…when I was a kid I had a tremendous hostility for Christians my age, the reason I had the hostility is that I had no ***** for fighting, and they could duke. So I disliked them for it, but I admired them for it and there was a tremendous ambivalence all the time of admiring somebody who could do that, you know, and then disliking them for it, and the neighborhood that I came from, there were a lot of Jews so the problem, there wasn’t a big big problem, and my elders were not concerned with punching. But Ruby came from Texas, and a Jew in Texas is a tailor. What went on in his mind, I’m sure….”If I **** a guy that killed the President, the Christians will go ‘Shewww…boy what ***** he had! We always thought the Jews were chicken **** but look at that. A Jewish Billy the Kid rode out of the West!'” And the Christians will hug him and kiss him, and love him, and boy they’ll say ‘Oh boy he saved everybody’. But he didn’t know that it was just a fantasy….from his grandmother, telling him about the Christians, who punch everybody. Even the shot was Jewish, the way he held the gun, it was a ***** Jewish way. Ha ha! Real d’Artagnan. He probably went ‘nah’ too, that means “there” in Jewish, “nah. Nah” Yeah, it’s…and Belli didn’t um…he forgot the geography. No, it’s the same kind of law, it really is in the words, you just have to speak them slower in that area and you have to dress…there’s just a few kinda changes, but they don’t change the substance of the law, it’s like, as good a case as I can have with you, if I pick my nose, although it’s not dishonest, it’s just gonna lose it, ya know. So Belli didn’t wear the right suit, because anybody who’s suit fits em good in the South looks like a **** ****. And he should have known that but the fact that he was offended with the judge chewing tobacco, see, cause that’s the natural thing down there. There was like a ***** picture I saw going around and it said “This is your local Police Department” and it showed some kinda cops in a Southern place, and they were laughing and the guy, oh, smoking a cigar, that’s was it. But that’s just the behavior in the Southern court, and the fact that everyone was laughing they don’t know that Southerners are just…they’re child-like in that area, they’re not sophisticated with picture taking. They see a picture, you smile. That’s why they’re always smiling in the pictures , they’re not arrogant, but they’re just, you’re supposed to smile when you take a picture. And the Northerners are just hipper, they do the cool…So Belli trying to sell those jurors anything, the voir dire must have just broke their *****, you know. That qualifying must have really got ’em good and crazy, you know you have two days to…whadda ya….yeah any attorneys here forget that, the…If I was an attorney I would grab the…here is here’ll be my pitch to the jury. First place, no qualifying, I pick… no challenges at all. First jurors come up, there the jurors. “You jurors, you people think a lot of the community because you vote, and that’s why you’re jurors. Give’em all a hundred bucks a piece and get ’em laid, and that’s it.” I’d be a terrible Law Professor, “What’d he say at the end there?” “Give’em a hundred bucks and get ’em laid.” “Professor, can we talk to ya…the conclusion that you made there, give ’em a hundred bucks and get ’em laid” “Yeah, yeah get ’em laid, it all counts.” “But that don’t fit with the beginning of the conversation.” “Well it’s all *******, you gotta figure round.” “Ah, he’s bottled out, get him..” Yeah, Belli talking to those people, he sounded to that jury like the Southern attorney would sound to Greek-Irish-Italian Northern jurors. “Look here now Jurors, I like Italian people, that’s first off, I see we got some Italian people here by the…I’m gonna take you, a little story now, this buck n i g g e r and this Jew boy wahhhhhh! “What’d the hell everybody get so hot for?” “Just shut up, don’t say anymore.” “What’d I say, it’s a cute story, everybody gets a kick out of it.” “No they don’t, just shut up….I can’t explain it. You look South, you’re hairs wet, I don’t now what it is. Just dummy up, that’s all.” uh-huh….F a g g o t s….Dig, isn’t the argument against ******* that, what the pornog–selling the *******, making it available to the public, is that the man is happily married, or he’s just a happy cat, and you come along now with some matter that the main ****** of the matter, the predominate appeal is to his prurient interest, and what you’re doing is entrapping him, you’re inciting him, something that the guy wouldn’t be thinking about ordinarily, you’re getting him *****. You’re getting it up, and you’re not getting it off, and you’re creating a clear and present danger and it’s worthless…and so that’s the objection to it, and that’s a valid objection. But the consistency necessarily follows that the guy who–when I hear about f a g g o t s who get arrested in toilets, and I say, “How’d you get arrested in a toilet?” “Well, I accosted a peace officer.” Well, ha-ha, that’s certainly no concept of reality there. “Well I didn’t know he was a peace officer.” “Whaddaya mean?” “Well, he didn’t have a uniform on.” “Well he wasn’t wearing a costume was he? He wasn’t wearing a low-cut gown, because what a low cut gown to a f a g g o t must be is tight Levi’s and a padded basket, like uh…I mean, he wasn’t wearing Levi’s and leaning up against the ****** like sultry like that…cause if he was that’s *******. Because he was appealing to your prurient interest, and entrapping you. You can’t do that. It’s a funny thing all the different stages that we’ve all…my generation was, well…me, I’m amazed by any guy who can go into a public toilet and do anything but **** and leave. Guys who can wash their hands are amazing to me. I just go ehuhehuhwwwshhhupout. Don’t ‘I want to talk to you’ “Not in there, are you kidding?” Yeah, cause if someone says, “What are you doing in the toilet?” “I don’t know…” “The hell are you doing in there? Did you make?” “Yeah, I did it…” “Alright, now hang around here, okay..”

So I saw, dig what I saw, a beautiful change. I went to…Phil Spector had like a big rock & roll jamboree at Tammi’s, filming it, so I went there and I see this ten year old kids there all kids, like nine and ten years old, with no parents. So my first thought was like, what the hell, unattended, but I saw it’s like a whole different generation, everything was very cool. Nine and ten year old kids! It’s ten o’clock, eleven o’clock at night…My generation, children out at night, lurking in the bushes….I would never have the nerve to talk to any strange chick. She’s a really beautiful chick, I’d never have the nerve to hit on her. In a house, somebody introduce, solid. But guys who can like drive past in cars and go hello even, the reason I have never had the nerve is that my mother and my aunt, the way they reacted to guys, the way they told me, everyday they would come home and tell me stories about some guy that was behind the bushes exposing himself. There was a band of dedicated perverts who spent their whole life in trick positions…”Ok jim, whoo-hoo hello lady there, eh bup-bup the bushes there, ok aging seven you’ve got your position by the book, eh the newspaper, you flash, the hat, ok…you-hoo here we are here! Find the schmuck in the bush. Yeah. invidious discrimination. All waiting for them. So I know what everything is. I said “Nema, you’ve got the market cornered! We’ll film these guys, I mean they’re amazing how they…the elevator doors open up “Whoo-hoo here we are!” How do, when they separate my mother and my aunt, one’s running and so and heh, and pocketbooks, and they’re ready, boy. That pocketbook. I figured that after all these years they were really ******* stories, like little guys always telling about, “And I said you big ***** you.” Those little guys will always tell you about they knocked the **** outta this big guy, so it’s my mother and my aunt telling me this nonsense story about a pocketbook ‘and I give a hamayoupow.” Maybe that was a ***** lie, telling me they were good women everyday, right. Missed a guy, and I give em a good pocketbook, a ***** ******* pocketbook at everybody. With a good parrot scream byeahhh!! Eh-heh! I know my aunt never did it to anybody. Ever. I just know it, I know I know I know. She was bald. My aunt was bald, the bald headed lady. Little teeny teeny hair. And wrinkled. And a cameo. A little little lady, she was very neat. And go “krinphkrinphkrinph” like that all the time. Krinphkrinph. There aren’t those kind of people with tics anymore, someone who go, guys really like, drive across country with those guys you’ve really had it. Ticcers, heh-ha. They’re gone all those. I think midgets are gone. And they’re only certain kinds midgets who are real midgets. They’re are no Jewish midgets. A true ****** is, he’s got ***** blond hair, and neat as a pin. Little brown shoes and they’re this big. I wonder if….are Pygmies midgets? Colored midgets. Wonder would a colored cat get offended, listen any relation between Pygmies and midgets? Wouldn’t Governor Wallace ****? Demonstrating, a bunch of Pygmies. Ahhhhgh! Give em salt, give em salt, that’s all, that’s a, yeah…yeah, it’s really…Little teeny midgets, those kind I’m talking about, they’re really patties. And where do they get they’re bread from? Who supports them? They don’t pay any income tax at all. There’s a lot of people ******* our government. So don’t be too nice to them. Cause we’ll drag you up before the House of Un-American Activities Committee. Just by encouraging them, by omission. It’s your duty as a citizen to bust their ***, and demand, “Where are you getting your money from?” They hate to be picked up, they hate that. That’s why I hate them, they don’t want to be hugged. Heh-heh, I picked one up, see, and he got mad. “Put me down!” “Ok, but you’re so cute, I pick ya!” They comb their hair with soap. Bela Lugosi’s son is an attorney. Is that weird, he passed the Bar. He must hear those ***** jokes all the time. I loved that, when he got arrested, he was a dope fiend, Bela Lugosi, I almost ****. The Monster. He was the worst advertisement for rehabilitation, he was a dope fiend for seventy years, he cleaned up and dropped dead. The scene is…I was gonna relate him to Christ. Did you read that in the paper? Was it geologists, this is a vague recollection I have of it. That it was the custom at the time, Christ was crucified, for Jewish women to give the people who were about to be crucified a drug that would put them in a death like trance, and that this happened, that Christ’s mother gave him the drug, and that he was…that’s, wow. That’s amazing if that’s true. Ruby gets paid back. How the ***** and the Jew got into Show Business. The ***** had a boss that worked him twenty hours a day. So he wanted to get off a couple of hours, and the guy “Get back to work.” “I don’t feel good today.” “Don’t mind that ******* get back to work, back to work.” He kept coming up with different gimmicks, “my kid’s sick” “back to work.” Couldn’t–kept trying to come up–how can I “Hmmm hmmm ohhh Lord” “Hey! I didn’t know you guys could sing.” “Ohh oh Looord ohohhh Lord.” “Hey, put the *** down, come over here, lemme hear that again.” “Llooord oh my Lloorrdd” “Can he sing? He sings” “Ohhoh Lloorrdd.” “Hey get some wine, this is ok.” They partied, and the weeds went over everybody, right? And sang their *** right off the farm. Now the Jew had a hipper boss. You couldn’t ******* the Egyptian that quick. No. Jew kept working at it, working…”Never mind the horseshit, thank you, we’ve got the pyramids to build and that’s where it’s at. We’re gonna get it up, it takes your generation, next generation, you do a nice workman like job, here.” “Oh thank you.” “Get outta here with that horseshit, now stop it now. Becoming very fine, very fine.” What a gig, right, you know you got another forty years on the job, shewww…what, that’s a, shewww…you still can’t get a piece of straw through there. So the Jew kept working at being charming, working at it, even though he never carried it off, but he got so good at it that was his expertise. “Hey, let’s go watch the Jew be charming. Hey Jew, do that charming bit for us there. We know you’re bullshitting, but you do it so good we get a kick out of it.

So now the Jew has got theater. He’s the actor. He’s the charming actor. Now he has the show business industry knocked up. He has the film industry, he controls it, he’s writing the pictures, making the images that people are the good people and bad people.

Now you never see any Jewish bad guys in movies ever. Ever, ever. And you see a lot of pictures about Christ, a ton of religious pictures. In the most respectful position. And the reason that is, I’m sure, the way of the Jew saying “I’m sorry.” That’s where it’s at. And I wanted to do a film showing, because I’m sure that day in the cell, it’s just like, it’s in the tank, you know like four, five, six people in the cell there, and there was Gestas, Dismas, and okay they’re gonna get crucified, this guy was probably crapped out in the corner, Gestas and uh…”OK, you two.” “What?” “You’re gonna get crucified today.” “Oh, get my file down here, that’s *******.” “Ok, get ready all you guys, you’re all getting crucified in this cell.” “Look, I’m the good thief, what are you bullshitting me for, I’m in here for checks!” “C’mon you get ready, you’re getting crucified.” “Heh-heh, I’m not getting crucified, get my file down here. I’m the good thief, I’m here for petty theft, you understand? Checks. I’m not gonna get crucified now. I don’t know what the hell this guy is doing, but, uh, good luck to him.” OK, now he sees their getting them all ready and they’re moving him. “Hey! What the hell are you kidding with this ****? I’m not getting crucif–hey, mister, do me a favor, there’s a mistake here, they think that I’m with you for some reason here. Christ says, “Don’t worry you’ll be with me.” “C’mon with that, I’m not with you, now tell em, c’mon it’s no joke now, we’re going up the hill here.” He’s praying, and everybody’s praying and pushing him. “Hey c’mon wit—get the Public Defender. C’mon this is ******* now!” Now they’re up on the cross. “Hey mister, please before it’s too late, do me a favor, ok? Tell em?” He says,”Don’t worry, you’re with me…” “Stop saying that, will you? I’m not with you, ok? I mean I’m with you, I like you, but stop telling these ******* that I’m with you. They think I’m with you means that I’m with you, that I conspired with you, I don’t know. Look, don’t be pushy, I like you, ok? I don’t know what you’re talking about, I woke up I’m getting crucified, I’m here for checks, I can’t get crucified. I’m being denied due process, I’m entitled to do my time for checks first. And I don’t wanna get crucified, I can’t go now, ok? I’ll meet you later. C’mon, don’t be pushy now, okay? Okay, mah? they all went. And the guy came back…”Hey? You’re right. I knew you weren’t bullshitting, but heh-heh, I had a lot of faith in you, but you meet a lot of weird people in the joint, you know? You relax, I’ll talk to the press, that’s all. Then he started to wonder about if the Messiah is gonna come back. Moses is hanging it up. They tried to get him back like five times already and he will not come back because he’s embarrassed. Charlton Heston is 6’3, he’s 5’1. And he’s vain. “I can’t I’m a schmuck…” “It’s what ya got up here” “Nah…I ain’t got no clothes anyway, I’ll look weird. And I’ll get my teeth fixed.” “Nah” The Pope is too much. He looks like the Birdman of Alcatraz and Eichman combined, yeah. He waver…”Arrive arrive…” He’s really cute, he’s a little bird, bloobloobloo….I wonder what was goin’ on in his head there. Spellman looks like Shirley Temple. That’s what I got in trouble for in New York, for saying that. Heh-heh…but a Priest told me that! That’s what burns me up. Ha-ha! That’s what really ****** me off. That’s a spynce Shirley Temple. Ha! That’s funny Shirley Temple, that’s good imagery, right? The Post Office. Do you know how much I love the Post Office? I love the Post Man so much. I really feel that’s the only place where the authority and the man are one. That’s the man, they’re incorruptible. I don’t know anybody who knows the Post Man’s name. They’re really snotty man, it’s a…who’d have the audacity, “Come on over have a drink, leave the truck there..” I feel that the Post Man, the people that work for the po–and it’s amazing, no, there’s no, they’re maintaining any order there, no police authority, just cool Post Office. There’s always a Japanese guy behind the registry window and zaszu…Heh, it’s a trick thing to have a treaty, one ***, one szchupbupup, heh! I know, that they’re the true Law, because with the Law, the Law’s not concerned with your purpose, with how noble it is. And the Post Man wouldn’t let a package go three cents light for the Rabbi’s Priest’s ***. He won’t get off it jim. “Are you kidding you want all those people to die for four cents?” “Sorry, knupk” Who would have the audacity to ever to try to cross that line? “Look I know where the package is..” You kidding me with that? “Open the box up right now, it’s mine…” hmm-hm. No one would even say that to him. Even if he had a gun, hmm-hm. There’s always a certain kind of wait, always somebody…if I ever heard of a theft at the Post Office I’d die. “What?” “Oh yeah, they opened up the mail and they’ve been reading letters, and…” “Nyaugch” Like that, Post Office, going through snow and sleet. But they don’t like when dog’s bite them. That’s one thing they won’t put up any ****. The dog bites? That’s it, we’re not delivering anymore mail to you. Dig what ***** the Sheriff in Sacramento county had. His dog bit the Post Man, Post Man said no more mail, he said ******* we’ll give you no more protection. Haha-ha. Schluffa they don’t need it. They got the stamps hidden.

I have a book here I want to show you. Debby is a Nun. It’s another trick, a little Lyndon Johnson trick. This is a Bess magazine. What if he catch me reading this **** all the time? “This is your reading material?” “It certainly is. Photoplay, are you kidding?” “You’ve got guts!” Editorial page, ayda-eda look at the ads, Cutex, World’s Most–oh it’s all lady kinda ads…Adjustable Dress Form…I didn’t finish the story about uh, the Nun story here, lemme find it…there’s no more movie stars. Doris Day. Rock Hudson. Why Elvis locked himself in his bedroom for three days. Patty Duke. The few: There’s too good to be true, that’s the end of the two stories, now the fold out Post Man, heh-heh. Smart. The Study of Art. Hudson. Blew it, there’s not an interesting thing, I can’t lie to you. Try one more time. Okay, let’s see…Dorothy Malone’s First Interview After Her Brush With Death. Frozen. Look at that balcony up there…hope none of you guys are doing your usual chicks in the balcony. Don’t bring any heat on me, you know. Do your pervert stuff in the newsreel theater, but not…no, ya gotta time and a place you know…..heh. Ok, oh ok, I Increased My…With The Fabulous Mark Eden method I increased my bust measurement from a 34-B to a full 36-D i just eight weeks. They always give you time limits right? Just so you know you got something to look forward to. Ding-boom. Barbara Hayes received her Mark Eden Bust Developer and course on April 1, 1965, on which time her bust measurement was 34-B and eight weeks later n May 20, 1965 her bust had increased to a full and lovely *******! A lovely 36-D! That ***** is hunchback. But we kept our promise we didn’t say it was comin’ here somewhere. The Mark Method just builds your back up. This amazing increase–I know that they put–they, the guy that makes the copy for these must know that these are gonna be read in jail because that’s the onlybody who’s got time to read all of that ****…hah. Just forever and ever and ever. This amazing increase in bust size and contour is achieved solely through the faithful use of the Mark Eden bust developer and of course during that time Barbara was adding these firm and lovely inches to her bustling, her weight did not change, her eating and living habits did not change, the only change she made in her life was to spend a few minutes each day practicing the fabulous Mark Eden method. Her bust line developed in the privacy of her own home. As you can see from her after, in quotes, photo, she has certainly achieved a most attractive, full, and shapely bust line for her efforts. She wants real numbers like that, hunch over, elbows pushing forward there, and standing on her head. Uh, Barbara Hayes is one of the many many hundreds of women across the United States who have ordered the Mark Eden Bust Developer and who through its use, are reporting gains–that’s good devious writing. Barbara Hayes is one of the many many hundreds of women across the United States who have ordered the Mark Eden Bust Developer comma and who comma through its use comma are reporting gains of two three four and even more–that one letter we got was tough. She says “You name it, it’s not stopping.” We get letters from women who were flat chested and now feel like real women for the first time because of Mark Eden…Who are you Mark Eden? A **** rascal, you, hah-hah.” Are there any real **** left? **** your silicone. Are they real? I told you they’re real. How will I ever know though? Will you take a lie-detector test that those are your own ****? Yes, I told you. I can’t believe, you can’t….they’re too real to be real. Here’s the thing, this-this, I don’t see any chicks that turn me on anymore, ya know…but think, I ah-h, here’s how I now I’m getting old, cause I really did go through, I says, I haven’t seen any girls that really stimulate me, that look good to me. And you, it’s really corny, but dig what I miss: lipstick and powder. Is that weird? I like em with paint on em, ha-ha! To smell like ladies. Lily, lipstick, and powder. Now if I really get ****, pancake makeup. And a cheap, black, crepe dress that’s low-cut. Make a book up, see, and the book on its face will look like….it’s one of those very erudite How To Make Out, Same-*** Marriage, those kinda nut books, ya know. But if you follow the instruction of this book, you never make out at all. Ever. Really constructed so that’s a zero no-score. Sell it for $45 in plain wrapped brown paper. Now in it says, it says, Instructions: Always go over the house for dinner and meet the folks. And don’t forget when you go over the house and meet the folks, you compliment, and it’s just the dialogue the guy is supposed to use, say, say to the father, you know, “Oh Mr. Johnson, boy your daughter’s got a terrific shape on her, ha. God bless her, boy she gotta a body I’m telling ya. And your wife has got a nice shape on her too.” Then, when you’re out on a date, they like little jokes, it’s, then there’s a certain kinds, maybe not for this generation, my generation, certain kinda things that you just couldn’t say, just verboten, that just cringe, embarrassing things, that no one ever, here’s a kinda….stab your heart joke. Just keep saying’, “Whaddaya got the rag on?” Keep saying that, they like that, they get a kick, they like people who are frank, “Whaddaya got the rag on? Whaddaya got the..” keep saying’ it all night, that’s ah okay. And then, when you’re in the car, if you just ask them in a nice way for it, just say, and be cute about it, use euphemisms, double entendres. Say, “Oh, I wonder if I could get some nookie?” That’s very cute. “Oh boy, I wonder who’d give me some nookie, boy I wonder.” And they just think that’s so cute, and you’ll get it right away. And just say extra things, like “Boy I would, would I appreciate it, hah, that always, boy I’d appreciate that boy. I’d tell everybody what a nice person you were too.” I think that, a lot of marriages went West, ya know they went split up, uh, my generation, ladies didn’t know that guys were different, I mean different…it’s very tough for chicks to realize that although we speak the same language, that yer, you can have babies that’s j-j different ya–your so, it’s like, no guy ever cheated on his wife, ever. But ladies….would get hurt and wanna leave the husband because they thought the husbands cheated and they never did cheat because what cheating means I know. To a lady, it means kissing and hugging and liking somebody. You have to at least like somebody. Guys that doesn’t enter into it, all the time, no. Ladies are one emotion, and guys detach, not consciously detach, but they just do, detach. Like, a lady can’t go through a plate glass window and go to bed with you five seconds later. But guys can have head on collisions with Greyhound busses. In disaster areas. Everybody’s laying dead on the highway, not in the hospital, in the ambulance, guy makes a play for the Nurse. “How could he do a thing in a time like that.” “Well I got *****” “What?” “I got hot.” “How could you be hot when your foot was cut off?” “I don’t know.” “He’s an animal! He got hot with his foot cut off.” “I guess I’m an animal, ess-es-eh…” “What didja get hot at?” “The Nurses uniform..” He’s a *****, that’s all, he’s just an animal, he’s a…. No it’s…guys detach, and has nothing to do with liking, loving. You put guys on a desert island, they’ll do it to mud. Mud. So if you caught your husband with mud, some how you could get over seas there, “Mmuudd!! Don’t talk to me, that’s all….you *******, leave me alone, that’s all. Go with your mud, have fun. You want dinner? Get your mud to make dinner for you” that’s all. That’s-a it’s just that’s you can’t get angry at them, you can’t wanna leave them for that at all, no, it’s hum…You know, and that’s just subjective, in retrospect I really got a kick out of it.

Getting divorced, the only true get even device, because I’m really convinced that no guy ever leaves a chick, you know. When chicks get cold, they really get cold, sshwooo…That’s, it’s over, really, when it’s over with them it’s really over, and guys can’t ever figure that out, they always figure there’s one more time there. And the guy is like, ss-I can’t-ss, well, I boump-boump-boump. Yeah, cause-eh, here’s what I figure it is, you always hear chicks say, ya know, “Oh I wish I could meet a man, someone with some dignity, a guy I can walk all over, you know, can really be a man-a man” but chicks don’t know that, it’s, guys are like dogs. You know you take a dog, you beat the **** out of him pow! ” Keep a “NEUUH-NEUUH-NEUUH”. Pow keep coming back. Ladies are like cats, you yell at a cat once, Siamese cat, shhhht their gone. So that kinda quality that ladies are looking for, you really want a guy to act like a lady. Cause those are lady like traits, that kinda ***** and they don’t need anything. I forgot what the **** I was talking about…heh. I blew it completely. Where was I? I went up to za-zuh…hum…hah. Those television shows, really. Once in a while if I lose it you know and then try to ******* and do this a while but then if it’s really gone it’s gone, so….Ya see, that’s where, the problem of being a performer, and a Judge can get away with that ****, ya know. “Hmmmmmnnn”, you know just completely dunked out, ya know. “That’s, I’ll take that under consideration” yeah, yeah. Let’s see I was here….oh, oh yeah I got it, good. I won’t lose it again but I’m trying to think where the thread of it was…oh yeah, OK. The Get Even. So the only Get Even you can have with a chick, cause they leave you, are the kids. That’s the only Get Even, that’s the sweet revenge: Get the kids. But you can’t be that obvious with it, you know, just get the kids because I want to get even with you, you ******* you. So the, all the struction, the foundation is “I went over there the kids wet” heh. Schmuck, then all of a sudden “The kids, I’m not gonna, the kid’s not gonna live like that, every time I go over the kid’s wet, the kid’s wet. Everytime, the kid she don’t take care of the kid, the kid’s wet, and uh that’s it. I’m taking that kid away from her because the kid’s wet. She’s having guys over there. “You saw any guys?” “No, but, when the kid’s are wet, that’s it. Take the kid, I got custody of my kids now, I love my kids. You’re not gonna be with that ***** anymore, blah-blah-blah…” “Where are the kids?” “With my grandparents.” Very good, uhm-hmm-hm….Now it’s, usually what happens is break up time, just like the first…if you’re gonna break up with your old lady, and ya live in a small town, make sure you don’t break up at three o’clock in the morning cause your *******, there’s nothing to do. You sit in the car all night, park somewhere. Yeah. So make, at least, ya know, make it about nine in the morning so you can go to the five and ten and ******* around and, worry them a little and come back at seven at night, ya know….”Oh, yeah never mind….I’m getting an apartment, that’s all, that’s eh..” Yeah because if you, eh, a bad break up then it’s like a long time break up. If you’re married seven years then you gotta kick for two. Oh yeah. I think there must be a mitzvah time. i think if you’re married fifteen-eighteen years, you get divorced, then you must lose your mind. Yeah they get senile, then they people, they get whacked out. There’s a certain critical area they’re married about seven-eight years where you really throw up for a couple of years. No really just “ORGHJK-YKKGGHH”, you know. And, the weird, if you broke up and you go anyplace alone, there’s always mamzers who ask you about you’re wife. “Where’s your old lady?” and I said, Chinese restaurants, “Where’s Momo? How come you don’t bring Momo in here anymore? Such a beautiful girl, where’s Momo?” “Look, I’m divorced.” “Oh, you better off. You don’t need her.” Where’s Momo…Now if you, go back together, the danger time, and here’s back to the religion again. There’s only one person you’re supposed to confess to. They are. Not anybody else. Priests, solid. But not husbands. They have no authority vested in them to hear any truth. So don’t listen to any of their ****, ya know, because what happens, when this–go back together, guy calls up, “Hello Vera, the only reason I called you, you left some of your crap over here. I don’t know a handkerchief, a gloves. Listen I wanna come over, we’ll shoot the ****, let’s see. Pay the tax bill.” Alright, back together, maybe kissing time, hugging time, in bed time. After bed time. “Hey Vera, uh, when we were broken up, didja make it with a lot of guys? Don’t be silly, said I don’t mind you can make it with anybody, don’t ******* me….what the hell, it’s good for the goose, good for the gander. We were legally separated, I made it with a lotta lotta chicks, you’re entitled to make it with a lot of guys. I’d just like to know, for the hell of it, didja make it with a lot of guys? Howmanynanac’mon don’t ******* me, I’m not gonna hit you now, I wanna know! I’m not gonna get mad, just for the hell of it, who did you make it with?” Don’t tell him, don’t cop out. Never cop out, if they got pictures deny it. Flat out. Just tell ’em it was some *** hair dresser, that’s all…thatsezya. Because if you ever do cop out, oh yeah, shih-shooo! “C’mon I’m not gonna get mad, tell me, I’d just like to know for the hell of it.” See, that’s what chicks don’t know about guys, that they…it’s that entrapment. Maybe it’s because their father’s did that to them. “Just tell me, who? Him? Pfff…I don’t give a **** but, but this is….that’s a shocker, that’s heh…heh, that’s the only thing is that it shocks me, I’m not mad but it, sfyeh what a kick in the *** that is, like…how the hell could you…you know what, you know why it shocks me cause you told me that you didn’t like him, you told me you didn’t want him over to the house, and ya go…how could you make it with him? That fat, disgusting piece of–you **** pow. There’s a Peace Bond, schlepping away time, ah yes, with the Jewish mother in the middle with the teeth flying out vah-vah-vah!! The chenille robe, and uh…Yeah, that’s a…ha-ha. Wouldn’t this be, always wondered if ya get married again, the only problem with ever getting married again, if ya go, you have to go to some country where pfshhh…you have to marry somebody who speaks a different language and doesn’t speak any other language. Cause just in case, no but you’d always be afraid cause when your with the second old lady then you might say something in bed, and your wife would jump up behind the bed, “You aaa—-you said” oh god, “how could you say that to her when you said it to me?” “I just ******* her, I don’t love her…I just said that cause I knew you were behind the bed, that’s all.” Uh-huh…Jewish mothers, there are none that’s the expose. Oh another expose, I really want to confess to you one thing you never knew about me and….I have a pen name. Ralph Gleason. I’m Ralph Gleason. And I always wanted to uh, and you’re taking it good, I always thought you’d get ******* at me for that. In fact I wrote the column for years and just drifted into this and decided I’d like to do a little comedy on the side and uh, you liked me and I thought I was doing good, so what the hell a few write ups don’t hurt anybody. And uh…you’re taking it good, that’s lovely. I want you to know that, another thing too that I’ve never been in jail, never been arrested, that’s all borshit. What it is see, I got a publicity agent that’s dynamite, and we have nine phony cops that work for Pinkerton, and we go from town to town the same *******, ya know. I get busted, I write the column the next day, and that’s where it’s at…heh. A few words now about Alaska and their stupidness…and ind-a…Alaska, don’t know if you know it or not, there are people up there that we’ve given a lot of money to and try to help them. Given a lotta lotta money to Alaska, to create some kind of image, we gave them statehood and they’re morons. They got one image, after all these years, some schmuck in front of a shack holding a fish knock. That’s all they’ve come up with, and some other nonsense fantasy that hookers get two-thousand dollars a minute for talking to people. If you probably go up there there’s ten-million stranded ****** waiting to talk to somebody. “What’s the deal I thought there was supposed to be some talking, or…we just got *******, right, there’s nobody? Just hookers up here….and Admiral Byrd. Heh-heh, he don’t go for a nickel. Now here’s a thought, I-I-I’ve….this is hearsay. Somebody told me–see they were using–the report was monkey glands on people, so you know, rejuvenate them, they live longer. Ok, now somebody told me they came back from Mexico, that they’re using human glands. “So-oh yeah? Well where do they get them?” “Has to be from live people.” Well people, there was–dying, and uh…it’s very expensive. So that’s what I said, what does it costs about a thousand dollars ya now…so I got hip, a lot of people are dying a lilschip-schzzch that’s uh, oh yeah, the hospitals a lil-bop-plah-bup, yuh, he’s dead, he’s almost dead, the hell is-uzza….Sure you’re gonna see is the more demand, the first place the state insane asylums are gonna be emptied out quick psshhhh! Yeah, that’s the first thing, all the nuthouses emptied out. All died very quickly, oh yeah, definitely. Because, all we have to do…see our moral concept is what’s–what, it’s–what’s accepted, what we will agree upon, that’s what the moral concept is. We–if we agree, that…killing a few will save the biggest, then we’ll agree on it. Like that’s–that’s was the objection that Catholicism had for many years, that contraception is ******. It doesn’t matter the degree of the ******, but-but since we all agreed on it now, contraception–*******, it’s cool. So it’s just the degree. So..if it comes right down to it, if we wanna live a little longer, it won’t-it won’t be accepted, just the sophisticated class, the gentry will cook with it first, ya know. Yeah, “Listen, I know a place and it’s ya now…” Yeah, and as soon as–the first time the government control–then they’ll have the farms. Yeah, raising people to, uh, to live. It’s a good liver, good heart, yeah. You’ll accept it, yeah, you’ll see. When it comes right down to the go-you go bye-bye, “These people don’t know anything, they’re raised for that purpose.” “Yeah, ya sure?” “I’m telling you…they like that.” Heh-ha! OK. “I wanna paper saying that he gave it up…oh and I can’t take the guys liver and his heart and his *****, all that stuff?” “Sure, are you kidding, he’s better off without it. He gets it the next time, don’t you know that? Nine thousand years I’ve been living now, it’s a…yeah, it’s a…schhhwoo….”
Antino Art Aug 2019
I am the only Asian in this bar right now.
Be my friend!
I will check the box of your social diversity quota.
Granted, I only speak a mispronounced fraction of
my immigrant parents' native tongue.
Ala Jackie Chan, I do not understand the words coming out the mouths of anyone on that massive continent (Russia included) that I appear to be more or less from.
But, I do eat spaghetti with chopsticks.
I am mystical as
fox, or Kitsune, in Japanese folklore.
I can hit you with wisdom worthy of a fortune cookie as fast as Google can tell you that the Philippines is nearly 2000 miles away from China. I want to say I'm from an exotic island where they play basketball in sandals and drink soda from plastic bags- like, A-level material you could make a movie out of in Slumdog Millionaire fashion and get awarded for your romantic portrayal of poverty you think is three worlds away from home. But nah, I'm just a kid from South Florida. Paved driveways and cul de sacs. But I do pump both fists in the air watching Manny Pacquio PPV fights on a bootleg stream. Beyond that, I'm probably the worst Asian there is. Not the crazy rich kind with a PHd. I dropped out of engineering after one semester and cannot solve a rubix cube. I never learned kung fu. Though I'm learning to face the adversity of becoming a single parent after my daughter's home broke in two. I write marketing proposals to pay the rent and poetry to fight without fighting in the spirit of Sun Tzu. My eyes do not slant in the direction of your narrative. I once ran in a pick up game where I caught the nickname of Yao Ming. Yao, I am 5 foot 8. Though I fall short of expectation, I can still check your diversity box on the way down and do a cool pen spin after to punctuate my intellectual prowess. I also happen to own an assortment of Japanese swords made in China, which I intend to use as heirlooms. This is what cultural colonization looks like: me, in a bar, the last samurai standing confused in an age of melting pots, Korean tacos and Asian slaw made by corporate imposters with names like PF Chang. What in the slaw is Asian? I wish I knew!  I wish I knew the true value of my heritage to be worthy of carrying it forward. Like how my grandfather planted a Malonggay tree in our backyard whose leaves my mother would pick and boil to make tinolang manok -the Filipino version of chicken soup- as a weeknight staple on our dinner table. I can barely soft boil an egg for instant ramen. Or how my motherland's socioeconomic gap tooth smile is so wide that it drove over 10 million of its native sons and daughters off its shores to find work overseas as servants on cruise ships and hospitals to feed the families they barely get to see. To follow their trail blazing footsteps, let me be the second generation tipping point where some form of cyclical tradition breaks. That way, I can raise my daughter free of predetermined scripts. So as the worst Asian in this or any bar, cheers:
to being the first of a new kind.

— The End —