I am the No. 1
uncle
to my niece
Freya.
And my niece
Hope
has me at 3rd
coming after
her mother,
my sister.
and grandmother
my mother.
Such are
the orderly
lives
they live.

briano alliano performs on venus party trap




you see welcome to the trap and i had a great night at the poetry slam

where i met this man who said m6y poem was great, well, he liked it

in fact when i didn’t win it, he wanted to heckle the organisers, well, it was

fun, but i like the organisers too, but this man realiy believed in me, ya know

especially when i told him i am putting art in an exhibition

here is my first song, the poem i read at the poetry slam ,here goes

jingle bells oh buddy jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

the party is on for young and old

and presents to make us happy

jingle bells oh buddy jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

party on till next week, man

yeah, celebrate christmas in july

dashing thru the cold canberra winters day

you see i think my reindeers are in hibernation today

because the air is very cold, and it’s a great day to say

merry christmas my good friends in the month of july

jingle bells oh buddy it’s jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

the party is on for young and old

bring out the warm eggnog

and put up the christmas tree, and have santa on a stick

then you get those lollypops, and give ‘em an almighty lick

and give ‘em an almighty lick, my mate

ya see last night at the poetry slam, this bloke said i really sang the last bit with a lot of guts

and determination, and now as i left last night i saw a fight taking place, and i knew if i don’t stare

everything will be alright, and now here is my next song

i am tired, but i can’t sleep, i need to have a siesta, yeah mate yeah

i need to relax and enjoy my life, and have a soft drink yeah mate yeah

carn the swans carn the raiders carn the packers, like that man last night spoke to me for

yeah mate yeah, and now time for, here is my next song, loving friends and loving family


You see when I was young and I always was trying to be cool
I had a family who tried to stop myself from being cool, and I was
So fristrated with that, I said, no I am cool, but I wssn't cool, I wanted
To laugh at everybody and I laughed so loud that my psrents were telling me
To quiten down and this made me angry, you see I got violent and I started to rant
And rave and it took me over a long time to understand that they were treating me
Like a cool kid, but I was young and stupid and it seems like they were teasing me
And giving me a hard time, and i also said that I wanted to be cool and always go out having a good time and getting ****** as a parrot, you see, my voices were putting those thoughts
Right in my head, giving me a lot of problems, making me very very sick of being in this crazy situation, and I am glad I have this amazing loving family and good friends, to help me through any kind of situation.
You see when I try and muck with my father like a mans kid, my brother would say, don't muck with him, he's not like us, don't much with him, no he is not a young dude. Be like us, and be a young dude and be a little shy boy, you try and be oool every day, and you try and give stay up all night while everybody else is going to bed, so you can go, hey to him, but the thing about it is, that it is the fact that he is living in the past.
So then my loving family and loving friends made me feel better about how much I wanted to
Move on and live life to the fullest, you see he will laugh like a man should and then say, heh heh heh heh , i am a cool boy, I am not a little shy boy, I sit up all night, I don't go to bed, you see I am superior, but my mates call me a complete loser.
Because this man is a total and absolute ******, and it makes me absolutely crazy, and this drives me crazy, you know very crazy, but I always call it a loving family and loving friends, I don't need these friends who only like me because I sit underneath them.



here is my next song, titled mashed potato finger nail at the skate park, here goes

You see Jacki Fred Harold Stone was a very cool young dude
You see instead of going to bed with all the other kids
He wanted to go to the skate park and ride the skateboards
With his best mates down there, and it was a very weird effect
You see his fingers smelt like mashed potato and all his mates went home
And they said he was a little shy boy, and Jacki Fred Harold Stone said
I am not a little shy boy, I am a cool boy, who loves to skate
And when I have a rest the mashed potato finger nails come again
To inspire me to keep being cool here at the skate park
You see I did some very awesome tricks, and I had so much fun
But I still smelt my mashed potato finger nails, it was driving me wild
I told all the people at the skate park and they said, your not shy
In fact your the coolest dude out of your family, and none of us want you to leave
I don't care if you used to get teased by everyone at your school
And I don't care if your family teaeed you as well
You see Jacki, I think your cool, and I will never tease you, not ever
I want to sell you drugs, but you don't have to take them
Because your the boy with the mashed potato finger nails
And we'll never ever tease you, we want to be your friend
And we want nothing more than that
So come on Jacki Fred Harold Stone, show us how to skate
You see my name is Jason Lee, and this is my mate Tristan
And we'll be your only friends you will never tease you
Cause at least you come here and ride your skateboard like a cool dude
And after your finished you stay with us and have a joke around
Despite of the times you tell us, your cool, we still have problems with this deal
You see, you are the kid who has mashed potato finger nails
And I don't care at all, your like us, Jacki, your cool, and your fingers smell like a good
Dose of mashed potato, which means your very cool
here is my next song, titled as much fun as it sounds, here at the trap

You see Jacki Fred Harold Stone was a very cool young dude
You see instead of going to bed with all the other kids
He wanted to go to the skate park and ride the skateboards
With his best mates down there, and it was a very weird effect
You see his fingers smelt like mashed potato and all his mates went home
And they said he was a little shy boy, and Jacki Fred Harold Stone said
I am not a little shy boy, I am a cool boy, who loves to skate
And when I have a rest the mashed potato finger nails come again
To inspire me to keep being cool here at the skate park
You see I did some very awesome tricks, and I had so much fun
But I still smelt my mashed potato finger nails, it was driving me wild
I told all the people at the skate park and they said, your not shy
In fact your the coolest dude out of your family, and none of us want you to leave
I don't care if you used to get teased by everyone at your school
And I don't care if your family teaeed you as well
You see Jacki, I think your cool, and I will never tease you, not ever
I want to sell you drugs, but you don't have to take them
Because your the boy with the mashed potato finger nails
And we'll never ever tease you, we want to be your friend
And we want nothing more than that
So come on Jacki Fred Harold Stone, show us how to skate
You see my name is Jason Lee, and this is my mate Tristan
And we'll be your only friends you will never tease you
Cause at least you come here and ride your skateboard like a cool dude
And after your finished you stay with us and have a joke around
Despite of the times you tell us, your cool, we still have problems with this deal
You see, you are the kid who has mashed potato finger nails
And I don't care at all, your like us, Jacki, your cool, and your fingers smell like a good
Dose of mashed potato, which means your very cool
as much fun as it sounds to heckle, i still remember the american dude, but this man last night was a cool dude, buddy, cool man sam


and have you ever been a cool kid to your dad, and had people laugh at you, i felt that last night when i didn’t join in the heckle, but that man

was nice to me, saying he admires me, but i am not gay, i am bradley simmons

Bradley lived in Cowra with his mum and dad and brother Kenneth, and Kenneth was a real mans kid who plays with his friends in the street and then he goes home to watch Disneyland with his dad, and he mainly liked to watch westerns, while Bradley was certain that there is something going on in the air, and went to church with his mum.
You see this wasn't really tbe best family unit, especially when families go out to fun family events, but Bradley and Kenneth's dad was a director at kids town, which is a Buddhist drop in centre, who looke after the daily needs of under fortunate kids, and Bradley and Kenneth were told to come into these centers, when their dad organised some games to brighten their spirits, one game was spin the Buddha, where you get a spinning buddha statue and the kids get a lolly pop if the Buddha spun towards them, and even though they thought it was lame, well you can see it in their faces, Bradley thought it was cool and then said to his dad how about I plan games for them to play, like soccer out in the paddock, or even cricket, or tennis, and one of the homeless Boyd sadism I am too poor to get into Auskick, so can we play Aussie rules, and if I whip your ***, I know I can play for Richmond, and Kenneth who tried to be the cool kid there said, well if you make Richmond, it won't mean you are good, it means you play for Richmond, and Bradley told Kenneth to be nice to him, he obviously likes Richmond, and Kenneth said to Brad, why don't you shut up you stupid old ******* ****, and Bradley said, I am cool, I can turn these kids away from you.
Then Bradley said ok it's time to play a board game and little Ryan said, well what does board games have to do with helping us get houses, and Bradley said, oh no I ain't that powerful, I am just a kid, I can't give you a home, no,,I am here to make you feel that people actually care for you, because I think it would be tough for you having no home to go to and the kids listened to Bradley like he was one of the adults and being a typical jealous little brother started to get very jealous especially when e tried to make a joke, and they told him to get lost, because your brother is boosting our self esteem.
At the end of the day, Kenneth said to Bradley, you are a stupid ******* old *******, playing board games doesn't make them really feel better, what makes them feel better is taking them for walks around, but you are too stupid for that aren't you Bradley, you are too fucken shy to be like those kids friends, you see they all like me better, they just tolerate you, so go back to your bedroom and go and do some underage *******, no you aren't one of us boys, *******.
Bradley was upset with what Kenneth said and went to his bedroom and cried for hours and since then he didn't have inspiration to go back to his dads work to help the kids there, but his dad said, your brother is just jealous, and you should do this if it makes you feel happy, and his dad said, and if you find that Kenneth is proved right, just ignore them, and you can start off by ignoring Kenneth, because really, I wish every kid could have the inspiration that you bring to kids town, don't let teasing stop you for reaching your full potential, Bradley, Bradley decided his dad was right, and he kept on going to kid's town to make a difference in these children's lives, playing games and talking to one another, this was so cool the kids thought, Bradley thought he was growing up, and Kenneth who decided to come in, because he thought kids need to be kids, yes, his dad was doing a good job, but really Kenneth had what the kids really wanted, like he bought his computer and showed him the virtual world, and Bradley said no kids playing board games are fun, and computer games can wreck your eyesight, but the kids decided that Kenneth needed to be heard too, after all he is the other son of the kid's town leader, so they listened to him for a while and instead of trying to play along, Bradley felt hurt and said, ******* all, and went to his room to cry, and all the tough boys said, 'what a cry baby' and then he said his brother isn't an monster, we still like him, but Kenneth wanted to make Bradley jitter, so he now decided to play around laughing very loudly, like he was like us, man or something and Brad was in his room, crying and their dad decided that Brad needed to share his friends and said that he prefers the way Kenneth did things, Brad got really angry and started to be totally mental, by punching Kenneth like a ******, as well as threatening to **** the father that gave him a perfect life as a kid, of course he didn't **** him, but he was an angry *******, you see he was the board games king, while his brother was a computer **** kid, and Kenneth tried to not hurt Brad's feelings, even though, being a kid, he found it hard to not teaee the ****** and Bradley was put in a special school where he made a few new friends, but they weren't into playing board games or anything else with him, they wanted to teaee him, with teachers joining in, because Bradley needed to learn about how to control is temper, and someone tried to bully him, and Bradley stood up to him, and another guy was determined to tease Bradley also, but as he tried to punch Bradley put his hands on his **** and squeezed his ***** real tight, and since then everyone liked Bradley, but not to his dads liking the little cool kid to his dad was suddenly Kenneth,,and Bradley felt he was trying to tease Kenneth the same way, and see how he likes it, but all his friends like Kenneth better, and Bradley punched Kenneth in the gut and his friends thought Bradley was a **** and left the house and another girl at school was making fun of Brads parents and Brad tried to stand up to her,but she said, they never helped me,**** kids town and ******* early to bed and early to rise baby, and Bradley got really upset and from that moment the only young ones who like him were the rougher ones, who hassled Bradley for money,and Bradey became to shy to say no. Which made him a little young dude with no friends, he had family trying to contact him, but he was determined to make their lives a misery.
Bradley was an idiot, with his drinking and teasing and punching people, yes dude, he needs anger management, and he needs it now, but you must want to go, but Bradley made a pact, that he won't get help till Kenneth found a girl and got married and has kids,,so his thought of being teased all through his adult years, wasn't going to happen, and Kenneth married Bridgett Kingsley and they had Toni and Ros, yes, Bradley's little nieces, and he loved them dearly, and the bonding of Bradley and Kenneth grew fondly, while their parents had the old Brad back, he ain't married but he's happy, and that's what Counts in life.


******* that look a lot of wind singing this to you at the venus party trap and when i got home i was told to sit there little shy boy and let your school mates play air guitar, i was happy too, because of sam

at the poetry slam, thinking i had guts tom read a poem and not win, who cares, it’s a fun night out dudes

You see, you are still a little shy boy, and we are still teasing you
So, now you are working, man, come, leave us
And let us muck around, we want to smoke our bongs
As well as drink our bourbons, and drink 100 beers
Yeah we all feel cool, and don't wake up little shy boy
We want the adults to not bother us, cause we are having so much
Fun, we don't want to be adults,and don't want you to worry about us either
You see, all the men, are sitting there, trying to muck with them
Saying tease him, if you want to tease, just teaee him
But at the end of the day, man, we aren't really teasing
We are sitting up all night, being bums and young bludgers
And it's because you are such a ******
We might be making it seemed you are getting teased
But, we really want to leave you alone,,if you leave us alone
Cause, we are drug addicts,,and we want you to respect the fact
That we don't want to work, as long as you think that you aren't a young bludger
Everything will be already, but young bludgers go to bed for work
So mate, just enjoy yourself, and smoke your bongs
And have a good time, doing it
You see, I want to enjoy ourselves doing this
You are now leaving us all on our lonesome
See ya dudes

see you soon, venus party trap, and t

I AM A LITTLE BABY YOUNG DUDE, THEY SAY I AM A BIG YOUNG DUDE MATE

I AM SAYING, CAUSE I AM NOT EQUIPPED TO BE A BIG YOUNG DUDE

I KNOW I SAID I WAS A BIG YOUNG DUDE

BUT THAT IS WHEN I FELT NEEDED AT THE RAINBOW

ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE, I WAS A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE, MATE

WHO WAS KIDNAPPED 3 TIMES BEFORE I WAS BORN

YA SEE THE WITCH DOCTOR STRAPPED TO A CHAIR, AND

I TELL THIS VOICE DON’T HASSLE ME, I AM A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE

AND THE WITCH DOCTOR, YOUR A BIG YOUNG DUDE, MATE

BUT MY MATE WANTS ME, TO BE A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE

BUT THE WITCH DOCTOR SAID FINE, TED BUNDY GRAB BRIAN AND BRENDAN

FROM THE WORLD, AND KEEP THEM *******, OR MAKE BRENDAN KID LEGS SHOW

TO SAY, YOU AIN’T A KID NO MORE, AND THEN MAKE BRIAN GRAB BRENDAN

AND IMPLY IT’S BETTER TO TIE HIM UP

AND I SAID, I AM KIDNAPPED BY TED BUNDY’S GHOST

I AM A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE, AND I SAID KIDS LIKE BRENDAN GET KIDNAPPED

LITTLE YOUNG DUDES, LIKE YA MATE GETS MUGGED

YOU GET TAKEN HOSTAGE BY THE GHOSTS OF TED BUNDY AND ED GEIN

AND I SCREAMED AND THE WITCH DOCTOR FORCED ME TO SAY

THAT I LIKE YOUNG DUDES ESPECIALLY ON TOAST

AND THEN STARTED SINGING A PILE OF JINGLES, LIKE

KIDNAP BRIAN AND KIDNAP BRENDAN, KEEP BRIAN AND BRENDAN IN OUR CAGES

KIDNAP BRIAN AND KIDNAP BRENDAN, KEEP BRIAN AND BRENDANH ******* TIGHTLY

AND A FREE RANGE VERSION OF THE DOSEY DOH, OH SAY DO, DON’T SAY NO

PLEASE KIDNAP MARK MARLOR, AND THEN I SANG EVIL TUNES ABOUT

MY NIECES, WHICH, I WISHED KIDNAPPING UPON THEM

LIKE KIDNAP CAITLIN KIDNAP CAITLIN SUSAN TOO SUSAN TOO

KIDNAP MY LITTLE NIECE CAITLIN, AND KEEP THEM BOTH *******

I AM NOT A PHEADPHILE, I DON’T WANT THESE VOICES, IT JUST CAME

AS I WAS BEING TOLD TO SHUT UP BY A DISABLED **** AT LEAD

I PREFER TO BE SINGLE, RATHER THAN **** THE UNDERAGE

I DISAGREE WITH MEN LIKE MY PAST, THAT ISN’T ME AT ALL

I LIKE TO BE COOL, YA SEE, I HATED WHEN MY FRIEND SAID GO AWAY

WHEN I WATCHED HER PLAY BOWLING, AND MARK WAS A TYPICAL GUY

AND THEN I WAS GETTING MY HORMONES GOING CRAZY

I AM NOT OR A PHEDAPHILE, I AM NORMAL, YOU SEE

I GOT HYPED UP ON THESE CRAZY VOICES WHEN I WAS WORRIED

MARK MARLOR WAS TREATED LIKE ME, WHEN HE STICKY TAPED HIS NICE KID

IT HYPED UP THE CRAZY CHARNWOOD AXE MURDERER, WHICH DOESN’T EXIST

SOME GUY GRABBED MY LEGS, BUT I GOT AWAY, ONE CHOIRBOYS CONCERT AT THE CHARNWOOD INN

AND THAT VOICE LEFT ME, BUT IN 2004, MARK MARLOR WAS KIDNAPPED BY THE SAME PERSON

I LIKED MARK, HE WAS FUCKEN RAD, AND I LIKE BRENDAN I WAS FUCKEN SICK

I LIKED PLAYING WITH MY NIECES, BUT I HAVE TO GROW UP

AND I WANT THE RETARDS OUT OF MY BRAIN, CAUSE I AM NICNAMED BRAINS ALLAN BROWN

TRIPLE B, IS MY NAME, PARTYING IS MY GAME

NOT 2 YEAR OLD PARTIES, TO, US ADULTS, ARE PRETTY LAME

MY DAD READ, THE STORY ABOUT KIDNAPPING MY NIECES, BUT HE WAS AN OLD FOGIE

BECAUSE, I WAS TRYING TO WRITE IT OUT OF ME, LIKE A COOL PERSON

DAD IS SOON TO BE, DAVID AND LISA’S CHILD, BROTHER OF LEO AND OTHER TWIN

GRANDCHILD OF JIMMY BARNES

DAD IS SAYING YOUR LIKE ME AND MUMMY BRIAN

CAUSE, I HAVEN’T GOT A JOB, AND I RECKON MY STUFF CAN BE WORTH A LOT OF MONEY

KEEP THIS OFF MY FAMILY, THEY WILL ONLY WORRY ABOUT ME

I WANT A BETTER LIFE, BUT WHEN I AM READY, I AM WORKING ON MY CHARACTERS

WHEN I GO FOR A WALK, I HEAR PEOPLE SAY, ABOUT ME

WHAT IS THIS ****** DOING, WHY ISN’T HE GOING HOME

I NEEDED TO REST, AND EAT MY GRAPES FOR MY DINNER

KIDNAPPING ISN’T PART OF MY WORLD ANYMORE

I DON’T HAVE ***, CAUSE I LOVE BABIES

I CAN’T ENJOY THE OTHER *** FOR PLEASURE

AND MY HORMONES ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY, DUDES

AS I HEAR MY MATE, SAYING, YOUR STILL GETTING TEASED, BUDDY BOY SONNY JIM

I SAID I AM A LITTLE YOUNG DUDE, AND HE SAID YOUR A BIG YOUNG DUDE MATE

CAUSE LITTLE YOUNG DUDES GET GRABBED, SO I SAID

I AM A BIG YOUNG DUDE, BIGGEST YOUNG DUDE AROUND

BIGGEST YOUNG DUDE, THAT YOU HAVE EVER SEEN

I PLAYED FOOTBALL, AND I INSPIRED BURKE AND WILLS

AND TEN PIN BOWLING I AM ****** GREAT

I AM A BIG YOUNG DUDE, BIGGEST YOUNG DUDE AROUND

THE BIGGEST YOUNG DUDE AROUND OH YEAH

I WAS READING LITTERATURE IN 100 YEARS WAR

AND KIDNAPPED BY A TERRORIST TRYING TO **** MY *****

AND I PREFER TO ERECTED ***** FROM BEAUTIFUL **** WOMEN

RATHER THAN MEN OR KIDS, PLEASE LEAVE US LITTLE YOUNG DUDES ALONE

Caint Complain
                       By Phyllis T.  Halle  February 26, 2006
Growing up in a tiny coal mining town in the hills of Eastern Kentucky,
I frequently heard a response out of the lips of stooped, arthritic miners, toothless women, old before their time,
wretchedly poor widows with six children to feed.
It was just a common reply to the courteous, "How are you?" -
"Caint complain."
The high pitched voices of those descendents of English, Scottish, German, Irish pioneers still echo in my ears and I wonder always at the tenacity, strength and wisdom which resounded firmly in those two words,
                                          "Caint Complain."
Very few people had indoor plumbing, telephones, cars or two pair of shoes. Health insurance, retirement plans, paid sick days, furnaces, pizzas, air conditioners, jet planes, paid vacations, job security, career planning were all unheard of unknowns.
When someone became ill, the ‘‘kindly old general practitioner would come to the house and dispense his little pills and words of encouragement and instruction, knowing the limitations of his skill and ability to heal.
Mothers and fathers still buried their little children who died from diphtheria, pneumonia, whooping cough, measles, diarrhea, croup ( a disorder known in later years as asthma).
Husbands buried wives who died in childbirth, at an alarming rate. "Caint Complain," they'd say gently, with a soft 'almost' smile and deeply troubled eyes.
Sanitation was fought for, vigorously, by hard muscled women, who scrubbed and washed, and swept and mopped.
They'd boiled the family’s clothes which had been worn for a week, in pots in the back yard, "to get ‘em clean."  
Killing germs was not in their vocabulary, but that is what they'd were doing. Ask that little old gal who was out in the yard, stirring the clothes around in boiling water, over an open fire, "How are you doin’?"  
                            "Caint Complain, " she would invariably say.
WHY couldn't they'd complain? Where did their tenacity come from?
Where did that philosophy of not complaining come from?
Where did they find the resolve to place dire, critical deprivation, hard labor and malnourishment behind them and place a smile on their faces and say
                                Caint Complain?

I knew some of those people when they had grown very old and faced birthdays in their late nineties. Without exception, they had the sweetest dispositions, most grateful hearts, kindest words and calmest old ages of any among the many I have known who reached that age!
When the pressures of their life had faded and they had nothing remaining that had to be done except to live out the final part of their life, they did not have a habit of complaint.
Some recent phone calls I have received were what prompted me to think about this. One right after another, friends called and for the first ten minutes of each call, I listened to a long list of complaints about the trials and travails my dear friend was suffering.
Each friend has: no financial worries, a wonderful primary care doctor, prescriptions to keep their heart pumping, eyes seeing, brain focusing, stomach digesting and body sleeping, each night.
They are protected from financial ruin, by medicare and/or HMO, social security checks, pensions, savings and inherited wealth. They have loving, devoted sons, daughters, nieces and nephews who keep in touch and are there for them.
They each one have lovely heated and cooled homes, apartments or condos with every convenience known to Americans; cars or taxi/bus services to get them out and around. More than that, each has beautiful memories which they can call upon to bring a smile to their face at any moment of the day or night. But somehow we find plenty to complain about.
Why haven't we formed the habit of Caint Complain?
Maybe the philosophy of always seeking more comfort, more possessions, more money, more- more- more- of everything, has driven us to achieve, accumulate and accomplish but it required us to never know what the word contentment means.
Contentment doesn't mean having everything at one’s fingertips. It doesn't mean lacking nothing. It certainly doesn't mean every dream and desire fulfilled.

Yet there are many who have enough of everything except the common sense to know when they really "Caint Complain."
Happiness is a fleeting moment of joy. Contentment is finding peace in what you have, what you are and what you have accomplished.
Having the serenity to know which one brings lasting goodness into your life is wisdom.
A SMILE IS THE KNIFE GOD GAVE US TO CUT THE SIZE OF OUR TROUBLES DOWN TO A BEARABLE LOAD.    
Lots of love and hugs, Phyllis

Although you may be to young
to understand
and too beautiful to comprehend.
I will tell you about this world
this world i live in.

This world you will live in.

This world is not sweet.
This world is the enemy of some
and the death of many.

This world has no patience for tears,
no compassion for the unhealthy.

This big onion of a world has
its folds
and as we peel the folds
we cry,
we cry for the death of many
and the impatience of the tears.

That someone
Transcendental
But the scene got dangerous
Lady confidential
The Candle in
the wind of diamonds

Went International
A kiss all over
Continental

{A Scene}she play like
a *** phone
The Xylophone,
not a girl's best friend
Used as a weapon

The scenes crying your eyes
out being alone
Taught her many lessons

And those I phones will become old
The new science of acting is bold
Like the I-spy  you've been
Sherlocked
Pretty smile closed locked
Your earrings what big loop
He's draping the sheerness
The fairest of them all
escaping they need the
The darkness hitting those
stage lights
With your lover
Your body so lovely but
The scene changed to the

{Arsenic and lace}

never will he cover
Death becomes her

What happened to
your love scene
So-called part of your face
His words can devour
her footprints
The scene next required
dinner mints
Like tracking

The trance what a long trip
My taste bud acidy
Flying with lucidity
Meeting My Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

The scene was set up with one crack
To be naked no lines left out train track

The Prince looked away
Never to kiss her

But its I
In the scene, someone will bless her

The whole shebang act
Not some kind of
Seed planted
Whole wheat clean as a whistle
bagel
With your cute beagles
Watching your whole set
Like twins or double bet
What a set she has
Detective scenes of
Chocolate Bavarian cream
Vanilla sky the scene you had
was only perfect for
your dream
Doughnuts all cream
She slipped out of her
French crazy horse
burlesque
scene

The Nutcracker ballet
What meaning yearning
But waiting so long my steps
Got lost in his fire
The desire was higher than
Those outtakes and scenes
To do over again
Primetime someone
Will do the scene again
They skipped over
too many lines
Became the dark silhouette
The scene can be changeable
Channeling into someone
remarkable

We are not built up
to take instructions
We are the someone's
Walking the thin line
Or the thin man
Slim man scene
The restriction chair
Like the guillotine
was the fad
Getting scared and angry
Someone showed up mad
Was pitch black dark of the light
Flickers

Should a scene have teasing
No silly quite the drama so
theatrical they hired someone
Was she anyone well known
Like no artist over the website
He was teasing her hair I mean
That wet diving suit was
like the Rite
She got the look shopping
at Shoprite
"Like Loreal" but more surreal
What April fools commercial
Loosening his tie so political
Their discussion all
exceptions to the rule
Bullfight what kick
in the pants mule


She was born Nutty Professor of snickers*


The true believers and achievers
The passion within us
The colors come to ******
Like a scene
We know how to act when
we aren't acting
Like the punctuations
P...I...E...C...E...S
Those nooks and cranny
bits of pieces

Look at her nieces
they look guilty
When we are doing a scene
It's not necessarily about
being wealthy
Everything is
tangible you're on your own
Even if you're not well known
Like a movie extra
Extra read all about it
I am capable of acting anyway I can
Like my words are written
They can shine a stage to glisten

Meeting you is never a coincidence,we are fated together
It has been ordained that we will met on this day
I thought I lost it all but at the end I gained even more all because I met a special lady "U"
We might be far away
Distance doesn't necessarily ruin a relationship,
because we don't have to see each other everyday to be in love

It Is true that angels are made to be in heaven but some angels are sent on earth to do a special work and am glad you are my angel
I was dark before you came,
i had no love, nor a heart,
as i was lonely, full oh shame,
but now you are here, and our love will never be apart

Your beautiful face light up my world each time I look at your picture
I love to see your beautiful face that makes me say God Almighty you are really great
Your voice so powerful that It brought me into the world 
Into the world of laughs and smiles 
That walks along with me everyday
To bring me joy for endless miles 

Am here writing about u
Singing about you
Dreaming about you
Thinking about you
Playing back all your voices
Looking at your pictures to bright up my day
Remember to say me Hi to your  beautiful nieces

All I could say is God thank u for creating that beautiful day I set my eye on you CHIAMAKA

I love petrichor ;
The way that seconds after the first few
drops start falling ;
The scent of Ozone fills the air .

I love the smell of fall,
The beauty of trees showing us that you can still shed bits of you that have died... Yet still be beautiful.

I love the sound of my nieces laugh;
The way it steadily always brings me back
to earth durning chaos ,
Reminding me to be joyful.

I love the ocean.
How beautiful is it from the surface ;
Knowing no one will ever see all the beauty
That lurks beneath the depths.

I love seeing peoples faces describing
The person they love.
Their features change , they
Become alive .

I love coffee, and my dog, and my tiny feet, and whiskey, and sportscenter, and lime popsicles. I love sleeping in ,and watching Braveheart .  I love love, and i love living .

What do you love.

Children zip zap zoom
full of running jumping twirling
ducking dip down spin hide jump out
shout laugh giggle
and start all over again....

I shouldn’t be drinking coffee.
I shouldn’t be reading the news.
It makes me anxious, and it’s not only the chemical interaction.
Somehow, I associate it with “adulthood”—reading the news,
Drinking coffee—I can’t tell you how many days of the last few
Years have been spent entirely in this fashion. The coffee
Growing cold and the news colder still. I don’t even taste the
black, fluid drops. I don’t hear the screams of people I read
about. I just want to hold on to something—so I raise the glass
to my lips. I can’t say

the shocking words when my mouth’s full; I can’t tell

about my experience, my privilege, when I’m drinking it.


The production of the commodity

creates a line from some equatorial region
to central America, and my mouth.
I think about the Autumn I worked in a corn-seed
sorting facility. What a short experience—
and yet,
something that weighs heavy on my imagination.
I was a temp worker.
I chose to work there out of shame and guilt for having
missed the deadline for college enrollment.
I could have done anything else; but there were people
there who wanted nothing more than a job. They needed
to be
there.
And I think of the people involved in producing coffee beans

in much the same way.
Removed
from the thing they’re making, as the raw materials are shipped
to places you pay workers more.
Why shouldn’t I swallow with difficulty when faced with the pro-
spect of a person supporting their entire family with the type
of work
I did
reflexively, as a choice?

Now I sit here, reading about North African riots,
a region, where coffee is produced—
ARABICA COFFEE— and I think about what’s sitting
in my cup, how I have
spent more money than they make in a day
to buy
one container
…
and sit here
for an afternoon
doing nothing but reading about their families’ misery.

I am a human parasite.

And like the bedbugs that have crawled meticulously
between my mattress and bedframe, hiding in a safe spot
until they can come out, undetected, and **** my potency.

I sit here, in the comfort of an apartment furnished
and paid for by my father who grows corn in a highly-
mechanized, agricultural society. I take more and more,
festering to the size of a blistering, red dot
blinking in the dark, in the form of the record light on
my voice recorder.
I expect so much more from myself, simply because of
this position of luxury.

But I don’t take time to think about my reaction to these
stories or how I am involved in them, in shaping their plots.
I’m even eating more now
as I’ve nearly lost my concern with avoiding certain super-
markets.
I smile at the greeters, make small talk with the cashiers
whom I am openly exploiting. But it’s ok, because
I worked for a month at a cornseed manufacturing
facility
and I read Marxist Ideology,
and I know about the Arab Spring
and I was against American intervention in Libya
and I disdain the air strikes from robotic planes
(unauthorized by congress)
and I disdain congress
and I support gay marriage
(I stopped eating chicken).
I don’t drive to the suburbs of my city.
I walk and ride my bicycle as much as I feel like.
I use public transportation at times.
I try to get to know women.
I practiced safe ***, once.
I write poetry.
I tell my mom I love her.
I bought my nieces birthday presents.
I’m not overly nice to people of different
ethnicities.
I voted for Obama.
I’m trying.
All these things make it seem less bad
to smile at the cashier.
But then I think about my black studies Professor
who used a walker to come to class
because she fell
and spelled the word Amendment “Admendment”
on the board when talking about Reconstruction.
I think about the war in Syria.
I think of people dying from cholera in Haiti, in 2012
A.D.
I think about fracking and oil spills and …
irrevocable damage to Indian reservations.
I think about football coaches molesting children
and people eating fried butter.
I read about people
upset
with a movie
who protest in the streets for days.

It makes me realize I shouldn’t smile at anyone.
I shouldn’t be drinking coffee.
I shouldn’t be reading the news.

fishnet pantyhose
mexican dinners
men with a big noses
competing, being the winner
women scented like roses

words of praise
cats
getting a yearly raise in pay
the sound outside my window and knowing it's bats
calling in sick to work, and spending the day at play

seeing stupidity and smiling
the laughing of my nieces
writing a good poem without trying
hug by my fiance and falling to pieces

You want a make out
Without a ring on it
You call it attractive
I call it infactuation
They call it seductive spirit
They just want the pudding
Bunch of irresponsibles

This kind goeth not away
But by fasting and prayer
A generation of sadomasochists
Bunch of nymphonaniacs
Do I look like a loose ball?
Even if I wanted to play
"Shoe get size, 'mbok'"

Open your legs at your peril
When it's time to settle down
Men look beyond beauty
Character and intelligence tops the list
Even love is not enough
When he is ready to "ring it"
Don't say I didn't tell

When you advertise your wares
Frontally and from behind
You attract what you represent
Men don't like exposed wares
If you cover it very well
They will pay fire to posses it
Trust me, I speak from experience

Queens of the night
Their office opens at night
Adorned in skimpy gowns, no brassiere
Sometimes, with their nieces knickers
Exposing all exposables
You attract what you are
You get what you desire

Do you have a banging body
With seductive shape
All you get is a one night stand
No one wants to marry an empty barrel
Before you open your legs
Please, open your sense
Do you understand?

Before I drop my pen
Please repeat after me
Lord, Jesus, I come to you today
As my personal Lord and saviour
Deliver me from seductive spirit
That I might be made whole
Write my name in the book of life
Thank you for saving me. Amen!

I cannot believe the **** culture that exists in these modern times. We, as Women live life thinking that our rights have have come a long way since those times when we had little to none but have they really? Have our rights gone anywhere when we are still, now WARNED about ****, when we are told ‘you need to be careful, you’re vulnerable, watch out for ****’.. Why is it our responsibility to not be *****, why is it not our responsibility as a nation to educate our young Men on ****, to educate them on a Woman’s right to say ‘No’ and to not have it ignored, argued with or discussed, to have it accepted, respected. Why is this placed upon our shoulders, something for us to guard against, something for us to worry about as we walk down a street, as we walk through our towns and something for us to be blamed for when we wear a short skirt, a tank top, tight jeans and are therefore ‘asking for it’. I was warned about being ***** today on the bus, an old man said to me ‘you be careful, you watch out, a young woman with a body like yours’. This is the body God gave me, this is the gender God gave me, this is the woman that God made me and why should I therefore have to protect myself against being ***** because of it? This is **** culture and it needs to change NOW.
How can this be accepted? How can we ignore this when we have daughters, granddaughters, sisters, nieces, friends, sons, grandsons, brothers being raised with this perspective, this ideology, this **** culture?

Birds chirp outside my window before the sun even appears
Interrupting my nightly rewind of 38 years
Or did I spend time in the future instead
With decisions not yet made, and words so far unsaid?

Slowly the fog drifts from my mind; my thoughts are no longer far
Wearily I rise from sleep, and grab a drinkless bar.
With a routine borne from endless practice, I move into my wheeled cage
Simultaneously what I need to survive, and a source of rage

Not due to the physical need; limits are never a shame
But because it puts me steps behind in the middle of life’s game
Some say I should be glad it is visible at first sight
With laws and support in place, I guess they may be right.

This topic feels conflicted as verses leave my head
Like following a path that someone else led
Supportive family and friends, a job, and outside interests too
All of these are mine, and yet there feels much more to do

I know myself well enough that part of my drive
Involves shutting people up and continuing to strive
Shattering expectations has always been fun
Now it’s more like a chore that never gets done

A clock in my head that just won’t stop ticking
Decisions seem to just get made without anyone picking
Days go by faster than the roadrunner’s blur
And yet things seem to end up back where they were

Work always goes well; at least by what’s in writing
They don’t have a front row seat when my head and heart are fighting
Feeling like I must always be “on;” a perpetual switch
Wishing more people knew I can truly be a *******!

That may seem like an odd thing to say
But just stop for a minute and see things my way.
Can’t drive on my own, dress or shower without an aide
Nobody even considers that I want to get laid.

“You think about ***?” they ask in shock
As if not walking means I don’t have a ****
The confusion all across their face burns me to my core
And gets me enraged enough to go hire a *****

I have no shame for this hope; though some would say I must
The only harm is not acknowledging that everyone has lust
I’m TIRED of feeling like these impulses have to hide
I just can’t find someone crazy enough to take the ride

In my darkest moments, paying seems the only way
I watch, we *****, and they don’t get to stay
But my thinking head knows that won’t solve the issue
So I guess I’m still stuck cleaning up with a tissue

“Don’t try so hard,” well-meaning people say.  “It will happen when it’s Fate.”
Hard to believe when you can’t even get a date.
Single women say they trust me, can tell any secret, and know I'll be there
So why the hell do they disappear without a care?

“You give such great advice and always know what to do.
I wish my boyfriend was more like you.”
Well, he could be, don’t you realize?
Get your head out of the clouds, and stop believing his lies!

Another one starts with “My family doesn’t even know this; you’re the only one I’ve told.”
I thank her for trusting me; the move was truly bold.
Down the line, I ask if one day sparks could fly,
“Nope, I’ll never see you that way, Goodbye!”

It’s not just about the *** either; that isn’t quite right.
Sharing hopes, dreams, fears, and laying together at night
No matter what obstacles or fortunes lie ahead
Not snapping out of a dream on one side of an empty bed

This isn’t depression, although I understand the concern
Just endless frustration wondering when will I learn
Actions don’t speak louder than words; they all have the same pitch
Why does the story ALWAYS end with me feeling like a *****??

Even six year old nieces get in on the act
Asking when I will make the lifelong pact
She doesn’t even care about gender; it could be the same
Unless of course, I want to hear a baby cry out his daddy’s name

Children has always been a true lifelong dream
But I’m a few steps behind and time is short it seems
At least my brother has a son to carry on our line
I know the future isn’t written, but give me SOME ******* sign!

Would I even be good at it?  Could I raise them well?
Who knows the kind of lives they’d lead, or stories they could tell?
I can’t say this for certain without a crystal ball
So instead I’ll be present for everyone here now, and help them through it all.

It may seem like these are things a true “man” shouldn’t say
And I admit to thinking the same a few times, even still today
After all, can’t do home improvements, fix cars, or plant a stupid tree
What on earth would any real woman have to do with me?

THAT’S the worst part of being in a chair
It allows you to think that no one else will truly care
Or that deepest dreams should remain hidden for no one else to see
Because, after all, you have a disability.

Sometimes these thoughts go too deep in my brain
Just gaining speed in my life like a runaway train
And I try to breathe slowly, stop and look around
Because of treasures I have already found.

The only person who will read these lines; “best friend” is WAY too weak a word
Family in all but blood; she urged my voice to be heard
Put out her hand, shared my laughter, dried some tears
Without question, my best decision these last five years.

Parents who drive me insane and often make me scream
But at the end of the day, we’re all on the same team
A brother and sister who tortured, teased and played along
Because in the end, bonds forged are lifelong

Nieces and nephews I could not love more if they were my own
Relatives whose love is not only stated but truly shown
An education with two degrees no one thought I could achieve
Even though they do not mean hard times and troubles will leave

Music and DVDs stacked from wall to wall
Even though I’ll never have time to play them all
A sense of humor that passes most people right on by
Maybe they’ll see me one day, stop in, and wonder why

As night falls once more outside and the page gets ready to turn
I can’t help but wonder what next lesson I will learn
Will it cause happiness?  Sadness?  Surprise?  Fortune?  Alarm?
Will I be able to keep the peace or have a desire to cause harm?

Do I have the skills necessary to keep on fanning the fire?
Without feeling like I’m walking a tightrope wire?
It’s like telling one last joke no one’s ever heard before
Will they boo me offstage, or stand up for more?

As I look back through my life, regrets seemingly zoom by at great speed
Ten years wasted on the wrong girl, not taking charge when I need
More independence than I’ve ever had before
But not enough courage to leave my parent’s front door

How will I explain these questions to people in my life?
What will potential girlfriends think?  Or (God forbid) a wife?
There are times when these thoughts fill me with physical pain
And endless tears slide off my face like nonstop torrential rain

All these endless riddles without answers in sight
Life’s milestones like road signs passing in the night
A sense of unease and worry permeates my head
Still, only one option open, full speed ahead

There’s nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide
Just gotta have the right people standing at my side
And no matter what today’s outcome, draw, lose or win
They’ll help me get up tomorrow and do it all again

I will hear your voice
Singing joyful hymns
Between chores
On Saturday morn;

I will see your smile of radiance
On the faces of my sisters and nieces;

And your boundless energy
Will manifest in the limbs
Of my sons and nephews;

And the legacy
Of a Nubian Queen
From Islington Village
On the breezy bank
Of the majestic Berbice river,
Shall reign eternal...

~ Pablo (#formom)
10/25/2013

There was Old Man in a pew,
Whose waistcoat was spotted with blue;
But he tore it in pieces
To give to his nieces,
That cheerful Old Man in a pew.

The sad eyes
the hopeful hands
wrapped in the ends of long sleeves
scales for fingernails
silver purple hues
axiom eye brows
proscenium arches
the eye lashes are curtains
stained black
the scent of whole milk in tea
a kind mistake
the sarcastic cries from singing speakers
like dogs at beaches
the **** of leaches
realistic vampires
in pools of waiting water
leaches on my eyes
salt on your fingertips
lost on mine
paper cuts from my own skin
Chinese Jim Carrey on my mind
not my idea
I just heard it and agreed
the sand mouth
scratching the roof
paper *****
origami
and Japanese ***
animated octopi
and ocean park aquarium blues
I’ve been equated with
spherical spaces on my palms
the pope preaches a phobia
and he is loyal to all of his children
except some
and accept cards when they are given to you
with nephews and nieces who can’t speak
yet still sign their names
the cold shoulder
I hope you think of me
in the shower
and when you drink beer
the naked alcoholic
is like a godmother to me
he brings me
experience
the fathers speech impediment is inconvenient
like parties we weren’t invited to
the brother is loyal
the mother is not
like candy floss
sweet to the tongue
then gone
like rose-coloured contact lenses
the modern age will die
like grandparents
the enthusiasm
falls like stars
and you make wishes
on coffee circles
she is going to India
(I am not)
I am going to rot in hell
such a stench they will kick me out
the boots
thick and black
shining in the sun
like tarmac
the big nose
snorting *******
with the small
fairies are real
and they ****** us all
The suicide hopeful
that breaks promises
like bread
back to church again
‘Let’s save the gays and make them straight! The prostitutes too’
As if they didn’t have enough problems already
The teenage ignorance
and underage rage
under-rated and staged
The attention seeking wave
if you want them to see
better you were a tsunami home wrecker
at the age of sixteen
than a ripple in the ocean before you were me
the attractive son-of-a-poet
***** trick
the hairy crotch with diamond juice
the one you love love love
the Starbucks umbrella you stole
the girl who loves horses
the drummer who can’t swim well
the secret lesbian
who I’m 95% sure fancies me
and the barber who cuts hair outside the school by the concrete
in the woods

Your sad eyes
make everything else
seem pointless

Tattoos covering a man that speaks of his soul
A dog with a playful heart and loving tongue
Miles of dandelion covered fields and poison ivy infested forest
Mud covered boots and worn out running shoes
Smoke rising from a chimney and an open door lifestyle
Swings swaying in the wind connected to a cat-**** infested sandbox
A pond with fishing poles in the dirt and a splintery dock
Paint stripped basketball hoop without its net ripped and torn
Rocks and logs surrounding an overused fire pit
A lush garden with every kind of bug and animal
Another dog with his wise years found spotted on his nose
An old, leathery glove with its seams falling out
Scratched and scorned arms from 4th of July bottle rockets
Mom and dad a quick walk just a mile down the road
A 1962 Corvette Stingray parked next to the dusty van
Two cats sleeping the day away on the porch
A trampoline with rusted springs and a sprinkler underneath
The grill cooling from an afternoon of burgers and hotdogs
The brother flying in from Colorado after a week on the slopes
Rock and roll blasting from the house that can be heard for miles
All the windows open to take in the summer air
Every pillow and blanket carefully positioned to make an epic fort
Bikes hanging in the garage next to the bin with every ball you can think of
An over used washer and dryer next to the hallway with endless pictures
Half finished schoolwork on the table surrounded by the crust of a PB&Js;
Rooms with unmade beds and works of art mixed in with stuffed animals
A sister biking in from the town just beyond the nature reserve
Wrinkled hands and dirt filled nails contrasted by a gold ring
Nerf bullets covering the floor, windows, and fridge in the kitchen
Chalk covered black top from the garage to the street
Lego towns and spaceships covering the coffee table
A whiteboard with math equations and tic-tac-toe fighting for whitespace
A wall full of board games missing a die here or a figuring there
Newspaper clippings, pictures of nephews and nieces, and report cards on the fridge
Coffee *** half gone, cereal bowls in the sink, and the oven on for some reason
Bike ramps with caution tape and under construction signs scattered in the garage
Firefly nights that have to compete with the millions of the stars in the sky
Flashlight filled ghost stories in the family tent with mallows and chocolate bars
Lazy afternoons with a good book ending with an even better nap
And a mailbox, surrounded by tulips, on my little patch of heaven.

I am the queen of being forgetful,
My nieces and grand niece follow
me,
It is in the genes.
I neither have dementia nor Alzheimer,
It's just my way.
Too much goes in my mind,
Creating pages of happenings,
In Gujarati they call me Sunji (forgetful).
My husband would boil tea or milk for me,
Otherwise,both would spill over,
The utensil burnt.
I learned how to drive a car,
Unfortunately,had to give up,
I would nearly forget to switch off the ignition key.
I would certainly forget to give messages,
Or attend invited occasions  if not reminded.
Uncannily, I would never forget if I had hurt someone,
Someone owed me money,
My own personal work.
Everybody tried to rectify me,
But,to no avail,
I am what I am,
And they let it be.

When I was twelve,
my uncle told me that
when I got older,
I would only have enough
"best friends" to count on
one single hand,
and they would be the
best best friends I'd ever had.

And I can count my five
best friends,
but they are not
my best best.
Because they tug
and twist
and ****
and pull
on my heartstrings
in ways that could make
a grown girl cry;
and they do.

So I can tell you the names
of my best friends
that rip me to shreds
and throw my heart
onto a floor covered in
broken glass;
and you will be able
to identify the names,
because they might be your
best best friends, too.

Wanderlust
the beast to slay them all,
pushing my desire
and reinforcing my disability,
reminding me that I have
nowhere to go
and everything to see

Disorder
in my bedroom,
in my essays,
or in my brain;
all of them causing
someone (me)
to explode in a fit of
unwanted emotions.

Apathy
Towards my schoolwork and
busywork handed to me
by middle-aged "can't-do-so-teach-ers"
that need a handful of capsules
to numb the pull to leave
just as much as I do.

Dysfunction
in my brain's chemical makeup,
and my family's emotional one,
not to mention the relationships
I attempt to handle like a
one-handed juggler.

Imagination
creating scenarios in my heart
that could never come to be,
leaving me in a perpetual state of
disappointment.

So now I will tell
my nieces and nephews,
sons and daughters,
or countless grandchildren
to never trust the ones that
try to make something different
of your heart,
because they don't really love you,
they love what the can make you become.

we was in the bando,
trappin, we were trapped..
cook named Orlando,
moved across the track..

used to be my  neighbor, now hes got the paper,
owns a couple barbershops, got myself a taper,

owns a deli too, couple cleaners down the main street,
not long ago we were sitting in the same seat..

back when,

we was in the bando,
trappin, we were trapped..
kitchen hot too handle,
Found ourselves a rat..

polices, driving by increases...
Orlando had a thesis,
Moved in with his nieces..
He says...

"Theyll never catch me in here,
I live without fear,
only time i cry is with this tattoo tear"

A couple days later, cops broke the door in,
couple windows too, just to let more in,
they found a couple rifles, most of them foreign...
Cuffed Orlando, his niece, and his babymomma Lauryn...

multiple charges of distribution.
couple cases of ******...
money laundering, and weapons, his attorney would murmur...


They say my writing *****, this is no place for this crap..
i dont do poetry, i just write reality rap..
and truthfully, nowadays reality lacks.
So i dedicated this to his daughter Natalie Max.

25 to life..
no chance of parole, bottle....

of hennessy,

just *** he was my role model..

They say how can you defend him, when i yell free Orlando..
*** i still remember when..
we was in the bando...




-afj

I am from being a younger sister,
to having divorced parents.
I am from being an Aunt,
to watching my nieces and nephews grow up.
I am from being a confused teenager,
to learning from my mistakes.
I am from reading love stories,
to believing in love at first sight.
I am from having high expectations,
to being determined to achieve  my dreams.
I am from being shy and quiet at school,
to being loud and talkative at home.
So who am I exactly?
I am a girl who goes after what she wants to achieve.
I am a girl who is loving,
and has a heart for the people she loves.
I am 14 year old girl,
trying to learn from her mistakes.
I am me.
a person with a unique personality.

i. Reasons Why
To seek to understand the self.
To put the scattered pieces
together
to form a coherent narrative of
my life.
To understand what pieces are missing
and how to continue without
them.

ii. First Memories
The first memory I have is
of a high chair,
ravioli,
and an unfamiliar older woman.
Mother working.
I explored the house,
a baby gate with dogs behind.

iii. Paranoid Tendencies
Later, Mom with her pistol,
nails in windows,
doors locked,
even internal ones.
Being hushed
told to hide under the desk
with my nieces.
Terrified of what was happening,
she went outside
to clear the perimeter,
certain,
so certain that people are
after all of us.
Why?
I remember her wild green eyes
and her hair of fire.

Nights of this,
waking up to her shooting outside
my window,
cursing at this alleged person
"creeping around."

Nights she would sit in a
small yellow chair,
only meant for kids,
at the door leading from the back room
to the kitchen.
I'd have to ***,
but she would clear the rooms
before I went.
That's love.
Protection.

iv. Missing Father: **** On You
The first time my father
held me,
I ****** in his face.
So I'm told.

v. Education Impressions
I wandered through the halls,
my first day of
school, Kindergarten,
with no clue where I was going.
Dropped off, late for work.
Always working, the bills had to
be paid.
That's love.
A roof over my head.

Paddled weekly, sometimes more,
in Kindergarten,
age 5.
Apparently I had some disciplinary
issues.

Pulled from this school, onto
the next.
Write-up forms weekly, or more.
I would slip them under the
bathroom door in the morning
while Mom was in a rush,
getting ready for work.
Always being paddled,
coming home to switches and belts
and hands
and a tired Mother.
Nothing abusive,
but that's love.
Discipline.

Fighting, kicking, punching,
pick on me,
try it.
Always fighting.
Their most used punishment was
to walk the fence
during PE.
Needless to say,
I never got my Physical Education.

Moved to another school,
discipline issues
again.
Stopped fighting,
and sacrificed my self-esteem
for it.
The issues continued,
but I graduated and
left.

vi. Missing Father: Formative Years
This is when you were needed most.
I made many poor decisions,
a stupid kid,
with a need for just a bit
of guidance.
I made it on my own though.

vii. Bologna and Ramen
There were special nights,
with an electricity through the air,
when Mom would cook.
Hamburger helper, green beans,
corn, a fresh gallon of
sweet tea, a slice of white bread
to top it off.
A meal for kings in those days.

But, typically, with a single income,
and a house of five,
it was sandwiches and noodles.
I despise bologna and ramen
still.

viii. Missing Father: The Second Time
The second time we met
was in a store my Mom frequented.
I asked you if I should get
a hot sausage.
I didn't find out who I had spoken to
for years.

ix. Control
As a kid I always could figure
out how to make things
go my way.
I would make sure things lined
up
just
right.

Most things are about the order
in which information
is revealed.
You have to see through others' eyes.

It's a ***** side of me,
but I do what I can to keep it at bay.
Still,
it remains.

x. Envy
Family in Auburn,
cousins, Aunts, Uncles.
There was one set in particular.
My Uncle who come from nothing,
as all the others,
and was so determined to have something
out of life.

I always wanted to take his kids'
places.
The nice clothes that didn't smell of cats,
the go-karts and swim lessons and
swing set and pool.
They had it all.

I modeled myself after this Uncle.
I'm going to have something.
Now I do.

xi. Kitchen Floor
I laid in the kitchen floor
at my Sister's trailer
for several hours.
I cried, maybe.
I didn't speak, I just
laid there.
Catatonic.

This is the first thing that
came to mind when I started
realizing the sickness in my mind.
A first clue, if you will.
All of the others fell into place
quickly afterward.

xii. Step-Father
It all started so perfect,
how could there be a demon in
this kind and gentle man?

But manic phases happened.
Regularly.

Usually spurred by alcohol.

He would stay up all night,
with *** after ***
of coffee.
Going through every item
in the house.

He and my Mom would scream,
so late,
she telling him to go to bed,
to get the **** out,
to quit messing with ****.
He would call her names
and throw things and make
word salad in the air of money
and get rich quick schemes.

I would pretend to sleep,
most nights I didn't while
he was manic.
I would sleep at school,
and dread the war-zone I'd
step into every day after.

He would finally be arrested
and committed.
This happened for years,
this cycle.

One of the last times it happened,
he put his hands on my niece.
I nearly killed him that night.

He died in a drunk driving
manic-induced spree
not long after.

He was a great man when he wasn't manic.
But that's love.
Through darkness and light.

xiii. Harm
I went through these years
filled with hatred and recklessness.
Lines on my arms,
and a barrel in my mouth,
but I came out the other side.

I know the dark times are here
when I regret not pulling that trigger.

xiv. Missing Father: Unneccessary Hardships
Things didn't have to be that way,
but maybe we are all better
for the suffering.

xv. Driving
I learned to drive by taking my Sister
back and forth to hospitals
because she was fiending for pain meds.
I watched her toss pill after pill down
her throat
for years.
"Migraines."
Aka, withdrawals.
She would scream and incite chaos
until she got her fix.
An addict.
It was not my Sister.

She attempted suicide multiple times.
Eventually the chemicals were too much,
she had a stroke.

I thought I was going to lose her,
my dear Sister.

She's clean now, and
I've never been more proud
of my big Sis.

xvi. A Final Word
My life was not hard,
no harder than anyone else's.
But it was mine.
I look at this myself and say
"oh boo hoo," in contempt of myself,
but it was real.

Somewhere, hidden in this
half-missing puzzle, is the
answer to the question on my
warped views on love and life.

This is my narrative,
these are my beginnings.

while age is only a number,
experience is a set of volumes.

you, thanks to time and genetics,
have overflowing shelves.
you've done it all.
a house of your own.
a car of your own.
a cat.
a rose garden.
(are you gay?)
nieces, nephews.
unfixed income.
"making it."
how can i be so proud of you?
it's hardly been 4 months
since
i ran into you in the doorway
of the bar
trying to make my exit unnoticed
as i had avoided you not one hour before.
knowing one of us would have to say "hi" first.


but that was then.
now is this.

this
this
this dull glow
that never leaves my heart.
someone's always stoking the fire.
your shift starts
now.

Death Threat

Hello ***** prepare to die,
you know the reasons and the why.
Your life, I plan on taking,
this is no joke, I'm not mistaking.
I hate your ******* guts,
when arrested, they will think I'm nuts.
Chop you up into little pieces,
then send them to all your favorite nieces.
Say goodbye to everyone you know,
because pretty soon your blood will flow.
You took my soul, heart and my pride,
now I will have to run and hide.
You took my clothes, food and my money,
stop laughing *****, this **** ain't funny.
You took my house, car and my boat,
revenge will be mine, that you can quote.
You took my drugs, beer and my pills,
I'm going through withdrawal and getting the chills.
You took everything that I own,
your mind is about to be blown.
I now live in the street,
people in cars throw me food to eat.
It get kinda cold late at night,
this is my death threat to you, that I write.
I'm at the point of no return,
a cruel lesson you must learn.
I hope you enjoy these last few hours,
your grave will deserve no flowers.

Hi . . . This is about the kinds of people who work in corporate big money office buildings . . . Imagine them at lunchtime, how they interact and picture the scene in any . . .

Busy little bistro

Sharp - sharks - circle - the - pack
Pinstripe finned and eager
Snapping their snacks back with ease
Points to prove with nothing to lose  
No cracks in their creases
They're keen to return to the fray.
These boys play with girls
Aren't yet uncles with nieces
Just unproven throwaway pieces . . .
In shiny  . eat ***** . suited up . Chelsea boots
Bidding for ***** with cute looks and loot
Touting with confident ***** . . .
As mobile as their smart devices
Loose

Next . . . ?
And fresh from a mornings abuse
And fifteen years of fear . .
Beleaguered older shirts sit . .
Flogged dogs with weak barks
Parked packed into packs.
Tongue tied ties tied together
Safety is numbers
Get each others backs
These partially satisfied cats
Know today is NOT their day . .
That was yesterday . . .
Obliging lives and mortgages
The reasons why they stay

Passing Cabs cruise . . .
Seen it all before.
Sat in the back a high class *****
Glazed eyes glancing away  
From her play-away payday
Nibbles in the boardroom . .
Napkins . . for the dribbles
A working lunch for this Girl
Her money-shot a wrap without applause
Was just a  . . . pause  . . . between paws . .

Then Dora on reception
John, who minds the door
Evie in the IT room
Or dave . . who buffs the Marble
Sparkles glinting in the floor . .
And the guards . . who guard . . what exactly . . ?

All of this . . ? Networking . . !!!
Everybody's selling something
It doesn't quite stink
But it definitely smells
A little high

As time whiles by
Seems this
Is the state of our nation
And in this state
Defines our aspirations
And yes . . this state's a splinter
Taunting my imagination . . .
Do I stake my place within this game
Or sit in observation
Commentating on a race
Where human nature fakes it's place
Where people sit as players
Yet no one wears their own face

Bradley Simmons is a cool kid to his dad, and now he is happy with dad





Bradley lived in Cowra with his mum and dad and brother Kenneth, and Kenneth was a real mans kid who plays with his friends in the street and then he goes home to watch Disneyland with his dad, and he mainly liked to watch westerns, while Bradley was certain that there is something going on in the air, and went to church with his mum.
You see this wasn't really tbe best family unit, especially when families go out to fun family events, but Bradley and Kenneth's dad was a director at kids town, which is a Buddhist drop in centre, who looke after the daily needs of under fortunate kids, and Bradley and Kenneth were told to come into these centers, when their dad organised some games to brighten their spirits, one game was spin the Buddha, where you get a spinning buddha statue and the kids get a lolly pop if the Buddha spun towards them, and even though they thought it was lame, well you can see it in their faces, Bradley thought it was cool and then said to his dad how about I plan games for them to play, like soccer out in the paddock, or even cricket, or tennis, and one of the homeless Boyd sadism I am too poor to get into Auskick, so can we play Aussie rules, and if I whip your ***, I know I can play for Richmond, and Kenneth who tried to be the cool kid there said, well if you make Richmond, it won't mean you are good, it means you play for Richmond, and Bradley told Kenneth to be nice to him, he obviously likes Richmond, and Kenneth said to Brad, why don't you shut up you stupid old ******* ****, and Bradley said, I am cool, I can turn these kids away from you.
Then Bradley said ok it's time to play a board game and little Ryan said, well what does board games have to do with helping us get houses, and Bradley said, oh no I ain't that powerful, I am just a kid, I can't give you a home, no,,I am here to make you feel that people actually care for you, because I think it would be tough for you having no home to go to and the kids listened to Bradley like he was one of the adults and being a typical jealous little brother started to get very jealous especially when e tried to make a joke, and they told him to get lost, because your brother is boosting our self esteem.
At the end of the day, Kenneth said to Bradley, you are a stupid ******* old *******, playing board games doesn't make them really feel better, what makes them feel better is taking them for walks around, but you are too stupid for that aren't you Bradley, you are too fucken shy to be like those kids friends, you see they all like me better, they just tolerate you, so go back to your bedroom and go and do some underage *******, no you aren't one of us boys, *******.
Bradley was upset with what Kenneth said and went to his bedroom and cried for hours and since then he didn't have inspiration to go back to his dads work to help the kids there, but his dad said, your brother is just jealous, and you should do this if it makes you feel happy, and his dad said, and if you find that Kenneth is proved right, just ignore them, and you can start off by ignoring Kenneth, because really, I wish every kid could have the inspiration that you bring to kids town, don't let teasing stop you for reaching your full potential, Bradley, Bradley decided his dad was right, and he kept on going to kid's town to make a difference in these children's lives, playing games and talking to one another, this was so cool the kids thought, Bradley thought he was growing up, and Kenneth who decided to come in, because he thought kids need to be kids, yes, his dad was doing a good job, but really Kenneth had what the kids really wanted, like he bought his computer and showed him the virtual world, and Bradley said no kids playing board games are fun, and computer games can wreck your eyesight, but the kids decided that Kenneth needed to be heard too, after all he is the other son of the kid's town leader, so they listened to him for a while and instead of trying to play along, Bradley felt hurt and said, ******* all, and went to his room to cry, and all the tough boys said, 'what a cry baby' and then he said his brother isn't an monster, we still like him, but Kenneth wanted to make Bradley jitter, so he now decided to play around laughing very loudly, like he was like us, man or something and Brad was in his room, crying and their dad decided that Brad needed to share his friends and said that he prefers the way Kenneth did things, Brad got really angry and started to be totally mental, by punching Kenneth like a ******, as well as threatening to **** the father that gave him a perfect life as a kid, of course he didn't **** him, but he was an angry *******, you see he was the board games king, while his brother was a computer **** kid, and Kenneth tried to not hurt Brad's feelings, even though, being a kid, he found it hard to not teaee the ****** and Bradley was put in a special school where he made a few new friends, but they weren't into playing board games or anything else with him, they wanted to teaee him, with teachers joining in, because Bradley needed to learn about how to control is temper, and someone tried to bully him, and Bradley stood up to him, and another guy was determined to tease Bradley also, but as he tried to punch Bradley put his hands on his **** and squeezed his ***** real tight, and since then everyone liked Bradley, but not to his dads liking the little cool kid to his dad was suddenly Kenneth,,and Bradley felt he was trying to tease Kenneth the same way, and see how he likes it, but all his friends like Kenneth better, and Bradley punched Kenneth in the gut and his friends thought Bradley was a **** and left the house and another girl at school was making fun of Brads parents and Brad tried to stand up to her,but she said, they never helped me,**** kids town and ******* early to bed and early to rise baby, and Bradley got really upset and from that moment the only young ones who like him were the rougher ones, who hassled Bradley for money,and Bradey became to shy to say no. Which made him a little young dude with no friends, he had family trying to contact him, but he was determined to make their lives a misery.
Bradley was an idiot, with his drinking and teasing and punching people, yes dude, he needs anger management, and he needs it now, but you must want to go, but Bradley made a pact, that he won't get help till Kenneth found a girl and got married and has kids,,so his thought of being teased all through his adult years, wasn't going to happen, and Kenneth married Bridgett Kingsley and they had Toni and Ros, yes, Bradley's little nieces, and he loved them dearly, and the bonding of Bradley and Kenneth grew fondly, while their parents had the old Brad back, he ain't married but he's happy, and that's what Counts in life.

an old lady lived in the neighborhood
spewing spite from her window calling out
I'm sure she would tell you her life was good
atop the world she would tell you no doubt
her meanness revealed the hatred within
her blatant name calling would never end
pointing her finger at everyone's sin
secretly wishing that she had a friend
even her family wasn't too keen
her two young nieces would visit with care
she chased them away creating a scene
they considered her home a witches lair

she lived by herself, was buried alone
in an grave unmarked, without a tombstone

The priest performed
a simple solemn service
for the internment
of your ashes.

Your close family
were there
by the graveside;
the small dug hole,
the sacred plot,
the green carpet.

Your sister brought
your wooden casket,
carrying you
for the last time.

Your nephews and nieces
cried as did we all
inside or out.

I guess you were there,
my son, in spirit
looking on, taking in
the whole service
from start to end;
the flowers;
the wooden casket
with your name on top;
watching your brother
place it carefully
in its resting place;
ashes to ashes,
the priest said,
but the soul lives on,
his words meaningful
in the afternoon warmth,
the sun lazily there;
bird song;
you listening,
my son, nearby,
silent as you
usually were,
eyeing the proceedings,
sensing our loss
and ache
at your departure
in a ****** sense;
but you are
here and there
in spirit
as our recompense.