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Byron Jan 2013
I am disgusted by your privy and lathered face, ****** expressions fill the gentle void, devoid of all human concious, empathic license of intelligence, you were always smarter than me, I wonder, does that make you happy? Twisted twine and pathic phrases of gang related gore, driving me off the walls, towards and in my own stall, waiting, phrasing the right thoughts in my head, to silent to tell the meaning of the names i came up with, of the charcters of my theater peice playing soon on broadway's basement. ten spins into a spiral and i am out fast, fill the void you joker, mascarade in and all around the plaside place and face of the broken frontier town. Call it home, ring the church bells, praise fast and all around the sight of kindoms entitled, to your brain, to your thoughts, to your brilliance, to your majesty, to your all enslaving tone, the same tone you speak to me in as you console your inner golgotha, ******* me out at the river-side bluff, alluding to our own memories, mind games, drastic plays for attentions and self-preservation. So go ahead, carry on your legacy, your driving will to self impose morality and autonomy on others, you decide these things, am i right? You arise to the occasion and hold them tight to the nuse around thier necks, the same nuse and braid i called to amend all those years ago and yet still you don't trust me, after all these years you still don't trust me , what lies you summon to fight for you, ******* child of liberate and hate.
Snoop dogg, snoop lion
Through the fogg we see hes cryin
we ask him why he will not tell
He broke his favorite reggae bell
It sounded smooth and made him feel good
Just like his kush that he burned in the hood
Dre gives his condolences but it is no use
Snoops bell has already tied its nuse
So for his bell we mourn, for his bell we pray
Light one for the bell, it died to day
Rip Ja feel?
Robert Guerrero Mar 2013
Reaching for a soul
That does not exist
Cold bony fingertips
Grasping my throat
Squeezing with so much might
Not expected from a bony mass
Covered in tattered robes
Of dark silken fibers
A scythe held tight in her right hand
Her left hand still at my neck
Quick to strangle me
Like the nuse in my garage
The hands of death
I clasp with my hand
Hold it tightly
Her blank cold stare
Showing a sense of wonder
As I tell her I love her
She releases me
My throat sore
But the pain is masked
I reach for the hands of death
Look into the eyes
Of a thousand souls
I see my own
As I pull her close to me
I want to forever walk beside her
I have never been wanted
The way she wants me
The way she desires my heart and nonexistent soul
Hands of death
I called out to
Wrapped myself in
And peacefully walked beside her
Hand in hand
Till the death of death
Shall we ever consider parting
Robert Guerrero Oct 2012
Staring down the barrel of a 45
Looking straight into the dark
Knowing what lays down
This ghostly corridor
Could take the pain away

On the edge of this 20 story building
Looking down at the earth
Feeling like an angel
About to fall into hell
Hoping for peace to finally find me

This is not where I belong
On this corner of Life and Death
Pushing the remnants of my sanity
Waiting patiently for you
To tell me you love me

On top this ladder
Nuse tight around my neck
Looking for a way out
Of this reoccuring nightmare
Knocking heavily on Deaths door

Laying with this blades edge
Slowly placed on my wrist
Knowing this poisonous life in my veins
Will eventually bleed out
Bringing on the silent darkness

This is not where I belong
Here with Lady Death
I belong in your arms
Held close to your beating heart
Knowing how much I am loved

It doesnt matter
Where exactly I belong
But a future with you
And a lifetime in your heart
Is better than any mans heaven

I dont care
Where it is I belong
As long as you are next to me
Helping me save myself
From this untamed demon inside me
Here is a poem to signal my return into poetry. I recently lost my muse and inspiration causing me to lose my poetic touch. I hope you enjoy it!!
Robert Guerrero Dec 2012
FML
It's full of pain, lose, disease,
Anger, hatred, and poverty
If I missed something oh well
Every corner I turn there it is
Another thing trying to bring me down
But still I refuse to bow
I contemplate my demise
Every little detail
How deep to cut my wrist
How tight the nuse will be
What caliber of gun I will use
My life is hell
No sense in dying
When I'll just be here for all eternity
No rest for me
Just a life always meant to be ******
FML
Robert Guerrero Dec 2012
I heard all your screams
I listened to your stories
I rolled with the struggles
Yet here you are
Refusing to acknowledge my existence
Depressed as I am
And you make my loneliness
Even stronger every minute of the day
So here is a letter
To mark my suicide
That your selfish actions led to
I called several people
But it's late in the night
Phones are off
Sound asleep
As I race through thoughts
Through memories
Hoping one of them could save me
But I just lie here
Blade sharp
Bottle half empty
Nuse tied tight
Pistol loaded
All I'm waiting for is a reply
A letter back
That someone will listen
But that could be ages from now
Time I don't have
Dreams I will never achieve
So I bid you farewell
As I try and end this hell
To live in a world where
I truly am loved and never ignored
Because I will be the only face
In the darkness of death
So good night
Sweet dreams
Live happily without me
          
           Sincerly,
               Robert Guerrero
               12-12-12
Just sulking in my depression
Robert Guerrero Nov 2012
Help her
Save her
Someone hear her
Shes begging
Shes on her knees hoping
For someone to set her free

Shes drowning in fear
Not sure if she will survive
He told her so many lies
That her heart now dies
Slowly with every step
He takes as he walks out the door

Help him
Save him
Somebody hear him
Hes begging
Hes on his knees crying
Because no one love him

Hes always searching for something
Turning up lost
Only found when he opens up his eyes
Hes terrified of each step
Wanting to live
Knowing he will die in due time

Help them
Save them
Somebody hear them
Thier begging
Thier on thier knees praying
For a life perfect for them

They are miles apart
Knife close to thier wrist
Nuse happily around thier necks
Bottle already empty
If only they knew each other
They could of lived that perfect life
Loving each other while being free
But together unknowingly they die
Robert Guerrero Nov 2012
Would you cry over my lifeless body?
Would your hands be covered in my blood?
Would you show for my funeral?
Would you try to revive me?
If my wrist were wide open
Would you stitch them shut
If the nuse was tight around my neck
Would you cut it from me
If I would of called the moment
Before I decided to end it
Would you be standing over my grave?
If it all ended for me
What would you do?
How would you react to the news?
Robert Guerrero Mar 2013
This long journey
Is well worth the trip
Because in the end
You finally find peace
You solve so many problems
That apparently you have become
The reason to them
You try to find
Things that will help you cope
With the struggles of today
With the pain of yesterday
With the fear of tomorrow
Not knowing what will happen
The path of suicide is long
Very painful indeed
But the reward of the knife
Pressed against your wrist
Cutting deep into the flesh
Bleeding the pain out
The feeling so welcoming
You do it again
This time deeper
Or the nuse around your neck
Slowly stripping your brain
Of the well needed element Oxygen
Darkness enclosing around you
Your life fading
The path of suicide is painful
But the alcohol and drugs
Make it so much less painful
The poetry helps
But still your problems grow
Till you finally decide
To walk the path
To watch the world destroy itself
By not allowing you
To be welcomed into its glory
So you walk
And walk some more
Endure more struggles
Till you secretly reach the end of it
The pain so great
The burdens even greater
The relief so quick
With the simple squeezing
Of an old dusty 45
Not used since the last kid walked this path
The choices to how you want to end it
All laid before you
Pick one and feel relief
End your sorrow
And deliver the awakening slap
Deliver the deafening and final scream
To release the built up emotions
Silenced with your choice of suicide
At the end of this path
The Path of Suicide
I wasn't encouraging suicide. I was simply stating a conversation I had with myself.
rodney webbe Oct 2014
Walking through the hall ways through  the park through the streets no one says anything.. nothing.. look around and ask can't i be happy?

everyone else is happy free from shackles that bind there heart  but the shackles on mine forever tightening squeezing like a nuse  around the neck of the Lonely falling into this world after pleading for help but left alone to the point of not having anyone to turn to. Broken  standing on the pedestal looking around screaming out to the world can't i be happy.

The golden pestastal they stand on they feel like the spot lights on them  for once everyone looking at them they feel like the false idols that we so sheepishly adore the ones that cause us to be unfaithful to the ones that we love and most care about the idols that scream about killing men and women our fellow brothers and sisters with the movement of a finger...

one finger....

it can causes so much pain just like one step. One step off of that golden pedestal that causes the world around to crumble into nothingness  The same pain that's felt from the slip of of a finger caused with one step...

One step..

Now imagine if we were to take that one inch that one step backwards to take the time to look at our fellow brothers and sisters to ask are you ok? Can I help you? Do you need  to talk... to care for someone else as much as you care for yourself to look at someone and say I'm going to make there day today.

But it's to hard to do that. All anyone needs to do is decide. How they'll take there next step.

#sweetlies
Levi Kips May 2019
Labelist theory states:
If a person is labeled something they are not and they don't agree with, one day they will stop defending themselves and be exactly what they are accused of being.

I'm being called an arsonist by a jury of my peers. By a jury of people who hang with me but now listening to someone who solely wants to see me dangling. I find myself constantly trying to protect my image like copyrights. But no matter the protection plan I enstate, I always find my name somewhere being defaced. I guess respect, loyalty and friendship wasn't enough to protect something like that. If it is then why am I catching charges. Why am I catching OJ treatment when yall say I will be missed like Ladanian on the chargers. Why is action only taken when the news say to take someone out like Michael Vick and not when a player asks you to look at the real problem like Colin Kaepernick. Maybe I'm not the one on trial, maybe this trial was a trial and error to see if this jury was a jury of my peers in the first place. And if this is the case then this a mistrial because I won't allow people who say they will miss me like Ladanian to the chargers be the same ones to take everything I worked with to another area code and call it by the same name. You can foot me the Bills because this is a OJ glove that I see fit. I am arsonist to the ties we had because that same rope won't be my nuse. I set fire to all your expectations of me because I won't watch my name get defaced like your personal property anymore. I accept your label for me with open arms because there is some borderline truth behind every sterotype, rumor, or lie because I have found mine.
Katherine Laslie Oct 2015
With a twist
Of a
Blade
All my pain
Is erased

As the blood
Flows strong
My existence
Is replaced
With a
Void

I made a
Nuse
When I was
Young
Out of my
Clothes
And tried to
Suffocate myself
Because I hated
Everything
That had to do with me

But that never got me far
For I'm still here
Living
Breathing air
Much to my despair
Karisa Brown Apr 2019
Her wings should have sprouted
By now
Her tongue should have grown
Around her neck
Like a nuse camouflaged
To her chest

The mirrors in time
Cake over mine
As I lose all
Awareness
Into the dark
ABYSS

— The End —