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Pistols
Pistols

I dream about pistols

Pistols
Pistols

Why do you haunt me so

Pistols
Pistols

Please just leave me alone
Chapter Two: Massage Beds and Therapy Sessions
if i was a pearl i’d feel itchy scratchy stuck inside an oyster shell if i was a tree i’d  be a big fat redwood fantasizing about Julia Butterfly Hill living and peeing around me if i was a dog i’d be a Catahoula hound if i was Italian i’d be Sicilian if i was pasta i’d be spaghetti if i was Icelandic i’d be Bjork if i was a rock star i’d be Elvis Presley Bob Dylan Jimi Hendrix Jim Morrison John Lennon Bruce Spingsteen Maynard James Keenan if i was i writer i’d be Herman Melville Mark Twain James Joyce William Faulkner Thomas Bernhard Yukio Mishima Naguib Mahfouz Phillip K. **** Gabriel Garcia Marquez Annie Proulx Lydia Davis if i was a poet i’d be Walt Whitman Sylvia Plath Ted Hughes Gwendolyn Brooks Pablo Neruda  Heather McHugh Carl Sandburg Robert Frost Arthur Rimbaud Dante Alighieri Homer if i was a painter i’d be Leonardo Da Vinci Michelangelo da Caravaggio Johan Vermeer Rembrandt van Rijn Paul Cezanne Marcel Duchamp Jackson ******* Mark Rothko Ad Reinhardt Anselm Kiefer Susan Rothenberg if i was a photographer i’d be Man Ray Ansel Adams Edward Weston Diane Arbus Robert Mapplethorpe Sally Mann Helmut Newton Richard Avedon Annie Leibovitz if i was a philosopher i’d be Socrates Plato Aristotle Jean Jacques Rousseau Sören Kierkegaard Immanuel Kant Karl Marx Georg Hegel Friedrich Nietzsche Henry David Thoreau Ralph Waldo Emerson  Jean-Paul Sartre Jean Baudrillard Michel Foucault if i was a singer i’d be Woody Guthrie Otis Redding Grace Slick Bob Marley Joni Mitchell Marvin Gaye Johnny Cash Patsy Cline June Carter Patti Smith Chrissie Hinde Nick Cave P J Harvey Beyonce if i wa a band i’d be Velvet Underground Ramones *** Pistols Clash Cure Smiths Joy Division Uncle Tupelo Pixies Nirvana Nine Inch Nails Madrugada Sigur Ros White Stripes Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra Justice of the Unicorns if i was a boot i’d be Chippewa Frye Ariat Red Wing Tony Lama Wellington if i was a shoe i’d be Christian Louboutin Jimmy Choo Kedds Chaco Chuck Taylor p f flyer if i was a dress i’d be Channel Dolce & Gabbanna Giorgio Armani Marc Jacobs Comme des Garçons if i was a cowboy shirt i’d be H bar C Rockmount Temp Tex Karman Wrangler Levis Strauss Lee if i was a hat i’d be a Stetson Borsalino Stephen Jones if i was a fruit i’d be a mango apple banana blackberry if i was an scent i’d smell like fresh perspiration jasmine sandalwood ylang ylang the ocean if i was a doctor i’d be a gynecologist neurosurgeon if i was a flower i’d be a hibiscus rose orchard if i was a stone i’d be a sparkling ruby diamond opal if i was a knife i’d be a k-bar switch-blade machete if i was a gun i’d be a Remington Winchester Beretta Glock AK-47 if i was a car i’d be a Lamborghini Ferrari BMW Saab Volkswagen GTO Ford Mustang Dodge Challenger if i was a  TV show i’d be Law and Order if i was actor i’d be Charlie Chaplin Humphrey Bogart Steve McQueen Robert De Niro Ed Norton Shawn Penn if i was an actress i’d be Marlene Dietrich Ingrid Bergman Natalie Wood Audrey Hepburn Marilyn Monroe Helen Mirren  Meryil Streep Brigette Fonda Robin Wright Julianne Moore Angie Harmon if i was a female comedian i’d be Gilda Radner Lily Tomlin Nora Dunn Joan Cusack Sarah Silverman Tina Fey if i was a  football player i’d be Sid Luckman George Blanda Walter Payton **** Butkus Mike Singletary Joe Montana Jerry Rice Payton Manning LaDanian Tomlinson  Drew Breeze if i was a celebrity i’d be Charlotte Gainsbourg if i was a rapper i’d be Tupac Shakur if i was a movie director i’d be Sam Peckinpah Robert Altman Stanley Kubrick Roman Polanski Werner Herzog Rainer Fassbinder Louis Bunuel Alfred Hitchcock Jean-Luc Godard François Truffaut if i was a bird i’d be a eagle hawk sparrow bluebird if i was a fish i’d be a dolphin shark narwhal Charlie the tuna if i was breakfast i’d be a French toast pancake folded in half with 2 strips of bacon in between if i was a cold cereal i’d be snap crackle popping rice crispies shredded wheat cheerios oatmeal if i was tea i’d be Japanese green matcha Irish breakfast Tulsi Thai holy basil Lapsang souchong Luzianne Lipton if i was a soap i’d be French hand milled ayurvedic Avon Ivory Dove Pears Aveda  if i was a man i’d be a football basketball baseball tennis swimmer athlete if i was a woman i’d be a track star runner writer painter gardener doctor nurse yoga mom i'm just scratching the surface and the beat goes on lahdy dah dah
Mike Essig Jun 2015
let me tell you my friend
about whiskey and ****
a demonic combo
that can lead you to death

whiskey and ****
make you think you are strong
make you feel invincible
you can do no wrong

whiskey and ****
forget all the rules
they were made for weaklings
cowards and fools

whiskey and ****
make night into day
until one is the other
and you lose your way

whiskey and ****
make you anxious for strife
you load your pistols
you sharpen your knife

Whiskey and ****
they cost me my wife
they cost me my children
they cost me a life

whiskey and ****
attract the law
and into it's clutches
you will certainly fall

so that's my story
of whiskey and ****
leave them alone
or prepare for death
Just to show someone I don't have to punctuate everything.  :)
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
.like any western, but unlike every western... the true grit... one eyed... it's not called: i'm blinking... it's called... the blink. the English language can never have... what is it... gender neutrality? the words are already gender neutral! the words in the English are neither masculine, or feminine... it's ******* to ask for something that's already in place! you know what obstructs the gentrification of words in the English language? how the sun is not feminine and the moon is not masculine? the articles... the English orientated their language around a-the        slightly missing the -ism... the English didn't create their language with a gender orientation of nouns, but other European languages orientated their nouns around gender inclusiveness... but you can't just... change the ******* grammar... call a triangle a ******* rhombus on a whim that belongs in the asylum... blah blah do ****... is this how civilized language is supposed to disintegrate into?! this is not religion... you can't simply replace grammatical dogma with heretical "protestantism" to gain something counter to 1 + 1 = 2, or a + t + t + e + s +t = attest... yes, confirm... what with that the politicians are doing in Canada... post-nationalism? post-nationalism, ensured with a post-grammatical structure of what should be the post-nationalist playground of the use of language? the two... together?! so... no nationalism, and no grammar... seems about the right time to separate the state from the state... and call the following dynamic: juggle act: catch one if you can! how can you expect to change the grammatical sub-structure of English?! nouns are not gentrified in the equivalent ontology of other, European languages! how can you expect gender neutrality... when the nouns of said language... are already gender neutral!? and that's because English is particular in the definite (the) and the indefinite (a) article articulation... this is the crux... the pivot... as to why nouns are not associated with either femininity or masculinity... which is why i didn't learn French in high-school... i was taught French from the rubric of grammar... i was taught the rules, before i was being taught to speak, and break the rules of speaking English... who the **** requires to learn a language, having to learn the arithmetic of lettering in the encompassing genesis of staging a craft of the linguist with, said grammar?! language is not universal... noun is no surd... verb is no integer... je suis is no 1 + 1 = 2... but like i said before... you're talking about pandering to linguistic retards... they might not be mad enough to enjoy the rainbow plethora of pharmacology... but sure as ****... they're linguistic retards... sorry, the saddest truth is... somehow... the most fun to attest in concurrence; oh right... that western, true grit... well... whether you're John Wayne or Jeff Bridges... one eye still intact? it's not a blinking... it's called the blink... no, and it's not even a blink... see how English is fascinating when singularity and pluralism enters the arena of the direct / indirect articulation? and to think the English wanted to debate a non-existent gender association of nouns that the French, the Polaks can have... but you sorry *******... ain't getting it!

so...

    a juggling act...

(insert a snigger)

   lindsay shepherd's
video: exposing grad school
(my m. a. experience)

and...............

         bon jovi's
blaze of glory

       bon jovi! wooooooooooooo!

god, i'm so stereotypical.
i should have signed up
becoming a side-burner
for some ******* Kentucky
redneck.

p.s. is stereotypical
synonymous
with predictable?
that's actually a genuine question
of, rather than answering the question
itself, answering the per se
curiosity; savvy?

so what is it... Bub "the blue" Clí 'n' Son?
***** needin'
to ****?
watcha gonna do Bub?
               hold up the, "spanker"?!

---------------------------------------

and some days, in england, and it's june,
and 10pm feels like 7pm in some other season
and it reminds me of the white nights
of st. petersburg....
   insomnia and ******* a girl for seven hours...
oh the ******* bit was fun,
don't get me wrong,
   i had to wait 2 weeks before she let me
do it to her in the bath...
****** ready... she was on her period,
but misguided:
  last time i heard...
            ******* on a period eases
the period pains...
      eh... gritty flesh bits on the rubber...
problem? what problem?!

    no wonder then: i hate drinking buddies...
people dumb down upon ingesting
alcohol, i'm talking: 2D objects in 3D space
akin to fern bushes in the 1st tomb raider
(black holes - a paradox,
   a 2D object spinning really fast in
an infinite 3D space... copernican east?
copernican west? i hope the rabbi knows)...

days like this, oh all the days like this...
when you wake up,
jump out of bed... and dance naked in your
room listening to KULT's
          brooklyńska rada Żydów -
two music genres i never got into:
punk and rap...
   well... "mediocre" punk...
   californian, the offspring,
  the usual suspects of the ramones,
*** pistols, stiff little fingers, mainstream *******...
ska... now we're talking...
hip hop contra rap: now we're talking...

such a beautiful day...
    a chestnut mushroom cream sauce with
snippets of turkey, of course the fresh parsley...
bay leaf, one clove, two all-spice buds...

    and... i'm really tired of looking up
h'america's ***...
    i sometimes thank god that i'm not
english for the sole reason that i don't have
to mind the "special relationship",
like i'm being owed or owning someone
for the respects of sharing the same lingo...

you want the other "special relationship"?
it began with Casimir III...
east... well: central europe...
eastern europe without borders,
purely geographic: is situated somewhere
in russia...
          borders condense...
last time i visited the home away from home
i found new music...
pablopavo i ludziki...
             the polonaise and the jews...
how many terrorist attacks in poland
while the islamists were having a funfair
elsewhere? gullible schvabs and swedes...
  (swabians, that's a slang for the ol' deutsche
deutsche back east - kacap ('tss wet snare
on the c) for the russians)...
       0...
                  funny (even)...
the map of recent terrorist attacks...
     and... the map of the spread of the bubonic
plague... a certain region remains
immune...
       even i agreed with my uncle:
better the catholic ******* than islamic
propaganda... mind you...
        sh'ite islam: thumbs up!
always pay due dues to the underdogs...
and if islam truly was a religion
to gobble up all other religions...
      a schism over such a petty affair
including Ali - the son in law of Muhammad
and Muhammad breaking his promise...

    oy vey!
     how else was i going to get out of bed
to dance naked to anything
but the ska song: brooklyńska rada Żydów?
what other option?
      black ox orkestar's bukharian?
                                             oy vey!
funny story from amsterdam...
me and this egyptian were sharing a hostel
room with these two germans,
who wasted 'shrooms on sitting indoors
watching h'american dad...

   we took a different route...
   he smoked, i drank, he had a bottle of
***** with him,
architect, i can't remember his name,
a keen eye for grand doodles in a notebook...
but then i decided to take a ****
after a few beers while he put
headphones into my ears and played
me le trio joubran's - masar...
        i even managed to attract the attention
of a dutch girl who seemed...
rather gobsmacked...
   i literally went into the nod-state
associated with ****** junkies...
but with eyes closed and mouth agape...
feeding off the ****** of the void...
i.e. the ****** of the void?
    when you're not chained to thinking...
the self disintegrates,
              thinking disintegrates...
and with the music: the void became
pulverizing me with vibration after
vibration echoing a chanced comparison
to a heart-beat mingling with
the fuzzy rippling and vibrating effect of
   the eye-sight of some insect...

yes yes... blah blah...
    boasting... boasting my ***...
am i here to feel sorry for myself,
to drown in my take on some perfect love
i could offer?
      no really...
               i've always had the two best
companions to begin with...
my shadow and a blank piece of pixel
paper perfectly coupled to my idle /
itchy finger-tips...
   well, a third: ms. amber...
                         i learned over a year ago
that drinking with familiar people
****** me off... drinking with strangers?
oh sure, great time...
the best times when drinking in public
are with strangers...
"friends" (fwends) are just too nostalgic,
they want to remind you of something,
notably some micro-aggression nonsense
of a past grievance...
                   don't drink with "friends"...
every time i did: i would wake up
the next morning *******...
cursing them, putting on a mocking voice...

me me me... oh poow meeeeeeeeeeee...
   *******...
               so? i learned to adapt in
liking my own company...
it's not much, but sure as **** beats
listening to a bunch of drunken, nagging housewives;
i'm pretty sure a man should have been
in that slot of the space between my
3rd and 4th pint of guinness;
alas! not to be!
Pistols

I own seven hundred diff’rent types of lovely handguns
And twenty seven thousand more bullets
I like hunting deer, I like hunting unicorns
I like shooting guys with bad mullets
This pistol is loaded
Its under my pillow
And ill blow you to bits
If you sneak in my window.
Brandon Navarro Aug 2014
Why is it so cool to hate on a group
for their fashion sense?
Or that they like to be off the mainstream?
You are doing the same thing that
people were doing to the
grunge
goths
punks
hippies
beatniks
flappers

and they all did something with their counterculture.
Ever think that
ours is the hipsters?
Not really,
they've been around since The *** Pistols
actually
they started them.
They made it cool to go to a thrift store
and buy things out of comfort
then rip it up
change it so it looked brand new.

Punk
that made Hipsters.

But now they are just some fad
that people hate on.
Just because they like to talk about
indie bands
knowing them first
wearing band tee's of bands they listen too
wearing vintage and retro clothing
likes reading
being in a cafe
organic food
vegan.

Stereotyping a group is all people did.
Now I can't wear things or do things
because some ******* is going
to say
"Ha you're such a ******* hipster!"

Why don't we stop hating people on what they wear
because how do you expect to get past
racism
homophobia
sexism
ableism
fatphobia
transphobia
preju­dice
if we can't even get past how people dress?
One4u2nv Jan 2012
Write on the bathroom wall this:  


Diligence is probably slaying rebellion

Dreaming comes out of an atomic bomb

Your girlfriends in a gang that’s lead by prostitutes  

Cavemen getting punched in the face by men  

Werewolves developing a crush on skinheads  

Soldiers experimenting with martyrs  

Your nextdoor neighbor pretending not to know a *****  

A gypsy writing love letters to a villain  

A guy you once dated driving away from a distant memory  

Your mother at a funeral with an executioner

Mind control freak making eye-contact in an elevator with a flight of birds  

Gleefully bulldozing gigantic flaming embalmers underground  

Ferociously inspiring detail-oriented museums in the dark  

Painfully sorting through stainless steel students backwards  

Electronically sorting monophonic apparitions in the shadows  

Faithfully inhaling Armenian scorpions at tea time  

Briskly hovering above loud controlled substances eaten by America and spat out  

    Dream about this next time you sleep:  

Quizzically exquisite keyholes inside a sunken ship  

Wearily alcoholic skeletons invading our love  

Sharing sternly precious lithographs with Charles Manson  

Adoringly high-pitched frescos out on the streets  

Wildly crunchy affairs with reckless abandoned hope  

Her boyish handymen is like Mona Lisa without her brows

Sensually cuddling big pistols  

The AntiChrist finds the cure for cancer in the local pet shop

Mary Magdalene can sometimes lead to your soul’s desire  

*** can (and often does) lead to motherhood  

Absolutism has never touched cooperation  

The Tao Te Ching manifested properly may ease the destructiveness of Christ  

******* is hindered by believing in motherhood  

Nature encourages rebirth and recycled courage  

Ashtanga Yoga is more important than victory  

An inspired mind isn’t always The Bible  

Energy must always conquer evolution  

*** is a decent alternative to nightmares wouldn’t you agree?  

Electricity is a manifestation of mercy and Tesla  

Pleasure feeds on Gandhi’s sweat ridden bald head  

Candidly breaking dormitories brimming with joy  

Barely used unstable translators outside the lines  

Enjoying calm lavish casino hotels with the electric eager manicurists of tomorrow  

A janitor burying a troop of apes while nature contributes to death and new yesterday’s  

The unknowable comes out of knowledge  

A ***** mind finds the cure for ignorance in patience and the aloha spirit

Education contains traces of drugs and alcohol and also combats drugs and alcohol  

Satan always enjoys Richard Dawkins.
Abigail Shaw Dec 2014
When I first met you, you took me back to the 70’s,
With anarchy, *** pistols and beer soaked blazers,
****** jeans and pipe dreams and your love for jumping off of tall things
under the impression you could fly,
You spoke to me and I felt the whole weight of my body collapse down,
And to this day I thank my knees for not buckling.
They say farmer’s son will learn to take care of seedlings;
smith’s son will learn how to forge and beat the iron;
baker’s son will learn how best to bake
to conquer best the market…

They say some birdies grow up knitting nests;
***’s foals grow up carrying loads;
cubs grow up learning how to roar most

to scare most the jungle…
The blood brothers2 were brought up
like sibling cubs of the lion
as if Mesopotamia was forest.


On birth day3 they learnt to blow lives out of bodies as candles;
a witness will tell how a citizen was received
by Mukhabarat4 waiters
one of such days,
and describe conviviality at Saddam’s
where the evil has born the arch evil5,
and where they learnt the art of making people yell!

At bees biting babies6 Uday was taught to find rejoice;
at parents wearing Adam’s garment7
in front of children
his father’s great power was worth of praise! 8
and he burnt to rule like father or more!



Would the Maker of the Heaven and Earth hold the fit
at the fate of Nahle Sabet9, the cake thrown to swine?
Would Mucius’s10 soul hold the fit
at the fate of Saad Abd al-Razzek Nihaya11
whose medals and stars were made spots
fit to throw to bin after the half of his life
hurled down from the sky?
Would the pearl Ilham Ali al-Azani12 be thrown like dirt to bin,
father’s fear of Allah tried,
and shot like a sneaking thief,
and the abu sarhan 13 stay without a prize,
and cause more devastations in the garden of Allah?

1. The lion and his cubs: Saddam Hussein al-Tikriti and his two sons Uday Saddam Hussein al-Tikriti and Qusay Saddam Hussein al-Tikriti. - 2. The blood brothers: The criminal brothers. Though crimes committed by Uday, the first born of Saddam Hussein, have been the most reported by media, his young brother was not less cruel. In April 26, 1998 he ordered Colonel Hassan al-Amri to ****** on a grand scale at Abu Ghraib, Iraq’s largest prison, and more than 1,500 prisoners were all massacred the next day. – 3. On birthday: Reports say that Saddam’s sons received pistols as presents on their birthday! – 4. Mukhabarat: Saddam’s secret police. – 5. Where the evil has born the arch evil: such is the description of Saddam’s house. He taught criminality to his sons, and his first born became crueller than father. Uday told Latif Yahia, his body double, whenever he seemed weak or squeamish as a child his father would beat him with an iron bar and then force him to watch videos of prisoners being tortured. – 6. Bees biting babies: This is one of the tortures applied: naked children in a room with a bee hive, being stung hundreds of times, and their parents were forced to watch behind glasses! -7. Parents wearing Adam’s garment: men forced to **** their wives in front of their horrified young children! - 8. His father’s great power was worth of praise: First you note the irony. Uday told Latif Yahia, “Just wait until I become president. I’ll be crueller than my father ever was…” - 9. Nahle Sabet: A pretty architectural student. The girl resisted and rejected Uday publically; he threw her naked to his pack of wild dogs which ripped her to pieces while he watched, drinking champagne and laughing! Here is the testimony by Latif Yahia: «It was the look he was sporting on a crisp, dry winter day in 1987 when he drove around the campus of the University of Baghdad looking for action (for women to ****). He caught sight of Nahle Sabet, a pretty architecture student from a respected middle-class Christian family he’d noticed when he occasionally attended classes. He cruised past her slowly now, honking, trying to get her attention. She refused to even look in his direction. Two days later Sabet was a few blocks from her family’s home in a Baghdad suburb when a Mercedes sedan screeched to a halt on the sidewalk in front of her. Two men in dark suits got out and identified themselves as secret police. They told her she was wanted at headquarters for questioning and led her into the car. Headquarters turned out to be a farm Uday owned several miles from Baghdad. The frightened girl was hustled into a drawing room, where Uday sat at an antique desk. “You’re very lucky,” he said. “I’ve chosen you as my new girlfriend.” “You’re insane,” Sabet stammered. “I want to go home!” “Strip her,” Uday ordered his guards. The burly men pounced on her and ripped at her clothes until she was cowering naked on the floor. Uday towered over her, unrolling his favourite wire cable. “First I will beat you. Then, if you’re good, I’ll allow you to please myself and my men.” It took Uday and his men almost three months to break Sabet’s spirit. Then Uday was tired of her. Her face was ruined; her body was a mass of bruises. He had the guards take her out to the kennels where he kept his attack dogs. He’d told the keepers several days before to stop feeding them. Nahle Sabet was then smeared with honey and tossed into the kennels, where all evidence of the crime disappeared.» – 10. Mucius, (Gaius Mucius Scaevola): God of bravery and heroism in Ancient Roma. – 11. Saad Abd al-Razzek Nihaya: An Iraqi army officer decorated for bravery in the Iran-Iraq War but that didn’t help him or his new wife. Uday saw the couple walking together, took the girl to a hotel suite. She pleaded with him not to defile her - she had only been married yesterday. Uday beat her until she was ****** then ***** her. Then they heard a long, piercing scream, then silence. The girl had jumped from the seventh floor. Her husband cursed Uday, and he was soon sentenced to death for ‘insulting the president.’ – 12. Ilham Ali al-Azani: Uday always slept with the winner of the Miss Iraq contest. But when attractive student Ilham Ali Al-azami won she turned him down. Uday abducted Miss Iraq to his palace. He ***** her over and over again and then as ‘punishment for her defiance’ allowed all his bodyguards to **** her for an entire week. Then Uday circulated a rumour that the girl was a **** and let her go. The girl’s father, a devote Muslim, was so ashamed that he killed his own daughter. When the aging father appeared at Uday’s palace Uday had the old man shot.- 13. Abu sarhan: Uday seemed proud of his reputation and called himself abu sarhan, Arabic for "wolf".

Excerpt of Gallows Bird in Heaven, http://www.amazon.fr/Gallows-Bird-in-Heaven-ebook/dp/B005JKMW66

Source of the note: www.meritummedia.com, visited 2013/05/19
Excerpt of Gallows Bird in Heaven, http://www.amazon.fr/Gallows-Bird-in-Heaven-ebook/dp/B005JKMW66
2 condemned males serving life sentences in top-security prison inmates separated by wall and steel cell bars

INMATE 1 (burps loud coarse voice) i have this fantasy of being a hunted outlaw taking my 3 guns and ******* Ford truck driving north south east west robbing convenience stores bars banks people sharp-shooting car thieving running until my time is up like the old west firing pistols wearing a Stetson hat drunk smart-*** talking hanging with ***** bar girls forget about eating just burning a trail (holds metal reflective scrap in hand attempting to catch glimpses of inmate 2)

INMATE 2 (sits cross-legged on floor with palms up resting on knees) too many people are hurting and getting killed right now i imagine if there is a god i’ll bet he or she or it feels weary disappointed disgusted by human kind’s destructive nature

INMATE 1 so what

INMATE 2 i don’t know about you but i miss women their point of view play friendship tenderness nurturing intimacy physical beauty i long for love belonging a woman’s touch her attendance passion the hinge of her thighs licking ******* ****** crave its warm wetness taste smell texture even tongue dipping into **** in a way i’m a total gynephiliac or philogynist

INMATE 1 filojinist huh what are you a professor you ***** son-of-a ***** where did you learn to talk like that tell me professor ever **** on a perfect *****

INMATE 2 most women have some desirability i’ve known many but yeah there was one in particular i remember she was a beaut bulging pelvic bone cute floppy lips eager **** tangy gamey sweet salty flavor just the right amount of furriness lust response flow she’d reach for my ******* and i’d just keep working her getting her hotter taste her ***** taste her *** i was addicted to that woman’s ****** even though she treated me like trash perhaps it was simply an oral fixation or some subliminal need i don’t know our relationship lasted way longer then it should have guess i was kind of drunk on her downstairs

INMATE 1 i never was much of a cooch muncher (flexes arm muscles opens tightens fist) women are cows they give off too many odors plus they always want mommy control no matter how much or what you give them they always want more

INMATE 2 you don’t get it do you the connection between the moon oceans great mother earth fragrance of dirt aroma of rain female beauty you’re a misogynist gynophobe possibly misanthrope

INMATE 1 you use too many big words ******* i hear some women is like how you described yourself some women gets drunk on johnson and nuts

INMATE 2 what are you talking about

INMATE 1 i want to get hooked up with a ***** like that a ***** who’ll lick and **** my johnson and nuts all day long (hand goes to crotch squeezes)

INMATE 2 yes me too maybe we ought to ask ourselves why escapism into ****** fantasy and release is so profoundly vital to our existences

INMATE 1 what

INMATE 2 life sentence means no motive for rehabilitation no hope for redemption how much money does it cost to maintain each prisoner who pays the bills why keep us alive does society honestly believe we pace our confines haunted in regret yearning for inner salvation

INMATE 1 you think they should **** us

INMATE 2 i question the entire punitive system did you ever read Michel Foucault’s Punishment and Discipline the beginning will make you squirm or Franz  Kafka’s In The Penal Colony that horrific carving apparatus

INMATE 1 uuhhh what the **** are you talking about

INMATE 2 i don’t know i don’t understand why i’m locked up in here

INMATE 1 (runs fingers through hair) what crimes did they convict you of

INMATE 2 i tried killing myself so many times they put me on death row i should be free to roam or at worst case scenario sedated in an insane asylum instead they accused me of being a danger to myself and society they said i could injure other people while attempting to destroy myself i drove off a 6-story garage ledge onto a public street below

INMATE 1 is that why you’re in here you silly *** ***** driving off a 6-story garage ledge onto a public street below ain’t no crime hell just reckless driving

INMATE 2 the courts are ******* up judges think they’re celebrities silver-tongued thieving lawyers twist the truth the whole system is corrupted by bribes cover-ups secret deals concealed schemes personal gain collusion fear

INMATE 1 as for me i tortured ***** killed lots of people men women children you want to hear some tantalizing details like the time i ***** killed a mother and her 2 young daughters cut out their warm hearts and ate

INMATE 2 (interrupts) stop you sick animal please stop

INMATE 1 yeah you got a problem with that

INMATE 2 i couldn’t live with myself doing what you did i get skittish at the sight of blood

INMATE 1 you pathetic lightweight i want to stick my johnson up your tight hairy *** so bad (sniffs finger) i want to hear you squeal like a little girl

INMATE 2 sorry to disappoint you but i’ve got hemorrhoids

INMATE 1 French ticklers hell they just make ******* a more interesting sensation

INMATE 2 this is the rudest most repulsive conversation

INMATE 1 what you think you’re better than me just because you’re educated (finger picks nose flicks ****** at wall speckled with many ****** flicks)

INMATE 2 i didn’t say that perhaps morally more reserved why did you torture **** **** people

INMATE 1 it was fun made me feel powerful having control over another person’s existence hey i didn’t ask to be born blame it on my mom people are so ******* up life is a joke i was just trying to help rid the world of all its vermin

INMATE 2 there was a time when i would have considered you psychopathic but in this chaotic shifting flipped out world where reality mirrors fiction and when civilization is insanely vicious fraught with violence guns firing fires exploding extremism prevails criminals scoundrels lunatics govern gang lords rule the streets your murderous vices may serve as grounds for exoneration provided you conduct yourself intelligently you may qualify yourself as an ordinary survivor or possibly even reputable citizen

INMATE 1 what? you’re reasoning i’m normal maybe innocent you’re my main man tell me why you want to destroy yourself so bad

INMATE 2 i think human kind is a curse we annihilate everything and don’t seem to learn change instead we get worse our busy selfishness is a betrayal against earth all the creatures a betrayal against god as a kid the betrayal i felt i knew i could not reveal because it would be a deeper betrayal the neglect and punishment i endured i knew i could not make known because it would only add to the betrayal the rage i felt listening to lies i knew i could not challenge a million lies i did not know how to confront the frustration i now suffer pains me as long as i can remember in my mind i’ve always felt like a prisoner alone in a room no one is coming this twisted despair inside the body of person with suicidal tendencies found guilty sentenced to life incarceration in maximum-security prison doesn’t that sound like a double conviction

INMATE 1 wow interesting ok professor you’re putting me to sleep chat with you later

INMATE 2 you really ought to learn yoga

INMATE 1 voga? what’s that for

INMATE 2 an inner journey a light when other lights go out a way to stay grounded when gravity fails

INMATE 1 sounds like just another jail cell
Terry O'Leary Nov 2013
Ah Consuela! Invoking vast vistas for visions of green Spanish eyes,
I discern them again where she left me back then,
                 as we kissed when she parted, my friend.
Through those ruins I tread towards the footlights, now dead,
                 where I’ll muse as her shadows ascend.

                  .
                          .
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she teases the mirror with green Spanish eyes;
her serape entangles her brooches and bangles
                 like lace on the sorcerer’s looms,
and her cape of the night, she drapes tight to excite,
                 and her fan is embellished with plumes.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching as spectators savour her green Spanish eyes;
taming wild concertinas, the dark ballerina
                 performs on the music hall stage,
but she shies from the sound of ovation unbound
                 like a timorous bird in a cage.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she quickens the pit with her green Spanish eyes;
as the cymbals shake, clashing, the floodlights wake, flashing,
                 igniting the wild fireflies,
and the piccolo piper’s inviting the vipers
                 to coil neath the cold caldron skies.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching the shimmering shadows in green Spanish eyes
as I rise from my chair and proceed to the stair
                 with a hesitant sip of my wine.
Though she doesn’t deny me, she wanders right by me
                 with neither a look nor a sign.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she looks to the stage with her green Spanish eyes,
(for her senses scoff, scorning the biblical warning
                 of kisses of Judas that sting,
with her pierced ears defeating the echoes repeating)
                 and smiles at the magpie that sings.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching faint embers a’ stir in her green Spanish eyes,
for a soft spoken stranger enveloping danger
                 has captured the rhyme in the room
as he slips into sight through a crack in the night
                 midst the breath of her heavy perfume.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she gauges his guise through her green Spanish eyes
– from his gypsy-like mane, to his diamond stud cane,
                 to the raven engraved on his vest –
for a faraway form, a tempestuous storm,
                 lurks and heaves neath the cleav’e of her *******.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching the caravels cruising her green Spanish eyes;
with the castanets clacking like ancient masts cracking
                 he whips ’round his cloak with a ****
and without sacrificing, at mien so enticing,
                 she floats with her face facing his.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching the vertigo veiling her green Spanish eyes,
while the drumbeat pounds, droning, the rhythm sounds, moaning,
                 of jungles Jamaican entwined
in the valleys concealing the vineyards revealing
                 the vaults in the caves of her mind.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching life’s carnivals call to her green Spanish eyes,
and with paused palpitations the tom-tom temptations
                 come taunting her tremulous feet
with her toe tips a’ tingle while jute boxes jingle
                 for jesters that jive on the street.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she rides ocean tides in her green Spanish eyes,
and her silhouette’s travelling on ripples unravelling
                 and shaking the shipwracking shores,
as she strides from the light to the black cauldron night
                 through the candlelit cabaret doors.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she dances till dawn flashing green Spanish eyes,
with her movements adorning a trickle of morning
                 as sipped by the mouth of the moon,
while her tresses twirl, shaming the filaments flaming
                 that flow from the sun’s oval spoon.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she masks for a moment her green Spanish eyes.
Then the magpie that sings ceases preening her wings
                 and descends as a lean bird of prey –
as she flutters her ’lashes and laughs in broad splashes,
                 his narrowing eyes start to stray.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching fey carousels spin in her green Spanish eyes,
and the porcelain ponies and leprechaun cronies
                 race, reaching for gold and such things,
even being reminded that only the blinded
                 are fooled by the brass in the rings.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she shepherds the shadows with green Spanish eyes,
but as evening sinks, ebbing, the skyline climbs, webbing,
                 and weaves through the temples of stone,
while the nightingales sing of a kiss on the wing
                 in the depths of the dunes all alone.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching the music and magic in green Spanish eyes,
as she dances enchanted, while firmly implanted
                 in tugs of his turbulent arms,
till he cuts through the strings, tames the magpie that sings,
                 and seduces once more with his charms.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, the citadel steams in her green Spanish eyes,
but behind the dark curtain the savants seem certain
                 that nothing and no one exists,
and though vapours look vacant, the vagabond vagrants
                 remain within mythical mists.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching as lightning at midnight in green Spanish eyes
kindles cracks within crystals like flashes from pistols
                 residing inside of the gloom
as it hovers above us betraying a dove as
                 she flees from the fountain of doom.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, distilling despair in her green Spanish eyes,
and the bitterness stings like the snap of the strings
                 when a mystical  mandolin sighs
as the vampire shades **** the life from charades
                 neath the resinous residue skies.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she looks to the ledge with her green Spanish eyes,
for the terrace hangs high and she’s thinking to fly
                 and abandon fate’s merry-go-round.
At the edge I perceive her and rush to retrieve her –
                 she stumbles, falls far to the ground.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching the sparkles a’ spilling from green Spanish eyes.
As I peer from the railing, with evening exhaling,
                 I cry out a lover’s lament –
there she lies midst the crowd with her spirit unbowed,
                 but her body’s all broken and bent.

Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she beckons me hither with green Spanish eyes,
and I’m slightly amazed being snared in her gaze
                 and a’ swirl in a hurricane way,
but the seconds are slipping, my courage is dripping,
                 the moment is bleeding away.

Ah Consuela! I touch her - she weeps tender tears from her green Spanish eyes;
as the breezes cease blowing, her essence leaves, flowing,
                 in streams neath the ambient light,
and the droplets drip swarming, so silent, yet warming,
                 like rain in a midsummer night.

Ah Consuela! I hold her, am hushed by the hints in her green Spanish eyes,
while her whispers are breathing the breaths of the seething
                 electrical skeletal winds,
and the words paint the poems that rivers a’ slowin’
                 reveal where the waterfall ends.

Ah Consuela! I’m fading in fires a’ flicker in green Spanish eyes,
as she plays back the past, she abandons and casts
                 away matters that no longer mend.
           .
                  .
And she reached out instead, as she lifted her head,
                 and we kissed as she parted, my friend.
           .
                  .
                          .
Ah Consuela! I’m tangled, entombed, trapped in tales of your green Spanish eyes,
in forsaken cantinas beyond the arenas
                 where night-time illusions once flowed,
for the ash neath my shoulder still throbs as it smoulders
                 some place near the end of the road.
nick armbrister Jul 2021
Alpha Pistols
It’s a nice warm summer’s evening in 2004
The cool man was on top of the Manchester tower block
He fires down with various guns at his lower targets
There is a builders yard two hundred metres away
The fork lift trucks zip about and disturb his sleep
When they reverse their beeper goes Beep Beep!
This riles the man and makes him madly dance
Round his one bedroom flat on the 22nd floor

He grabs all of his guns in a heavy holdall and rushes up
To the very top of the building where he can pop them
While wearing only his bleached white Y-fronts
He sits down by the edge and gets ready for war
From up here he can hear the fork lifts beeping
He grimaces and shakes his head then opens his bag
And removes a small tape player then presses play
The 12 inch version of So Alive by Love and Rockets

His chrome and ivory Colt 45 follows with three clips
Clicking off the safety he aims at the reversing trucks
Their blinking orange light and street lights illuminate
Y-front man aims and fires at the small trucks
His gun is loud and follows thru the muggy night air
Bullets spark off concrete blocks and one hits home
Going thru the windscreen and shocking the operator
Quickly reloading he fires again till the mags are empty

There are 30 different fork trucks in the yard and area
He killed one driver and wounded another in the leg
They are all instructed to to their job while able and alive
Next he gets a 45 calibre Grease Gun with long barrel
He opens the shoulder support and readies his toy
He stands up and sprays the yard from the hip
His grin sez it all as his sub gun blazes away
Two fork lifts collide and drop their pallets of bricks
Reloading he fires at the upended yellow trucks

Their gas bottles explode and cremate the drivers
His song is on a loop and goes on forever
With raised arms and eye to the sky he dances
Round and round he spins to the goth song
Next he grabs his Al Capone 45 Tommy Gun
It has a round mag full of bullets good to go
Standing and firing from the shoulder he goes
The recoil pushes him away from the roof edge

He leans into it and the muzzle flash is serene
The slugs impact all over the yard and 6 trucks
Snapping chains piercing tyres hitting drivers
Two are killed one hurt three are terrified
They still operate their vehicles as ordered
Second mag time and more damage below
A gas bottle blows in an orange blast of debris
While this occurs beepers still beep and lights flash
It’s a huge yard and there are many targets still

Slowly but surely he eliminates them like a surgeon
His next gun is a BAR Browning Automatic Rifle
This he shoots on single shot bipod lying down
It’s a powerful 7.62mm gun and simply superb
Each shot hits home and kills 4 operators dead
Explodes rear 3 mounted gas bottles and more
But the BAR does full auto too and he we go!
*** ****** full ******* auto 30 shot mag wham

Soon empty rounds down range more hits
The fire has been devastating attrition mounts
There are far less fork lifts now in use there
Burning trucks and dead or dying operators cry
In his head he’s the rock n roll man on a roll
I’ve got more guns to fire and now it’s my cod piece
Browning 7.62mm machine gun with bipod
I quickly pull the parts from my bag to assemble
Then a belt of 250 rounds with 1 in 5 red tracer

Happy it’s ready I click off the safety and fire
I’m sat down and hose fire downwards
I slowly move the gun left to right left to right
Impacts spark and in the night air tracer guided
My 250 bullets lasts fifteen seconds and is it
Nothing intact remains below working wise
I took out 30 fork lift trucks and operators
Many are dead some injured others hiding
Lastly I use my M1 Garand rifle with blank ammo

I fire eight rifle grenades at the builders’ yard
I pop a grenade on the end angle up and fire
The blank shell launches the grenade up and down
It takes seconds to fall and hit and Bang Boom Blam!
I fire 8 at random spots of the huge yard
There are no more reverse beepers sounding
All fork lift truck use ceases forever due to me
Now I can peacefully sleep in my room at night
Do not destroy my slumber!
MAJOR INSOMNIA
CORPORAL SLEEP
Nick Armbrister and other writers
Look around you
the world is blind just like justice
no love for my peeps
Laws always on a creep
lookin' for a reason to stop my breed breathin'
No rhymes or reasons every seasons
my folks gettin' praised and guns raised
in there faces Wither be on residential or on TV
media crucify us severely barely
we can get a break scared of a black man
with power so they gotta pull straps
Cuz they know we'll devour
with our hands I been strugglin'
Since my home is IN Jerusalem
and not America I'm tellin' ya
soon retaliation will be givin'
For all the wickedness they did
from.the beginnin' still.sinnin'
Cuz I can't find righteous so I can't adjust
my mind so I pack a shined nine
don't give a **** I'm pushin' luck duck
Bush and his ***** *** mama
just like Obama to Clinton brain cells
pinchin' all I can envisions is a bunch of closed casket why was I made a *******? ?
No fear as I walk through the valley death
take in inhale a deep breath
on the lookout got shot already so I know the feel this is real can't deny my.steel
my ambition is to ****
crumble & eviscerate the White House
to gristle blowin' whistle my comrades
know it's official none of the judicial
can't stop the power the reign im.insane
from my Brain on Cypress Hill smokin' mill
Revengin' still for Emit Till
no peace til all them ******* is deceased
still shootin' my missiles
@politics enticin' minds to get ammunitionand get em to start poppin' pistols
JM Romig Apr 2010
Society detests innocence
Often shaking hands with ignorance
Exchanging phone numbers with bliss.
We hate it cause we’re jealous.

So we send loaded words their way.
Our mouths, like pistols
shooting bullets full of hate.
Someday we shall see the error of our ways.
Until then,

******.
We call him.
He who has yet to be used,
Or more so, use another for pleasure
******, and then leave a woman and a ******
on a Hotel’s bathroom floor,
alone and broken.

Square.
We say
To she who has never felt the itch.
Needed so badly to scratch it
and get her fix
that she steal from her two month old daughters college fund
so she can fly away and forget….

Try as we may, we never forget
How it feels to fall from the sky.
So, we know how to make a mockingbird cry.
We know how to make a mockingbird cry.
And we know how it feels
to **** one
Copyright © 2010 J.M. Romig. All rights reserved.- From Destination: Detour - The Mini Chapbook
John F McCullagh Jan 2012
What happened on Weehawken Heights,
that warm midsummer’s day?
There are several versions of the “truth”
but none for sure can say.

The Principals were both well known:
Hamilton and Burr.
Aaron Burr had made the challenge,
Hamilton would not demur.

Hamilton choose pistols as the weapons
Then Burr proposed the site.
Per the Irish Code Duello
It was all proper and right.

Dueling was illegal,
so the Seconds looked away
so they could plausibly deny
that they had seen the fray.

Each man walked off ten paces,
and Mister Pendleton yelled “Pre-sent”!
Most think that Hamilton fired first;
wide and right, his shot was spent.

Aaron Burr was deadly accurate:
His shot, its target found:
Alexander Hamilton, wounded,
swooned upon the ground.


“this wound is mortal, Doctor.”
was all Hamilton could say.
They bore him to the City where
he passed on the following day.


Aaron Burr also fled the scene,
evading prosecution.
He had “Full Satisfaction”,
this hero of the Revolution.

What is full satisfaction
when Burr’s Star was past its season?
He never more held public trust,
indeed, stood trial for treason.

A person can be haunted
by a ghost that none can see.
Burr’s brilliance had been blighted
by a sort of infamy.

Towards the end of his own life
Burr said of his enemy:
“{Had I known}The world was wide
enough for Hamilton and me.”




On July 11, 1804, Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr fought the most famous duel in American history. These two heroes of the Revolution were political enemies and Hamilton had done much to exclude Burr from the Presidency and from the  New York  governorship.  Burr,feeling he had been defamed by Hamilton's published remarks demanded the "Full Satisfaction" of a duel.  My account generally follows the account of the historian, Joesph Ellis. Any errors are my fault. Any items in quotes are words ascribed to these two famous individuals.  Aaron Burr never after held public office and eventually stood trial for treason for his alleged attempt to set up an independent country in the territory Jefferson purchased from France. After several years living in France, Burr returned to New york where he faded into obscurity. Alexander Hamilton is buried in the churchyard of Trinity Church in downtown New york.


Towards the end of his life, Burr remarked: "Had I read Sterne more and Voltaire less, I should have known the world was wide enough for Hamilton and me."[35]
zebra Dec 2018
my eyes
tongues of desire
a soft gauze
upon drenched red silk

stigmata
a river of marrow

flower of blood
creel of moist honey
hold not yourself apart
I kiss your wound
bell moon
crescent ravine, dark tears
like a spay of stars

arched spine
your raised ****
like scrambled eggs
curves to the heavens
a steep canyon aching
weeps blue darkness
legs wide in souls shadowed grove
tattooed pistols and knives
pierced by my autograph
for every letter, scimitars plunge  

jeweled ******* ringed
sweet tarnished petal
gashed mouth; flower de luce
memories that burn
blotted like an eye in ink
to fly winged *******

your face
hieroglyphic of weird
crimson smear; cackle
with feet below hell

wanting to live
like fire in the sky
hot witch riding a broom handle *****
scummed mouth

the world soul destroyed paradise
and your form
hideous kisses
falling red ribbons
i am puddled;
a runny yolk
shameless for your open hollows
the abstraction of desire in the realm of the senses
He was driving down ******* Boulevard He had killers in the car
He drove with a blank stare as the killers put their clips in their pistols
His soul was the color red stained with blood from all the murders he had ordered and committed
The car came to a stop He pointed at a white house

Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Drugs, *******, Boulevard
Vladimir Lionter May 2020
I
Colonel Zaev(1), our commander,
Lived seventeen years in Angolian land.
There are no Luanda’s(2) experts better
Than him- he met its ambassadors two hundred
Times. He smashed UNITA(3) and weakened SAR’s (4)
Power. He supported Fidel Castro(5)
And he became famous for counter-attacks.
The Angolians call him Victor-Pastor:
He does always set the young on the right path:
Aoi!

II
Roberto Holden6 was the foe of Neto
He was a monarcho-tribolist.
And he happened to declare vendetta
To foes. His aim’s to banish socialists.
He invited China’s instructors to teach his
Soldiers the skill of fighting retreating under
Kifangondo(7), he’d not swiftly yield positions
Colonel Callan(8) retreated farther
With him. He was a cruel and fearless
Rascal, he was good at arranging ambush in
Woods. He fought hand-to-hand many times
But he was taken prisoner by the Guard
He declared political indifference but the court
To his grief didn’t believe him so that
Then he was quickly and publicly shot.
Aoi!

III
Savimbi Jonas(9) continued that war
Robin Holden quitted his Motherland –
It’s hard to revise views. What’s to be done for
Tearing a half away for his Fatherland?
He went to America, got a Baptist,
As preacher – he was the lost’s lecturer.
He didn’t wish just to be a pessimist
He wanted to live till times more fair.
Savimbi Jonas founded UNITA –
He made up his mind to go underground
MPLA’s detachments were defeated
By the Cubans but they were free quite
For diversions in the city. A new spiral
Of resistance began – two ideologies’
Confrontation took place and in final
It did cost life to many people for this.
Aoi!

IV
Our Victor Zaev, the commander
Of marines often trained us tirelessly
And all of us were not up to laughter
In gas-masks. We loaded incessantly
Our guns, we crossed the equator, anyway
In a moment Poseidon glorifying
By recompense. We stuck to the right fairway,
Neptun’s Day(10) became a great undertaking.
Aoi!

V
Coming to Luanda was usual rather,
The port’s scenery was bright, beautiful.
“Well, beauty!” exclaimed Igor, a warrant officer,
Zaev added: “It’s, brothers, very wonderful!”
Our councilor climbed up a deck as
Head of the Soviet military legation
He tried to explain the situation to us
Continuous seemed to be his Head’s duration.
Then the Cubans’ crew met us, their commander,
Did happen to know Russian at his fingers’
End. He valued the bearing of our landing
Force. And he was called Francisco Ortis.
Aoi!

VI
Here Agostino Neto came with
His suite consisting of twelve grandees
The President was cordial and gay. This
Day was marvellously fine, in his
Speech he praised the ******’s guard arranged
To meet him. He’d not fail to give his regiment
For it. “What an array!” admired said
Antonio. And at this moment
Tanks floated forward out of the hold
To display Agostino manoeures
Antonio began to sweat: old
Allies can always surprise friends, of course.
The Angolians were invited to dinner
And contented officials were standing
But “No!” was Neto’s serious answer,
“We should return for the fight’s resuming!”
Aoi!

VII
We reached Kanton on cruisers. A warrant
Officer cried: “Sound urgently bells”
The Angolians didn’t let us on to the port,
We anchored no outer roads. What was else?
Mattheu Kureku visited us then.
The President of far mountains of Benin,
And we’d appreciate his being of those men
Who were as modest as Ibn- Sina.
We displayed him gifts and even more
Than we wanted: hand- to- hand fight,
The landing force’s landing to the shore.
Mattheu said us his warm good- bye after that.
Aoi!

VIII
Soon we headed for Luanda, how
Long an action had been fought in its suburbs
And suddenly we saw a fishing scow
Six fisher- men were rowing in the ocean’s
Water catching the sight of us they began
To row faster knots increasing as
If punishment waited them but the race did happen
To be transitory. But cruisors’ powers
Are not boats’ powers equal and at last
We caught them, their fish fell to our lot.
The fish’ reserves were enough for a month.
We said with thankfulness: “Thank you a lot!”
The meeting was pleasant for them and us.
Aoi!

IX
Suddenly came order of the day:
To bring in an identification prisoner. Stas
A secrete service man, volunteered. Anyway,
His own fist was of the bull’s head’s size.
And Grigory, head naval petty officer
Then did volunteer to follow Stas.
“Well, who is else?” were the sailors asked after
It. Silence. It’s better to live on deck. At last,
Watching this the captain himself intervened
In it. His bas was heard even in far hold: “Oh,
You, cowards, I’ll feed you to whales, mind it!”
And phrases were not necessary any more.
Thus six more sailors gathered together – they were
Superheroes as if they were handpicked
The detachment of sound, strong men. Chernomor
Himself would take them so quick-witted.
There are not more safe people in the fleet,
There were not, there won’t be, indeed!
Aoi!

X
Here the scouts came down from the deck and they
All went so deep into a foreign land
A hundred verst’s was their sailing away
From the port. Ships from their Motherland
Were seen. Their commander
was the major lieutenant
And he said: “Motherland is calling us!”
In the fleet he was just called Kostya Brandt –
He did lead the scouts bravely forwards!
Aoi!

XI
The detachment marched into woods being dense,
The jungle were rustling around Luanda. It
Was raining cats and dogs, there was entrance
There, there was no exit for retreat!
They covered their necessary ten versts
More on that day they heard their foes’ voices.
They thought: it’s, perhaps, one of hostile posts.
A good luck attended them! The members
Of UNITA waited for them ahead
Savimba knew of Brandt’s group so dare –
Devil. He was warned by an Angolian friend,
The general had friends everywhere.
Aoi!

XII
Even Kostya Brandt didn’t know it
And he led his vanguard through a marshy path
Sailors were like brothers in the detachment.
Everybody was ready to sacrifice
Himself! And suddenly they saw in front:
Tents standing in forty meters from them and
And something went pit- a pat in Kostya Brandt
And he stretched his hand to a pistol hard.
They stole up to the last one, went into it:
It was empty, there were only playing- cards
There: and perhaps it seemed to them far, indeed?
On the ground there were three machine-guns.
Aoi!

XIII
Meanwhile Savimbi Jonas gathered troops
And he made such a speech when warriors gathered
Together: “We’ll die for freedom as heroes
We do not want another Motherland!
We will repulse all the Cuban occupants
We’ve recently sacked all the colonists!
The Soviet landing force’s scouts
Are going here. Near are the communists!
We’ll organize ambush for them behind the tent –
I’m sure they will go into it a at once.
I was informed that there are less than ten
Of them. We’ll **** the foes at once
We’ ll win because there are much more of us”
And selecting one hundred and forty men,
The strongest ones, Savimbi encircled the scouts.
Aoi!

XIV
“Well, that’s all, forward”, Kostya said strictly
The tent’s bed- curtains having half- opened
By his hand. But suddenly he was slightly
Taken aback- he saw foes get in his road
And he did cry: “We shall die for Russia-
Not disgracing ancestors or the Motherland!”
He stepped forward like a sent messia
He had no right to run away like a coward.
Aoi!

XV
Ours defended each other by backs hard
The battle was hot as it was hand- to- hand.
Two sides’ supporters did not know fright
This region was home for the partisans. And
Brandt fought as an ancient lion Neimeyan –
No pistols’ bullets could reach him at all.
He was a mighty, stately warrior European –
UNITA’s terror and poets’ idol!
The partisans had also a strong warrior –
He was called Manuel by Luanda’s citizens
When hunting he became a hero of yore –
He could hit varios marks without miss.
He took aim at the lieutenant’s back so that
A sharp bullet could pierce his heart. He pressed
The sear. And it did hurt Konstantin and
Shroud overshadowed his consciousness
And a celestial disk burning low, meciless
It’s opening a picture before his eyes:
His own mother’s meeting him and he is
Whispering her: “Mum, I’m going to the skies ”
And fell onto the ground Kostya breathless:
People’s blood was shed as the river around
But ours fought desiring nevertheless
To be gone with foes in the palace. Wounded
Stas’ll hit and three of them’ll fall without
Life’s signs. When he hits on the right–eight
Of them’ll fall at once although there are a few
Epic heroes all of them are heroes dead.
The dead can’t be responsible anew.
Aoi!

XVI
They all were dead. There were
three times more foes
Ours and UNITA collected the dead.
And that very day happened to be worth
A week. Bitter news of blood that was shed
Killed us. Our ship was anchored for five days more
We covered Cuban troops from the sea there.
On the sixth day we sailed from the shore,
Painful grief left an after- taste in their
Mouths. And Victor Zaev, our bold
Colonel, was silent in painful sadness,
He had done the last deed for the dead of old.
He presented them with rewards: “For service”
Putting them on each of coffins. All the ******
Were standing being in their low spirits.
Aoi!

XVII
Thus the song of Luanda came to an end
We paid our duty to military Motherland.
We’d drawn up and the commander said:
“Fine fellows! I wish your life to be quiet!”
Then he sailed not a little, I must say.
He waged war in seven companies. “Glory!”
Cry we to him in Navy Day today.
That is the end of the Luandian story.
Aoi!
The Civil war in Angola represented armed confrontation between
quarelling with each other groups: MPLA (People’s movement for
Angola’s liberation, the Labour’s Party), (port.Movimento Popular de
Liberaçao de Angola- Partido de Trabajo, MPLA), UNITA (port. Uniao
Nacional para a Independencia, Total de Angola, UNITA). The war began
in 1975.
1.Victor Zaev is the main hero of the given poetical work, he is an
invented personage;
2. Luanda (port. Luanda)- Angola’s capital;
3. UNITA – see above;
4. SAR – South African Republic;
5. Fidel Castro – Fidel Alejandro Castro Rus; he was born in August,
13, 1926; Biran, province Oriente , Cuba. He’s a Cuban revolutionary,
party and political figure, Chairman of Ministers’ Council and Chairman
of the State Council of Cuba (president) in 1959- 2008 and 1976- 2008.
6. Roberto Holden- Holden Alvaro Alberto (port. Holden Roberto;
January, 12, 1923, Mbanza- Kongo(its former name is San- Salvadordu- Kongo)- August,2, 2007, Luanda). He was also Jose Gilmore, an Angolian founder and many- year leader of the National Liberation’s Front (FNLA). An active participant of the war for Independence and of the Civil war in Angola. He’s a conservative monarcho-tribolist, anticommunist.
He was a member of the Angolian Parliament.
7. “…under Kirfangongondo…” – this battle was from October, 23
until November,10, 1975 in Angola. It was the first common victory of MPLA and the Cubans.
8. the colonel Kallen… – he is also “colonel Callan, a British service
man, corporal of parachute troops’ regiment’s corporal.” He’s an ethnic
Greek and Cypriot (Greek. Kώozaç Γιώργιoν). He’s a participant of the
Angolian’s Civil war, on FNLA’s side. He was executed according to the
court’s sentence in Luanda, on July,10, 1976.
9. Savimbi Jonas Maiheiro, (August, 3, 1934- February, 22, 2002),
an Angolian political and military figure, a partisan leader, the rebel
movement’s founder and the political Party UNITA’s founder from
March,13, 1966 to February, 22, 2002. He was an active participant of the
Angolian war for independence and of the Civil war. He was candidate
for President in Angolian elections in 1992. He was a prominent figure
of Cold War and world anti- communist movement.
10 Neptun’s Day-Nepptun’s holiday, sometimes it’s called “Neptun’s
Day”. It’s a water show. Sailors founded this tradition after their crossing
of the equator.

{2018}


ПЕСНЬ
I
Наш командир – полковник Виктор Заев(1)
Семнадцать лет прожил в стране Ангольской.
Страну Луанду(2) он отлично знает –
Встречал раз двести местное посольство.
Разбил УНИТА(3) и ЮАР(4) ослабил,
Поддержку оказал Фиделю Кастро(5)
В контратаках. И себя прославил.
Зовут его ангольцы Виктор-Пастор:
Он молодых советом наставляет.
Аой!

II
Роберто Холден(6) был врагом для Нето –
По убеждению – монархо-трайболистом.
И объявил противникам вендетту,
Поставив цель – изгнать социалистов.
Он пригласил инструкторов Китая
Учить своих солдат уменью драться.
Под Кифангондо(7) в битве отступая,
Он не хотел стремительно сдаваться.
С ним отступал назад полковник Каллэн(8) –
Головорез жестокий, но бесстрашный.
Засады ставил он в лесах умело,
Не раз бывал и лично в рукопашной.
Но был пленён он гвардией. И вскоре
Всем заявил свою аполитичность.
Но не поверил суд ему на горе –
Он был расстрелян быстро и публично.
Аой!

III
Савимби Жонаш(9) ту войну продолжил,
Роберто Холден родину покинул –
Переосмыслить взгляды очень сложно:
Как оторвать Отчизне половину?
В Америку уехал, стал баптистом,
Как проповедник – лектором заблудших.
Он не желал быть просто пессимистом
И до времён хотел дожить до лучших.
Савимби Жонаш основал УНИТА –
Борьбу свою он перевёл в подполье:
Отряды МПЛА кубинцами разбиты,
Но для диверсий в городах – раздолье.
Второй виток пошёл сопротивленья –
Противоборства двух идеологий.
И жизнями платило населенье –
Война тогда коснулась очень многих.
Аой!

IV
Наш Виктор Заев – командир морпехов -
Тренировал нас часто, неустанно:
В противогазах было не до смеха -
Мы заряжали пушки беспрестанно.
Пересекли в один момент экватор,
Прославив Посейдона воздаяньем,
Наш путь лежал на правильный фарватер.
Нептуна день (10) – большое начинанье!
Аой!

V
Приход в Луанду очень был обычным,
Пейзаж портовый – яркий и прекрасный.
«Ну, лепота!» - воскрикнул Игорь-мичман.
Добавил Заев: «Это, братья, классно!»
На палубу советник наш поднялся –
Глава советской миссии военной.
Он обстановку дать нам постарался,
Поскольку был там, кажется, бессменно.
Затем кубинцев встретила команда –
Их командир знал русский в идеале.
Он оценил всю выправку десанта –
Франсиско Ортис команданте звали.
Аой!

VI
Вот Агостиньо Нето подошёл
Со свитою двенадцати вельмож.
Был Президент приветлив и весёл,
И день был удивительно хорош!
Он похвалил матросский караул,
Поставленный наверх его встречать.
«За них бы полк отдать не преминул, –
Антонио сказал, – вот это рать!»
Из трюма танки выплыли вперёд –
Маневры Агостиньо показать.
Антонио пробил холодный пот:
Союзники умеют удивлять!
Ангольцев пригласили на обед –
Чиновники довольные стоят.
Но Нето отвечал серьёзно: «– Нет,
Нам возвращаться надобно назад!»
Аой!

VII
На крейсерах в Катону мы приплыли
И крикнул мичман: «Склянки срочно бейте!»
Но в порт ангольцы нас не пропустили –
На якорь встали мы на внешнем рейде.
Затем нас посетил Матье Куреку –
Сам Президент из дальних гор Бенина –
Заметим в дань ему как человеку –
Он скромен был как мудрый Ибн Сина.
Ему мы показали все таланты –
И даже больше, чем хотели сами:
Бой рукопашный, высадку десанта.
Матье тогда тепло прощался с нами.
Аой!

VIII
И взяли курс мы снова на Луанду –
Велись бои давно в её предместьях.
Вдруг видим мы рыбацкие шаланды –
По океану плыло ровно шесть их.
Завидев нас, они быстрей поплыли,
Узлов прибавив, будто ждёт их кара!
Не долгими, однако, гонки были.
Любая лодка крейсеру не пара!
Догнали их. И нам досталась рыба –
Запасов тех на месяцы хватило.
Сказали мы признательно: «Спасибо!»
И после встречи всем приятно было!
Аой!

IX
Нежданно вдруг пришёл такой приказ:
Любой ценой доставить языка.
Тут вызвался морской разведчик Стас –
Его кулак был с голову быка.
И главный корабельный старшина
Григорий захотел идти за ним.
– «Ну, кто ещё?» – спросили. Тишина.
Уж лучше быть на палубе живым.
Тогда вмешался лично капитан –
Был даже в дальнем трюме слышен бас:
– «Ну, трусы! Всех скормлю сейчас китам!»
И больше не понадобилось фраз.
Так набралось ещё шесть моряков –
Супергерои – все как на подбор –
Отряд здоровых, крепких мужиков.
Их взял бы даже Дядька-Черномор!
Надёжнее людей на флоте нет
И не было, не будет и вовек!
Ушло в разведку восемь человек.
Аой!

X
Вот с палубы разведчики сошли
И углубились в даль чужой земли.
На сотню вёрст от порта отошли –
Уж не видать родные корабли.
Руководил всем старший лейтенант.
И молвил он: «Нас Родина зовёт!»
Его на флоте звали Костя Брандт –
Он храбро вёл разведчиков вперёд!
Аой!

XI
Отряд вступил в дремучие леса –
Вокруг Луанды джунгли шелестят.
Льют воду каждый день тут небеса –
Зашёл туда и нет пути назад!
Прошли они ещё десяток вёрст,
Услышали чужие голоса.
Подумали: возможно, вражий пост –
Счастливая настала полоса!
Унитовцы их ждали впереди.
О группе Брандта сам Савимби знал –
Его ангольский друг предупредил:
Имел везде знакомых генерал.
Аой!

XII
Сего не ведал даже Костя Брандт
И вёл отряд болотистой тропой.
Любой матрос в отряде был как брат.
Готовы все пожертвовать собой!
И вдруг увидел каждый впереди:
Стоят палатки метрах в сорока.
У Кости что-то ёкает в груди
И к пистолету тянется рука.
Подкрались к крайней и в неё зашли:
В палатке пусто, карты на столе –
А может, померещилось вдали?
Три автомата было на земле.
Аой!

XIII
Меж тем собрал Савимби Жонаш войско
И речь сказал собравшимся такую:
– «Мы за свободу все умрём геройски,
Ведь не желаем родину другую!
Дадим отпор кубинским оккупантам –
Прогнали ведь недавно колонистов!
Разведчики советского десанта
Идут сюда. Уж близко коммунисты!
Устроим им засаду за палаткой –
Они войдут в неё, уверен, сразу.
Мне донесли: их менее десятка.
Возьмём числом: врагов положим разом!»
И отобрав сто сорок самых сильных,
Пошёл Савимби окружать разведку.
Аой!

XIV
«– Ну, всё, выходим!» – Костя молвил строго,
Палатки полог приоткрыв рукою.
Но только вдруг... опешил он немного,
Когда врагов увидел пред собою.
И закричал: «Умрём же за Россию –
Не посрамим и предков, и державу!»
Шагнул вперёд, как посланный миссия –
Он не имел бежать позорно право.
Аой!

XV
Стояли наши все спиной друг к другу,
Был жаркий бой, поскольку рукопашный.
Из двух сторон никто не знал испуга –
Для партизан был этот край домашним.
И бился Брандт как древний лев немейский –
Его не брали пули пистолетов!
Могуч и статен воин европейский –
Гроза УНИТА и кумир поэтов!
У партизан был тоже сильный воин –
Его луандцы звали Мануэлем.
Он на охоте сделался героем –
Без промаха стрелял по разным целям.
Прицелился он лейтенанту в спину,
Чтоб сердце пуля острая пробила.
Нажал на спуск. И больно Константину,
И пелена сознание затмила.
И тут картину взору открывает
Небесный диск, на небе догорая:
Родная мать с войны его встречает,
А он ей шепчет: «Мама, умираю…»
Упал на землю Костя бездыханно:
Людская кровь лилась вокруг рекою.
Но бились наши – было им желанно
Нести в чертог жизнь вражью за собою.
Изранен Стас: ударит – лягут трое,
Направо стукнет – лягут сразу восемь.
Богатырей хоть мало, все – герои
Погибшие. А с мёртвых долг не спросят.
Аой!

XVI
Все полегли. Врагов – в три раза больше.
Забрали павших наши и УНИТА.
И день тот был иной недели дольше.
Мы были горькой новостью убиты.
Ещё пять дней на якоре стояли –
Мы части Кубы прикрывали с моря.
На день шестой под вечер отплывали –
Осадок был от тягостного горя.
И Виктор Заев, наш полковник смелый,
Молчал угрюмо в тягостной печали.
Последнее для павших сделал дело –
Он «За отвагу» им вручил медали.
На каждый гроб он положил награду –
Все моряки в унынии стояли.
Аой!

XVII
Так завершилась песня о Луанде.
Отдали долг мы воинский Отчизне.
Наш командир сказал тогда команде:
– «Вы молодцы! Желаю мирной жизни!»
Он по морям потом немало плавал.
И воевал ещё в семи кампаньях.
В день ВМФ кричим ему мы: «Слава!» –
На том конец Луандского сказанья!
Аой!
{31.12.2015}

Гражданская война в Анголе представляла собой вооружён-
ное противостояние между враждующими группировками: МПЛА (Народное движение за освобождение Анголы – Партия труда (порт. Movimento Popular de Libertação de Angola — Partido doTrabalho, MPLA), ФНЛА (порт. Frente Nacional de Libertação de Angola,
FNLA) и УНИТА (порт. União Nacional para a Independência
Total de Angola, UNITA). Война началась в 1975 году, а завершилась
в 2002 году.
1. Виктор Заев – главный герой данного поэтического произве-
дения, вымышленный персонаж;
2. Луанда (порт. Luanda) – столица Анголы;
3. УНИТА – см. выше;
4. ЮАР – Южно-Африканская республика
5. Фидель Кастро – Фиде́ль Алеха́ндро Ка́стро Рус (исп. Fidel
Alejandro Castro Ruz; род. 13 августа1926; Биран, провинция Орьенте, Куба) – кубинский революционер, государственный, политический и партийный деятель, который являлся Председателем Совета министров и Председателем Государственного совета Кубы (президентом) в 1959 – 2008 и 1976 – 2008 годах.
6. Роберто Холден – Холден Альваро Робер-
то (порт. Holden Roberto; 12 января 1923, Мбанза-Кон-
го (тогдашнее название – Сан-Сальвадор-ду-Конго) –
2 августа 2007, Луанда), он же Жозе Жилмор (порт.José Gilmore)
– ангольский политик, основатель и многолетний лидер Национального фронта освобождения Анголы (ФНЛА). Активный участник войны за независимость и гражданской войны в Анголе. Консерватор, монархо-трайбалист, антикоммунист. В 1992 – 2007 годах– депутат парламента Анголы.
7. «…под Кифангондо в битве…» – это битва при Кифангондо,
которая произошла с 23 октября по 10 ноября 1975 г. в Анголе и стала первой совместной победой МПЛА и кубинцев.

8. «…полковник Каллэн» – настоящее имя Костас Ге-
оргиу (греч. Κώστας Γιώργιου, англ. Kostas Giorgiou; 1951 –
1976), он же «Полковник Каллэн», Colonel Callan – британский военный, капрал парашютно-десантного полка. Этнический грек-киприот. Наёмный участник гражданской войны в Анголе на стороне ФНЛА. Казнён по приговору суда в Луанде 10 июля 1976 года.
9. Савимби Жонаш – Жо́наш Малье́йру Сави́мби (порт. Jonas
Malheiro Savimbi; 3 августа 1934 – 22 февраля 2002) – ангольский политический и военный деятель, партизанский лидер, основатель повстанческого движения и политической партии УНИТА. Лидер УНИТА c 13 марта 1966 по 22 февраля 2002. Активный участник ангольской войны за независимость и гражданской войны. Кандидат в президенты Анголы на выборах 1992. Видный деятель Холодной
войны и мирового антикоммунистического движения.
10. «Нептуна день…» – Праздник Нептуна, иногда –
«День Нептуна». Водное представление. Берёт основы от тради-
ции моряков при пересечении экватора.

Translator - I. Toporov
JB Claywell Sep 2015
Matt and John sat at John’s kitchen table,
it was 5’clock in the morning,
there was plenty of time
but there was none to waste.
John was glad that Linda and his daughter
were still upstairs asleep.
He was glad too that Matt was driving;
no one knew the streets and alleys better.
John thought that Matt was a bag of hammers,
but he was loyal as hell, kept quiet most of the time,
was brave to the point of stupidity, and drove like a bat.
John got up from his chair;
poured another coffee.
Matt nursed a beer.

Everything they needed was in the mini-van;
an innocuous thing lifted rather smartly from
a long-term parking lot near the airport.

Pistols not shotguns, John had insisted.
Matt’s argument was simply that shotguns
were scarier.

John lit a cigarette and sipped some
coffee.

First National would fall.
John was sure of it.
He and Matt would leave
that bank’s lobby with about
3 million dollars strapped to their backs;
they’d lose the bulls, skate by the house,
pick up the girls, and be California-bound
by the time the fast food joints
stopped serving breakfast.

On the other side of town,
the police barracks was alive
with activity.
Two old-school throwbacks
Det. Luke Richardson and his partner,
Det. Mark Gonzalez, had gotten
a tip.

A greasy little stool-pigeon
named Hector had said
the word was that Johnny Dunn
and his raw-wired cousin, Matt,
were planning to take down First National Bank
on Friday, the first of the month,
payroll day.

They’d been leaning
on Hector for a couple
of months,
finally offering
him a knockback
on a B & E pinch
that they’d held
over his head like
an anvil.

Hector squawked
for immunity on that one
as well as
state’s evidence
regarding chatter
he’d heard about
the bank job.

Their gear was set,
vests cinched tight,
shotguns in the car.
Their service pistols cleaned,
oiled, and loaded,
with one in the chamber.
Holdout pieces strapped
to their ankles.

It was about 6:45 am,
First National’s drive-thru
opened at 7:30.
The lobby would open by 9,
but staff would be in the building
by 7;
tellers making sure their cash-drawers
were customer-ready.

The two detectives left
the briefing room,
strode the short distance
to the motor pool,
started the car…
the radio crackled
to life…

static
All units this is Control
static
We have a silent alarm triggered
for a 211 in progress
at 14th and  Carver Avenue
static
First National Bank
static

Mark was behind the wheel,
Luke flipped on the siren,
it blipped then began to wail.

The Gospel was being written.
All units, saints and sinners,
were on the move.
*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications
A crime-fiction poem:

With a nod and a tip of the hat to Craig Johnson
Geovanni Alfaro Jan 2013
JEFF the Brotherhood, Metric, and Phantogram
FIDLAR, The Broken Social Scene, The Zac Brown Band

King Khan and the Barbeque Show,
Matt and Kim, Vampire Weekend, Creedence Clearwater Revival.
Jimi Hendrix, The Flaming Lips, Artic Monkeys
Florence + the Machine
Death Cab for Cutie, Bon Iver, Band of Horses, Parlovr

Kings of Leon, The Strokes, Yellow Ostrich, Cage the Elephant
*** Pistols, The Ramones, Red Hot Chili Peppers,
Bob Dylan

Young the Giant, The **, Ugly Casanova,
Modest Mouse, The Doors
Coldplay, the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones

Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Smashing Pumpkins
Titus Andronicus, Bob Marley
Queens of the Stone Age, Mana, The White Stripes:
all gnarly
Carsyn Smith May 2015
The line for the local convenience store
Stretched out to Market Avenue’s dirt curb,
Past makeshift street clowns juggling the poor
And the ***-stench of “Population Curb.”

We make like big balloons who self-implode:
Fires to fight fires, guns to fight guns,
Fighting for survival makes mores erode
When a dark illusion has fooled billions.

Little John waits in line with his mommy,
No more than a decade, he learns to shoot.
Life was quiet like a dark raging sea,
Now we shake from a screen and men in suits

Fear not, trembling people of the world,
There is a way to end the gun violence,
To stop making canyons of the knurled:
Guns for all! Shun to think of gun absence!

Automatics in the professor’s desk,
Two pistols strapped to Sally’s little thighs,
End common fear with something more grotesque:
Endless rivers of red and eyes for eyes.
An assignment for my English class satire unit :3
blue mercury May 2017
you blew a hole
through my fragile skull
and planted dandelions to grow
inside of the soil
you poured
into it

make a wish before they're gone
*make a wish, baby, make a wish
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIXqKIgT9p0
1

  Come, my tan-faced children,
Follow well in order, get your weapons ready;
Have you your pistols? have you your sharp edged axes?  Pioneers! O pioneers!

2

  For we cannot tarry here,
We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger,
We, the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

3

  O you youths, western youths,
So impatient, full of action, full of manly pride and friendship,
Plain I see you, western youths, see you tramping with the foremost,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

4


Do they droop and end their lesson, wearied, over there beyond the seas?
We take up the task eternal, and the burden, and the lesson,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

5

  All the past we leave behind;
We debouch upon a newer, mightier world, varied world,
Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labor and the march,

6

  We detachments steady throwing,
Down the edges, through the passes, up the mountains steep,
Conquering, holding, daring, venturing, as we go, the unknown ways,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

7

  We primeval forests felling,
We the rivers stemming, vexing we, and piercing deep the mines within;
We the surface broad surveying, we the ****** soil upheaving,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

8

  Colorado men are we,
From the peaks gigantic, from the great sierras and the high plateaus,
From the mine and from the gully, from the hunting trail we come,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

9


Central inland race are we, from Missouri, with the continental blood intervein’d;
All the hands of comrades clasping, all the Southern, all the Northern,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

10

  O resistless, restless race!
O beloved race in all! O my breast aches with tender love for all!
O I mourn and yet exult—I am rapt with love for all,

11

  Raise the mighty mother mistress,
Waving high the delicate mistress, over all the starry mistress, (bend your heads all,)
Raise the fang’d and warlike mistress, stern, impassive, weapon’d mistress,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

12

See, my children, resolute children,
By those swarms upon our rear, we must never yield or falter,
Ages back in ghostly millions, frowning there behind us urging,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

13

  On and on, the compact ranks,
With accessions ever waiting, with the places of the dead quickly fill’d,
Through the battle, through defeat, moving yet and never stopping,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

14


Are there some of us to droop and die? has the hour come?
Then upon the march we fittest die, soon and sure the gap is fill’d,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

15

  All the pulses of the world,
Falling in, they beat for us, with the western movement beat;
Holding single or together, steady moving, to the front, all for us,

16

  Life’s involv’d and varied pageants,
All the forms and shows, all the workmen at their work,
All the ****** and the landsmen, all the masters with their slaves,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

17

  All the hapless silent lovers,
All the prisoners in the prisons, all the righteous and the wicked,
All the joyous, all the sorrowing, all the living, all the dying,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

18

  I too with my soul and body,
We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way,
Through these shores, amid the shadows, with the apparitions pressing,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

19

  Lo! the darting bowling orb!
Lo! the brother orbs around! all the clustering suns and planets,
All the dazzling days, all the mystic nights with dreams,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

20

  These are of us, they are with us,
All for primal needed work, while the followers there in embryo wait behind,
We to-day’s procession heading, we the route for travel clearing,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

21

  O you daughters of the west!
O you young and elder daughters! O you mothers and you wives!
Never must you be divided, in our ranks you move united,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

22


(Shrouded bards of other lands! you may sleep—you have done your work;)
Soon I hear you coming warbling, soon you rise and ***** amid us,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

23

  Not for delectations sweet;
Not the cushion and the slipper, not the peaceful and the studious;
Not the riches safe and palling, not for us the tame enjoyment,

24

  Do the feasters gluttonous feast?
Do the corpulent sleepers sleep? have they lock’d and bolted doors?
Still be ours the diet hard, and the blanket on the ground,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

25

  Has the night descended?
Was the road of late so toilsome? did we stop discouraged, nodding on our way?
Yet a passing hour I yield you, in your tracks to pause oblivious,  Pioneers! O pioneers!

26

  Till with sound of trumpet,
Far, far off the day-break call—hark! how loud and clear I hear it wind;
Swift! to the head of the army!—swift! spring to your places,  Pioneers! O pioneers.
Jeannette Chin Nov 2011
"I have gotten from there to here"

Its a simple tautology, chant it

either/or an uncertain accomplishment.

From there to there to there until there became here.

This too is fairly obvious,
but still, it seems so strange,

how many times must you be reminded

that you are too ill-equipped 
to string the sequence.



And what about those weak suspicions

that reappear from time to time,
the ones you are
 quick to disregard
out of the fear that you may be a lunatic.



What if they were correct, what
if a moment were nothing more
than a brown package
of stimulus.

They came to you, one after the other
and you what could you do but follow
them, like crumbs in a trail that lead
you further away from home
and into this carnival.
Where people who sing lullabies out loud
carry pistols and globs of color
are merging in all
directions.

Wedged in between "there to here"
and "here to there", the laws of tenses
never made this much of a difference.



Babies know this all too well.

That's why they're the last 
ones
we turn to for wisdom. 

But should they ever decide

to permanently stop crying.   

You'll know what they mean by their silence.
Born and raised in Georgia where the A stitched in to the fitted
We let the streets be the streets but some of yall gone snitch
I'd rather be broke with the team then get swallowed into greed
I always kept it hundred living by the family creed
I'm tatted on my arm a last of a dying breed.
One Life to Live while rhyming All Eyes on Me
All these busters wanna be a G
While I'm just trying to do the right thing like Spike Lee
L A P D has their lasers pointed at my back
brothers turning police I don't believe that giant Shaq
I'm going in I'm going in cause I'm trained like that
Pistols in their holsters with a rifle on my back
I'm not a Violent person but a heart is what I don't lack
I won't be gone long if you Hindu then I'm coming back
Last of a Dying Breed look the future in my eyes
last four hundred years some of us been struggling to survive
looking at the world today I see the people tranquilized
this generations music is the reason why they're hypnotized.
Better guard your girl because my voice will have her mesmerized
I'm the Phantom of the opera can't you tell by my disguise?
Smoking on some ***** maybe one day they'll decriminalize
Smoking on the best that will have you bleeding from your eyes
Medically prescribed by a Doctor in a tie
They victimize the victims and they glorify the killers
yet don't realize these symptoms
got these youngsters pulling triggers
Little girls becoming strippers
just so they can make some figures
guess they missed the bigger picture
My knowledge helps reconsider
I'm a country boy at heart
with the style of city slickers
I leave you looking ignorant
you think that I'm a ******
The last man to **** his own people name was
******.
I'm more mysterious then that
compare to Jack the Ripper.
All i know is the ghetto
And scandalous tricks
In stilettos ya know
Jealousy follows that the
Black society creeds
N i bleed
Through pressure and pain
Since i took the throne
I embraced the reign
Heir of my past pioneers
Listen clear
J Hendrix dropped a tear
Out the sky catch the purple haze
Buzz contact
So all you haters get off my bozack
My folks dont know how to act
Quick to react
Bad temper with the barrel of a gat
Facin' death
Heartbeatin' faster than humming bird
Yup i seen a man die
So **** what you heard
This is for homies thugs drugs dealer
Murderers to serial killers
Representin' real hits
Penetrate the heart of the beast
WASHINGTON aint never been fair
So if you see us mobbin' yo hood
We dont care


But this is for my homies




I got a tear stained letter
From my one of my homies homies
Who got murdered by a 9 baretta
Cuz he came up short on the cheddar
Instead cuttin' em slack
He wanted his life back
But aint no reasonin' with a gat
Pointed at ya pate
Seen death servin' on his plate
Two shots execution style
The killer smiled he knew it was foul
But thats the way it is
Things will never change
It makes my skin mange
Wish i could rearrange
The game
But fools rather remain the same
Wither it be pistols to glocks to shot guns
There's always a soul on the run
I bet i can dance underwater
And not get wet
So go ahead and send ya death threats
Cold covert mission is eyeing me
Keep my ******* to society quietly
Riotin' the scene
Takin' enemies along with me
If ya know what i mean??


But this is for my homies
yeah ***** wanna make
enemies with me
ya see me flossing pistols with shining  jewelry
not tryna be purtttty
but im coming with
the wrath of a panther
expanding my legacy
in every community
black folks hispanic folks
stop letting them smoke
out ya mind i grind with as i shine
over enemies they stay worried about me
and how i beat my feet so swiftly
enemies i line em
up one by one
this aint a game son
i be the don next kindred
of the holy one
died like my homie
did at thirty three and a half
Picture me dyin'?
for a world that never
carried about my ***
now these ******* coming fast
flash of my past
but im back to put them on they ***
check my gun blast
to this ***** name "militant returns"
now ya soul burned  body stunned
by my lyrics spittin'
like bullets lock n loaded
explode it
through ya brain cells
i see you aint livn' well
ya see should haven't made enemies with me

ya punk *****


livin in this life
of sin from begin
to the very end
will the father lord
let me in?
casted as a plant
but my roots grew up a ***** up
now im makin' rants
for my childish antics
never panic while i bust at politics
once my pistols hit
ya melon aint no
tellin' or jailin'
me in this penitentiary
i was born rugged
and ill die rugged
life is raw so **** it
gotta set black forts
for the crooked courts
feedin' my thoughts
esoteric knowledge
soon ill be a corpse
for exposing so much
secrecy to all my
known enemies
triple teamin me
it dont matter
the more they come
they more i dump
sendin- bombs like Trump
nah i mean transform on the scene
never puff bio green
coming wicked across yo screen
**** this dream for cream
DC white house i know ya fear me
but shouldn't have made
enemies with mehh
#Militantreturns #fuckmilitantreturns #fuckpolitics #fuckamerica
Daisy C Sep 2015
I'll be nancy,
you'll be sid.
What a tragedy itll be in the end.
Julian Delia May 2019
I demand to make my choices.
We are here to raise our voices.
These irreversible changes are locking us in cages;
These are real, life-or-death issues.
This is no show, and these lives are no Broadway stages.

Let's talk about decisions;
Let's put aside biased visions.
Let’s talk about who makes these decisions;
I’m looking at you, old white dudes in boardrooms.
Last time you took a class in ***-ed,
Gatsby and Daisy were just about this close to being bride and groom.

Let's talk about consent;
Let's use this space to vent.
Let’s talk about who has the right to judge;
I’m looking at you, anti-abortion crusaders.
Feeling threatened by strong women and their placards and posters,
Like they’ve got pistols in their uterine holsters,
Like they’re all daughters of the dark forces of Darth Vader.

Why do we insist on going to war with each other?
More importantly,
Why does our ****** education,
The root of this problem,
The rotten core of this issue -
Why does our ****** education **** so much?

Why do we talk about choice for a woman instead of the choice of men to respect a woman in the first place?

Why are we still debating?
Grown men telling women to listen,
It's absolutely infuriating!
Let's fight for rights and quit the hating.

Women are resorting to desperate measures,
Whilst men walk away with fulfilled pleasures.
I adopt this tone gravely;
Women are jeopardising their safety, daily.

Is a living woman worth less than an unborn baby?
A poem I wrote with a comrade and a good friend, for an open mic event titled 'Verses for Choice'. The event was hosted and organised by the Pro-Choice Coalition in Malta.
mark john junor Jul 2014
her eyes like twin pistols
just kept blowin me away
for "Winter Allen Jane"
Larry Schug Feb 2018
Turning the pages of Sunday’s paper,
eyes spilling tears upon reading
of the ambush killing of a local cop,
and  elsewhere, cops as killers,
the horror of the murders
of twenty angels and their guardians
at a small-town school,
people just having a holiday party,
going to a movie,
people attending church, for god’s sake.
I make my way to the sports section,
that fantasy-land of touchdowns,
home runs and slam dunks,
only to find stories of drunken outfielders
and homicidal/suicidal linebackers
wielding pistols
followed by a half-page ad
for the Guns and Gear store,
urging me to get in on the deals—
an assault rifle, only $649.99,
semi-automatic pistols from $319 to $549,
all the ammo a person could need
to shoot up a school, a theater, a mall, a business,
a synagogue or mosque or church,
even an army base.
My sorrow vinegars to frustration and anger,
that my letters to so-called representatives
must be written on thousand dollar bills
to even get a reading,
answered by a staffer’s reply that says nothing,
and, in the end, dear god,
I’m left with prayer and poetry,
the children of necessity, drowning in futility.
JL Jun 2013
Feeling fine
I am a paper cup full of ice
An inter-dimensional (being)
Laughing
And
Agreeing
Take off your disguise,
Beautiful
Let me see those pearly-eyes
Ruby lips
Diamond cheek bones
May I kiss?
May I sit?
Good to see you
Great to be here
Can I pour you some tea?
Two cubes of sugar
A tad of cream
A little rat poison
To help you dream
Half-closed eyes
And leaning
Gossamer dreaming
As you play piano
For no reason at all
You play with the treble
Line to line
Perfect pretty rhytm
Dancing in time
The melody of your thin dress
And the shape it reveals
Limbs and weeds
The music swells
A dash of lust
Your summer smell
A fragrant perfume
The jump of eyes
Northward
Eastward
Westward
Skys
The spark of  fingers
A flash electric blue
The kitchen light
Is dripping on you
The teeth of your smile
The color of white
*No my love
I cannot stay
With summer here
It's time to play
If your mother says you can't come out
I'll stand outside
I'll scream
I'll shout
Over radios
And t.v screens
Shooting cap pistols
At everything
Because last night I had a dream
You called on the phone
I heard your  whisper
Infinite dial tone
On the reciever
Lie dreamer
Kelly Oct 2013
First thing you wash in the shower?
2. Are you more of a coffee or alcohol drinker?
3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?
4. Do you plan outfits?
5. How are you feeling RIGHT now?
6. Whats the closest thing to you thats red?
7. What would you do if you opened your door and saw a dead body?
8. Tell me about the last dream you remember having?
9. Three of your current feelings?
10. What are you craving right now?
11. Turn ons?
12. Turn offs?
13. What comes to mind when I say cabbage?
14. When was the last time you cried? Why?
15. If you could be a superhero, who would you want to be?
16. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize?
17. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it?
18. Favorite movie ever?
19. Do you like yourself?
20. Have you ever met a celebrity?
21. Could you handle being in the military?
22. What are you listening to right now?
23. How many countries have you visited?
24. Are your parents strict?
25. Would you go sky diving?
26. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush?
27. Whats on your mind right now?
28. Is there anything you want to say to someone?
29. Have you ever been in a castle?
30. Do you rent movies often?
31. Whats your zodiac sign?
32. When was the last time you had ***?
33. Name five facts about yourself.
34. Ever had a near death experience? If so, what happened?
35. Do you believe in karma or predestiny?
36. Brown or white eggs?
37. Do you own something from Hot Topic?
38. Ever been on a train?
39. Ever been in love?
40. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you do it?
41. If you could trade places with any person living or dead, who would you trade places with?
42. If you could shorten your life expectancy by 10 years to becopme more attractive, would you do it?
43. Whom do you admire and why?
44. What was your favorite bedtime story as a child?
45. You’re walking down the street, you come across a burning building. A woman says her baby is trapped inside, what would you do?
46. If you could choose the future profession of your son or daughter, would you?
47. What was your best experience on drugs or alcohol?
48. What was your worst experience on drugs or alcohol?
50. As your walking down the street you find a suitcase full of money sitting next to a parked car, would you take it?
51. If you found that a close friend has AIDS, would you still hang out with them?
52. In front of you are 10 pistols, 5 of which are loaded. If you survive you’d receive 100 million dollars. Would you be willing to place 1 to your head and pull the trigger?
53. How old were you when you lost your virginity?
54. Do you believe in ghosts, werewolves or vampires?
55. If you could live forever, would you want to?
56. Which fictional movie character most resembles who you are?
57. If you could go back in time, which time period would you visit?
58. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it?
59. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it?
60. If you could choose the *** of your unborn child, would you want to?
61. Would you rather live longer or be wealthy?
Larissa Lou McCasky is hurting relapses needs Clyde Eli Moskowitz to stay at her side and more than anything he wants to help her through this difficult time yet there is nothing he can do but watch his most precious angel be devoured in her own flames at first it is drinking he can not keep up with her she drinks until she feels oblivion next drugging she goes back to old destructive ways she practiced after divorce 15 years ago Clyde will not go there with her Larissa stops writing reading her sewing machine sits dormant hairs around her ******* grow long she makes demands he is not capable of giving Clyde is *** addict he reads to Larissa from Yukio Mishima’s Madame de Sade “the more exalted the man the more refined his pleasures” Larissa learns from Clyde then she insists on more goes beyond him buffalo meat is tough Clyde shows her how to cook it with water little lime juice Larissa repudiates his coaching she prefers to chew the meat tough sometimes she hears war drums beating in her heart Clyde owns 3 guns in his house 2 pistols and a shotgun he keeps them hidden from Larissa

2

spirit dog is dog that stays long after dog dies sometimes spirit dog needs to be fed or water left out in case spirit dog is thirsty spirit dog makes you question did you do enough when dog was alive spirit dog dogs you with faint sounds in house dogs you in dreams in bed at night dogs you when you look in face of other dogs spirit dog does not ever leave your side

3

the artist is will always be at odds with him/herself society the system when his/her work becomes viable commercially it becomes corporatized part of the system imagine Nine Inch Nails song Closer lyric “i want to ******* like an animal” becoming elevator music

4

concerning creation establish location characters then sit back let imagination go wild take your time think it through the weirder the better there are no mistakes just pure improvisation

5

what power did her dog Sweeny sanction within Larissa that Clyde could not fulfill? was it Sweeny’s absolute dependency that brought out her nurturing instinct? Clyde needs Larissa yet wants her more than he needs her when spirit dog inside Larissa gets hungry she indulges him

6

Larissa takes to the streets and that’s where real damage commences slow at first old man with worn out $20 bill then young punk who shoves her out penniless with mouthful of *** then biker dude gives her lift unto back of Harley rides her back to clubhouse feeds her rohypnol 13 men pull a train stub out lit cigarette butts on her face and ******* then crack 2 front teeth shoving shotgun down her throat another up her *** and take bets on where the shots will meet they decide instead to leave her naked with no water in the desert Mexicans sneaking across border rescue her escort her to Tucson she finds her way to Clyde’s house begging he stands in doorway sees missing teeth scars on cheeks chin above left eye damage beyond his understanding how to fix feels both fear and tears welling up lies to her tells her he has new girlfriend she knows he’s lying wanders off gets arrested for vagrancy then disorderly conduct then prostitution

7

every author faces the dilemma of how to fix what they have broken if the work is to be original then it must break from convention

8

Larissa Lou McCasky has an epiphany in Pima County jail when she gets out she will find a job sewing or writing or proof-reading maybe all 3 then she will find a dog and after she is settled Larissa will look up Clyde Eli Moskowitz and try her best to win him back and regain paradise lost yet knowing it is unlikely she will gratefully accept whatever comes her way and remember to honor respect spirit dog and vigilantly at times keep him on leash

9

Larissa keeps promise to herself she and Clyde meet at Sky bar it is 3 years since their first meeting she has more gray hair than he her teeth are patched up

LARISSA i’ve missed you Clyde and thought about us a lot

CLYDE i’ve missed you too Larissa you look lovely like good things are happening around you i forgot how beautiful you are

LARISSA chill on the flattery Clyde i’ve found a new dog and named it Eli after you he’s ******* outside see him

CLYDE wow that’s your Catahoula hound that licked my hand on the way in wow where did you find him

LARISSA animal rescue hey Clyde if you don’t mind i’ll just cut to the chase you know i want to come home with you

CLYDE slow down girl one step at a time let’s order some drinks and talk and yes i would love getting back with you

BARTENDER may i help you

LARISSA yes i’d like a Shirley Temple and my friend here can have whatever he wants my treat

CLYDE guess i’ll have what the lady is having

LARISSA you quit drinking too

CLYDE yup starting now with you

LARISSA i love you Clyde i really truly do

— The End —