Green grow the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, O!
The sweetest hours that e’er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O!

There’s nought but care on every han’
In every hour that passes, O;
What signifies the life o’ man,
An ’twere na for the lasses, O?

The warl’ly race may riches chase,
An’ riches still may fly them, O;
An’ though at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, O.

But gi’e me a canny hour at e’en,
My arms about my dearie, O,
An’ warl’ly cares an’ warl’ly men
May a’ *** tapsalteerie, O!

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this,
Ye’re nought but senseless *****, O;
The wisest man the warl’ e’er saw,
He dearly loved the lasses, O.

Auld Nature swears the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O;
Her ‘prentice han’ she tried on man,
An’ then she made the lasses, O.

Green grow the rushes o
Green grow the rushes o
When it comes to be a song
Let it be then
What is wrong?
Dont you see this forest mind?
Dont you see me come along?
Green grow the rushes o
My confession; me, not drunk
Blue
Purple
So pink and what
Many colors on the top
Moon is shining in my skull
Forest growing
Green and green
But green is drawning inside blood
Blood of haters blood of eyes
Green grow the rushes o
How this song just got my mind?
You don't owe me
Yes I'm done
Last word
My, mind, surreal...

you cover up your fragile skin,
butterfly rashes that snake
their way down your ribs,
paper-thin and streaked with
veins, you call your blood ‘parasite.’

if you were to be believed, you thought that meant
that your pain was to be performed.
to not touch you was a punishment,
but still, you question her insistence
to gnaw at your skin.

bruises that are pretty,
insisted upon you like the ******* leeches
she promises will purge your blood,
your parasite.
“Oh, how lovely it is to be owned.”

there was nothing to be said for teeth,
except “please,” silent stop strangled under your tongue,
but there is something to be said
for this warmth, now,
the first ‘now’ that was never ‘then.’

you do not taste blood when they kiss you.
parasitic blooms on the fragile,
flaking skin of your throat heal, slowly,
when let to rest
under the quiet askance of trust.

maybe that’s what this is.
lately, you’ve learned that you do not enjoy being bitten,
what you loved was giving blood.
lately, you’ve learned that there really are people
who will not ask you to bleed.

Some introductory 'food' for thought...

"When people say they prefer organic food, what they often seem to mean is they don't want their food tainted with pesticides and their meat shot full of hormones or antibiotics. Many object to the way a few companies - Monsanto is the most famous of them - control so many of the seeds we grow."
  - Michael Specter

"My grandfather used to say that once in your life you need a doctor, a lawyer, a policeman and a preacher but every day, three times a day, you need a farmer"
  - Brenda Schoepp

"Economically, many folks don't feel they can afford organic. While this may be true in some cases, I think more often than not it's a question of priority. I feel it's one of the most important areas of concern ecologically, because the petrochemical giants - DuPont, Monsanto - make huge money by poisoning us."
  - Woody Harrelson


Who is Monsanto?
Monsanto is a Chemicals/Pharmaceutical/Agriculture company that was established in 1901 in the United States, and over the last century has occupied a particularly interesting and questionable history that has within recent times took to the global scale, growing into a multinational corporation, well nigh on the complete monopolisation of the Agriculture industry whilst having established connections to the chemical and pharmaceutical industry. They are less well known for their creation of Agent Orange, of which they claimed had no harmful effects on the human body, which was utilised very predominantly during the Vietnam War by the U.S. military as a defoliant, however, caused hundreds of thousands of deaths by poisoning, and has now led to an epidemic of birth deformities in the regions of use. Monsanto experienced more involvement in war through their involvement in the Manhattan Project, which resulted in the creation of the first nuclear bombs to be tested on Japanese civilian populations. They also have a background in their production of PCB's (Polychlorinated biphenyls) which once again, had the negative human and environmental effects ignored and misrepresented hitherto 1977 when they were banned, however, was not before many fresh water supplies and the air had been contaminated and was a known carcinogen in humans, along with other health damages. There was then of course their production of DDT's in the post war period that was advertised as a 'wonder-chemical' to be used in agricultural pesticides. However, it was later uncovered that its spraying caused a high percentage of food breakdown in crop and in humans caused breast cancer, male infertility, miscarriage, developmental delay and nervous system/liver damage. They even tested the effects of radioactive Iron on 829 pregnant women in a bizarre experiment. Having no shortage of scandalous and often at times frequenting blatantly corrupt behaviour on their dubious track record, with an abundance of data and study arising in protest of the company's use of dangerous chemicals and genetic modifications in food, it is surely best to question the activity and history of this company.


What chemical poisons are being used?
Some of you are probably aware as to the fact that within many food products today there are various chemicals being used in modification, cultivation and in processing, many of which are harmful, often deadly to the human body and to the ecosystem. So harmful in fact that in cultivation workers are required to wear bio-hazard suits and due to the toxicity of the area in farming these GM crops, are required to ***** signs in the surrounding area warning of the danger.

So one chemical that has been pushed into foods and drink by Monsanto since the early 20th Century is Saccharin, an artificial sweetener made from coal tar which is used predominantly in Soda, Coke and processed foods, and is 700 times sweeter than sugar. In 1907 when Saccharin was first investigated by the USDA it was quoted as,"a coal tar product totally devoid of food value and extremely injurious to health" , and by the 1970's, when the chemical began to garner greater use, the FDA attempted to ban its use in products after discovering it causes cancers (particularly bladder cancer) in animals and humans, however, today is still used as an artificial sweetener, and between 1973-1994 the National Cancer Institute saw a 10% increase in bladder cancers.

Monsanto are also responsible for the pushing of another artificial sweetener onto the market to be consumed by humans, that being Aspartame, even more harmful than Saccharin, and since being used in Coke, particularly Diet Coke, since 1983, the rest of industry followed suit. When melted down at 30°C into its liquid form in use for soft drinks, it become far deadlier than in its powdered state. It was found that it caused tumours and holes in the brains of rats and is more addictive than crack *******. After a multitude of independent scientific studies arose in protest of the use of Aspartame, Monsanto bribed the National Cancer Institute to produce fabricated data. Here are some of the know side effects of Aspartame consumption in humans according to the US Food and Drug Administration:

• mania  
• blindness
• joint-pain
• fatigue
• weight-gain
• chest-pain
• coma
• insomnia
• numbness
• depression
• tinnitus
• weakness
• spasms
• irritability
• nausea
• deafness
• memory-loss
• rashes
• dizziness
• headaches
• seizures
• anxiety
• palpitations
• fainting
• cramps
• diarrhoea
• panic
• burning in the mouth
• diabetes
• MS
• lupus
• epilepsy
• Parkinson’s
• tumours
• miscarriage
• infertility
• fibromyalgia
• infant death
• Alzheimer’s

As is quite evident, Aspartame not only lacks any nutritional value, it also can have grave effects on humans when consumed. In fact, over 80% of complaints made to the FDA concern Aspartame and is now used in over 5000 products, yet facts are still being misrepresented and as primary producers of Aspartame such as Monsanto produce false data to cover their tracks.


How is their monopoly being secured?
Monsanto within recent decades has somewhat become the archetype of corruption and corporatism, devoting many millions to Government lobbying in order to maintain its hegemony over agriculture, its use of harmful chemicals and to maintain restrictions of food labelling of GM products. In fact, the company seems to have a revolving door between itself and Government now, one example being the FDAs Arthur Hull resigning due to controversy and going straight to an employee at Monsanto as a Public Relations representative. This means that the FDA, the central official force against the use and proliferation of harmful products is in bed with Monsanto, the main proliferator.

Another creation Monsanto have pushed into pastoral agriculture is their Synthetic Bovine Growth Hormone which is a genetic modification of the E-coli virus to be used in dairy products and cows. And in order to make sure this product is pushed onto farmers, Monsanto sues any that do not use it with teams of lawyers. They also, in a far more cunning and destructive method, are able to and have destroyed other, natural crop cultivation by the use of their Genetically Modified crops themselves. What they have done is modified their crops in order that they self pollinate, and that bees that come into contact with their crops are killed, causing mass hive collapses, which then means any natural crop in surrounding farms die off due to a lack of bees to pollinate them, forcing them to join the monopoly of Monsanto's GM supply.

Also, before the aerial spraying aluminium and barium into the skies began in 1998, that has seen a rise in the content of aluminium particles per/cm from near 0 to 30,000 in many areas, Monsanto patented crops that are resistant to soil with such high concentrations, meaning they now have legal ownership over crops, whereas the natural produce may be ungrowable in a number of places where the spraying concentration is high. On a side not, the spraying of aluminium into the sky since 1998 has also caused a massive spike in Alzheimer disease and lung cancers, rising from the tens of thousands to the millions of cases per year.

To Conclude, Monsanto has recently made a very big merger deal with the Pharmaceutical company Bayer, the ones who produced Zyklon-B for the **** extermination chambers. Sure sounds like some safe operations.


- an essay by JDH

I found her savaged
Embodied luxuriously over
what evoked to be a torn up of sequence of awesome tapestries, adjourned past a thin web of carefully traced emblems.
To this day, I find not a thought so beautiful and out of many
those which may come about
and those which could’ve never come.

I find myself without a motive,
without a sacred scent of pride nor
stigma of freedom,
yet I am only enslaved to my very demons.
Were they not as grotesque,
were not in the hopeless, drunken sake
to revoke their perseverance
they wouldn’t be anywhere near as precious.

In fact, they are perhaps the most precious elements I can behold.
Though they have not always ruled over guidance,
they have never left my course
and my curse, is to fancy them dear.

For lord, how could one ever wish to cease dreaming?
I can only let go upon the rabid clearance of my faithful pen,
even the latter, couldn’t ever suffice the magnificence of the given.

For it’s not ignorance, nor enlightenment;
It is whatever I wish it to be,
and none which I’ll come close to explain.
It is the mere and absolute pleasure
one finds in darkness.
That which comes over me,
that which sways my tidings and gathers
my rhythms and rushes my rhymes,
that which tides my emotions to the velvet
envelopes entitled in marks,
to the sunken, undecipherable verses,
to the crimson, wilted rashes of a silvermoon
slenderlight.
Oh, for such foul words are now used to demean one’s art
“thou art my lady, my gleam of heaven in sorrowful sight”
What terrible night,
what a terrific subject
what tremulous manner to execute a
tremendous gal.

I could never stop dreaming,
not while the dances
on melted vine;
not even whilst it dwells my words
into senseless specters,
not while the mind yet thrives,
nor will I ever fear such a splendid rhyme.

I found myself upon a creature whose tender slight
had abandoned the very virtue
and could only see myself glowing vile,
tangling amongst amazement and disappointment
why should I deny one the pleasure
my very fate has forbidden to attire?

What makes me,
of all people,
the soul to advantage of given pride?
Cowardly, the stench of curiosity bewildered
by an apologetic reign of might.

Whatever may have become of me,
where I to act upon my gifted intervention;
I often wonder.
I often regret it upon the moments when the mind
speaks the soul’s verdict, and one consoles
over the truth, acclaiming to change by the night’s passing.
Yet lament, sorrow and forlorn
only help me remember her last stance ever so beautifully;
and in the quelled noise of a risen,
renders the violent solemnity of a kiss.
For a lady always rests upon the velvet of her silhouette.

Cut me open, cover yourself in a blanket of skin.
It won't make I difference. I don't inhabit it anyway.
It is a shell.
It is a lifeless thing.
It is not me. It makes no decisions.

Split the differences in your own mind and do anything you wish.
Take away every doubt.
Leave it on the edge of a cliff. The rain will wash it down our throats.
A spoonful of sugar.
It is laced. Silk laces, pretty underthings ruined.
They were taken off.
Too many flowers to water with the fluids running from open wounds.

They will not grow. They are made of the plastic from leftover
Glass from a broken window. Portal to the soul
My eyes are not there anymore. Blindly
Stuttering, I cannot speak.
These arms lack bones.
They were buried long ago, burned to blackened
Charcoal. Draw a masterpiece, dear.

Stab my physical canvas with toothpicks and see visions.
Crystal trees growing from my ears, reaching into your voice box.
Sing for me.

Make me dance over the salt, gives me rashes on my legs, blue flame licking what is yours.
Turn the key in my bleeding back. Twist my spine and laugh, watch as I writhe in
Lust?

How am I supposed to know. My brain is nonexistent, just gears and crushed light bulbs.
There is no light.
I took a step two nights past, I didn't see.

A tusk ****** through my foot, breaking bones.
I admire the animals caged at the zoo. They were stronger than I was, before they were
Eliminated. They are dying, wilting.
I drew flowers on my nails to represent them. A memorial to the horrid truth of knowing about the robotics of life.
This is just a computer, ringing a high. No going backwards. The button doesn't work, the transformer blew, we have no power.

My data was deleted.

the poem starts righ now my poem has already started
I’ve had this rash for about 3 months now
and no matter how much cream i apply it never seems to go away
it seems to be right on my chest itch after itch
I’m attempting to scratch it away **** i made myself bleed

I wait for it to stop and when i think I’m done scratching it comes back
scrapping scuffing anything to get him away HIM
this boy that is my rash that i can’t seem to push away
wrapping himself around me with blankets of words that twist up my spine and spiral down my back
Him who i refer to as satan has wrapped me around his long soft cigarette smelling hand holding fist clenching tear wiping fingers HIM
who won’t go away after hours of rubbing
HIM
who is not like my other rashes because unlike my other rashes this one is on my chest and the heart is located on the chest and the other rashes were located in my head because i wanted them to be something they were not
HIM
him who i don’t want to be a rash anymore
him who i wanted to be a birthmark and never leave me
him who is with someone else
but the rash is scaring and no matter how much coco butter i apply its here
forever this rash will be apart of me even when i don’t have the appetite to feed into its hunger by scratching or ripping or tearing him
who i would give my worst days for him to have his best
him who i wish i could tell how i feel
but ill keep scratching itch after itch after itch
my rash

I'd like to think I'm going to marry somebody who loves all the same things I do, somebody who is 'perfect' for me. But that's the thing about love, it's forever changing and there is no such thing as perfect, just commitment. It isn't about finding somebody who is just like you, its finding somebody whose different. Love is finding somebody who grows you and stretches you, it's not always about the bubbly stuff movies make love out to be.
I bet you my future spouse will hate Star Wars, they'll probably tell me that I need to get a shed to put my Star Wars collection in. They'll probably tell me it can be like my own humble abode away from the madness of kids (if we have any) or from the cluttered house. I bet you they'll smile and graze my arm while trying to convince me; and I will be convinced. I'll move my collection I spent years adding to into a shed because I love the person who hates that my collection clashes with our house.
I'll turn on the radio while we're driving and when my favorite song comes on I'll turn it up and sing my heart out. And just because they know it's my favorite they won't change it, even though they absolutely hate it.  
I'll tell my spouse I want a writing studio and they'll protest and say they hate waking up in the middle of the night wondering why I'm scribbling words onto paper instead of holding them close. But even though they don't like waking up alone they'll let me have my own studio because they know that I love writing as if it were a part of my very soul.
My spouse will probably be reserved and hate taking risks, but I'll beg them to come on adventures with me. After debating endlessly about safety and risk involved we'll probably settle for a living room camp out because they don't like bugs and the smell of a musty old tent is enough to make it seem realistic. I'll probably protest and complain but still gladly embark on a pretend camping adventure because it's not where you are but who you're with.
When we go on vacation you'll complain that I always force you to take unnecessary risks. You'll hate that I take you to underwater caverns because you're worried we'll somehow get trapped. I'll scare the hell out of you most times but you'll remember that's why you love me, because I'm a constant adrenaline seeking adventurer. You won't always embark on the adventures with me, but you'll always be there by my side seeing it through your perspective, and we'll always share what it's like through our eyes. I'd like to think that hearing my energized booming voice talk about jumping off a 60ft waterfall will be enough of a thrill for you.
I won't want to cuddle with you because I get hot easily. You'll  still hold me close because you know how much I love your scent and the steady rhythm of your breathing coaxing me to sleep. I'll wake up in the middle of the night give you a kiss on the forehead and probably sit on our bathroom tub with a cup of coffee  just thinking about how lucky I am.
You'll think its weird that I need to drink coffee to help me sleep. You'll hold my leg down while we're in important meetings or church just like my mother always has. You'll give me the look that says "stop shaking" and I'll try my best to, but I'll probably start back up in 5 minutes. You won't entirely understand my ADHD and constant need to move, but you'll think it's charming that I'll always be up before you with your coffee already prepared the way you like it. I hope you'll like coffee as much as I do, but in reality you probably wont. So I'll make you tea instead, and if drinks aren't your thing I'll make you breakfast. I'm sure you'll feel like you married a child who is always hyper and it'll royally **** you off most days but you'll remember that's the reason you we're so intrigued by me. You liked that I reminded you of childhood and what it's like to have fun.
I'll still drag you to the toy store when we're 40 and I'll use our kids as an excuse (if we have them). I'll tell you that toys are important for a child to develop normally, but in reality I'll just want to chase you down the isles with some super hero mask and a plastic sword. I'll end up buying you a tacky key chain that you'll hate, but you'll keep it on your keys because it'll remind you of what a goober I am.
I imagine you'll hate the cold, you won't want to go snowboarding with me, instead you'd stay in cabin cozied up to the fireplace with a book and warm cider. I'll beg you to just try it a couple times and you will, I hope you end up liking it but if you don't maybe you'll still enjoy being in a place I love so much. You'll love being places tropical full of sun and peaceful ocean noises, and I'll hate it. I'll complain about heat rashes and the humidity but I'll shut up the second your eyes light up when you peer at the ocean from our hotel balcony.
We'll probably fight more than 50% of our relationship, maybe not fights but bickering arguments. When I'm driving you'll be yelling and screaming about how terrible or a driver I am. And when you drive I'll complain about how much of a grandma driver you are. We'll bicker about what kind of milk to buy and if we should buy organic produce or just the regular kind. We'll argue about music, movie choices, and travel plans, but it won't be terrible fighting that end with tears and broken plates, it'll end with the cold shoulder for 5 minutes then settle back to normal. We will **** each other off to no end, but we'll love so deeply. I'll always think I'm right when we argue, and I can't wait for all the times you'll put me in my places. I can't wait for a life with you, full of love and compromises.

Dear you,
I promise that I wont always be an *******, even though you'll probably be a bigger one. We'll go out to eat and make up ridiculous scenarios about people just to entertain ourselves. We'll simultaneously get annoyed with people who are ignorant, and we'll spend countless days and nights laughing about how terrible we are. We will argue and we will fight, but we will never go to bed mad, that has to be in our wedding vowels or something. We always have to be willing to try new things for each other, even if it sounds terrible. We will always find our way back to each other, even after a long sleepless night of arguing. When you say you love me on our wedding day you will always mean it, so if the fire burns out you have to promise that you'll always be willing to find it again. I know I'm a pain in the *** and I'm hard to love but I promise I will love you so deeply and fully. Nobody ever said marriage would be easy, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to sacrifice 'easy' for you. I'm ready to embark on a journey of a life time with you no matter how hard it gets. I love you, you dumb ****.

your fingers caress me
hot iron dragging
along the landscape
of my rashes
lookin for a weeping sore
prodding for satisfaction
my skin blistering
like raspberries in summer heat

I had only offered Madrynne a *** of
Shikokianum and a Herb Robert,
but before long, the calm of the "maiden grass"    
had over-reacted
their crown lain a heavy price,
for not only had I  rattled their jealousy
but a  subsequent breeze
scorched the floral bract,
of my prize "laidlaw" Bougainvillea
a cankerous deed -
cleft from veins,
like a storm brood
will there be such rashes again ?

Flower flower, on your stem,
Do you not worry less and less,
What you’ll be, like one of them?

Flower flower, in the wind,
Take my heart, take me in.
I’ve wanted nothing else since.

Flower flower, how you bloom!
You shine so brightly just to be in a room.
Time controls when fate is too soon.

Flower flower, where do you live?
You’re stolen of pedals and yet you still live,
Hoping there’s more you can happily give.

Flower flower, in the grass,
Are you not crying, are you not sad?
I’m already used to it with all I’ve had.

Flower flower, show me your face,
I want to be you, I want to have grace.
So I will always have the words to say.

Flower flower, please open up,
Show us your pedals, show us your love.
There’s no reason why you shouldn’t reach for the sun.

Flower flower, hold your ground,
Don’t be alarmed when you hear the sound,
Of others mocking and playing around.

Flower flower, release your scent,
Let us know you and no longer guess,
Of your colors, shape, or past.

Flower flower, tell me your fears.
I will listen to you whenever you’re near,
And hear your voice when you fail to endear.

Flower flower, show me how.
Do they not hurt, do they not gouge?
You were tried and forsaken, yet you make no sound.

Flower flower, hear my cry.
You’ve heard so many others so why not mine?
Seems all there is to do in life is die.

Flower flower, I beg you, don’t fade.
Choose to keep on, choose to stay.
Before the wolves devour my last words I’ve always wanted to say.

Flower flower, forgive my actions.
I faded away along with the ashes,
Holding the fire, holding the rashes.

Flower flower, I can explain.
I’m so desperate to say what I’ve always to say,
Waiting for that one miraculous day.

Flower flower, I made a mistake.
I know I’ll remember it all the way to my grave.
I’ve told you nothing, so don’t bother saying what you’ll say.

Flower flower, it’s not your fault.
You were never aware of this pain as I walked through the halls.
I kept my head held high, kept my shoulders tall.

Flower flower, where will you be,
When I’m buried and no longer can see?
Guess you were the person and I was the deed.

Anyways more of me lol, OK I grew up with a mum and dad good Christian parents though both went off the path!¡ mum is ex. Well still alcoholic but don't drink once addict always one as they say.. I saved her life many times from getting killed .. Me mother is mine soulmate no not sexually. She's mine best friend in this world if I lost her I'd lose me really in a way.. Dad is ex pill addict currently still is. Though he gets quote legal pills for back pain herniated disk) he is part of reason I got into a 22 people drug bust... I was originally charged in drug bust with trafficking oxy  contins meaning ( an felony 2) meaning trafficking in drugs. And got charged with trafficking ******* up to and ounce between two deals I made to a guy who set me up between two Thursdays....I knew this guy from school back in day so you all know.. He wore wire on me. Had police phone I used to call me dealer which police listened and sit right out side me apts.... Anyways I got on probation continued to use drugs was blessed... Those charges I told u were dropped to aggravate
Possession of drugs from the two oxys for me in me pocket... Lawyer knew I did these deals not for money but pills... So yes messed up probation so sent to crc prison for four months than to pickaway prison right across the street which used to be an old army base than in the thirties was a mental ward for people who had demons.... So yeah in prison people could find out I sang... I became the singer of the prison I did their talent shows. I spoke out against gangs killing gangs in there knowing I'd be ridiculed from gangs sitting and watching me but I got respect singing to whole crowd and I got good respect from all people.  Because I believe in loving all people. Not war. Not hate not anger or hate but love conquers all evils.... If humañs would only understand that. Oh more u don't know I also played for the ex mayor at age sixteen for a drug Free thing I use to be in called 3d ironically was a hypocrite using drugs at time . anyways played at ballroom of Toledo art museum in front of a crowd of the mayors.. Also played at  a high school in Cleveland Ohio doing me own music two songs ... There were 350 eyes on me which felt amazing.... And did a show at a private school for girls and boys and had news people from wtol news there in Toledo.... So yes I need to get back into music I miss it alot .?. I've been poet along time can't tell u really how long?!? I can communicate with spirits literally I hear them in me home . I see their orbs . me and mum both. We got pics of them and sound recordings though try to stay away from that *** we don't always know if good or evil demons are coming in... I've been scratched by them... Broke out in rashes from them touching me. Can feel cold from them when their near... Hear them speak in me ear so only I hear or out loud where me and mum hear both *** me and her are in tune spiritually big time... Dad also hears like me and mum footsteps in house or in addict in apt. Yet have Christ to protect me in bad... And when I pray to Christ those DEMON'S leave. They hate christ!!!!!No more natious feeling that they cause no more depression when they leave.... They are real  for u who don't believe.... Also I usualy wear long hair but cut whenever I need to even it up.... I had friends in past yet due to their drug use still they all left me after mine bust showing me not real friends.... So mums me best friend so is many others on here I'm close with .. You have all showed me soo much love I've never felt... God bless u all . I thank u to me soul....I love to cook to.. I also love giving back massages and whole body massages.. I love brushing ones hair to and rubbing their eyes lids temples.... Also with one I love pulling her hair stroking fingers in it to help her relax on back of her head... And massaging her... Using candles to relax her and I love incense.. Sage and Christ is for the demons lol.... But I love cooking for a woman ... And making her a bath to relax... And I am a true hopeless romantic......

Not done more coming wait to see (;

I know a girl that piles on the necklaces
“Makes me look pretty,” she says
She’s all nervous, high-pitched laughter that jangles
as she fidgets with her armored collarbones

Rose red rashes bloom around ivory flesh,
She scratches at her skin inflamed
Ring ring ring around her pretty little neck
With those posey necklaces and gemstones

She smiles fondly at each reflection
of chains and rocks entangled
Wrung wrung wrung of beauty is she
Bitten so fiercely to her ivory bones

Her laughter hacks into little cough spurts,
and the metal winks dully as it strangles
Ring ring ring around her rosy little neck--
she piles on more necklaces.

I look at my hands, and I stretch my fingertips out before me
Twist and turn my wrist to inspect them
See the slender digits flex and bend to my will
Run my thumb along the crescent moons of my nails in validation:
They are sharp now, sharp enough to be instruments as I drum them against a desk
Sharp enough to be weapons
Eczema, believe it or not, is torture
I look at my hands; see little constellations of bruises and cuts
I trace the braille across my wrist, unable to read something I’ve never been accustomed to, despite it being an almost constant companion
It comes and goes like a fair-weather friend and always arrives when it is never wanted
In summer, when temperatures climb up buildings and trees
I find myself not just allergic to pollen, but to myself
In winter, I peel off small bits of layers to reach for places that won’t mind the cold as much
Reaching and searching quick as chilled air finds a break in the defenses
You asked me what was wrong; that if I was sad I could do whatever I wanted, even towards you
I would never hurt you
My anger, my sadness, is directed towards myself
I want to feel the rush of hurling myself at walls
Want to feel the thud of skin against bone against hollow plaster and wooden frame
I want to feel nails run down fabric; soft, thin and fragile
Want to see them tear things apart, see feathers spill out or paint chip, all jagged and frantic
I want this and I don’t want this
I glide nails across skin, across rashes along my hand
I find myself stagnant as my joints itch for action

Thinking back to Thomas creek and sneaking a peak at the freaky little tweaker
in blown out sneakers a toothless mistress second guessing ******
thrift dressed house guest ******* up my speakers blown out woofer
wolfing down dinner mad slurping curry a beginner at twister
her sister, disaster, got caught ******* the Doberman.. unable to find sobriety
got gang ***** at the sorority doing an impression of Brad Dougherty
shoes to tall falling all wobbly knees knocking hostilely like a rasta in Montgomery
racially outcast Big Boi with a skin tare lash with passion unfashionable bastions
with rashes wear red sashes like Communist fascists I‘m a pacifist with a speeding fist
ready to dis any resistor to this transistor radio I eat filet-minion with boxers on
my mind be gone, like, no one’s home and this body roams all alone
with a *****, I’m a stoner, a postponer, ***** donor, out on loan
bought and paid for, caught with a lawnmower, impersonating a horn blower
like I was Gillespie at the Filmore, or Apollo theatre as a greater Walmart style
wearing a wife beater, not a reader, sort of a ******* not like Kim, more like
a mosquit-er drinking blood like it’s from a hummingbird feeder.

There's no one who bugs me, irks me and makes me mad.
There's no one who hounds me, pesters me and irritates me.
There's no one who angers me by forgetting special occasions,
or forgetting to call,
or gets unsalted butter rather than salted at the grocers.
Only You.

There's no one who makes me roll my eyes
with his twisted philosophy, illogical excuses and faked innocence.
There's no one who makes me purse my lips in disagreement,
when he comes home from so-called overtime work,
smelling of cigarette smoke and whiskey.
There's no one who makes me bare my teeth with exasperation,
when he doesn't talk when I want him to,
when he seems to not listen when I think he needs to.
Only You.

There's no one else who knows to buy me tulips,
when he's trying to ask for my forgiveness.
There's no one else who sings "Wonderful Tonight" off-key,
when he sees me in my most tattered pajamas,
with my hair standing on end
and my cheeks and neck crawling with rashes.
There's no one who cooks a meaner chicken soup,
when I'm sick and force-feeds it to me in bed.
Only You.

There's no one who kisses me in the sweetest,
most breath-taking way in the park,
in the rain while we're jogging.
There's no one who makes me laugh
with his spot-on impression of my favorite comedian,
while watching a home video on date night,
and sharing a big bowl of buttered popcorn.
There's no one who makes love to me in such a selfless,
most gentle way, making me feel like
I'm the most loved, most special girl in the world.
Only You.

There's nobody else who makes me love him,
who makes me want to keep loving him,
in all his perfection, all his imperfection,
all the things that make him a man.
There's nobody that I am most willing
to brave all the storms with,
nobody I desire to grow old with,
and give all of my self to...
Only You.

A post apocalyptic tongue
Weighing heavy and dormant in your mouth
As you hitchhike south,
Stopping only to say hello to the
Forget-me-nots
On the side of the road.
Your lips are chapped, dry.
One bite away from blood.
Your blonde hair snarls and snaps
Around your finger.
A Venus fly trap.
You are Venus.
A beautiful weapon of mass destruction.
You can start wars
With a face like that.
You spread your legs for
Boys who smell of wine.
You spread your legs for
Men with wallets fatter than their bellies.
You spread your legs for
Yourself because it feels good.
They brand you a sinner.
Construct a neon sign and
Point it at you.
You forget
Girls don’t do that.
And girls don’t drink
And girls don’t smoke
And girls don’t curse or kick or fight
Or hitchhike south
Or embrace their beauty
Or say hello to the forget-me-nots
On the side of the road
Or stumble home,
Wherever home is,
Drunk and reeking of
Cigarettes and ***** with
Last night’s lover still in their hair.
But you are not a girl.
You are Venus
And you are dangerous.
A bouquet of cries for help.
You sit in diners
With strangers and speak loudly of
Of rashes and scars.
You sit in ivory towers,
Knitting dresses and scratching
At the stone.
You stand on the sidelines
And snap your gum.
They tell you you can’t.
Your voice stings their eardrums.
Your voice is a thunderstorm.
You are a thunderstorm.
You are hitchhiking south with a
Hand full of forget-me-nots and
Blood rolling down your chin.
You are not a girl.
You are Venus.

Today she told me she made it through every

try out round for

America’s Next Top Model and when

she went home to tell her girlfriend that she made it on the show,

she got her face beat in so bad, Miss Jay didn’t even

recognize her the next day.

She wasn’t on the show.

——

Today is roses,

wilted petals,

flowers from I-don’t-know-where

that have landed in our bathroom,

have sunk themselves in an empty bottle of ***,

two handles on the side,

the better to smell them with.

——

Today I am covered in a museum collection of

bug bites and lumps and

scratches and bruises

and leg rashes

and I don’t know where anything has come from,

not even

me.

——

Today he asked me how the poetry is coming.

I said it is slow.

——

Today I wanted to kiss a boy because it was his birthday,

and I don’t think he’s ever kissed a girl before,

and I think he should

if he wants to

on his birthday.

——

Maybe I will tomorrow.

——

Today has barely begun, is three hours in

was 6 minutes too late to buy

gas station beer

but we bought two cigarillos

and on the drive back,

talked to three kids who had just seen a UFO.

I missed it.

——

Today he threw a tomato at my face,

and it slid off and landed on the floor with a splat as I screamed.

There were customers.

——

Today I had to explain why I keep

leaving people.

I have to be alone, I said.

——

Today I dressed for myself.

Thank God.

——

Today I listened to country music and covered my ears

because they hurt but also it hurt

to not listen to it with my Dad in the truck, driving

anywhere

but today I picked a boy up and taught him how to swing me around

and he picked me up and spun me in his arms and

I think that’s how you do country.

——

Today my cis, male, white, Mormon, wait-till-marriage-to-have-*** English teacher

talked about **** shaming

and the patriarchy

and he gets it

and thank God.

——

She is auditioning to model, again.

There is no one to take her face away.

my fingernails short when i scratch them through the dirt, carving furrows in the ground. my dry mouth stinging with hot air. you say that we're unlucky but we're lucky to have each other. you say we're birds of a feather but i suspect you are a wolf. you found the open parts of me and thought to fill them with your name. REPENT!!REPENT!!REPENT!! REPENT!!DEATH DRAWS NEAR AS YOU LICK THE FILTH FROM YOUR FINGERS, SINNER!!SINNER!!GOD HATES UGLY GOD HATES ***** GOD HATES DESPERATE HANDS TWITCHING LIKE DYING FLIES YOUR YELLOW TEETH ARE PROOF OF THE SULFUR IN YOUR BLOOD!!YOUR STICKY LIPS ON THE WHITE CLIFFS OF MY TEETH, YOU CANT KISS AWAY A SNARL!!REGRET THE WAY YOU PRESSED YOUR PALMS TOGETHER WHITE KNUCKLED AND STIFF!!REGRET YOUR SELFISH PRAYERS!!GOD HATES ANGRY GOD HATES SAD THE FIFTH CIRCLE OF HELL HAS A SPOT SAVED FOR THE BOTH OF US, SINNERS SCARLET LETTERS LIKE RASHES!!!REPENT!!your favorite dress, hem brushing your ankles, dust in the stitches. your soft hands with fingers in my arteries. your eyes squeezed shut when you cry. i am living out of spite. im living for revenge. im living to prove im better than you. look me in the eyes when you pull your fingers from my heart. SINNER!!WIND CHAPS YOUR FACE RED AND YOU PEEL DEAD SKIN BETWEEN YOUR FINGERS, I PRAY MYSELF IMMORTAL THE BACKGROUND RADIATION SCREAMS ILL ******* **** YOU I AM SPEAKING!!I SPEAK THROUGH COSMIC NOISE ILL ******* **** YOU!! IM SPEAKING TO YOU!!SINNER!!SINNER! REPENT!I AM DIVINE I AM SAINTED I AM HOLY I AM GOING TO HELL

walks over dry asphalt
in the blistering summer sun
blister on top of blister
skin red and flakey
Heat rashes
are worth it
when momma gives me a dollar
after the white truck says
"Hello"

~~
my world, my womb
unconditioned but air conditioned
too many frequencies make fusions
many more intuitions gathered a lot intentions
grew great confusions

my womb, my world
the ultimate heaven that proven the sense of love
that belongs spring that sprung
my mother's face
that certainly traced a weird tune which grew red rashes,
scratches on my mother lower abdomen  

I'm just eight months old
and my skin getting cold,
Even I could not told to my mother what I gather in the womb  
If I make the images zoom and
if somehow her rose will bloom
which only gain,
a huge pain that could not share or even bare
the world that never care
to my mother

where there is my womb, my world
and I'm only eight months old,
getting cold,
too cold...
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen

These red rashes on my skin
flowers blooming
one by one
of different colours
on the same tree
several now
all over me
the rashes
almost hide the tree
when spring is an epidemic.

Tonight I was *****.
I got persuaded by a ten year old boy,
A boy of 6,
Into doing "things".

His supple boy skin,
Mine suppler not even sun kissed,
yet kissing ****.

Tonight. I'm 24.
I hurt from every pore,
As my breathing shallows.

I tried *******, only a taste.
I ate a pin ***** size morsel.
Throat closed, anaphylaxis.
The praxis of finding out, through rashes of histamine.

Every time I shower.
I played in the mud.
Doesn't wash off.
Guilt.

Oh man, how my grandma used to try.
Scrub me.
I'd scrub just as hard,
Till raw in  my arms.

Every evening.
I lay in bed.
contemplate things.
Look at what has happened.
I see him again.
I cry,
I weep,
I spit,
Oh curses.

Can't change it.
Can't take my mouth off his ****.
You know. The good stuff.

Bein' a kid is hard...
Bein' adult that was once a kid is harder'

You know. They used to put us in prison.

Line us up in rows, make us do LOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG division.

Walk in a straight line. Hold your inmates hand.

I used to work the problems backwards,
The teachers would get mad at me,
Make me work at their desk,
Knew i must be cheating,
Made me teach class,

I never grew up from that.

I used to think that this happy trail led to a ******,
Once closed up.
I thought I was gay.

Now...I just know that.















Well happy trails aren't always happy.
At least mines finally growing hair.

I’ve been walking
So long
So far
Weary eyes
Sweat cakes
Blood soaked rashes
My best friend’s taunt.

Sing a song, Songbird.
Please, Sing a Song Songbird.

I’ve been trusting
So long
So far
Wronged tales
Spiked hormones
Nauseating future
My mom’s warn.

Sing a song, Songbird.
Please, Sing a Song Songbird.

I’ve been resting
So Long
So Far
Gliding on tides
Erratic refrains
Clumped bones
My doctor’s threat.

Sing a song, Songbird.
Please, Sing a Song Songbird.

I’ve been blind
So Long
So Far
Stuttering steps
Coal filled iris
Yearns mourns of woes

Sing a song, Songbird.
Please, Sing a Song Songbird.

.
I once was young on shores of pond,
Deep in clump grasses mossy, longed
By seasons that turned shining winds,
Older than years etched into tree rings,
I played at song in the rushes of marsh,
Danced to moon from my bedroom loft
And in the theaters of starlight shadow,
Wrote my fables after sleeping narrows,
Dreamed dreams as young boy should,
Rethinking Sophocles in hemlock wood
I named the flowers wildest within sun,
Built forts from the forest floors of ruin,
Burned in rashes of ivy, itching poison,
Swam by water snakes in mucky unison
Spring was tireless as nettles and bees,
A wide river glided into the seven seas,
Pond was lake and oceans uncharted,
Skies rolling thunder after lightenings
More gold than lots' aspirations prised,
All showers flamed, Promethean fires.

you were the person I'd call
when the panic of tears
honied my lashes together
and sprung hot like rashes
down my luke cheeks. you'd
listen to my voice thick and
jarred filming through your
phone, slow like molasses
and think like honey. you'd
listen and when I fell as
calm as a clam, you'd
tell me, "baby baby,  it's alright."

We are not pens, ourselves, red ink is not inside of us.
But we do have sensitive blood that is discolored, same as that utensil.
Difference is: it poisons us, gives us rashes and thoughts that we are not worthy to have. It wrecks our minds with ancient tools that were once unaccepted. Silly poppies can not
Ruin us like that. I know what can.
The things that worry us, teenagers and babies, parents and pedophiles;
Cease your worries. I pity you, teens.
"It is fun, it is fun." I know I know. But is it worth the risk?
Cease your worries parents. You don't need to stalk your own children.
They learn from their mistakes. They cry for a while and then get stronger.
Like I did, why I kept my mouth shut for so long,
I was better. Until you began to read. I couldn't go to you specifically for that reason,
Tightening your hold on me, mother. I am already a prisoner in my own mind.
I don't need another warden.
A century long breakthrough gave me something,an understanding that not all children accept
Their parents. I don't feel at home there.
It is not one. Just a house that I stay in, people I live with. They are family, by blood only.
****** ink: my savior. My hero, love, is you. You inspired me to digitalize, write with graphite.
But I am still contaminated, mind wandering,

History repeating, sounds piercing, a test is too much when I did not study.
Help me. The trials this has put me through are unfair. Give me my pen to sign a contract, but I
Poison myself instead. Only okay after after a needle enters my streams and takes it out.
A mechanical vampire, I prefer you to bit me instead of metal fangs.
And now I dream.
.
.
.
.
.

Or maybe I am not. We have lived as such long enough. But, still,
Write about it. Tell me how you feel. But be careful not to poison yourself.

I have experience with that. The pen has a hidden blade. It cuts you with every word you
Lay in front of you. May I be a word? Scratch my love into your skin?
I will not intoxicate you as it would. I will give you something else entirely.

But my dream ends. Reality steps on me and takes my breath from me, I am suffocating in this Hellhole. Give me a firehouse so I can put it out and drink away my parched lips.
They need to be soft so I can speak, but first... I need to
Sew my lips shut. If they are dry, they will rip and open. We don't want that.
Keep them shut, don't tear open and bleed; you would give ink poison to
Mockingbirds if you do. They mock me, copy me. They tell me they are jealous.

But why? They don't know they've been poisoned.
It is a cycle. Everyone will die of it in the end.

The Social Media
In the basement kitchen cold cement floor no hot water
a towel hung on a nail, wash you face a corner each and your hands
to dry, after a loo visit it also gave us tuberculosis
bad skin, and rashes. But we were lucky there was no social
media, kind ladies to do good, take a picture of misery and feel like they
as they had done something helpful pressing coins into our hands.
****** people their finery was an offence to those who had nothing
like giving a Bible to one who cannot read; the hope is that they got
head lice because we could not give them the *****.
A war was over for us it was just the beginning of a deliberate rise to
self -respect the Social Media was not interested in this the butterflies
of self- aggrandisement

I hate watching you read comics,
Or talk about science since 6th grade gives
The ultimate attention to detail, a tale of observation.
Qualitative analysis:

I duck down. Beneath the coffee table, rallying my prayers in my rolling thumbs that the sirens stop, and I too won't be spotted by the *****.

I emphasize spotted. I have the rashes again.

Even your Chinese scarves I pretended to really love,
And especially when I took your throat from behind into a thousand kisses-
I can remember the beer song exploding; I really hated that one.

But at the airport,aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!
Backseat of the car.
My hands fiddling the tears in your destroyed  l-9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999­99999999999999999999999

nothing but trouble. human figure on a string