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In a desperate attempt to  save hello  from near destruction the evil man ****** but yet charming in all togather strange way.
Elliot had a moment of true brillance   To get the anchors of hello togather  in a nice beach house.
Okay it  was a soon to be condemed rat trap hotel  on the Jersy shore and film it.

My worries were alerted already  for I was  really  wasnt up for making a **** .
Who am i kidding  sure i am.
But like when momma  gonzo told me that fat *****  in the red suit
wasnt really santa  just a child  molester.
I was wondering why santa  was  giving out candy in july
And why that candy cane was never in his pocket .
So the **** thing was off  it was to be a reallity show.

Freee ***** a chance to act up like a three year old hyped up on cookies    and crystal **** or whatever the kids were into these days.
They had me  sold so like a flock of segulls we ran   we ran so far away  eventhough  probation  said no my    gonzo sense said yes hey  lindsy lohan told me it sounded like  great idea  and who can argue with a crazy coke head.  

So we gathred in the bleek hope of saving hello from total boredom  and thoose hiku  writting nazis   from poetry soup.
Jack, Baths, Chris,Eileen,Gary,Paula,And that ***** Gonzo  
really  im so insecure  must just be that time of the month.

The rooms reminded me as a cross between the bates motel
and something outta the shining yes charming indeed.
We had the top floor  I always liked being on top but enough with the
forplay children.

The rooms  were picked  okay guys over there   girls come with me it was worth a try.  
The rooms were picked the honey moon suite  
going to me and Jack   ahh ****    there were strobe lights  stripper pole heart shapped  hot tub   jesus it was like  elton john had thrown  up in here  at least it smelled like it.

elliot had made it clear the bar tab was on us but knowing what a true sweetheart  he was he had somehow  left me his credit card
in my wallet maybe without knowing it.

One thing bout  are weird kinda umm  well  funny smelling digs  
there was a true blessing there  a bar   for what is a gonzo without his bar   much like a samuri  without his sword or a mean twig model without her cellphone  to throw  and finger to put down her throat to puke   memories   all alone in the moonlight dam you cats.

With some simple calls  the party was in full swing  and are shuttle bus slash   pinto had us at the hotest club slash retirement  home.
The music blasting so low as to not cause   bowel problems.
Me and Chris showing the old farts  how to play beer pong.
Missed shot  drink up grandma and please put your clothes on
****** you gravity.

Jack  kept the dance floor jumping  with his  fake mustache  little captians hat   and some other leather gear  once told me one thing that ****** was fahasion forward  you go girl.

Paula, Baths and Eileen   worked the newly  started  card game. You dont know how to gamble?  
Well are girls are happy to show ya gramps
Gary had disapeared  to the rest room  for some odd reason.
How he did put a smile on thoose  old ladies faces  seinor care
aint it grand they were were just glowing  what a odd place to be giving reading.

After we had hustled i mean  helped thoose old folks outta there life savings  it was time to party  really  they were almost dead  anyways
and a  funeral plot is overrated   just do what my  uncle did with his ex wife  tell everyone  one she went on vacation and bury her in backyard.

I'll never go tressure hunting again.
We hit the club like  like a hurricane that was laced with wild turkey   and   and a few rational thoughts.

The night was magic   for the money dissappeared   in seconds so like  any broke ***  writers  would do when facing  a fifteen thousand dollar bar tab.
We got the **** outta there.
Thank  god for a restroom window never mind me miss
im with security  and may i say you have a great rack.

The hotel reaked of mayhem and  a old winos ****  and maybe a dead
corpse or two.
HaAHahaha they'll never find you Drew.

It was like the cover of Sgt  Pepers lonley hearts club band  you know by   that classic group the backstreet boys.  
Yes drinking it doesnt effect the mind at all   now who the **** are you?

Dwarfs  junkies   men wearing sailors hats and **** straps did Jack have a dance  troupe?
Hookers drag queens  holy bat crap wonder woman   Lady Ga Ga.
Seems she had crashed into are pinto parked in the the street ******   Chris  i told you park it on the side walk  like me.

Jack  as  if  in a trance  was on stage with the  space alien ******
known as Ga Ga   it was a match made in a state   thats probaly filled with crazy people  like  Utah  or Canada.
Okay im kidding i love Canada  and i just learned it's a country
oh no wonder they hay have fences  I just thought they was a gated  community.  

Paula hit the floor after her third drink   and would probaly question   why somone  had written this space for rent  on her forehead
But like a true man that i was i would  blame that on Gary.

Chris and Eileen  danced laughed I had this odd feeling they were close   as Baths replied no **** sherlock  now pour me another  wine
befor i kick you in the *****   she is a charmer.

The crew fliming are madness  as togather we all danced apon the bar  but for some odd reason the ground had tilted and only effected me  dam UKs and there ninja abiltys and Garys knack for floating  on air.
I went down like a cheerleader on prom night hitting my head apon the floor.

Out like a stripper at a frat boys party after she had   beer and roofie
cocktail.
I was taken to a magical place  were  whiskey  flowed  like water
and you didnt have to pay for ***.

I awoke  in a hospital bed   head taped up  surrounded  by friends
the doctor asking many questions puzzled I made no sense.
Dear Lord this man has   brain dammage the doctor said.

The nurse leaned over  her  low cut top hey it's my write okay.
Brought a gleam to my devilish eyes   hey i mouthed   to Chris
I can see her *******.

Well  Gonzos fine  Chris replied.
As From the restroom there was a clatter
so i did turn my hungover head to see what  the **** was a matter.            

Jack appeared from the rest room Ga Ga in arm.
naked as bald eagle   void of feathers.

Gary.  Hey  i always herd  she was a .

Chris  Thats just ******* weird.

Paula. Who's the ***** who wrote on my forhead?  

Eileen.  it wasnt Chrisey poo.

Baths. Jesus  Gonzo your   long winded  crazy   and good looking
yeah i added that       hey don hit me i just had a near sober experience.
dam gaga is really a.

Jack  yeah and im in love my my my  poker face

FIN
The first season of the gonzo shore is now out on dvd   vhs   and eight track although that kinda *****.
Look for next season when we actully have film in the camera.

And if you were offended by my crazy semi sober crap then
balme it all on Gary cheers my friends
    STAY  CRAZY  

VIVA  LA  GONZO
The room was filled with burnout nuts who looked half crazy dear lord what was someone as normal as me doing here.
Yeah dont laugh im being serious or however ya spell it.

The group slash cult leader approached the mic.
Hello im Dan .
Hello Dan.

Dear lord these people were some brainwashed hampsters almost as bad
as that voodoo priestest Taylor Swift yeah Her new song sounds just like her last okay.
the only people who like her are kids and perverts that reminds me gotta put that video on mute when i
watch it it really messes up the mood what!
Im talking bout when im writting ya perves haha no im not.

Enough with the foreplay kids.
The man went into his speech how he used to snort lines that went from here to texas
picked up hookers drank till he passed out.
Hey No wonder this man was a leader he was soon becoming my hero.

But then I hit rock bottem and stopped found Jesus once honestly i didnt know he was lost.
Now he hadnt had a dam bit of fun in four years i couldnt contain my laughter
what a ***** huh?
I said to the old drunk beside me.

Hey what you got in that cup there grandpa.
He just looked at me in a strange manner must be on a hell of a trip lucky *******.
He spoke slow in a ***** old seductive kinda scared shitless by me manner
It's Koolaide.

Yeah weird mixer what ya trying to pick up kids ya nut what else is in it?
This oldman was playing a game yeah  sure dont share you old ***** hound
my flask was nearly empty and my patience was fading with every sober ***** that took the stage Jesus people it was listening to Jeff Foxworthy it's great if your ******* but honestly its one step above a ******* puppet.

The group of lame areses was almost done when they looked at me hey there friend feel like sharing?
It was something I should fight but a mic and stage was as tempting as a
wild turkey and college keg party.

Why not.

Hey Kids Im Gonzo!
Hey Gonzo jesus it was like dealing with a human parrot or Brittney Spears really
you've  seen one mindless drone ya seem em all.

I took a deep sip from my coffee with a little something extra cup
mmm acid and folgers it goes togather like teens and ****** reallity  shows ******* MTV!

Well Im Gonzo , Hello Gonzo.
Look meeting of the living braindead it's funny the first time okay.
Okay jesus these people were bad as a boy band dam three tenors yeah your all
hot and can sing opera but wants to party to that ****.

Look here  Ive been drinking since 12  umm commited alotta fun crimes
Once paid the babysitter to show me her *******  yeah I know winning.
Ive been in 20  car crashes some of em not just other peoples cars  like I can afford one.

Ive done every drug known to man and some that arent made by people named skull and eightball.
dated strippers snorted coke off of more than just a table  get your mind outta the
gutter cause if ya dont your gonna end up like me serious!

My wife is full of life and strung out on pills that reminds me
i gotta pick her up after cheerleading practice.
Ive been in the iron bar hotel many a night yeah that ****** but he hairy guys are great to cuddle with
like big teddy bears who'll **** you yeah that ****** so ive herd well yeah.

The group was silent till DR Downer spoke up but when did you hit bottom.
Sir thats my personal life okay and besides i not that hung okay.
But you stopped right.

Stopped what are you high on crack Bobby Brown?  
First off amigo its cheap second I aint stopping till im dead yeah i could work out have no
fun and spend the rest of my life speaking in front of nuts who used to be cool
Like you Irene hey personally i wish i had seen you in the ******* cause you seem
like a nice lady and really easy to get into bed okay yeah im
sensative I always pay after that's manners.

The crowd was filled with something what was this place Jonestown
Look at what ya all become eating cookies and drinking **** I wouldnt even
drink when i was ******* five okay.

And you ****** Dave well okay it's kinda weird ya hung out in park restrooms
But if only you had met George Micheal maybe then he'd still be making good  records but ya gotta have faith im just saying.

Sure you can be nice live good yeah then one day ya cross the street and some *******
spoiled brat   teenager  who just got his license runs over your *** cause he's texting sally
asking to see her **** to share e with the rest of the football team okay.

Hey whatever happend to *** drugs and rock n roll kids.
**** living forever.
Lets party now and ***** tommorow cheers I kicked back the last
of the wild turkey hitting that liver like a sledge

The group was silent yet again **** I had crossed the line yet again ahh someone needs a spanking
but enough bout lady gaga.

Sir there leader said leave now!
Just then like something off of saturday night pro wrestling.
A folding chair hit the
hugging preachy nut over the head.

***** this guy the old drunk exclaimed lets go get trashed my life ***** lets get some ***** drugs and
Irene crank the music.

And like something outta a stupid wholsome after school special my heart grew
okay aybe thats a bit much .

We were off like fellow addicts set lose in a world as ******* up as us
And everything was as messed up as us we partyed laughed made some movies of are own that probaly wont be seen on tv anytime soon.

And we lived in the moment cause its all we ever have.
And this perves gonna make sure his is
******* fun stay crazy and avoid the clap love always
Gonzo
Bill Oct 2011
The world is going into a slow regression ******* TV shows about spoiled rich ****** who are as about as interesting as  a city dump.
Movies reflect just how the intelectual bus has become way to packed and short.

Adam ******* yeah there's a true comic a idiot that makes weird voices and ****** movies good wholsome
family fun well you can put the family in a car and point them to the nearest cliff in my book.
We live in a dark age yet we design bubble gum images to destroy are senses.

Hey Gill how's Tommy?
Well after getting his legs blown of he's been stuck in front of the TV  for about a month and ses
why couldnt it have been my eyes instead.

Yeah i may seem harsh to  you just cause i dont like bubble gum ******* but ask yourself this.
Why is it more people will feed a hungry dog than a ******* starving person?
Why do people belive kids are so ******* advanced when in reallity there just more sexually active than smart

I got friend's that got kids the misreble little ****"s I asked one of the turds in highschool
so what do you think about this war?
He looked at me with a brainless expression and replied what war?

Yeah real deep thinker there yet if i asked him a what's good **** site the **** would
have  opened up like a dam directory.
Yeah were moving forward and slipping into a ******* coma as we speak the last great minds worry more over a ******* new phone than any answer to real problems

Hell it's like a bomb was dropped and all that was left was a a few roaches and some ***** mice.
Who's thirst for talentless ***** cannot be met by the television screen its herion for the thoughtless mind.
Night of the living ***** and the last few true voices are stuck in ****** farm house at each others throats

They flip on the television for new's.
Instead of information they get some stupid reallity show star hyping there next season
Yeah I gotta pitch for the Jersey Shore how bout next season in space !

And while your there send up old Adam cause the aleins will love to see a
fool make **** films that have as much depth as a kids sandbox.
the shame of this is i come off as the bad guy cause in this life you can pick on Jesus
but when you attack a millionare *******.

Well then your just being mean.
In many travels across this melting *** of a country I have found that every small town has it's own cast of characters every group has the ******* who cant handle
*****.
The party girl who gets crying and wishes she could start all over again.
And the one to busy living this life to give a **** about what you think or how your
feeling.

After a couple  of weeks it gets to anyone the sense of not belonging.
the constant movement  it eats away at you like rot gut whiskey.
Once even though in agony you so joyfully keep pouring down your throat.

And the conversations become the same are we but playing a game
saying whatever it takes to get what we want.
But what is it we truley want?

Comfort of a warm body by are side the feeling of flesh apon flesh.
It has to be more than just *** but out here I belive its to feel
what its like to benormal and for one moment pretend you wont  be
walking out that door to chase sun once agian.
Living like a pirate apon the land.

Not matter her body's warmth when you leave you never havea chance to
know the bad or the reallity of people.
thats why im forever a tourist.
Dear poet's  of Hello.
After some thinking ive come to realize  theres one thing this
site and a few of my friends here really need to embrace more often.
The truth.

Im known as a clown but I do not fear speaking my mind.
Ive faced far more challenging things in my life than worring
over if people like me or not  what has this place become highschool?

I read comments well to be honest I know  that people dont mean
theres poems on here ive seen on the charts for months that to be honest dont desserve the comments they get but people are to scared to  be honest and speak there mind.

Why?
Thats the big question and I see no clear answer.
The backstabbing and ******* here makes me really rethink
just why im here.

But ive met some good friends here and I respect them no matter if i like there work or not.
I dont expect people to lie and say they like something when they dont  just speak your mind use some manners of course  but what are you all so scared of?

Look theres alot of crap here that makes little or no sense.
The charts are a joke.
And I have friends here who talk about how much they hate something only to comment on it and be two faced.

Im not gonna call people out you know who you are.
Do you really think your helping anyone by blowing smoke up there ***?

Im sorry if I offend people with this but feelings will always be hurt
and  not everyone is gonna get along.
Writting is not my hobby it's  not something I do  cause  im some moody  spoiled snob that thinks his life is so hard cause in reallity.

Ive lived a life I wouldnt wish on anyone I know the true meaning of pain  I didnt grow up having **** handed to me.
Yet no life is easy.
Writting to me is like breathing  I have no choice.  

But the stuff im seeing here is straight up *******.
People kissing each others ***  then talking about how they **** behind there back.

Saying what friends we are only to secretly despise each other.
I speak my mind if i tell you i like your work it's cause i do but really honestly how can you criticize someone's self expression to me you cant.

Im no better than anyone else and after posting this I figure alot of people will probaly think im a **** but  at least I have the courage to be myself.

Lets try to at least not turn this place into Poetry Soup.
That place is a highschool of clicks  and  sad people who act like children  hell the kids there act more mature than the adults.

People fear honesty and I know coming fro0m me this is the last thing you expected  but i had to get this off my chest.
Great writers  werent worried with if you liked what they did or how many people  liked them.

I respect you all but all I ask is  to be more honest with each other.
Cause this place is turning into a zoo and no one seems to be running the asylum.

Speak your mind cause if you dont know one will ever know your true voice.

Thank you and  if I offended at least I made you think.
Any comments good or bad  are welcome sorry for the rant.
Its more than a feeling when its come down to the finish and even a worse one when you realize its time to start yet again.
Like some sick version of twisted game show your always in reach and anytime your desperate the ****
will gather to praise your failure.
The bottle filled glory days a dinosaur who's back id long fell of of trying to stay in the groove simply has left me with more scratches than  I care to speak of so **** the logic in this I preffer a good ******* covred lie instead.

Hell wasnt a fire laced horror theme it was a emptyness beyond anything a normal man could ever imagine.
Good thing I would never fall under that title.

We were somewhere in Maryland the bar a afterthought now and are drunken thoughts had left us silent to
ramble in are own personal hells we tried to convince others didnt exist.
As for the big payoff well .
If half empty shows and being more broke than when you left was a sucess then we were true diamonds at this point.
You give it all out there only to question do you have a home to return to.
And Martin was a wounded solider broken from a quick text once read.
Ive had enough I wont be here when you return.

And as he was broken we did what any self absorbed ******* who couldnt face what could be us would do.
Drown in vices and cracked jokes over are friends misfortune and tried to make sure we didnt get to much of his misery to
**** are buzz.

For me it was the usal some quick drinks some soon to be forgotten conversations with women I'd seldom
recall gotta keep chasing that good time cant let the boys see your reallity or you'd fall and
never do you wanna show weakness in a pack of wolves .

Robert was always the same a crash and burn ****** who started fights and had to be half loaded to even greet the day.
Once I saw the geinus behind what had now became the running joke of the group.
The tide had long since returned to the ocean  and left him trapped apon the shore.

We all knew he was a dead end street but he paid his way and as long as we could scam a few bills from him
we used him without regard it was the worst kind of cutthroat you could imagine.
All in the name of a good laugh.

Being said that only left me and Tony to keep this **** togather we rode long hours and made little money but just like sharks if were still moving with some drugs in are system were still doing good.


My head against the window rains steady rythm kept me company  in this silence I could allow the ******* guard down.
Count the laughs and ignore the bombs  **** it was a bloodthirsty scene in south Boston lastnight.
The crowd intent on breaking you and getting down watred down drinks overprized and as shallow as there
owners for the moment.

Why the **** was I here stuck in a prison with four wheels rolling steady and praying not to get pulled
by the cops and wondering if anyone of us could lie well enough to be trusted to drive **** knows
the best driver had just been hitting the pipe a hour ago.
And I really didnt think my flask in side pocket would be a charming insentive to some officer who hated dealing with a
car filled with drunks and junkies.

So what you boys do?
I could hear this converstaion playing out.
Were comedians  just heading home officer been on the road awhile.
Oh yeah you boys any good?
Well as you can tell from this fantastic 1999 minvan crap mobile were driving  were  a great sucess.
You being a ******* boy?

Some people never get the joke.

The miles passed and soon were bound for are corners.
Off from the battle left only to crawl in
broken down hovels and lick are wounds with whatever drugs we may have left laying around.
And as for me I'd just turn off the lights and sleep.

In the dark nobody touches my often semi burnt out thoughts.

And as the days bled one into the next I'd  tell myself ***** it Im done!.
But bad habbits and that insane thought of what if is a real ******* at times.
And really what else besides the page could ever bring me the misery and false happiness I so desired.

Soon like some worn out race horse id be at the starting gate again I could only run till I drop.
Why do it you may ask?
Cause its just who I am the crowds a drug like any other and that one night of connection
is more of a rush than any needle to arm has ever been.

The finish line never means **** when you know inside.
All that leaves you with is another time to begin.
Far from a poem i know but often Ive always considred myself a writer and a writer
at least in my scrwed up thoats can write anything.

Sometimes when coming off the road I have these moments when I think .
**** all thats left is to just be out there like some hampster i a wheel it just goes nowhere.
But other than its a real pain in the ****.

Stay crazy Gonzo
In my office me and Gonzo waited speaking on deep issues
with no true meaning as usual.
*******'s heart had been broken for Drew had   left him a beaten and
love bitten  luchador slash attorney.

Senior Gonzo speaking endlessly to the hat rack had reminded me why
I never  dropped acid anymore.
Poor gonzo had just been served with divorce papers  to which
his only response was ****** amigo  i never knew i was married.


As his attorney  i belived a trip to mexico was outta the question for i had just got back do to some well a misunderstanding  its legal
jargin you  couldnt possibly understand.

His deadline was near  and without my solid advise this man wouldnt be able to pull it off  so being we had been in the bar for more than
eight hours  we decided to make a exit through the  mens room window.


Front doors are over rated.
In my legal office slash camper  hey eveyone starts somewhere
okay.
  I was reminded of my  loved hellcat Drew
she had left many items here a satanic bible  her  boil cream.
how I did mis rubbing her webbed toes.

How was i to work Gonzo was a mess hidding under the table
so the ginger bread people couldnt find him
and return him to there  bitter talentless leader
Kate Perry  i swear if you stab me one more time senior  gonzo
with that fork in my maracas im going to get medevile on your ***

Oh how i missed my tag team partner drew.
i should never have introduced her el man donkey who
resist such a uhh personallity.

But now here I  sit with a madman under my table tripping his
***** off   insisting  I contact Simon Cowell  to inform him
man ******  are so yesterday.

If only I had gotten the Lindsy Lohan case  I would finally have gotten my brake or maybe just a std.
Oh well theres always hope Mel Gibson  will need me.
The road warrior was a true classico  and he seemed so well
balanced compared to my   reallity challenged  cilent.

Remember kids if ever  you have a chance to trip with senior Gonzo
its probaly best you hide all sharp objects.
adios  *******
el ******* is always availible for quick and honest legal advise
i except all major credit cards and  will take trade as well
******* loves you all  just like  sisters  even the men to
adios
I had locked away my true thoughts and muzzled my true voice
for far to long.
Was it a character i desired to be?
Were my words to be but a joke to break the awkward silence?

When you start to be social only to lock yourself up
to exist with your demons your becoming a dangerous
person to yourself.

My work once flowed now it sits half finished  great starts
stalled endings.
My skills were learned from not the comic arena
and i could imagine my journalist friends  laughter mocking
me even now.

He's slipped  finally lost in cheap jokes  gone from
anything that speak's of his true voice.

The people didnt thirst to know John.
for my well penned alter ego was the one they all knew and so blindly
misunderstood.

Old friends check in.
Messages on my phone i'd sooner erase than
respond to.
Had I slipped in some form of insanity?
Embracing dellusion  to mask my failures in life?

I was a writer ,A troublemaker  and owner of laughs.
A good time for many yet emptyness was my reallity.

As from  the TV screen reflected change and madness.
For crazy is a close friend of chaos.

I got in the game to make a mark but what was the price?
A destroyed marriage  a relationship  heading into
the very same direction.

What had I become but some twisted monster
and tormented soul.
A sad afterthought  to a sick joke.

Deppresion can  make us into something no mirror can truely
reflect.
The chamber stayed loaded  the glass my curse
seldom these days full.

And what she wanted I could never give  like sunsets
red cast gold flaked embrace i was a moment.
And moment's can't forever last.

No child should know a madman's life.
And a selfish *******  I knew was my role.

Empty streets and smokey old bars  were my  path
and what to anyone could i truley give?

Pain was the fuel hours my sea to sail alone.

The chamber was full but soon one would
be missing.

A tale cant be read untill it's finshed.
We are but moments.
And moments can't last forever.
No Matter The Floor You Pass Out On

I awake as any other madman slash poet.
Apon the floor  naked  pizza box for pillow a members only jacket for a blanket.
yes the libary sure has changed over the years.

less and less people were reading buggets were cut meaning
libraryies were under staffed and rarely did anyone dare venture into
the stacks  and thank good for that. Cause being i preffered free sleeping
it was probaly for the best.

but no matter the the floor you pass out on most all fine
american men wake up with are god given birth rite.
That which after a trip to the restroom like
that early morning madness that was christmas  pressent openning
was over way to fast and was kinda disapointing.

Floors werent the best beds in the world in fact they
****** altogather but drinking and common sense dont even
belong in the same room togather.

Portsmouth Va  was a strange world indeed a place where upscale colided with skidrow.
Me I preffer the company of a outdoor sleeper to that of a
spoiled spoon fed yuppie ****.
the art school cranked out angst ridden buble people by the second.

They walked the street soaking in the pain of life.
there heads stuck so far up there ***** I always felt compeled to trip them as they walked by.
acting as though they were outsiders  yerning to be mainstream
they'd **** there mothers on a mtv reality show as dad cried in the background.

Just for a taste of stardom.
True talent who needs that?
but no matter the floor you pass out on one
thing was clear.

In a world were you could have a bus load
of kids and get paid for it.
fame wasnt such a rare thing anymore.

The floor I passed out on was cold and cruel but surrounded
voices from the past.
the floor these hollow  reallity show bottom  feeders
passed out on.  Had to besoft as there heads.

Otherwise there brains would splatter across the floor.
And some TV exect would have a brainstorm  to have a show
were washed up celebrities would have a contest.

To see who could bore us the most with there sob story  
Yes friends id rather have a pizza box for a pillow
than a reality show  pillbox for a brain.

and the truth effectsus all form no matter
which floor so you do choose to pass out on.
Undearneath overcast skies i stand alone to see none that once stood here before.
Faces I'd come to know and respect now ghosts burried by some who never viewed us at all.
In laughter we find truths of understanding that still cuts deep from wounds shall we stop the bleed?

I read words whom I once new as friends comfort is a mistress ive never taken grasp of.
A stranger in full view but unlike others I refuse to take my place amoungsnt the dead you decived.
Cowards turn there heads.
I stare into rejection straight as a arrow burnt on route towards the sun.

******* is for thoose whom belive themselfs better.
A sunset holds that emotion I was called compassion now ice does embrace my regret.
It's always in there eyes you see.
A well ment *** kisser is but a snake in the garden always waitting for a chance to strike.
When I view what its become I see nothing more than barren fields of once rich earth.

Mocking tone's seldom bite harder than silent thoughts.
Maybe they'll speak of me in shadow what they cant bare to view in light.
The bottel's hold was a vice a friends turn but a dream cast over a nightmare's decline.
***** them if they cant speak there minds.

Anyone can back down to fools with soft words and even weaker minds.
I still taste the bitter words like sand from the storm.
The fool is many things but seldom your pawn.

Ive just come here to view the headstones of a ****** up past.

Maybe I'll fade but never to anothers mush mouthed glee my words a venom
no rattle snake dare to match.
There's no friends in war and this false disney land reeks of ***** and cotton candy.


I'll take my place when they bury me alive for not everyones spine is made of paper.
***** the cowards for least the dead tried!
Rage is my thirst and no longer will I let you walk over
this grave without a fight.

The happy image is but a poisen pen a ******* up reallity in a ******* game I refuse to play.
Mock me to my face for i could care less.
For the thoughts of a coward are but rat dropping left only to decay and be forgotten.

Least the tombstones mark thoose who forever gave voice to what  a politician can never grasp.
When i close my eyes finale at least I rest my thoughts knowing who I truely am.
Enough said!
Warren-Johnson Aug 2018
Why do I even bother ?
Oh this is not a poem to sway you with romantic words, no infact i probably won’t share this with whom it belongs.
No more an apology, and reallity check for me!
Oh but that be said without malice for you!
Rather all I do is ***** things up!
Even though I’d try my heart to make sure to get it right with every intention to make your day!
I’d get it wrong I don’t even truly know where I went wrong!
But somehow hurt you i did!
Thats more painfully riviting ro my core far more than you pushing me away!
Many words come to mind from pathetic, useless, idiotic. Waste of human space, and many more, sad to describe anyone as this sadder realising this of oneself!
Should have got right the first time and save everyone the waste of time!
Have had to get my head around not doing anything they call stupid for so long, i honestly strugle to find a reason to carry on!  For what? Why?
And mostly cant say it would stupid, no be thei ly thing i can  think would make sense!
To hurt the one i love no matter what i do ill ***** it up!
Hurting you is an unbearable thought!
How could i live with myself?
Cant see how i can get rhrough that
Let alone this pain!
You mean so much to me!
Ive said is take a bullet for you! (Die for you)
But would rather live for you !
Now if you not there?
Cant see much hope at all !
No where! All rhe general reasons everyone would usually morivate you with, would hold so little weight!
This pain be out of this world i try but  cant expain this be of magnitudes earthquakes couldnt measure on the same scale!
And somehow i try find that reason in fear of hurting other loved ones!
Somehow i rather find hope!
Not the hope youd think though!
Oh no this is hope that my loved ones (famil)  will understand this pain and somehow forgive me for my intention be not to hurt  them, but to find ease finnaly!
Comfort knowing id be not the reson orhers will hurt tomorrow!
Yes dark and dismal thoughts!
Or are they?
Are they not in other ways considerate?
Oh oh i lean to think so..
He stared off into the distance a stranger to all including himself.
Often when men stand apon that ledge there is little to be said befor the leap.
We all joked poured drinks and passed beer's paying little are no true attention
like the word we mocked we were ******* far from friends.

I saw the thought and spoke nothing I cant stop a trainwrweck  yet i can always get a good view.
He knew like a sappy western sundown would bring death  in a lost stance.
Even with a slight buzz I always saw the view of destruction in a writer reason with poetic sense.

I gotta go there was no soundtrack to warn no ******* follows traggedy
only seconds were left a hourglass count began silent to drunks and in honest
verse none would care.

He handed me his last beer and without question I knew goodbye was not a question.
The chapter had been written.
dark clouds didnt set the canvas to what would happen are laughter matched the light of a early summers embrace.

The sirens i'll always remember the the sirens a invite to a choas coated scene.
The others only looked in that puzzled deer in the headlights moment.
Doc  as we knew him had left the party  drove a mile down the road  
and turned a relaxing friday evening to a day spoke about in often twisted truth.

What had caused it?
A woman as simple as that a fight over a married woman and between the
two neither was her husban.

At the scene it was a sureal event  a fight had broke out Donald  laid
face down in the yard a blood spattred bloated lawn ornament from hell.
And in the truck the man I knew as friend in only names sense lay slumpped over the wheel.

It's a strange thing to absord in one's mind movies are just ****** up lies.
And the source of this chaos went unscathed.
And like any small town it would be talk of every conversation.

And like a snowball from a fragment it turned into a story that held no truth.
And with time it was forgotten replaced by gossip's ever turning wheel.
All had forgotten but I never have for it replays like some ****** up theater act within my thoughts.

Yeah i hate that ******* id love to scatter his brains across the the floor.
the ******* of anger seldom faces the reallity's of truth.
Whats behind the dark glasses is  more than foder for a barooms laughter.

More truths are in jokes than a simple conversation.
Ive viewed the trainwreck often in my life.
But this is just one view into many of my life's backpages.

I often hide behind laughter.
And shield my reallitys to mask what none should understand.
You were more than a memory sorry I never did more.

Most forgot but I never have.

       Dedicated to Russel Bishop.
For a very long time ive thought of writting of my past but didnt want to **** my thoughts only to
seem to fuel a ego or seem to expliot what batters my thoughts.
I just mean these writes to give a little insight into myself for friends and such.

And you wonder why im so ****** up.
Well kids truth is stranger than fiction
Kristina E Jun 2014
Wouldnt it be nice
to have a reallity
where all the people
close to my heart
would be close to my body?

I wouldnt have to choose
a country becaouse
each one I'd lived in
has a significant part of my heart

I imagine it would be nice
feeling at home
and not always feeling like
there is a piece missing out.

Becaouse right now, I feel homesick even at home.
I'll leave my resolution as she leaves her
tight black dress apon the floor.
In passion of a ***** tinted kiss.
we'll forget the times to follow if only
in are trainwreck splendor.

Two souls thirsting for contact.
Tearing at one another like children unwrapping
gifts from under the tree.

Plessure is a dream togather were caught willing
victims of a lost night and a years end.

As tommorows starts a year's slow decline.
In her eyes I need only a glimpse to recall.
The madness that was in the streets we
stole a nights most simple plessure.

A private partys afterglow is such a bittersweet
tressure we'll recall togather.
In the velvet of a embrace more than skin did connect.
Within thoose eye's the embers of that private
party for a breif moment does reflect.

As traces of reallity plague the return of the following
day.
One kiss tasting of devilish remorse I caught a whisper of love
But in a shallow moments thought just watched it
walk away.
Another off the top of my head write from my  book The Still Night Sessions.

Even  a comedian  has a much darker side.
Were all ****** up somehow and it's my flaws and thoose in this
nightworld  inwhich I exist that will forever be my canvas
and my drive.

Stay Crazy  John
Sometimes you gotta get lost to find the emptyness of the true soul.
Bury thoose memories  to unearth old truths.
Cut the ties only to return to thoose past relations.

Ive seen the streets erase the picture only to relive the past.
Living ghosts a backdrop eternal.
I cant question thoose night's regrets like a blanket keep me warm
on a  humid night.
When all is wrong why cant anything be right.

I'd never  curse you utter truths into your lies.
Tainted encounters in many ever changing rooms.
Neon lit dream's  sunset of my mind salt water taste the
bitterness we love.

The mountain's veiw is empty and cold.
Have we lost the the spark.
Iced over thoughts leave only shallow promises
to hold.

So I'll push you away only to hold the memory dear.
A coward  to live in the pressent.
A living ghost of the man  who once stood here.

I've lost track gone so far from all that ive known.
Sparks in the darkness.
Only illusion  paint's the reallity sanity grace me life
once more.
I question has it vanished with my time?
Idk people im rusty  I guess  hell did I used to be a writer
cheers
The cards have been played jokers once wild were part of a strangers fate.
The sudden ends promise seemed a fitting end to a sad play.
As in love were pawns to a changing emotion as restless as
the wind that blows off the sea.

Monster's my dear exist even within me.
Addiction has taken passion I can no longer love as in the page.
Suicide take's the person as in thoughts i'll blur the image.

I'll write the end only to erase my past.
Will they understand?
My solution was a bitter end and a finale  and retreat.

Anger doesnt understand the endless rage.
Empty thoughts from the shallow page.
Ive seen it clear apon a night cast with my demons fog.

The edge is past reallity will splatter me in a lifeless pile.
Madness greet's the creative mind.
As sanity clings like a mother to
her son waitting for the war.

Ive long over stayed my welcome now I embrace
the finale chapter.
The candle's flame was ment only to consume.
The moths will second to it's nature.

A burst of flame then a slow fade into the ash apon the floor.
Empty eyes of a child hearts never  stay broken.
We understood the play as traggic befor the closing act.

laughter my card a gift ive left in your heart.
Erased from sight I question the desire.
The edge wasnt there untill it was past.
Seems some were never ment to last.
Sometimes we cant
To know more than the plessures  of  a nights  collision.
Twisted is the tangle   in the blindness of passion
it absorbs into the night.

Far beyond actions  and simple passion of a night shared.
The scent of  its plessure makes thoughts subside.
As she does tease the senses we are brought down
to  the ways of children begging for release.

To know passion and embrace the  moment
she will not understand.
Dreamers cannot fathom  its pure reallity.

Laced in love so ****** up from life.
Gentle  are the velvet edges tender as
the surgeons knife.


When it ends maybe tommorow it shall begin.
To feel it's fire only to be tormented by it's cold.

The beauty  of a violent release flustration
in arms of regret does reside.
The sounds of  echo of torments plessure.
The true voice we were so unwilling to admit.

As in the are madness  sanity  is but a glimmer of light.
As held tightley two bodies rest weary.
Cast a jaded view of love of a immortal  
apon this soon  to be forgotten night.
Sometimes im am a lover of the abstract.
Yet  always my nature is to tell a story one that
is left  to be many things to the reader.

dedicated to my angel of torment.
and glimmer of hope.
J.E.R.

that should keep ya guessing for awhile.
Well lookin back it seems i think little  somethin
always beat's a whole lotta nothin.
The road at night is a mystery  yerning to remain unsolved.

No direction sometimes  seems better than the reallity of
a dead in street.
Burnt out  from pills and *****.
A head that pounds with a steady rythym of
of past failures and false starts.

As in bottles we seek answers to the unasked questions
of the dammed soul and promising lie.
Four walls  a asylum  or a hotel of your choosing.

Last times regret cant match tonights need.
Burnt emotions frozen feelings.
A great  lie love is dellusion  a drug for the
junkies soul.

Cold even on a mid summers night.
I paint in colors of a doomed nature.
Void yet alluring to the naked eye.

Like a records unclear sound the flaws are what
make it true.
This writers  fire has all but faded.
I ask does that glass appear  half empty to you?
We all see it diffrent my friends.
Evan Crow Jan 2017
Never let the voice that whispers softly in your ear .
Dictate the direction of your soul.
As in his embrace you find passion but do you know truth?

Make no diffrence between the two.
For a fools logic often allows passion to blur the reallity .

For in blood promises writen agreements seem easy till the price need be paid.

Locked doors will not shield you from a end simply create your tomb .
On full moons and othet dark ocassions often there is light even within the darkness.

Did the promise not live up to the truth my dear.
Did that temptation just seem to sweet to deni .
We can ignore are nature but we are carnal animals just the same.

Death finds us empty as alone we must enter to whatever may be .
Never make promises your not willing to keep.


And so in your demise the whispers softly as they were spoken from a forgotten lovers release .
Were still lies just the same.
It's always when the magic hits that blissful ****** up buzz I'm alone in the bar putting up the stools up closing down as usal.

I always have one behind the bar light a cigar just soak in the silence .
It's then when it all comes back in a flood to me .

The faces of those passsed my brothers.
I pour a shot of borbon for them each.
Always making mine a double .

I imagine there laughs the bad jokes and great conversations we no longer share .

William always playing the jukebox that trademark laugh that could light a room.
Bob Warren cracking people up hitting on the women he was a one man sideshow and a old vet.

Bone .
My closest brother the guy who ****** everyone off and always made me laugh .
We'd talk for hours kick back the drinks and torment everyone around us.

Cause if we didnt **** with you.
We truly didnt give a **** about you.
I had burried them all as alone now i stand .

The smoke hung in the air as i saw them all and for a moment i wasnt alone.

It always hit hardest on nights like these .
The women will all leave you .
Love is a fire that burns beyond are control.

But the memories are the tressure bury them deep only to dig them up when you are alone .

I drank each shot as one by one they vanished from sight.
I do not believe I can bury another .

I guess in all truth I hope the next is me..


I closed the door locked it behind me the air outside was frozen.
My breath shown on the walk home.

I was alone .

Sometimes the page is far more simple than reallity of this existence.
I'm glad to have shared one last round with friends .

We can write the ending.
But life always seems to see it a different way.

Cheers

Gonz
I think at early age i saw the truth and its harsh light.
The dreamer was a sweet idea  the  reallity  a cold *******.
The poets to weak often found comfort in there vices.

The  washed up often found a finale page in there brains being splattred  across the room.
And the wise often found themselves wanting foolish
things.

Love it was a word often used and seldom felt.
It was that  fix down  Church street   it was a score for a moment a regret at best.

Love i hate it's existance it was the mirage that I saw in a cool nights fog
It called me once and killed me slowley one bad choice at a time.

Im not saying the young couple in passion is a time bomb  waitting to
turn into a  disaster at any second.
Im just saying it wouldnt catch me in it's aftermath.

The washed up thought it made them immortal.
The dreamers thought of it as air.
And the wise were to busy avoiding it at all cost's.

But the broken saw it as paper sailboat  caught in a storms drain.
I remeber her well.
In the end no matter what kind of  ******* you try to be.
We all hurt the same.
And pain washes regret in a pool of mistrust .
We all bleed in thought.
"?"
Travel through the universe,   Someday we might,                                         But is it truely a reallistic plight?                                                                         Are we scared,  to what we would find,                                                             But then do we care,   in the back of our mind?                                                Is there really a super being,                                                                                  We could believe just by seeing?                                                                           And does reallity exist out there in space,                                                         Or would we disappear with out a trace?
michael mcAdam Apr 2014
i swit her with the desire tp feel pain
but not so much it hurts just enough tp be brought back to reallity
i wounder how it feel to be wounded be on pain
i need to feel what my heart feels
so please slap me if you see me
Dimitrios Sarris Aug 2016
Secrets, small statues of glass well kept in hidden lockers for they are so easy to break. Secrets that are kept from others cause we are afraid that they will change their minds for us, or we will hurt them.
The reallity is that secrets hurt more than the truth we try to hide beneath them, but the greatest mistake is that we think we'll make our lives better keeping them well guarded.
People make the separation truth or courage when there is no difference. You need courage to speak the truth but even more to hear and accept it.
So truth or lie, light or darkness. It's so discouraging to know that mankind in such dilemma has a proclivity to choose the most self destructive option.
Like the fish in the water we are, swimming between nets. Other visible and other not. We can get trapped in them but not for a lifetime, cause we insist to forget that we weave them and unlike fish we could break loose whenever we want.
Jack Aylward Oct 2015
Time creates an energy of depression
Eyes forgetting to wake
Even if woken
You are not dead
Just lost
And broken

You are fenced in between
Two words
Reality and non-reallity
Even if loved
You are not ready
Just waiting
And waiting
Before
Your
Time is due

Life on earth
For you
Was a mystery
Even in a short space of time
You had a life
But you have only
Just one question to ask
Your maker
Why has it come to this?

©Jack Aylward,
17th November 2008
TR3F1LD Mar 30
this one's just an assemblage of diverse
thoughts turned I̲nto a rhymed verse
no stories (alack), like a triple-decker
turned into a roofless single-decker
["no storeys"]
best intro ever
————————————————————————————————
in mY̲ op, lyric writing is
["in my opinion"]
a type of exercising, which
along with different lyrical tricks
rap is familiar for, e[ɪ]x—
["miliar" in "familiar" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "mil ya"]
—plains why some lyrically addicted perceive
lyric writing as sport
like a gym, cO̲[ɑ]ntent has weight
but it's, bY̲ & large, curb
appeal I get fixed on, jU̲st like Max Payne (a pill)
[Max Payne is a painkiller addict]
a kind of perfectionistical stiff
who's, lyrics-wise, a fiend for technique (technique)
so, while writing lyrics, the lead
thing is rhymes, so rhyme schE̲mes must be lit (must be lit)
just like an individual with
dope delivered I̲nto the syst.
["addicted"; "a pill [appeal]"; "a fiend"; "lit"; "dope"]
[all 5 words constitute a narcotic context]
[I have no intention to glorify dope or its consumption]
in a way, rhyme's a mag—ic of syllables, which
is something that should be given good heed
like a psychopath who can easily flip
speaking of which
you want to bet whether I wI̲nd up cast
inside a go[ɑ]ddamn mad—house? inasmuch as at
["Gotham"]
times it seems I'm becoming bats (slowly)
like the Gotham order up—holder
but some lines are, by all odds, compO̲sed by, um, joker
[the Batman, who's called "Bats" by his archfoe Joker]
like somebO̲dy feeling the need
of having fun, it's a Harley Quinn you should seek
["harlequin"]
or, at least, a ******* shrink, but you keep
[Harleen Quinzel was, before falling in love with her patient Joker]
[a psychologist, which is a type of mental health specialist]
[also called by the umbrella term "shrink"]
being that dog in the mid of a lit
room like "this is fine" (not really)
this wicked mind's deprived of peace like a leak-
-taker recently finished the leak (stupid)
["****"]
how violent & vindictive it ge[ɪ]ts
sometimes, esp. when my sh#t's getting writ
guess I'm seen, like a piece of a flick
["scene"]
as a somewhat despicable *****
with all the indecency & hostility writ (like Shady)
but if there's sO̲meone willing to b#tch
about that, such type of people should twig
something: an obnoxious lyricist, which
is what I chiefly am, is by far smaller evil in this
******* world next to ones who really commit
those or other villainous deeds (smaller evil)
[everything is relative]
moral nazis, like a stripper, should ge[ɪ]t
started from the top, i.e. corrupted pieces of sh#t
upholding **** systems that ge[ɪ]t
dissidents imprisoned, or victimized in prisons, or stiffed (**** systems)
["stiffed" in the sense of "killed"]
what I do may be seen as lyrical e[ɪ]x—
["sin"]
—tremism 'cause when I fi̲ll up a sheet
for bars, I, like a jihadi mad dog, gE̲[ɪ]t off the leash
["smaller evil"; "villainous deeds"; "stripper"; "corrupted"]
["**** systems"; "victimized in prisons"; "stiffed"; "jihadi mad dog"]
[all those constitute a sin-related context]
but I'm a bored hundido that's leashed (hundido that's leashed)
bark like crazy with lines of texts I indite
that's what the reallity makes me feel like
autocracies' po[ɑ]litics make ill will rise (rise)
yeah, diving into music or some on-screen type
of entertainment can help an ill mind
to feel fine (somewhat), but that's just a ****-time (**** time)
almost nothing vis-a-vis a thrill ride
guess we all need some real high
as if we've climbed atop a prodigious cliff, right? (real high)
yeah, with this pretty skilled mind (lyrics-wise)
["pretty" in the sense of "somewhat", not "very"]
I'm like a demi-go[ɑ]d when I rhyme
A̲[ɑ]lthough sometimes
I feel so worthless & **[ɑ]llow, just like
words of someO̲ne full of lies, so wonder not why
I want to have some power sometimes
not the one of a ty—**** or a high-qualified
gunfighter backed by an army of private sublime
gunfighters; but if I̲ had such might
[on the second thought, who the hell would mind having it?]
[and that's the main humankind problem]
[given that humans seem to be highly evolved animals]
to utili̲ze, I'd not try to become the tyrant-like type
[the "lize, I'd" part is supposed to be read/pronounced as "luyzad"]
of ruler (no); it's said justice is blind
but I'm vigilante-like in my mind (vigilante-like)
so the justice of mine is more like an eye for an eye
evil must be punished, I side
with Rorschach, A̲[ɑ]lthough, as I
mentioned in one of my lines, in mY̲ judgement, vice
to apply is alright when you fight
["going against baddies with vice"]
against greater evil; I give nO̲[ɑ]t a ****, like
a dental clinic with a budget unhigh
["dam"]
if somebO̲[ɑ]dy upright's not fine with what I'm
about to say, but, po[ɑ]litics-wise, my mind's satisfied
when a power-corrupted sheisser'***** by
a ****** dO̲wnfall & I
know 'bout it, whether it's a confinement behind
bars or a violent demise (or something else unfortunate)
depending on crimes realized (crimes)
by them; all the ******-handed tyrants are quite
deserving of sU̲ch things, besides
their cold-hearted sidekicks in crime (cold-hearted)
I don't encourage violence, but my
vote goes for a tsar genocide (tsar genocide)
yeah, you barely get penalized in real life
(which is such a shame)
but, like a machine for grinding wood, I've
got you pulverized in my lines
————————————————————————————————
oh, &, in view of the higher writ lines
there's the final thing I'd
like to mention: ***** auto[ɑ]cracy, like
it's a female tyrant to swive (ha-ha)
[no offense toward women intended, I'm just an entertainer with a wicked mind]
"lesser evil" by TR3F1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)

— The End —