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Mitchell Duran Dec 2013
In the Fall, when the temperature of the Bay would drop and the wind blew ice, frost would gather on the lawn near Henry Oldez's room. It was not a heavy frost that spread across the paralyzed lawn, but one that just covered each blade of grass with a fine, white, almost dusty coat. Most mornings, he would stumble out of the garage where he slept and tip toe past the ice speckled patch of brown and green spotted grass, so to make his way inside to relieve himself. If he was in no hurry, he would stand on the four stepped stoop and look back at the dried, dead leaves hanging from the wiry branches of three trees lined up against the neighbors fence. The picture reminded him of what the old gallows must have looked like. Henry Oldez had been living in this routine for twenty some years.

He had moved to California with his mother, father, and three brothers 35 years ago. Henry's father, born and raised in Tijuana, Mexico, had traveled across the Meixcan border on a bent, full jalopy with his wife, Betria Gonzalez and their three kids. They were all mostly babies then and none of the brothers claimed to remember anything of the ride, except one, Leo, recalled there was "A lotta dust in the car." Santiago Oldez, San for short, had fought in World War II and died of cancer ten years later. San drank most nights and smoked two packs of Marlboro Reds a day. Henry had never heard his father talk about the fighting or the war. If he was lucky to hear anything, it would have been when San was dead drunk, talking to himself mostly, not paying very much attention to anyone except his memories and his music.

"San loved two things in this world," Henry would say, "*****, Betria, and Johnny Cash."

Betria Gonzalez grew up in Tijuana, Mexico as well. She was a stout, short woman, wide but with pretty eyes and a mess of orange golden hair. Betria could talk to anyone about anything. Her nick names were the conversationalist or the old crow because she never found a reason to stop talking. Santiago had met her through a friend of a friend. After a couple of dates, they were married. There is some talk of a dispute among the two families, that they didn't agree to the marriage and that they were too young, which they probably were. Santiago being Santiago, didn't listen to anybody, only to his heart. They were married in a small church outside of town overlooking the Pacific. Betria told the kids that the waves thundered and crashed against the rocks that day and the sea looked endless. There were no pictures taken and only three people were at the ceremony: Betria, San, and the priest.

Of course, the four boys went to elementary and high school, and, of course, none of them went to college. One brother moved down to LA and eventually started working for a law firm doing their books. Another got married at 18 years old and was in and out of the house until getting under the wing of the union, doing construction and electrical work for the city. The third brother followed suit. Henry Oldez, after high school, stayed put. Nothing in school interested him. Henry only liked what he could get into after school. The people of the streets were his muse, leaving him with the tramps, the dealers, the struggling restaurateurs, the laundry mat hookers, the crooked cops and the addicts, the gang bangers, the bible humpers, the window washers, the jesus freaks, the EMT's, the old ladies pushing salvation by every bus stop, the guy on the corner and the guy in the alley, and the DOA's. Henry didn't have much time for anyone else after all of them.

Henry looked at himself in the mirror. The light was off and the room was dim. Sunlight streaked in through the dusty blinds from outside, reflecting into the mirror and onto Henry's face. He was short, 5' 2'' or 5' 3'' at most with stubby, skinny legs, and a wide, barrel shaped chest. He examined his face, which was a ravine of wrinkles and deep crows feet. His eyes were sunken and small in his head. Somehow, his pants were always one or two inches below his waistline, so the crack of his *** would constantly be peeking out. Henry's deep, chocolate colored hair was  that of an ancient Native American, long and nearly touched the tip of his belt if he stood up straight. No one knew how long he had been growing it out for. No one knew him any other way. He would comb his hair incessantly: before and after a shower, walking around the house, watching television with Betria on the couch, talking to friends when they came by, and when he drove to work, when he had it.

Normal work, nine to five work, did not work for Henry. "I need to be my own boss," he'd say. With that fact stubbornly put in place, Henry turned to being a handy man, a roofer, and a pioneer of construction. No one knew where he would get the jobs that he would get, he would just have them one day. And whenever he 'd finish a job, he'd complain about how much they'd shorted him, soon to move on to the next one. Henry never had to listen to anyone and, most of the time, he got free lunches out of it. It was a very strange routine, but it worked for him and Betria had no complaints as long as he was bringing some money in and keeping busy. After Santiago died, she became the head of the house, but really let her boys do whatever they wanted.

Henry took a quick shower and blow dried his hair, something he never did unless he was in a hurry. He had a job in the east bay at a sorority house near the Berkley campus. At the table, still in his pajamas, he ate three leftover chicken thighs, toast, and two over easy eggs. Betria was still in bed, awake and reading. Henry heard her two dogs barking and scratching on her bedroom door. He got up as he combed his damp hair, tugging and straining to get each individual knot out. When he opened the door, the smaller, thinner dog, Boy Boy, shot under his legs and to the front door where his toy was. The fat, beige, pig-like one waddled out beside Henry and went straight for its food bowl.

"Good morning," said Henry to Betria.

Betria looked at Henry over her glasses, "You eat already?"

"Yep," he announced, "Got to go to work." He tugged on a knot.

"That's good. Dondé?" Betria looked back down at her spanish TV guide booklet.

"Berkley somewhere," Henry said, bringing the comb smoothly down through his hair.

"That's good, that's good."

"OK!" Henry sighed loudly, shutting the door behind him. He walked back to the dinner table and finished his meal. Then, Betria shouted something from her room that Henry couldn't hear.

"What?" yelled Henry, so she could hear him over the television. She shouted again, but Henry still couldn't hear her. Henry got up and went back to her room, ***** dish in hand. He opened her door and looked at her without saying anything.

"Take the dogs out to ***," Betria told him, "Out the back, not the front."

"Yeah," Henry said and shut the door.

"Come on you dogs," Henry mumbled, dropping his dish in the sink. Betria always did everyones dishes. She called it "her exercise."

Henry let the two dogs out on the lawn. The sun was curling up into the sky and its heat had melted all of the frost on the lawn. Now, the grass was bright green and Henry barely noticed the dark brown dead spots. He watched as the fat beige one squatted to ***. It was too fat to lifts its own leg up. The thing was built like a tank or a sea turtle. Henry laughed to himself as it looked up at him, both of its eyes going in opposite directions, its tongue jutted out one corner of his mouth. Boy boy was on the far end of the lawn, searching for something in the bushes. After a minute, he pulled out another one of his toys and brought it to Henry. Henry picked up the neon green chew toy shaped like a bone and threw it back to where Boy boy had dug it out from. Boy boy shot after it and the fat one just watched, waddling a few feet away from it had peed and laid down. Henry threw the toy a couple more times for Boy boy, but soon he realized it was time to go.

"Alright!" said Henry, "Get inside. Gotta' go to work." He picked up the fat one and threw it inside the laundry room hallway that led to the kitchen and the rest of the house. Boy boy bounded up the stairs into the kitchen. He didn't need anyone lifting him up anywhere. Henry shut the door behind them and went to back to his room to get into his work clothes.

Henry's girlfriend was still asleep and he made sure to be quiet while he got dressed. Tia, Henry's girlfriend, didn't work, but occasionally would put up garage sales of various junk she found around town. She was strangely obsessed with beanie babies, those tiny plush toys usually made up in different costumes. Henry's favorite was the hunter. It was dressed up in camouflage and wore an eye patch. You could take off its brown, polyester hat too, if you wanted. Henry made no complaint about Tia not having a job because she usually brought some money home somehow, along with groceries and cleaning the house and their room. Betria, again, made no complain and only wanted to know if she was going to eat there or not for the day.

A boat sized bright blue GMC sat in the street. This was Henry's car. The stick shift was so mangled and bent that only Henry and his older brother could drive it. He had traded a new car stereo for it, or something like that. He believed it got ten miles to the gallon, but it really only got six or seven. The stereo was the cleanest piece of equipment inside the thing. It played CD's, had a shoddy cassette player, and a decent radio that picked up all the local stations. Henry reached under the seat and attached the radio to the front panel. He never left the radio just sitting there in plain sight. Someone walking by could just as soon as put their elbow into the window, pluck the thing out, and make a clean 200 bucks or so. Henry wasn't that stupid. He'd been living there his whole life and sure enough, done the same thing to other cars when he was low on money. He knew the tricks of every trade when it came to how to make money on the street.

On the road, Henry passed La Rosa, the Mexican food mart around the corner from the house. Two short, tanned men stood in front of a stand of CD's, talking. He usually bought pirated music or movies there. One of the guys names was Bertie, but he didn't know the other guy. He figured either a customer or a friend. There were a lot of friends in this neighborhood. Everyone knew each other somehow. From the bars, from the grocery, from the laundromat, from the taco stands or from just walking around the streets at night when you were too bored to stay inside and watch TV. It wasn't usually safe for non-locals to walk the streets at night, but if you were from around there and could prove it to someone that was going to jump you, one could usually get away from losing a wallet or an eyeball if you had the proof. Henry, to people on the street, also went as Monk. Whenever he would drive through the neighborhood, the window open with his arm hanging out the side, he would usually hear a distant yell of "Hey Monk!" or "What's up Monk!". Henry would always wave back, unsure who's voice it was or in what direction to wave, but knowing it was a friend from somewhere.

There was heavy traffic on the way to Berkley and as he waited in line, cursing his luck, he looked over at the wet swamp, sitting there beside highway like a dead frog. A few scattered egrets waded through the brown water, their long legs keeping their clean white bodies safe from the muddy water. Beyond the swamp laid the pacific and the Golden Gate bridge. San Francisco sat there too: still, majestic, and silver. Next to the city, was the Bay Bridge stretched out over the water like long gray yard stick. Henry compared the Golden Gate's beauty with the Bay Bridge. Both were beautiful in there own way, but the Bay Bridge's color was that of a gravestone, while the Golden Gate's color was a heavy red, that made it seem alive. Why they had never decided to pain the Bay Bridge, Henry had no idea. He thought it would look very nice with a nice coat of burgundy to match the Golden gate, but knew they would never spend the money. They never do.

After reeling through the downtown streets of Berkley, dodging college kids crossing the street on their cell phones and bicyclists, he finally reached the large, A-frame house. The house was lifted, four or five feet off the ground and you had to walk up five or seven stairs to get to the front door. Surrounded by tall, dark green bushes, Henry knew these kids had money coming from somewhere. In the windows hung spinning colored glass and in front of the house was an old-timey dinner bell in the shape of triangle. Potted plants lined the red brick walkway that led to the stairs. Young tomatoes and small peas hung from the tender arms of the stems leaf stalks. The lawn was manicured and clean. "Must be studying agriculture or something," Henry thought, "Or they got a really good gardener."

He parked right in front of the house and looked the building up and down, estimating how long it would take to get the old shingles off and the new one's on. Someone was up on the deck of the house, rocking back and forth in an old wooden chair. He listened to the creaking wood of the chair and the deck, judging it would take him two days for the job. Henry knew there was no scheduled rain, but with the Bay weather, one could never be sure. He had worked in rain before - even hail - and it never really bothered him. The thing was, he never strapped himself in and when it would rain and he was working roofs, he was afraid to slip and fall. He turned his truck off, got out, and locked both of the doors. He stepped heavily up the walkway and up the stairs. The someone who was rocking back and forth was a skinny beauty with loose jean shorts on and a thick looking, black and red plaid shirt. She had long, chunky dread locks and was smoking a joint, blowing the smoke out over the tips of the bushes and onto the street. Henry was no stranger to the smell. He smoked himself. This was California.

"Who're you?" the dreaded girl asked.

"I'm the roofer," Henry told her.

The girl looked puzzled and disinterested. Henry leaned back on his heels and wondered if the whole thing was lemon. She looked beyond him, down on the street, awkwardly annoying Henry's gaze. The tools in Henry's hands began to grow heavy, so he put them down on the deck with a thud. The noise seemed to startle the girl out of whatever haze her brain was in and she looked back at Henry. Her eyes were dark brown and her skin was smooth and clear like lake water. She couldn't have been more then 20 or 21 years old. Henry realized that he was staring and looked away at the various potted plants near the rocking chair. He liked them all.

"Do you know who called you?" She took a drag from her joint.

"Brett, " Henry told her, "But they didn't leave a last name."

For a moment, the girl looked like she had been struck across the chin with a brick, but then her face relaxed and she smiled.

"Oh ****," she laughed, "That's me. I called you. I'm Brett."

Henry smiled uneasily and picked up his tools, "Ok."

"Nice to meet you," she said, putting out her hand.

Henry awkwardly put out his left hand, "Nice to meet you too."

She took another drag and exhaled, the smoke rolling over her lips, "Want to see the roof?"

The two of them stood underneath a five foot by five foot hole. Henry was a little uneasy by the fact they had cleaned up none of the shattered wood and the birds pecking at the bird seed sitting in a bowl on the coffee table facing the TV. The arms of the couch were covered in bird **** and someone had draped a large, zebra printed blanket across the middle of it. Henry figured the blanket wasn't for decoration, but to hide the rest of the bird droppings. Next to the couch sat a large, antique lamp with its lamp shade missing. Underneath the dim light, was a nice portrait of the entire house. Henry looked away from the hole, leaving Brett with her head cocked back, the joint still pinched between her lips, to get a closer look. There looked to be four in total: Brett, a very large man, a woman with longer, thick dread locks than Brett, and a extremely short man with a very large, brown beard. Henry went back
Ayeshah Mar 2010
They touched and caressed,So close and so intimately.
She decided she had enough of feeling awkward
and took control over the situation.
Kala said I notice you been looking at me lately
a little differently and I wanted to know why?
Ai'yahna  let out a little sigh.
Well ever since I kissed you
in the elevator at work things
just hasn't been the same,
Yes I know we kissed
and touched like this but are you only  
bi curious or are you really into me?
Kala said  I wont lie this is my first time
doing anything even close to this.
I've never thought of it before
but I like how I feel when you touch me.
Ai'yahna Says you know I've been thinking
about you for a long long time
now and for me it's different.  
Let me show you what I mean.
Ai'yahna kissed  Kala's  forehead,
the bridge of her nose, than teased
her mouth open as she pulled her head by,
by pulling gently on her hair.  
Ai'yahna Moaned into her mouth as they deepened the kiss,
Sitting in the living room had started
out with champagne and dinner,
a girl's night out.
They're both wearing lingerie
Ai'yahna had on a baby doll nightie,
red&pin;;,
Kala's wearing a blue and purple short set
their toe's have the french tips and pedicure
from earlier when they went to the salon to get a full do up.
Ai'yahna  slides one hand in Kala's top
as she feels her up and down than squeezes
Kala's breast.
Kala bits on her lower lip and tries not to like it so much.
She feel weird but can't understand whats coming over her.
Ai'yahna  than stared kissing her neck biting as
She went further down toward Kala's cleavage,
Kala was only 5'2" with a slim waist and a big ***,
Her breast were about 36.C
Ai'yahna liked her ladies shorted than her 5'7 thick frame,
she too had a big ***, bigger than
Kaala's & her breast were about a 38-40.B
but she didn't have that tiny waist like Kala
She was thick not a big girl but far from small of course
Ai'yahna worked out about
4 to 5 times a day every time she took her
break and for about an hour for lunch.
Ai'yana didn't look butch she carried her weight
well and had a very feminine side
to her just like Kala, the difference's between them was
Everywhere Kala was soft
Ai'yahna was hard tone and firm,
But unlike a man she still had that femininity
about hr and she was still muscular like a woman
should be not counting her arms of course.
Kala started caressing Ai'yahna's back as
Ai'yana moved slowly down Kala's body
Kala couldn't help what Ai'yahna was doing to her,
She felt like she was burn up from the inside out,
Her desire caused her confusion
she shouldn't like it so much but OH God it felt so good,
She'd never been touched kissed
or licked like this by man or woman
and Yes she's dated a chick before
but they never went this far.
Ai'yahna licked
Kala's navel and midriff she teased and taunted her with her hair,
her fingers and teeth,
Up and down and all across her body,
Kala was looking her mind
she tried hard to fight the feelings
that were coming over her,
She wanted to stop it but couldn't form
the words all that came out was a little sigh.
As Ai'yahna moved further down  her body she tensed,
Readying herself for what was about to happen,
Ai'yahna kised than gently bit  down on
Kala's mound right  at the base of her ****,
she than used her teeth to take off
Kala's shorts as she was doing this
Kala began to play with Ai'yahna's ****,
squeezing her ******* with her two
fingers and pulling gentle, than
Kala grabbed a handful and slowly caressed each one
massages and teasing Ai'yahna.
Kala slid one finger inside
Ai'yahna's mouth when she was done taking her shorts off
than pulled her finger out and slid it into her own *****
Teasing Ai'yahna.
Kala said
Watch me and let me watch you,
Ai'yahna slowly danced as she undressed for Kala,
She moved so graceful like a ballerina.
Ai'yahna sat on the bear skin rug and started to
also playing with her own *****, She slowly putting
two-fingers in very very slowly until they were
filling up her hole. she moved them in and out
and Kala watched while taking one hand
and moving it in circle around her ****,
letting the other fingers slide in and out of her *****,
She took them out then shoved them deep
inside herself while Ai'yahna
watched  with abandon desire in her eyes.
Ai'yahna stood up and walked over to where
Kala was sitting on the couch.
She picked her up easy and laid
Kala down on the bear skin rug.
Spreading her legs far apart
Ai'yahna than licked  Kala's hole as
Kala continued to play with herself,
Ai'yahna moved her hands and held
them both above her head with just one
of her own hands while using the other to tease in
and out of Kala's *****.
She knew Kala would probably
put up a fight and she knew too that Kala liked it rough.
Ai'yahna thought to her self she may not be a man
but she'd make t work to have this beautiful woman
as her very own and do her best to please her.
It was so **** hard competing with men
for bi carious women.
Kala did in fact struggle and cried out as she felt
Ai'yahna penetrate her ***** to it's very core,
she likes it rough but wow this was so different
and it felt good more than it hurt-ed.
Ai'yahna ****** on her **** so hard
and bobbed her head up and down like
she was ******* on a **** she liked
and ****** insider her hole
taking her hands away just to spread her open
teasing her ***** as she slide in 2 fingers stretching her hole
and making her tense up as the pressure built and built inside Kala.
Just as Kala was about to ****** and *** her boyfriend walks in.
Neil didn't know what to say at the scene he just walked in on
his chick and another girl was on his floor going at it
and from what he could see the other chick had her fingers
and mouth on his chicks *****.
He could tell Kala was *******
from that sweet look on her face.
She always bit down hard
on her bottom lip to keep from
screaming while she was *******.
It turned him on yet he was fuming ,
To him it was some what like cheating and
His lady would pay for this one way or another.
She pushed up and away from the other woman
and the other woman just smiled and said Hey.
how are you I'm Ai'yahna,
She stood up licked her finger
than ****** one her index and
extended her hand to him.
Neil just looked at the both of them.
He studied Kala's sweet angelic face
as she watched the floor.
He than looked at this
Ai'yahna chick and smiled
she was almost as tall as him well
close enough to suit what he had just thought to do.
He liked her build and her athletic frame,
she still had to look up at him and he liked that a whole lot,
He said Hi. I'm Neil ,Kala's boyfriend....,
Baby he said to Kala.
I knew you had asked about doing this
but I never thought you'd really do it,
I'm shocked,
Kala says sweetie before you go off
please listen.
He laughs and says,
NO you listen.
Kala thought she was in for it now
and looked at the floor again while he talked.
Neil says I want in&right; now!
Ai'yahna smiles while Kala's mouth's drops open,
Neil's stripping and He watches his chick
just stands there with her mouth hanging open.
Ai'yahna walks up to Kala and starts
kissing her passionately.
She than bends down on her knees
and starts lick and again ******* on
Kala's ****,
Ai'yahna than again slide her fingers in Kala's  *****.
Neil walks right up to Kala and grabs her head saying
"**** my ****".
Kaala laughs and does what Neil asked of her to do.
She stops and says wait.
"No" is All Ai'yahna says and
her and Neil pick up
Kala and laying her down again on the bear skin rug.
Ai'yahna again starts her sweet torture on
Kala's ***** while Neil  stuck
his **** a little roughly inside
Kala's mouth.
Kala **** hard and
deep throats
Neils **** taking it all inside
as he rides her face.
He hold the sides of her face as
he pushes his **** in and out her mouth.
TO BE CONTINUED!!!!!
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright ©
Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
TheRhymeRenegade Jul 2018
I think we've found
an understanding
A common ground
Island in sea
I dont want you to feel shorted
So listen to me now
This is so important

When it comes to you and comes to me
I know there was uncertainty
But I also know how things are now
What we feel is more than what we usually allow
ourselves
And Its okay to let it come
And I could tell that you just wanted someone

So let me in you're the only one who can
I may be the only one who understands
Its okay to not have a plan
Its enough to simply be a man

I've never wanted
Something more
Don't hide the flaws
That I adore
No need to try
And fit a mold
These are more than just
Some words I've told

And I know that
You're very smart
But you embrace the brain
And hide from heart
I've hurt you, and you've hurt me back
For egos sake and what we lack

We can't take back all the mistakes
But Amy said
Its where you're at, not where you've been
And Its okay to let it come
And I could tell that you just wanted someone

So let me in you're the only one who can
I may be the only one who understands
Its okay to not have a plan
Its enough to simply be a man

I don't want to run your life
Or even be your wife
As much as I just want you to know
That I empathize
Its intimidating when something feels so good
Scared it isn't healthy or that you neglect the things you should
But you can't deny
And I would never lie

So let me in you're the only one who can
I may be the only one who understands
Its okay to not have a plan
Its enough to simply be a man

Its okay to let it come
I could tell that you just wanted someone
Its okay to let it come
I could tell that you just wanted someone
songwriting
Alexandria Hope Nov 2014
They say I can't chase you next
Can't seek out the moon over Mexico
or relive the tears I shed on the plane
home,
I can't feel the tirelessness of our forever
like the hope that dawned and set inside your eyes
I memorized every stitch in the broken couch
and I can still see us there
You're studying, I'm sleeping,
Planting rhubarb and watching our trees grow
Lightning shorted out the reception tower out back
As I sat on the end of our bed, mind blank, and laughed
All the glitter on the stone patio and the shirt left in the rain and the socks hung to dry on a hook you
Forgot
We kneaded pizza dough and watched Roseanne
That I jumped on you in the middle of the storm as you held me,
Kissing while UMF raged
In one loud, still moment
You are stopping me at the towel shack
Finding my legs under the restaurant table
Shoving my mittened hand in your pocket
Asking me to stay
Messaging me
and I know I'll chase you again
I just can't be with you now.
You'll see
breath shorted
mind blank
every thing goes black then is spotted to white
arms heavy, turning weak
hearing is now gone
her voice echoes through my head
skins vibrations turn to needle ******
seems my hole body is dieing
then
mind explodes with understanding of pain
surging
I feel a tap
no I cannot replied
lost all senses
on fire
they returned
after thoughts brought fascination
opened minded
open hearted
I no longer feel the same
the glitch to heavy
enlighten mind
impossible
Bear
Kerri Mar 2015
You tell her you love her
she says "I know I can see it in your eyes"
you look into hers and beneath the aqua blue
you can see she loves you too.

But she won't say it. She just turns her head and bites her lip.
She's not supposed to say it.
Willpower is something I strip off nonchalantly baring my naked soul
she zips hers up and holds it tight, she's not ready to be free

You share a visible yet impassable love
a beautiful gift kept tied in a bow, never for the world to open
Two stars floating in the universe meant to collide
yet always passing each other by
Chemically balanced, but time is never on your side

The sparks fly spitting out flames
but never catching fire
All that remains is a shorted circuit
because she never could be free.
Jay Sep 2018
oh, little ones
if I could build you a worthy city
to keep you safe and dreaming
I would crush the hope I had left
into a powder,
mix it
with all the things we grown couldn't be
and lay the slurry out to set,
harden it with sun and air
not hate
forming a foundation
where futures could be built
oh,
but my tools have no power
I dented them in fury and shorted them in tears
before they could be used to build  

oh, little ones
if ever I find safety in this homeless land
I'll wrap you in it
in a heartbeat
realizing you don't have the resources to help every worthy cause can be heartbreaking

6/19 update- It breaks my heart that this is still relevant
Jeremy Mackey Feb 2012
The Commercial says:

Collect the whole set!
Buy Tommy Toddler™! –Now says 6 gibberish phrases!
Buy Hannah Housewife™! –Laundry basket and stove included!
Buy Stanley Stepdad™! –Comes with realistic child abusing action!
Buy Cole, the College Student™! –Life-like *** and beer ***** scent!
It says: Buy the whole family.

Batteries not rechargeable, but included. Residing inside.
No assembly required unless buying Ralph the Retired™ – in which case,
Go to the hospital and inquire, am I covered ?
Have I expired ?

At the store I’d, see them all sorted, and sordid, clumped in little bins. Together.
Sort of. See,
Lawyers, and scientists, and authors were all in higher priced bins.
I felt shorted.
A cheap skate like me couldn’t afford it, wait-
there are the janitors, soldiers, and waitresses, each only a quarter.

Somewhere in Taiwan, thin children wont to wanting,
Are making Model Americans.
Patching together assembly-line-lives, no breaks inbetween,
Workers named High School, College, and Career sew mini seams.
So many seem, to delight in dreaming the American Dream,
To leave earthly bodies and become pristine; little dolls.
Toys colored C.R.E.A.M.

“…and the home of the brave!” ?
maybe, home of the depraved.
Home of the pre-made, pre-packaged, and
Enslaved.
Displayed, in plastic tombs engraved. With phrases like:
Save! 50% off!
or perhaps it’s 50 stars off.
50 stars that are missin.
Cuz Old Glory sure looks like a **** question mark ( ?)
End transmission.
Restart television with Remote Control.
Mark Lecuona Feb 2012
Are you carrying a silent burden? A memory you wish to forget? I have a few. Some were acts of stupidity that resulted in personal embarrassment. Back in college there was this girl that I liked. She had a new stereo bought for her by her Dad and she asked me if I could help her hook it up. My roommate asked if I needed help and I said no because I was afraid she would like him better than me if he put the stereo together. Look at how my shallowness was imputed onto her. Anyway, I put it together and I spliced the speaker wires together in a way that eventually shorted out both speakers. It was a humiliating experience. And because I was broke all I could do was apologize and slink away in shame.

Once though, I almost died. Climbing a small mountain in Palo Duro Canyon I found myself on a ledge, looked down and froze. I panicked. I had no confidence in the next step. Somehow, I lifted my foot and slowly made my way back to safety. The distance I needed to travel was less than six feet but it felt like a mile. This happened almost 27 years ago and to this day I can break into a cold sweat just thinking about that moment.

These aren’t memories that I wish to deny, but they are memories that cause mental discomfort. I have no one to blame except myself because I put myself into these situations. It's all over now and I've managed to become more prudent yet I still carry the memories (especially the little mountain climb) as if they happened yesterday.

Today, I suffer no loss of pride or ego. Why is that? Somehow I'm able to ignore self-inflicted wounds yet others carry around the pain of trauma inflicted by others.

Trauma can burn a hole into your mind. The hole can be covered up with experiences to the point that it's not noticeable to others, but you know where it is. And you avoid that hole. You build your life around it. It's as if you build a house on top of unstable soil. Instead of building on a solid foundation, you pretend the hole does not exist and move ahead without dealing with the hole. And you know what you have done is defer your problem to the future or you let it affect your life in such a way that you possibly deny yourself pleasure or invite stress because you cannot look into the hole and determine how to fill it permanently.

But what if the hole in your mind was dug by someone else? What if they dug the hole when you were unable to stop them? Maybe they dug the hole and you didn't even know that a hole didn't belong there. Maybe you felt that having a hole in your mind was normal because someone you felt had your best interests at heart was doing the digging.

There is a sign next to this particular hole with one word on it: Abuse. The word on this sign tends to be overused but there are those who need other words to describe their pain because the words hole and abuse cannot begin to describe their trauma. The problem is that society tends to be unforgiving about mental issues because to the naked eye, there is no evidence of a true problem. The human mind is so complex yet we simpletons tend to believe it can be managed very easily. Just do it they say. Just think your way through the problem and its all better.

To me the problem is that the mind does not heal itself like the rest of our body. A cut heals itself. But a severe injury such as a broken bone requires the help of a doctor. We all know this to be true and would consider someone foolish if they did not seek medical attention. Yet when the mind is injured we make fun of people who seek the help of counselors or psychiatrists.

Why is that?

Maybe it’s because we all know we could use help. Yet competency and having your act together is seen as the most important thing in life at times and our ability to day in and day out function under stress is the expectation. It’s been so commoditized that we are tough on ourselves and on others. We struggle through the day with high blood pressure or possibly drinking problems and soldier on instead of calling a mental doctor and just having a chat. This third party can help because they can let you know that you are not alone in your irrational feelings of fear that occasionally creep into your mind.

But, what about that hole in your mind that someone else dug? Why is it a problem? Maybe it was dug long ago and the shovel has been put away. Do you pick up the shovel and keep digging? Why do you refuse to fill it up? Do you feel unworthy? Do you think you somehow are tainted? Do you feel you need to be forgiven? You don’t need to be forgiven because you have done nothing wrong. You were abused. You were taken advantage of. But you retain the right to be happy. The right to a good life. The right to dream and to achieve. But are you not allowing yourself what everyone else seems to take for themselves? They are no better than you.

Yes, it happened to you. Yes, it was terrible and that person deserves bad things for what they did to you. But, this isn’t a conversation about forgiving them because I don't have the right or the insight to tell you to forgive them. That is up to you. But, it is a conversation about healing yourself and looking into the mirror and saying “I’m a human being and whatever someone did to me long ago doesn’t matter.”

Maybe you carry this with you because your abuser made you feel as if you deserved it. You didn’t. You were a child. They were an adult. All children cry, scream, act selfish and make mistakes. You were no different than any other child, but your abuser was different than normal adults. They had an illness or an inferiority complex so profound that they could only make themselves feel better by abusing someone who was helpless. You were helpless. But, it wasn’t your fault and today you should stand up and say “I deserve happiness because I did nothing wrong.”

You have to demand this of yourself. The hole must be filled up with the knowledge of your helplessness in the face of the abuser and with the true belief in your worthiness as a human being to exist in a happy state as others appear to be. You can do this because there is no reason to not believe in yourself. If the one who should have loved you the most didn’t love you then accept this fact and understand that you are lovable. It was their sickness that infected your mind. THEIR SICKNESS; NOT YOURS.

Don’t expect rejection from others because of what happened to you. Not everyone is an abuser. But if you carry this with you then everyone will be an abuser in your mind and you will fulfill a destiny that you have created. Stop looking for the approval of others. They are not God. They are merely human beings just like you and even though they may appear to have their act together, they don’t. Everyone is flawed. So don’t let yourself be intimidated by people; especially because of what happened to you. That is not you. That is only what happened to you.

DON’T LET IT BECOME YOU. And don't make others believe your hole is normal. It's not their burden. Don't dig a hole in their mind. Ask them to help fill yours up.
Karma was a dancer
at the Déjà Vu,
trading fantasies a few days a week
for *****, crumpled bills and
then living the dream on her days off.
That was before I knew her.
Before she faded just a little.

Which is not to say
that she was no longer beautiful
with her mermaid hair,
the color somewhere between
phosphorescent amber and
burning chestnut brown,
down to her *** and falling all around
her exorbitantly luscious curves.

The faint pucker lines 'round her mouth,
that liver spot, a slight,
barely discernable paunch,
I could see such things, too but
they only endeared me to
the façade of some silly notion
a kin to forever.

We would stay up late,
even on the weeknights,  
wine silly and
**** chatty.
She would dance
and I would tell her
****** poems in exchange.
It seemed like a good trade
to me but the truth is,
she was being shorted in the deal.

We said,
I love you
but I’m not sure we knew
that we didn’t really have that
to offer one another.
Both of us had sold more
than we had ever bargained for
long before we met.

When money ran thin and
times grew hard
she split.

Hope still stops by on occasion.
(She was a dancer, too).
But it seems a bit easier to distinguish
differences between the faux
and the genuine these days.
She doesn’t stay long.

I like to blame it all on Karma
despite knowing that I was just never
quite frugal or savvy enough to afford more than a few perfume-drenched moments at the foot of the stage.
King Tutankhamun Aug 2015
it all started when i signed the contract
i knew i was ****** just cuz im black
fresh in its like a jail cell with no bail stepped into a world with no feelings
no heart apart
from this contract i got a duffle bag m 16 rifle
Told mama im.goin' to war
she dont understand i may come back in a box hard to dodge the ****
of the government over here
fightin' for some silly *** oil
negoitating with the enemy
but at the same time i am the enemy? United states burnin' up country while we workin' for free
got **** congress makin' millions more times than me
they say it aint a conspiracy?
they say i think too much and that my feelings touched
cuz i been in combat but truth is
they dont want your kids
to know the difference between reality n illusion is but
i say **** the press the army and im coming back vicious revenge
is delicious malicious
acts been done since man crawled out the sand pit times tickin'
grease the c.o.p so gun dont start trippin' and im still.wonderin'
will i escape the pain and misery the governments done to me and my comraderie
we earned the title of a vet
but they pawn us as trophies they get good publicity
sayin' we winnin' the war
when the war is at home rights being takin' every single day CIA Linked with the NSA no more private security
what the ******* think an IP is?
watchin' over us scared of us cuz of a revolution may bust out the cobb webbs been meaning to do this art is a reflection of reality i callit how i see why so many of military corps endin' up in the penitentiary?
cuz fools is pickin' truth over a numbered name excercisin' rights brings society pain got all the conservatives goin' insane
these muthaphukkas know the real
but they braille with they mass appeal startin' race riots white vs black black vs mexican
nigguhs u aint a American
ya stolen
secret society dont want us in unity
so do what the ******* want to embrace ?Crowleys tactics ?
use that black magic and watch em go in flames
use frankincense and myrhh to focus my brain
i got wealths no riches
nigguhs cant put a price on a mind
im the son of garvey malcolm even that crazy boy Carlin
as long as they stand for true
imma stand with you
army fatigue galore guns indeed
breakin' the demons seeds
that was planted long ago in the garden of eden
serpents been on earth since
darkness was first they had to separate dark from the light wrong from right
now that im out on bail
the military losin' there sight too focused on drug cartels
when they ones who sail
the dope in but the hood gets the pen? ultimate perdition folks in the senate listenin' say its us but we ain't got no passports why the **** they hidin gold at the fort?
Knox imagine that if we were to overpower the system the wouldnt have no choice but to listen they silence the powerful voices that influence minds
fools stay on yo grind
and so what even though my comments is being recorded and audit
but im at peace with self i dont see sunshine cuz its shorted
now take this to the daily news
so these public speakers can report it uh
Louis Brown Jul 2010
[I understand Shakespeare played every role around his theatre such as managing the theater, acting, directing, playright, etc, etc.  Too many responsibilities for one man.  He was treasurer and everything else.  What did he didn't do?  Was that true about him I ask in all humility]

William Shakespeare, wordsmith king…
Some people doubt he did all things.
Such teeming thoughts for just one man…
Perhaps Chris Marlowe had a hand
Among some others underfed
Who sold their work to buy some bread.
And Will for one bought many plays
Then claimed the work through present days.
No sweat upon his brow rolled down…
For those he claimed for shills and pounds.
That system shorted men with skill
And all those credits went to Will
And though the man was very great
He kept the profit on his plate
Copyright Louis Brown
Mike Aug 2016
Always knew I was light.
Constantly running from prisms

thought I contained the spectrum
if I held on to everything.

Trying to shine new in the old light
till comparison shorted the whole thing.

All my past encounters now a mirror
each gathered around me.

You'd think I would see the truth. But
I'm only left wondering:

how I surrounded myself with so many
and why they are all strangers.

Refracted into forks till I was just going in circles.
Avoiding the breakdown ends there anyways

The universe holds the spectrum and prism
that wishes you to diffuse as a ray.

Know the rhythm of your wavelength,
the universe catches up with all of us.
Detached Sep 2018
Her
Once upon a time there was this boy.
Sad to say, nothing in life brought him joy.
Empty and alone but oddly, never afraid.
Blissful happiness could not be made.

He heard nothing but love for miles around.
But tragically for him, it was not found.
Desperate to feel, desperate to wake.
No matter the effort, nothing would take.

Traumatic events wouldn't slow his role.
He never knew what made him so bold.
Lose after lose, he lost no sleep.
No void felt, not even a teary blink.

You think how could someone be so heartless and so crass?
You contain empathy, something he surely lacks.
He walks among you, just as normal as the next.
No one sees how hollow and complex.

Life to him is just a big game to play.
It is not his fault, he was made this way.
He has connections to specials that is no doubt.
But to compare would be pointless, he will always be without.

His life is rough, plagued with boredom.
Surely God must have shorted him.
Trying to find purpose and excitement.
Left unfulfilled and full of disappointment.

2 months ago from this day.
He met, dare I say his dame?
You may be wondering who this girl may be?
Read Devotedly I Remain and you will see.

The rarest thing he has ever seen.
He thinks, whatever could this mean?
Going from feeling absolute vacancy.
To wanting nothing but Her majesty.

Her smile sends electricity through him.
He has no choice but to take every moment in.
The moments are far from wasted.
He counts the seconds of his vexation.

The touch of Her skin, unforgettable bliss.
Something he would terribly, terribly miss.
Her kiss, floods him with unbelievable things.
Something he could not dare try explain.

Just the thought of Her sends him in pain.
Simply for, She has not an ounce to gain.
Risking the first feeling of love everlasting.
Would put him in position of weakening.

Realizing what She deserves and requires.
Could he even match or begin to measure?
He wants nothing for Her but the best.
Knowing him he'd probably make a mess.

To you reader, this is all effortless.
But imagine yourself empty and loveless.
Most of you wouldn't dare walk in his shoes.
Let alone, try to stand and make one **** move.

She has proven herself time and time again.
But for some reason he only sees his own sins.
He gives Her everything She has ever asked.
Yet, question himself over and over..alas.

With much effort he tries to realize.
That She is here to stay, forever by his side.
All he must to do is call upon Her hand.
And together forever, they both shall stand.

Laying with Her, the nights he is there.
All he can think of is what could compare.
Listening to Her heart beat.
Counting, until She slowly falls deep asleep.

Left alone with nothing but his thoughts.
He wonders what she even wants.
Hours go by and Her in his arms.
He drifts to sleep never wanting to part.

The moments apart are unbearable torture.
He does nothing but wonder if she she wants him anymore.
She makes him feel things so deep.
Something that makes his soul scream and weep.

All he needs is understanding and forgiveness.
Wrong or right, is no part of his mindset.
The roads are tough and unforgiving.
But for him, this could be his happy ending.

What is he afraid, why not just ask?
To you, it's just another simple task.
To him, the simplest is the hardest.
When its love, hes not quite the smartest.

He may do things so much differently.
Just give him time to show his loyalty.
And you'll be eternally grateful for a man such as this.
Wanting nothing more than you at your happiest.
Captain Trips Dec 2014
"My future ex-wife,
are you still alive?"*

The thought hit me as I was out of cigarettes one Monday morning, when I remembered that the previous night I was only able to smoke half of my last one. I had put the shorted cigarette underneath of a spring doorstop, still in plastic and uninstalled, that lay resting on the brick pillars erected on the front porch of the house. For as long as I've lived there, that doorstop had been lying on those painted bricks just waiting for a half of a cigarette to protect from the wind and snow.
The filter, on that common Monday morning, was ice on my lips, and your frostbitten love was inside of my lungs.
As it smoldered and spewed twirling blue swirls,
I sat and recollected upon you.
NeroameeAlucard Sep 2015
At Notebooks end.
So we’re at this notebook’s end. The pages are full to bursting in there and to celebrate the ledger of poems and lyrics and half formed ideas I’m going to write down this freestyle of topics I haven’t discussed herein. Let’s begin with my senpai she knows who she is she picked the topics out that’s how special to me she is. She was the one who picked these topics out that’s how special to me she is. But I have to ask her finally to be mine because people like her come around once, maybe twice in a person’s lifetime.
Anyway let’s get into the real meat of this freestyle I think I’ll start with my room and its many strange residents that I acquired over the years via dumb luck gifts or just spending dead presidents. I have shorted out headphones that only seem to work with a binder clip two guitars and my grandpa gave me a bottle that contains a ship I have two vinyl pop figurines 1 of Batman and the original robin who later became Nightwing. A sewn pouch full of spare guitar picks additional sketchpads that are totally rad and an N64 console with a messed up controller and a lagging joystick. And last but not least I have on my Bed rest Del the Funky Sox Bear and his little brother Shawn Hawk aka MF.
Now that my room is covered let’s get into the nitty gritty about my hometown Chicago the second city. Warning to all tourists its pronounced S-E-A-R-S tower even though it’s spelled Willis. Anyway I was born and raised here like DJ quik and his hometown of Compton no offense to the man but in my city we have our own definition of Stomping. There just isn’t any city on earth that is quite like mine I have a lot of love for my home more than I can ever hope to fit into one rhyme.
Now onto two more topics that Echo picked out. Laughter and sound, Is it possible to accurately describe these two parts of life in a verse that’s been written down? God only knows because we’re going to find out. Laughter is life’s most potent medicine releasing endorphins that make us feel good all over. But as it can be medicine it can also be a poisonous mask because many people including myself over the years have used laughter to cover up the tears from a broken heart of glass. Speaking of laughter it’s a most wondrous sound emanating from humans occasionally rolling around on the ground. Sound technically speaking is vibrations that travel through the air that surrounds but for me its fuel to write my musings down.
Last but not least let’s address the blue sometimes cloudy and sunset blazed sky, now heights and I don’t really mix in just not that kind of guy. But on the back of a calm endearing Zephyr I would love to fly.
To commemorate filling up the sketchpad i wrote a majority of my poems of lately i wrote this on the last few pages of it. I'll keep it for posterity obviously.
I.
White’s imprisoned gray.
A black sole subdues
one red glove with a crunch.
There it will pause, fingerless
until the first thaw.

II.
The sun's amber frown of diminished light
slides down black branches
a blundered slight,
but when it hits the ground, it rides
wonders of uninterrupted white.

III.
Steamy columns of warmth
slip through the crack,
pawed open by blue purrs from his white cat—
a tonic wash, to welcome.
slush-slicked, black boots back

IV.
Nuzzled, from the muzzling of a drowsy-
days-long muslin wrap, brown earth bursts
through what white patchwork's left, to cure
her forbidden tramplers with a slurpy
and black-mouthed, aubade kiss.

V.
Winter’s white makes shallow breaths,
and exhausted she coughs black
complaints about the crushed
green of popped-down bottles,
a cellophane orange cat with a close hold
on his shorted stock of shock-
yellow crumbs, and the assorted other
man-made matter mocking
her color, but never her,
wherever they stay.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License
glass can Jun 2013
I cannot put my finger on my dissatisfaction

I cannot slake my thirst
I cannot sate my hunger
I cannot itch this scratch
I cannot imbibe it better
I cannot forget it, worse

deaf--dumb--blind--limp--sad--stupid

I feel I am seeing in the second dimension
when I know the fourth is called for, now!

I cannot expunge this record, these memories, or the lack thereof
I cannot remember the effort, or, where things stopped or started

I cannot describe this inexplicability,
I cannot remember the introductions

criss-cross logical thinking
twanging words, tungsten,
copper, and sheets of steel

sautered, bolted, shorted
circuits crackle and spark
blue like the ocean water
burning the water in skin

and I find nothing on an endless loop around the
Möbius strip, no, nothing, neither starts nor ends
I'm stuck in some Escher stairwell, so frustrating
I feel like an imbecile that knows not of a named
thing that stands before me, if it were a snake, it
would bite me, what, (                    ) it is so close?

boy, this stings,
this ***** to be

struck by something, and
                             I don't know
                                                             what

I cannot find relief from catharsis
no, that hasn't ever worked at all.

dizzying, myopic thing that keeps me awake
show yourself, show me how, or what, wants
this thing thing thing this thing of something.

I cannot find my (          ), no,
I cannot find anything at all.
rebecca suzanne Jul 2015
I see you in the dust particles
waltzing in late afternoon sunbeams
I see you in endless train tracks
curving out of sight and into
uncharted territory inside your chest.
I'm sorry I didn't know how to loosen
my dead bolt grip, you were your own world
and I selfishly believed
I could grasp your full potential in my tiny fingers.
I assumed you were linear,
two dimensional;
one chapter rather than
an entire library of life.
I know you wanted me to speak up,
unhinge my jaw and let
the unwritten poems of my mind
seep into your ears.
I didn't think telephone wires stretched
across so many miles just for dead air.
I didn't think you were
listening so hard with your eyes.
I've been shaking my head,
trying to find a solution
rattling around in some stray cranial nerves.
Maybe that's why they call it shock
when it's not electricity at all.
We went from caves and brutality
to covered patios and toxic taser tongues
ready to etch high voltage vocabulary
into my bones until that's all I have left.
You wanted a better fight
but you shorted my circuit.
I let go all at once and I couldn't turn away
when you stumbled and crashed into a new reality.
I still have trouble laughing
around the lump in my throat
when people joke about trees falling in forests
because the way you said my name
still has me by the throat and some days
I think your grip is what kept my feet on solid ground
Rose Alley Apr 2012
I heard my life in mono before I met You
We became stereo
Me: channel left
You: panned right;
A cohesive strengthening of sound
A mutual clatter of turbulence, with such underlying beauty
Only we knew the clamor was best for Us, though no one believed
As the cacophony grew, Your speaker buzzed and squawked
I played unaware, loving the crescendo
-
Eventually, as stereos do, You
Shorted out
Grew weaker and weaker with each
Note; melodies were crumbling
I fiddled with the wires,
Hoping, wanting both sides of our discord to stay true
-
Then you were silent
Eerily and I kept screaming
Roaring with a clatter that could have blown my own side of this
Disquiet. You were muted, hushed
Now I hear but half of my life
The left remains;
The right, You, are not even
Static, and I pray for mono
Again
Jenn Gardner May 2011
The earth is hollow.
Banished mortals scream from below.
Our space feet crush the phony sounds.
Unwavering black X’s.
Pass through their innocent lips.
They are the silenced symphonies.

Playing the darkest of hymns.

There exists no core.
No fiery depths to burn and rot.
Only caverns of black upon black.

Her body is hollow.
Relentless wolves howl from within.
Their earth feet grind them further down.
Pretentious white lines.
Surround the face of the wild.
The shorted soliloquies of wind forgotten.

Turn away from nature’s song.

There exists no core.
No fiery depths to burn and rot.
Only caverns of black upon black.
Maddie Feb 2013
Comparisons can **** you.
I struggle with them.
We all do.

Your views are distorted.
Expectations are shorted.

Could you see what I see,
There'd be no negativity.

Wish you could be like her?
Cool minded, tall, and thin like her?
So focused on her you lost yourself.

9 times out of 10.
She too does not have super thick skin.

Secrets hide, deep within.
Wishing she was pretty enough,
Skinny enough,
Tall enough,
All for him.

Girls don't know is they should wait.
For the guy worthy of a date.

If he loves you, he'll take you the way you are.
He won't leave a mental scar,
Of how you aren't enough.
Because you are.

still thinking she's better than you?
think again.

Everyone's great in their own way.
Don't ruin your day.
Making a comparison
That will tear you down.

You are your own.
You are enough.

Why be someone whom you are not?
v Apr 2018
For Melanie

Together is no more
When supper is simply a food mix
When voice changes are an expectation
When the broken cannot be fixed
And the time spent away becomes a sensation

Together is no more
When vacations are a dread
When the car rides are silent
When the Little League stands are dead
And the heads grow heavier

Together is no more
When the bruises get darker
When fuel comes in glass
When walking home seems harder
And everyone longs for the past

Together is no more
When the therapy is snorted
When the tree gets chopped
When the nerves are shorted
And the cycle cannot be stopped

Together is no more
When a home becomes real estate
When the composure breaks
When the lover is now a mate
And Lucifer raises the stakes

Together is no more
When the candle burns out
When hatred is the only sight
When existence is a doubt
And anger silences light

Together is no more
When unity is tossed
When fear is the only notion
When family is lost
And love is a mere distortion.
This was inspired by the experiences of someone I care for very dearly.

This is for anyone who has family issues, abusive significant others, demons, or silent suffering. You are not alone. There is help out there. It will be okay one day. Never stop believing.
Lindee Apr 2015
Dear former self

   * A Warning of Things to Be Aware Of:*

THE BOYS WHO TELL YOU THEY LOVE YOU ARE LIARS:
    Wringing out emotions that are told in angry whispers
    Their tongues like whips will leave you in small rooms
    With familiar strangers, crying about guilt that isn’t there
    Circling fingers, burning scars into your flesh
    Leaving you to doubt everyone after them, trailing fire.
    Forgive them.
It’s been traced into their DNA.
YOUR MOTHER WILL LEAVE:
    The porcelain plates she dropped with be carved from your bones
     Leave the tattered reasons why
     You cannot help her escape the life she chose
      To rot in her rose garden.
      Do not ask if she is coming back.
      A poet as a daughter, a disappointment.
      Forgive her.
She does not know better
     YOUR DAM WILL BREAK:
         The trust you weigh on your family, so close knit
          Will forever weave you to them.
       A stray will appear. In the form of voyeurism. a break in stichting
           Lens glaring against the morning sun streaming in through the window
           Seven times.
           Forgive Him.
Actually, don’t.
        YOUR LIGHT WILL NOT GO OUT
           Ceaseless.
           Do not flick the switch.
The circuits are shorted.
Love, yourself.
deanena tierney Jul 2010
The sun, it shone just briefly,
Til shorted by a cloud.
That hung itself so rightly,
Resembling a shroud.

And there it stayed, suspended,
Without a peer in sight.
Clinging , oh so stubborn,
Playing god with light.

And the sun, on fixed eclipse,
Whose course is set just so,
Fell just but a victim to,
The mocking cloud below.

And after waiting in patient tense,
The sun decided to speak.
How is it you have affected me,
When you appear so weak?

Might you drift just a little,
So I may offer solace from the haze.
The seasons are quickly changing, you know?
And short are becoming my days.

Perhaps we are both just unable,
To alter this state, my friend.
Sometimes we must just wait, helpless;
At the mercy of the wind.
Sal Gelles Nov 2012
out of sorts
and sorted out;
in senses of shorts
and shorted for love.

caught in life
as i fell to death
to be caught stealing
your heart and your head
from the skin you'd held them in.
now they're caught up in me
and they're catching on;
i'm hardly thinking,
bleeding, and breathing.
i'm living.  imbalanced.
Tea May 2013
Today I ripped up that inked paper
Crafted, inked sketched
To shorted the distance between our difference
Something that hasn’t happened yet
Negativity, is all it brings me
And it lays in pieces by my bed
Seeing what is there
Instead of what I made
Lays
Alone
In pieces
No one ever appreciated you
Not like me
Not like I do
In some ways
It was perfect
Celtics player
Patterns
Green sprayed across
A piece of paper that struggled
To say
It doesn’t have to be perfect
But I took it down
Because they never understood
What it stands for
Stood for
…. No shorter of a distance
Paper doesn’t make a bridge
to cross the gap
between the difference
of you and me.
today I ripped that paper
Brandon Shane Jan 2017
I gave you everything,
And for what,
A few fleeting memories,
And $3.99 Hallmark cards,
Never knew my love had such little value,
And there are no returns,
My next partner will be shorted,
For I cannot get back the love I gave to you,
I know now that you didn't deserve it,
Yet the damage has already been done.
am i ee Sep 2015
her ******* shorted out.
so she flung it across
the room
like a
shoulder launched
cruise missile.

then,
there was a knock
at the door.

hastily pulled she,
her jeans up her legs  
about her *****,
wrapping long cardigan
about her for warm
as she went to the door.

opening it wide,
there stood
the most,
gorgeous hunk,
of a manly cowboy
her eyes were ever to see,
ever to set upon,
ever again.

"havin' a bit a trouble ma'am?"
"anything i can do to assist?"
asked he,
tipping his wide brimmed hat
so very
gentlemanly.

"why yes i am."
"and yes you may."
replied she.
"would you like to come in
and take a cup of tea
with me?"
The Very Beginning of The Manly Cowboy
JT Apr 2016
I hate myself
But Im gonna try to keep living
I just wanna know why I cant use the brain that I've been given
Every time I wanna study I need ******* adderall
Maybe its cuz I don’t have a ****** brain at all
I cant stand this awful ****** up life that I've been living
For god sakes put down the ****** cell phone for two minutes
I want success so bad that I can ******* taste it
But instead of reading books
All I do is copy and paste it
And scribble these words on a page while I’m wasting my time
**** I can’t even be motivated by a dollar sign
When did the rise come? before the fall?
Cuz right now I feel like I cant get up at all
I literally don’t know if I can feel anything at all
And I wanna scream all the way down the ****** hall
But nobody can hear me so I’ll probably tweet this gay ****
Then go into the bathroom and beat my gay ****
Honestly I think its all I’m good for at this moment
I made my girl sick of me and not cuz my ***** is potent
But literally because I ******* think with my ****
I might be sick and now I’m just sick of being a *****
I thought I was a true man and now I’m unsure
If this is true love then I don't want it anymore
I thought i was someone else I thought I was real
But I danced with the devil and he made me a deal
An offer I couldn’t refuse, that made I wound I’ll never heal
He said I’ll turn off your mind so you don’t have to use it
Now you go out and use your slick words and make up excuses
Start using your **** and smoke **** til you abuse it
Start turning off the light in your mind until you lose it
Then hate your ******* self and wonder why you have these bruises
Wonder why your friends hate you and your dreams were shorted
***** SHUT THE **** UP YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABORTED
I made myself sick that’s why I look this way
And I’ll still be sick until the day I change my ways
But I’m too ******* dumb now to fix my past
“Hey JT lets go drink ***** and chase some ***”
“Okay sounds good, because **** a commitment”
are you serious dude your ******* worse than an infant!
You really don’t deserve anything at all
You’re a coward and I really hope you always fall
Hope you always fail because of what you did
you were a mistake and don't ******* forget it kid
Your parents didn’t want you so they left without a thought of you
And now you have some parents that really ******* love you
But you must have a ******* guardian angel above you
You must have done something right cuz no one has hung you
Honestly cut off the bad fruit from the tree
**** the lies ive told and replace them with honesty
Honestly, I do not want this life anymore
I gave up the girl I loved for some dumb ******* *****
How dumb are you to have to be to be doing any of this
You should slit your wrists drink a 5th and jump off a bridge
That’s why now my fam hates me and I have no friends
And I’ll read this to myself any time I get too high
Just to remind myself of all the **** I let pass by
And how I’ll never know any real truth or love
I just wanna curse out all the skies above
And if I’m reading this to you don’t feel bad for me please
I’m the one who put himself down on his own two knees
And crawled *** backwards into my own nightmares
I thought it was all a dream now I cry real tears
And honestly I’m done **** it I don’t care
I just wish I could fix the things I know I can’t repair
Who is that? The one with the ugly *** face
Oh that’s jt he used to ******* run this place
Til he sold his ******* soul and he lost his mind
Now he’s a puddle of nothing and he must be blind
He cannot see what he’s done and he does not care
I look hard but I don’t see myself anywhere
Ethan Johnston Feb 2016
I thanked god for my Taco Bell

And waited for you to speak

I got taller as you cried in my arms

I think they shorted me baby

The moon's a coward tonight

He lets clouds in bed and freezes as they pass him by

Stick your fork in the socket

Your eyes are a speckled green lightning

And your hair is erected like skyscrapers in the big city

All on my own, I wander into the poorly lit Bar of America

I find dream lovers and myself a fair heir to that mans throne

I sit in haste although I have nowhere to be , no one to greet

A maiden turns her head to me,

Expecting her to speak, I prepare a question about her lineage

She remains silent as a politician's mistress and dresses as such

I focus my eyes down to the floor as the barkeep drops glass

A family tree of poison spreads through the floor, creeping to her shoe

She offers me a drink called "i think I know your father" and is confused when I reply "no, thanks."

As my body is pulled from the inside to the outer brick, a short-haired phantom pulls on a smoke as the carcinogens seep out through her skirt

Nice weather you're having

Transparent red fills the street above my battered shell

I lie to myself as I lie on pavement

"My time has yet to come"  I say

"I'm still with myself"

But everyone crowding the nightcrawler's bar knows they are on the way out.
Tashea Young Oct 2016
Do you seek me Efficienctly?
Do you love me, truely?
Am I your Identity?
Can you hear and feel me?
Am I your Pursuit?
Is it Evident in your Fruit?
Or are you just a *******
Exchanging your body, your talents and gifts for worldly loot.
Are you on the right path taking the right route?

Dont be a Lukewarm Christian
But be Mindful and vigilant,
Pay Attention!
Be on A misson.
Be A Testimony, A living Witness.
Be about Your Father's Businesses.
Dont Be A Lukewarm Christian.
See This was my learning experience from where I have been.
Forgetting that I was born into sin.
So I went to taste its evil bliss very now and again.
Like my pores on my skin,
I open myself up and let it come in.
Sin became like fake friend.
Distracting me from The real focus which was keeping my mind stayed on him.
Sin was Like friction and separated me from God like division.

Although I prayed, "Lord Crucify my flesh
Because I know Im a wretched mess
And You deserve praises of Gratitude nothing less than my very best.
I'm Tired of being a damsel in distress.
Distraught with feelings of being oppressed.
Drowning in pools of Sorrows and seeing  my unworthyness.
Ive sinned.
I'm not right within.
I must verbalize with my mouth and thru my heart I Confess.
How did I became such a wretched mess?
Father I am Down right guilty.
And now Feeling stupid, and filthy.
Ugly, replusive and Grotesque.
Ashamed that became such a wretched mess."
The Fire of Anger Is Raging.
But I heard his voice say, "But My love is never failing or unchanging."
So Now I'm distorted.
Crying, drooling, and  I think I even snorted.
Thinking about all the visions you had planned for me, aborted.
You gave me love Grace and mercy but I gave nothing in return, You felt shorted.
Didn't even realized That our realtionship was being compromised.
I became unsightly hideous.
In this I became Furious,
Mad at the world because I let Lust come between us.
No peace no quite all I do is fuss and fuss.
I claimed to died to my self so in you i have been reborn.
But apart of me is still sinful, angry, beat down, *******, broken and torn.
My Heart is shatter and selfishly I mourn,
Even though I never thought that It was I who left you brutally scorned.
Was I ever real or was It just an act on staged being Performed.
Cuz Im feeling Conviction from the spirit Tell Me I was just A Christian being Lukewarm.
On a daily, crying faithfully asked people just to pray for me.
Walking through life Shamefully
When I should be Praise The Most High Thankfully.
Talking And thinking Mentally
Ultimately, will he always wait for me?
Consciously Rethinking will I ever make it to eternity?
I just cant see Myself being worthy.
Am I truely walking Accordingly?
Am I really seeking his word so it can transfrom me?
Is my life a Prouduct of me worshiping thee?
After all the pain and the suffering.
After All that you went thru just to Sacrifice your only begotten son for our covering.
Just that thought alone left my mind blundering,
Staring and Sitting in deep thought Wondering.............
Am I causing myself spiritual harm?
Because I put on my fake smile and throw in my charm.
Am I Christian Thats Lukewarm.?"
If you so Wake up and Stop hitting the Snooze button on the Alarm.
If this sounds like you, you have been warned!
Antoine Smith Jan 2016
Up and down.

The amusement park ride that is my mind yet again has shorted out.
Countless laps through peaks and valleys.
I pray for a reprieve as i feel the nausea rear its head.

I want to stop

Consistent sadness would be sweeter than this inability to be grounded.
Ive found no better way to exhaust myself than to let myself think.

Most minds run wild and lose sleep to their paranoia.
Mine cant even keep pace.
Im up. It sees me. Im down.

— The End —