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"slum" poems
From the ripple in a glass of water to the sonic boom of this internal Pompeii, the erosion of her etymology is the only sense of movement in her dilated, cave-pupil eyes, those two ghost towns spanning and encircling all the way back, stretched like an elastic blindfold past the moment the first brick was laid, perhaps her first vivid memory, or anecdote, or first word uttered in a Cuban slum. There are mountains of tumbleweed over the once thriving metropolis that expanded towards America; who threw herself into the architecture of seven pillars, borne from her land and minerals. Gone are the huts that housed her knowledge of basic motor skills. The women who once imagined Mami and Mima as her birth name now scrub off the graffiti of her excrement; they saw a swarm of pink moons the day she told the same story to every visitor that came their way, each day then becoming a missing surveillance tape, a sinkhole dismantling the awareness in her bones and stubborn will, until she became these dust-engulfed plains with a daughter and granddaughter archeological in their efforts to chase down the remains of a girl still breathing in those eyes from time to time. Every other ten-millionth blink of the eye rides the silhouette of a post-infant girl on the high tides of her quick visit, looking in horror as the nation of her life's nightmares, heartaches, broken promises, romances, spiritual breakthroughs, life-changing seconds drowns with morbid unity en cien fuegos, desperately attempting to assemble the remnants of her psyche past her cognitive bloodclots with the awareness of one who speaks no languages. Gone is the moment she first learned to feed her several children before the slip of sunset. One of seven pillars remain intact, the others long dismantled of their stick and straw infrastructures. One pillar remained, housed her own colony for nine months, and now both descendants travel the mind of their greatest influence with perplexed dedication, caustic humor the decoy for swarms of exhaustion and asphyxiation from the truthful atmosphere, reveling in the seconds of humanity lurking in an abandoned etymology.
0
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 11:19 AM UTC
Erosion
From the ripple in a glass of water to the sonic boom of this internal Pompeii, the erosion of her etymology is the only sense of movement in her dilated, cave-pupil eyes, those two ghost towns spanning and encircling all the way back, stretched like an elastic blindfold past the moment the first brick was laid, perhaps her first vivid memory, or anecdote, or first word uttered in a Cuban slum. There are mountains of tumbleweed over the once thriving metropolis that expanded towards America; who threw herself into the architecture of seven pillars, borne from her land and minerals. Gone are the huts that housed her knowledge of basic motor skills. The women who once imagined Mami and Mima as her birth name now scrub off the graffiti of her excrement; they saw a swarm of pink moons the day she told the same story to every visitor that came their way, each day then becoming a missing surveillance tape, a sinkhole dismantling the awareness in her bones and stubborn will, until she became these dust-engulfed plains with a daughter and granddaughter archeological in their efforts to chase down the remains of a girl still breathing in those eyes from time to time. Every other ten-millionth blink of the eye rides the silhouette of a post-infant girl on the high tides of her quick visit, looking in horror as the nation of her life's nightmares, heartaches, broken promises, romances, spiritual breakthroughs, life-changing seconds drowns with morbid unity en cien fuegos, desperately attempting to assemble the remnants of her psyche past her cognitive bloodclots with the awareness of one who speaks no languages. Gone is the moment she first learned to feed her several children before the slip of sunset. One of seven pillars remain intact, the others long dismantled of their stick and straw infrastructures. One pillar remained, housed her own colony for nine months, and now both descendants travel the mind of their greatest influence with perplexed dedication, caustic humor the decoy for swarms of exhaustion and asphyxiation from the truthful atmosphere, reveling in the seconds of humanity lurking in an abandoned etymology.
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74
Devil's downstairs at the neighbors lil' hole in the wall. We're just sitting ducks in a government funded housing pond. & I'm too afraid to sleep. In my own slum. Thank you, for ruining my life.
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Jul 12, 2012
Jul 12, 2012 at 1:57 PM UTC
Thank you, for ruining my life.
Ice cream ninety nine I know you make my lips taste fine I need a big one mister give me your large ice cream, ninety nine We hear you coming with lame tunes, Mmm pretty shifty but we love to see you here in our slum of a f>>king city Yet Ice cream man your sauce is tasty and the blood you put on makes kid's like us factory Come back ice cream man just one more ninety nine come on ice cream man let us bleed you dry again By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka Neonsolaris By NeonSolaris © 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
0
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 6:03 AM UTC
Ice Cream Ninety Nine
a bottle of scotch had bad dreams. bullets twitch, junk sick in 3 inch thick mustard **** toe nails clipped from yeti lay strewn about the **** stained corpse of a motel six dixie cup - root canal trophy, next to a black fez with scab tassel upended. down in it. belching apnea propaganda and belladonna waiting for curious george to find a shotgun and a yellow hat and a brick banana. blowflies inhale the rank damp of a fresh **** the odd dog whines like a clown in - a blender. [ the ] house wins with a marked card; jabbing fat fingers into acned rosacea bloated with sleep lack and mortgage back stab chasing twenty ****** with a hollow point pull from an acid flask while hailing a black cab. tinsel sutures stitch eyelids as a mercy shattered bone knit hand-grenade cozies old glory, at half mast half wasted fifty stars, no light dragging on the grounds of immunity to do a line of coke stock with a basset hounds' finesse. your taxes at work in columbia, hiding from a lost farm in Idaho your american dream turning tricks in shanghai for a counterfeit egga roll your meme, devoid like an ice cube tombstone your freedom, parking cars for italian escorts smoking skin flutes for ferraris and white teeth. your integrity, sold to a hedge fund for astroglide and a pez dispenser packed with prozac pressed by ' Jose the butcher' s abuela in a narco slum that ain't seen radio since cinder blocks had wings.
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Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
Black Cab Charybdis
I used to believe in good old days, Still concerned about the little ways. To get back in my childhood era. Those uncountable acquaintances, Now they are just faded faces. Buzzing around oftentimes, I do look at them with all my gracious Rhymes. Those long sandwalks, I heard many voices & those preacher talks. Standing on the top of a pile, I saw the world with my pure human eyes. My incapability of not performing as others, Don’t forget we came from different mothers. Though the course may be disturbingly fascinating, Spot you there at the end of the lives you kept devastating. I walked clean and I did no mean. There was nothing to fear, but one day someone molested me who was so near. Crippled inside myself that night, Was so devastated couldn’t spoke a word inspite. Moments still glare, dig in your knife so that you can pare. Shadows no more controls me, I fiercely play with them, and still move freely. Enjoyed every bit just like my first bicycle wheelie. I did both,from playing with slum folks to slept like a sloth. Now I miss my never ending era. Entered my puberty, with little bit of curiosity To not to have those thoughts control authority. I was wild, a state called child.
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Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
Haze
He lives in a time of plague. The tag team of cholera and dedication killed his father, for all Dr. Juvenal Urbino knows, his father was faithful to both work and love. The good doctor knew from an early age that his work would be his love, and from a slightly less tender age he discovered that his love of flesh and the body ran deeper than mere science could take him. He met Fermina Daza in the doorway between clinical curiosity and obsession over her doe’s gait, and as he walked through his heart made room for a new kind of dedication. He thought his devotion would be equally as precise as his practice. Fifteen or so years of marriage, between years in Paris they bled together like a Van Gogh after a rainshower, the intricacies of their companionship were jointly held in a contractual cradle, but neither of them felt obligated. Dr. Urbino was before my time, but my story will know the life of Carlos Mucharraz, Pre-Med major, they both dedicate themselves to their love. I’ve never seen her, but I can imagine Carlos likens her gait to that of a doe. He fawns over her from 17 hours away, for nearly a year. Like a Texas dust devil, he sends his love through the air to Minneapolis to brighten her phone screen and her day. They’ve only ever spent time together twice. I’d like to think of his devotion like a boulder, immovable, but twisters slither across prairies as wicked winds push them towards seas of lust, but I’d like to think his love flew above turbulent skies. I thought Dr. Urbino as a rock. He must have thought of his fidelity as a disease. His father died fighting cholera, and Urbino would not let his affliction of faithfulness **** him. He thought himself ill, and the mantra of his practice taught him one thing only: cure. In a slum of San Juan de la Cienaga, pants around his ankles, holding a mulatto girl’s legs around his waist, he crumbled like stale bread as he plunged himself into infidelity. This man of granite broke and fragmented, his sin etched a crooked cobweb of fractures into his back, I wonder if the beads of sweat stung his spine, or dulled the pain. But maybe I should put my faith in dust devils. Humans may be able to shatter the hardest stone, but no one commands the sky, for it straddles North and South, East and West, Fort Worth and Minneapolis.
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Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 7:20 PM UTC
Dr. Juvenal Urbino's Self-Diagnosis of Chronic Fidelity
He lives in a time of plague. The tag team of cholera and dedication killed his father, for all Dr. Juvenal Urbino knows, his father was faithful to both work and love. The good doctor knew from an early age that his work would be his love, and from a slightly less tender age he discovered that his love of flesh and the body ran deeper than mere science could take him. He met Fermina Daza in the doorway between clinical curiosity and obsession over her doe’s gait, and as he walked through his heart made room for a new kind of dedication. He thought his devotion would be equally as precise as his practice. Fifteen or so years of marriage, between years in Paris they bled together like a Van Gogh after a rainshower, the intricacies of their companionship were jointly held in a contractual cradle, but neither of them felt obligated. Dr. Urbino was before my time, but my story will know the life of Carlos Mucharraz, Pre-Med major, they both dedicate themselves to their love. I’ve never seen her, but I can imagine Carlos likens her gait to that of a doe. He fawns over her from 17 hours away, for nearly a year. Like a Texas dust devil, he sends his love through the air to Minneapolis to brighten her phone screen and her day. They’ve only ever spent time together twice. I’d like to think of his devotion like a boulder, immovable, but twisters slither across prairies as wicked winds push them towards seas of lust, but I’d like to think his love flew above turbulent skies. I thought Dr. Urbino as a rock. He must have thought of his fidelity as a disease. His father died fighting cholera, and Urbino would not let his affliction of faithfulness **** him. He thought himself ill, and the mantra of his practice taught him one thing only: cure. In a slum of San Juan de la Cienaga, pants around his ankles, holding a mulatto girl’s legs around his waist, he crumbled like stale bread as he plunged himself into infidelity. This man of granite broke and fragmented, his sin etched a crooked cobweb of fractures into his back, I wonder if the beads of sweat stung his spine, or dulled the pain. But maybe I should put my faith in dust devils. Humans may be able to shatter the hardest stone, but no one commands the sky, for it straddles North and South, East and West, Fort Worth and Minneapolis.
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16
They say after the rainbow, come the *** of gold, But if you look on my end, You'd see treasure being sold. All our riches are scarce, For a drug and firearm Why is there much danger If we have not caused harm? Yesterday, my son smiled To a rainbow in the slum, Knowing that it hasn't left, Because this is where it comes from. They say after the storm Comes the rainbow, Leaving us hope in life Like a guardian angel. If we stick together To help one another The slum will be Prosperous again, my brother. At seven months, my son smile To a rainbow in the slum, Knowing, that it hasn't left, Because this is where it comes from. Peace... Where it comes from? Joy... Where it comes from? Happiness... Where it comes from? Unity... Where it comes from? Love... Where it comes from? A rainbow in the slum
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Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 10:39 AM UTC
Rainbow In the Slum
We met in back alleys Trailer trash, slum lords We laid in the gutter We crawled on life's floor I traveled the world In slumber and sloth I bled the world dry And nearly fell off Treading grey matter Until the quickening set in I survived the world Now a new one begins...
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:23 AM UTC
ACQUAINTED WITH THE WORLD
Once when I saw a ******* Gasping slowly his last days with the white plague, Looking from hollow eyes, calling for air, Desperately gesturing with wasted hands In the dark and dust of a house down in a slum, I said to myself I would rather have been a tall sunflower Living in a country garden Lifting a golden-brown face to the summer, Rain-washed and dew-misted, Mixed with the poppies and ranking hollyhocks, And wonderingly watching night after night The clear silent processionals of stars.
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3.4k
*******
I crawled into your back pocket quietly and folded myself up small, like the smoke from the cigarettes you always lit but never smoked. I bumped into your last name everywhere because I may have managed to escape the slum but we all crawl back to where our hearts first beat. You escaped with a lens in your fist and roads I will never drive down, buried deep in your feet. I sat on your shoulders and kept quiet. I watched every girl you fell in love with and I felt burns on my hands every time one pushed your hair back out from your eyes. The girl from Missouri with the long brown hair counted 49 freckles but I knew about the 2 that were kept hidden under your knees and I scolded every girl who thought they loved you like I did. I sleep with bones who cry out for my touch but sometimes they whisper for a girl whose name is different from my own. Her name tastes like sewage in the back of my throat. I know love because I curled his hair around my finger. And I know that someday my children with have a head full of it. But when you taught me love it was filled with new beginnings. But you went too far and I waved you off and sat back in the dust I had come from and told myself I was better off and you were crazy. You traveled through towns I may never know and shook hands with people I will never see. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if we kept holding hands. Mine got sweaty and your long legs moved too fast. My heart became heavy and held me down. You Sometimes I sleep across your room on the old blue chair with my back towards you. Sometimes I hear you whisper my name and I know you still feel my hands slipping up your shirt and drawing constellations of how our future should have mapped out between freckles and old acne scars.
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Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC
wanderlust
I crawled into your back pocket quietly and folded myself up small, like the smoke from the cigarettes you always lit but never smoked. I bumped into your last name everywhere because I may have managed to escape the slum but we all crawl back to where our hearts first beat. You escaped with a lens in your fist and roads I will never drive down, buried deep in your feet. I sat on your shoulders and kept quiet. I watched every girl you fell in love with and I felt burns on my hands every time one pushed your hair back out from your eyes. The girl from Missouri with the long brown hair counted 49 freckles but I knew about the 2 that were kept hidden under your knees and I scolded every girl who thought they loved you like I did. I sleep with bones who cry out for my touch but sometimes they whisper for a girl whose name is different from my own. Her name tastes like sewage in the back of my throat. I know love because I curled his hair around my finger. And I know that someday my children with have a head full of it. But when you taught me love it was filled with new beginnings. But you went too far and I waved you off and sat back in the dust I had come from and told myself I was better off and you were crazy. You traveled through towns I may never know and shook hands with people I will never see. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if we kept holding hands. Mine got sweaty and your long legs moved too fast. My heart became heavy and held me down. You Sometimes I sleep across your room on the old blue chair with my back towards you. Sometimes I hear you whisper my name and I know you still feel my hands slipping up your shirt and drawing constellations of how our future should have mapped out between freckles and old acne scars.
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10
From the slums of mexico city To the avenue of Hollywood, Around the bin of saks fifth avenue. To the know it all's, and all be goods. In the hoods, where ghetto girls are sweet Some are called hood bunnies Junkies are the daily keeps. I sleep sweet now I got out of Mexico city's way of life. The ghetto one The slum one The hood one Not saks fifth avenue. The hood, Gangster avenue.
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Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
Gangster avenue
Aye, Montecelli, that's the name. You may have heard of him perhaps. Yet though he never savoured fame, Of those impressionistic chaps, Monet and Manet and Renoir He was the avatar. He festered in a Marseilles slum, A starving genius, god-inspired. You'd take him for a lousy *** Tho' poetry of paint he lyred, In dreamy pastels each a gem: . . . How people laughed at them! He peddled paint from bar to bar; From sordid rags a jewel shone, A glow of joy and colour far From filth of fortune woe-begone. 'Just twenty francs,' he shyly said, 'To take me drunk to bed.' Of Van Gogh and Cezanne a peer; In dreams of ecstasy enskied, A genius and a pioneer, Poor, paralysed and mad he died: Yet by all who hold Beauty dear May he be glorified!
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2.6k
A Canvas For A Crust
A nerd bitten by the charity bug, Spoke of slum children’s education And shining darkness in their eyes. In the shanties ,the water flows Like a shadow in cloudy daylight And smells bad to the kind rich. My check glistens in the dark Like a meteorite on a dark night In the next moment it vanishes In the depths of hunger and belly. Other men have fat bank accounts But are spiritual for soul-hunger. Poetry sounds crassly out of place- One would wish the black sewer Is not talked about in prose as well.
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May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 6:07 PM UTC
A poem for the slum kids
Carrickfergus (1937) - poem by Louis Macneice. I was born in Belfast between the mountain and the gantries To the hooting of lost sirens and the clang of trams; Thence to Smoky Carrick in County Antrim Where the bottle-neck harbour collects the mud which jams The little boats beneath the Norman castle, The pier shining with lumps of crystal salt; The Scotch quarter was a line of residential houses But the Irish quarter was a slum for the blind and halt. The brook ran yellow from the factory stinking of chlorine, The yarn mill called it's funeral cry at noon; Our lights looked over the lough to the lights of Bangor Under the peacock aura of a drowning moon. The Norman walled this town against the country To stop his ears to the yelping of his slave And built a church in the form of a cross but denoting The list of Christ on the cross in the angle of the nave. I was the rectors son, born to the Anglican order, Banned for ever from the candles of the Irish poor; The Chichesters knelt in marble at the end of a transept With ruffs about their necks, their portion sure. The war came and a huge camp of soldiers Grew from the ground in sight of our house with long Dummies hanging from gibbets for bayonet practice And the sentry's challenge echoing all day long; A Yorkshire terrier ran in and out by the gate-lodge Barred to civilians, yapping as if taking affront; Marching at ease and singing 'Who Killed **** Robin?' The troops went out by the lodge and off to the Front. The steamer was camouflaged that took me to England- Sweat and khaki in the Carlisle train; I thought that the war would last for ever and sugar be always rationed and that never again Would the weekly papers not have photos of sandbags And my governess not make bandages from moss And people not have maps above the fireplace With flags on pins moving across and across- Across the hawthorn hedge the noise of bugles, Flares across the night, Somewhere on the lough was a prison ship for Germans, A cage across their sight. I went to school in Dorset, the world of parents Contracted into a puppet world of sons Far from the mill girls, the smell of porter, the salt-mines And the soldiers with their guns. Louis Macneice
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Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 8:54 AM UTC
Louis MacNeice (1907-1963)
Carrickfergus (1937) - poem by Louis Macneice. I was born in Belfast between the mountain and the gantries To the hooting of lost sirens and the clang of trams; Thence to Smoky Carrick in County Antrim Where the bottle-neck harbour collects the mud which jams The little boats beneath the Norman castle, The pier shining with lumps of crystal salt; The Scotch quarter was a line of residential houses But the Irish quarter was a slum for the blind and halt. The brook ran yellow from the factory stinking of chlorine, The yarn mill called it's funeral cry at noon; Our lights looked over the lough to the lights of Bangor Under the peacock aura of a drowning moon. The Norman walled this town against the country To stop his ears to the yelping of his slave And built a church in the form of a cross but denoting The list of Christ on the cross in the angle of the nave. I was the rectors son, born to the Anglican order, Banned for ever from the candles of the Irish poor; The Chichesters knelt in marble at the end of a transept With ruffs about their necks, their portion sure. The war came and a huge camp of soldiers Grew from the ground in sight of our house with long Dummies hanging from gibbets for bayonet practice And the sentry's challenge echoing all day long; A Yorkshire terrier ran in and out by the gate-lodge Barred to civilians, yapping as if taking affront; Marching at ease and singing 'Who Killed **** Robin?' The troops went out by the lodge and off to the Front. The steamer was camouflaged that took me to England- Sweat and khaki in the Carlisle train; I thought that the war would last for ever and sugar be always rationed and that never again Would the weekly papers not have photos of sandbags And my governess not make bandages from moss And people not have maps above the fireplace With flags on pins moving across and across- Across the hawthorn hedge the noise of bugles, Flares across the night, Somewhere on the lough was a prison ship for Germans, A cage across their sight. I went to school in Dorset, the world of parents Contracted into a puppet world of sons Far from the mill girls, the smell of porter, the salt-mines And the soldiers with their guns. Louis Macneice
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46
Oh Jesus time by the pink and purple sunset Thinking of a traveling guitar boy, of chai sleep broken by dying beggars all trying to tell me something. If the ocean lights don't call us home we could backpack to the crocodile places eat thirteen camels with the people smoke tea and rainy day cigarettes. Heartache sits like snow on the roof of the hollow hut Connecticut. The kids tried too many times for nothing. Mom dream better for me Wear your peace face I'm trying to change You're talking France nostalgia while upstairs the weaver makes seven-dollar laments for international slum chickens. We can't do better than the break-bone average reading scorched Chalbi newspapers hacking coughs and statii soup for company. Bukowski's in Mumbai eating cheddar My siblings are in cages down in Egypt The Spanish Communist cowboys spill Turkana survivors on the floor of the Greyhound bus Is there a hood idealist, ghetto healer? My Sacramento roommate's drinking skeleton coffee in the bathtub, she's got the Arab fever, so have I, and not much else but these crazy plague jackets this hungry smoking December and Rumi's kids in cold-bread streets with protest signs. We're easier taught the panic than the magic or the save, There's too much strange and midnight waste. You didn't know I needed you but you came through. You're shimmering in clothes of saxaphone
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Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 2:03 AM UTC
The Displaced Poem
The Hispanic breeds are being scared off lately, They don’t speak much English, I don’t speak much Spanish, But I remember when I was a little boy, White boy in a brown body, Nestled in a blanket in a slum apartment, Surrounded by grizzly, Mexican men, All with breath of stale beer, They’re faded blue like their work shirts, And I was young and golden, They were all my friends, The air, oily with the smell of fried tortillas, My own eyes wide, My hair long, over my ears, A worn, mongrel, Mexican boy.
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Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
My Name Is Juan
They were like two peas in a pod Holding hands Exchanging tongues Being prissy and laughing at those Who long before saw their act Though those two queers, they don’t see at all They are midgets, and little, and erectly small With puffed up chests Stroking hens of the Cornish variety All of them dregs of a social society Slum lords and criminal minds Under the sheets where no one sees Which one is giving the other the shaft **** and span they use after, oh so daft One erotically whispered to the other A Pain in the *** As they kissed over their biblical wine glass Seeking solace in each others arms Licking their wounds with grammars charm Grown men, committing sin after sin Then blaming others for saying God wants you to begin Acting like men And not emancipated boys Stop diddling and twiddling Leave alone your petite toys One day Jehovah will make clear Belittle others is worse than Queer Little queens swallowing their own vile While Ladies and Gentleman laugh At the ****** and the Clown In their lingerie and gown God decried, let those two drown Even Lucifer laughed under his frown
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Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
The Clown and the ******
To be taken silently with violence Not to utter a salutation Just the cracking of a door hinge And a look that indicates that stopping your desires would be laughable An absurdity not to be pondered! The jolting sound of head cracking against metal And wrist yearning to be ground to the bone After hours of furtive clutching The kind on nail bending fervor that just takes the taste right from bread Grabbed into a cranium synthesis Im am forever enslaved in the darkest corridor of your existence I doubt I will ever be able to leave this lighting wasteland The eagerness pounding through the point were skin meets weapon I am infiltrated like a shanty filled village A real slum filled valley Hopeless against tracking systems and torture methods You plunder my underdeveloped hospitality Like Jesus to a farm boy As I scream **** you Mongoloid I am gasping into your filth A sacrificial lamb Bliss by the slaughter wells Mouthfuls of disgust As your knees jab deep into skid row Grinding the forgotten and the deserted Until they are flattened corpses ****** dry of the water holding them together You are pleased The phantom has been fed and to ask for seconds would only tease the lamb As I lay gushing organs with a smirk Broken bent and emaciated I feel alive and it is wondrous.
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Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:02 AM UTC
Cannibalism in the laundry mat
From different times of splender our hearts go out to thee , in troubled times when the crow returns to it's stag to pluck and proon  ,  and the mornings dew has cast it's spell , as if the shades of the berries in the forest have now  all gone , and the grave was never entered , the church was never built . How then if when  the gates were never shut . not crushed to death by hungry crowds. and Tom   to dock yards went so he could buy some bread , to feed his wife and child . The love they felt when they were fed on this Christmas morning. As children played or begged , or stole to feed their swollen bellies , in slum streets this day , a feast didst lay afore them . Lamb roasted on a spit , Tom's door was now flung open , No more hunger , No more shackles of rent man , poor house years , then ****** tears shivering in dark infested boxes . Yet to this day a child was born  into this poverty , to save , amidst wise men and donkey. Then a crow with eager eye picked a snake did wrestle , took it away , it's beak it's prey , rose  to catch the dawn . For a bud was formed not in autumn not on June , did it blossom but out of hardship did it lay , out of a forgotten tommrow .
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Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
The Crow vll
I called to you  softly when I  was young; my voice bounced off  the bricks of a  suburban slum, sauntered down  side streets and  stirred piles of  leaves, then snagged  in the branches till  the wind tore it free  to collapse at your  window like a  weary songbird that had been  singing for decades  and finally, you heard.
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Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 8:21 PM UTC
Songbird
I see you blinking in the summer sun. I take you drinking in the gutter slum. You sit there and you read your poems and you stare where, you stare where you should just go! No Morse code! No Morse code! Gotta find three of these- three of these that fit...an angel couldn't laugh- I would laugh! I would laugh! No Morse code! I figure the fragments are all black; I figure the fragments are all stagnant and all black! No Morse code! No Morse code! Ex facto! I see you blinking in the summer sun. I take you drinking in the gutter slum. You stare where... and you stare where...
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Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
No Morse Code
I have lost my way, please draw me an arrow Five corners of slum Deep in the boroughs A decayed old soul with smells of masters Alcohol and poisons, mixed Death comes much faster Living in a box, discarded like trash Pushing farther below Slum *** Crash
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Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 1:15 AM UTC
Slum *** Crash
A slum outside Paris A cardboard city thrives a place where no one has to pay the rent and electricity are purloined. is it impossible for middle -class folk to understand but the Roma thrive despite living by a city dump where you dump your trash wash your hand and are happy to live in a block of flats and house the rules. Now they want to get rid of this illegal city that cost nothing to run and need not tramlines. But they are not like us do not share our values, no they are not like us the do not deplete the world's resources and when the last car has stopped the Gypsies will as they always have done crossing the landscape with their children women and dogs carried pulled donkeys on ancient carts. And the man with a wristwatch and finery will offer them riches for a lift to better times.
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Aug 15, 2015
Aug 15, 2015 at 3:38 AM UTC
a slum outside Paris