Don't ever be a snitch
Even if snitched out

Police or People will try
To tear you apart

This is no joke
Nor is it a game

This is life experience
That will make you a man

A snitch is useless
In my book

Like a cry baby
They know not what to do

Hold your ground
Tell them to get ******

No matter the outcome
No matter what's right

In this world of life
Trust is all we have

Don't ever lose it
Be a real man

I'm back in the psyche ward again.
It's my home away from home,
next to jail and the emergency room.
I sat under the bridge the other night.
It was January, and extremely cold.
I was jonesing for a drink—I knew what I had to do.
I had only been out of jail for a
couple of days for another public intox.
I narrowly avoided going back to the can today.
My nut-job girlfriend said,
"Why don't you get us some wine? " "Sure, " I said.
Shaking and sick, I walked a mile to
my favorite store that I steal ***** from.
I arrived, and had a bad feeling, but I
don't pay much attention to feelings anymore.
In and out is always the plan.
A bottle of chardonnay down the front
of the pants, and one in the coat.
I thought I had it. I was wrong.
A customer saw me and snitched me off.
I went with the manager to his office.
A cop showed up shortly afterwards.
I engaged the store-guy with talk of literature.
It turned out he was an
English major.
I wrote down the title of my book,
and slipped it to him. He put the paper
in his wallet. He told the cop that I was very cooperative.
Instead of taking me to jail,
the cop gave me a citation with a
court date on it, and let me go.
Sometimes, providence smiles on me.
On my way back to the apartment,
I was already planning the next store to hit,
I needed a drink.
The cop, from the store, pulled up along side of me,
and said,
"Your girlfriend called, she said she didn't
want you at her place anymore.
All your stuff is in front of her door."
I felt like I'd been run over by a rhino.
The cop said,
"I'll give you a lift, jump in."
When I arrived, there were two loosely
packed bags of clothes weighing around 100 pounds.
There was no way in hell that I could
have carried all that crap eight miles to Iowa City.
I grabbed a back pack, and stuffed it with a pair
of jeans, two shirts, my writing, and a copy of Don Quixote.
I went outside and waved to the cop, then headed towards town.
I finally made it back to the bridge.
I waited to get the nerve to make
my next move—steal wine.
I did it, and with no cork *****,
I opened it with a broken ink pen.
I'm not complaining, it was the needed elixir
and it went down like nectar of the gods.
I drank it quick, it was three degrees out.
Life had to change.
This was getting real old.

Yesterday I stumbled upon a cluttered room
Its walls were crammed so tightly
And it reeked of an odd perfume
When many smells are mixed together

I recognized a little doll
A Dalmatian dog, my love when I was two
And remembered how every time I had a fall
I pressed his cotton head against my tears

But I had lost him so many years ago
When riding on the carousel
And was home before I realized with great woe
I had left him on the horses head

Next to him was a thick book
Filled with children artistry and letters
And when I took another look
I saw the E’s were scribbled in my hand

It confessed how I had been mad
When baby brother got the last cookie
And it sloped how I had been so sad
When I lost the race in the playground

But I had lost this book so many years ago
When that day, we moved houses
And I got a new diary, tied with a pink bow
I never remembered it again till today

My nose picked up a flowery smell
From my first fragrant bottle that sister gave me
And when I was six, I brought it for show-and-tell
I even sprayed a little into the air and impressed my fellow classmates

I was very proud as I ran out to play
For I was the only one who had a little smell on her wrists
And it smelled of daffodils and sunshine rays
I ran back to my cubby-hole to check on my treasure

But it was gone forever out of my sight
When that break, a jealous little girl
Snitched it out into her bag with fingers so light
So that it became her treasure, not mine.


Something glittered above my head
I looked up and saw it was the lovely necklace
That I use to keep by my bed
A blue leather string with a big bright star

The one that when I was eight
Bounced against my chest, winking the sunlight
And I bubbled with joy when I felt the weight
Of the silver star on my hammering heart

But I was a child and I loved to climb trees
Clambering the branches and hiding in the leaves
Until from my neck my jewel was set free
Caught on some tree in some park long ago

I stepped forward and kicked a golden object of the floor
Picking it up my mind rushed back to my mother
The only lipstick mother ever wore
The first lipstick I owned in my life

Christian Dior 024 Corail Hip Hop
A creamy dark red smudged on my lips
My first kiss that night on the rooftop
Like mother’s prints left on her milk mugs

It became my signature feature
Stuffed it in the back of my left jean pocket
Eating ice cream, till I noticed after
My left and right jean pocket were both now empty

A movement caught my eye and I spun
Faced the tall mirror that the wind knocked over
Years ago into pieces, looking like a bad omen
Of seven years of bad luck

I never met those seven unlucky years
But what I saw in the mirror was far scarier
Me, seven years ago, eyes bright as tears
“Hello?” she whispered, a question not a greeting

Her fat cheeks are sun burnt and brown
Big chocolate eyes blinking sweet and innocent
A curious face, so perfectly round
Pink lips that laughed and smiled


Her short thick legs energetically twitch
The softest rotund belly protruded
An allergic rash on her neck that itches
A straight fringe plastered across her forehead

This was the friendless girl who practiced with a basketball
By herself in the burning heat at home
Kicked a soccer ball against the wall
Drenched in sweat and panting tiredly

Suddenly we both laugh the same booming sound
I say, “I miss you, I love you”
Her ball-shaped head bobbed up and down
“You won’t forget me, I love you too”

The room fades into a corner in the back of my head

Ah, the room of forgotten memories.

I’m not sure of her name, but her name isn’t really important anymore…it’s what she did to me everyday, without fail, while I stood at my locker in 6th grade. I don’t remember when it started, I surely did nothing to provoke it, but the girl who had a locker directly next to mine would find a way to ‘nonchalantly’ smash me into my locker, as if by accident, each day at school. She would kind of smile and laugh to herself afterwards, and then actually strike up a conversation with me as if nothing had happened. And like some frightened, pathetic little puppy I would just go along with her sordid charade.

It became a love/hate relationship of sorts, the victim and her oppressor. A sickening ritual, day after day, pain and then a small shred of humanity. I don’t know why I never spoke up, I never snitched, I just took the abuse, over and over and over again. I was angry, afraid, hurt, and yet for whatever reason I never lashed out, which was odd because we were both the same size…she just seemed a lot stronger. She probably was. She probably still is.

What was truly incredible to me though was not the fact that I survived this ongoing, relentless, blunt force trauma, but that on the very last day of school, out of nowhere, she turned to me and apologized.

I remember just standing there at my locker, dumbfounded. I don’t remember if I said anything back to her and it’s not like we became friends that summer, or ever actually spoke to each other after that school year, but to this day it is something that still takes my breath away.

Maybe she was being hit at home, or someone was picking on her. Maybe she felt angry, worthless, afraid, and I was someone she could safely and quite easily take those feelings out on, I don’t know…but I forgave her back then, and I forgive her still.

I wish I could say I’d do things differently today. I wouldn’t take that crap from anyone, but I often still feel like that wimp of a girl, too afraid to speak up, too afraid to hit back…but I’m ok with that.

I’d rather be remembered for the love I tried to share than for the scars & bruises I could’ve left.

Secretly?Tall=Tower-fee lucky
777 "I'm Free"-Flowery + $$$

Being Oz-wizardly
Toto lucky bite red slipper
((Cowardly)) Lionly
-Whoa_ She got that Geisha Irony
This is Tokyo
Not the flower shop of Soho

(( Japan Chefs Black Panthers))
Shout box

Unique flowers of
faces-gather
Too outfox

One Geisha Flowery room
Twilight-places lightly bloom

Overpowering
Sunflower showering
Going nowhere
Her body heat
Is always
somewhere

Over flowered the rainbow
magic women
romantically spritz and spray
Love me love me not
I am waiting today

Flowered over one
Man?
Her Fortune-beds
The Geishas fine ink
Never pink
The best time to arrive
See her lucky red
((Geisha Flowery))
*        *        *        *
Happy go lucky
Not the back rub

The gift of gab
Time feast Rolex
her index finger
Webs of flower cut
Debs

Was the cover-up
The best of the last
defeat of her
She Petals faster
The  zipper-movie cut
Go zip
Irish spring shower

Boysenberry, Cherry, Power
Geisha dance flowery-trick
The vanilla-bean sky quick
The yogurt Greece fly
Her tablecloths
He finger
points cactus sharp points

The climate tells the
clues can you handle tricks
Crazzzzy_
glue
Softly silk skirt steak
Missed a few buds
((Geisha Flowery funds))
Tantalizing tiara pull
Off gave it  to the
flower girl china doll

The music
Black Magic
women
Her sheer blouse
loosely fit his fancy

Playing Santana
Sitting with her
tea tiger lily
Felt so lonely

The champagne
half-heartedly
The whole Monet
Chandon
shirts
of Gucci

She's perked me
up Pucci *******
coo
Danger me dandelions
The next recruit
black rose pin
pursuit hungry like
wolf
Duran Duran

The discovery of
custard flan
The Geisha flowery
New York State
Who snitched out
her spouse
Flowers divinity Godly lands

I gotcha
Right in the palm
of my hands

I was a good kid
I Kept tighty
I snitched on the wrongs people did
Until everyone hated me for it
Snitches get stitches
For the longest time i didn't listen
Until people started to ignore me because of it
Until i lost friends because of it
Until i was told i was stupid because of it
No one wanted to talk to me cause of it
Tragic
A little girl in 3rd grade being told she's worthless
Because she didn't think you where suppose to write on the board when the teacher wasnt in the room
Because she didn't think cursing was allowed at her private school
Yes i went to private school
Plaid skirt and all
It was as if from 7 to 3 i was there Barbie doll
Dress me up
Skirt and all
Then tell me what to say
The lies you make me say decayed my teath away
The secretes tucked inside of me made me feel afraid
In the 4th grade i was scared of my reflection
In the 5th grade i began to show all they said i was and
Wasn't ready for that
Speaking of the 5th grade i went to public school
Suprise
Barbie got put from maximum security
To a weaker division
Security wasnt as tight
So the other kids wkrds didn't lessen
Bullying went from this hobby to thier full time expression
Until some people promised they liked me
Told me to touch other people
And let other people touch me
Until i was something
And i kept quite
Because snitches got snitches
They started fat jokes in the 6th grade
Poking at my stomache
Metaphorically Writing fatty at my grave
And at this time i want exactly sane
So to stay friends
They said
I had to get skinny
And the best at they did that was to stop eating
Give them my food and i get nothing
With My stomach fat i could survive years on empty
With my stomach fat i was the reason africa went hungry
The best way to stop world hunger
They said
Was to **** me
So i stopped eating
And like every other mental disorder it grew into an obsession
Ana was its nane
And it was like a growing infection
Ana is more than a disease
Its a professional temptress
Baby let me see your porcelain bones
breath in until your lungs explode
Feel more than you can control
and let me take over
I let get take over
But my parents couldn't know
The lies dripped out of my mouth
Like how the snow escapes the cloud
I got lost in a blizzard
Lies and ana and lies and ana
Who needed friends when i had depression
Who needed friends when i was headed towards perfection
Reapeated that i was happy till i believed it
Than she came along
Told me that real friends didn't hurt you like that
And that i was already perfect
That i life was worth living
And that i could escape depression
Promised she wouldnt leave me
Promised she wouldn't hurt me
I wasnt the only one with a lieing problem
You see we where both unstable
Dragging eachother down
So niether of us are alone
Dieing together was better than living apart
Until are decided she wanted better
Like she was drowing and i was an anchor tied to her
She cut me lose
So she could get to the surface
And i sank lower than ever before
Her exact words where i just can't bring myself to care anymore
The worst part is
I thought it was my fault
That i did something to make everyone hate me
That i was a problem in this world
And I just had to realize it
All she said was lies she recanted once she found out who i really was
She hurt me
Than called me the liar
So this is where i am now
Sinking
Trying to teach myself how to swim
Alone
I can't lie my way through this one
And ana cant give me oxygen
Im trying to get over it
But im lost in this blizzard
And i can't find my way home

Blood thudded in my ears. I scuffed,
Steps stubborn, to the telltale booth
Beyond whose curtained portal coughed
The robed repositor of truth.

The slat shot back. The universe
Bowed down his cratered dome to hear
Enumerated my each curse,
The sip snitched from my old man's beer,

My sloth pride envy lechery,
The dime held back from Peter's Pence
with which I'd bribed my girl to ***
That I might spy her instruments.

Hovering scale-pans when I'd done
Settled their balance slow as silt
While in the restless dark I burned
Bright as a brimstone in my guilt

Until as one feeds birds he doled
Seven our Fathers and a Hail
Which I to double-scrub my soul
Intoned twice at the altar rail

Where Sunday in seraphic light
I knelt, as full of grace as most,
And stuck my tongue out at the priest:
A fresh roost for the Holy Ghost.

"The daily grind is so hard"
He whined
"Work and raising kids isn’t easy"
She opined
"Deirdre got your promotion"
He snitched
"I heard Dave got yours?"
She *******
"I hate this **** job"
He sighed
"So look for another"
She cried
"Maybe tomorrow"
He lied
"You'll do it one day"
She lied
“Stop tapping your foot”
He snapped
“Stop looking at her”
She flapped
"What's for tea?"
He assumed
"Why ask me?"
She fumed
"Can't believe it's only Monday"
He moaned
"If I hear that again..."
She intoned
"Shall we get a takeaway?"
He enlightened
"Oh, I love you"
She brightened
“Love you too”
He cooed
“Kisses to you”
She blew
"See you tonight, love"
He winked
"You will, my lover"
She pinked

Midday watercooler meeting
Frosty silence skin broken
Domestic warfare so fleeting
Morning car row forgotten
Like work-a-day sheep
At end of day meet, then
Takeaway, home, sleep
Up tomorrow, do it again

The couple who work, rest and play together...

©pofacedpoetry (2018) Billy Reynard-Bowness - All rights reserved

The ground appeared level, but no
minor bumps eroded the sanctity of evenness
at odd pockets where the soil sustained repeated injury
there lurked creatures of all sorts.
Few were long nosed, impervious blood suckers,
others like two horned underground creepers that snitched
and larked on fellow mates found solace in company.
Further down racists blended with the beautiful
and both white and dark temperaments moulded
together, as if, sustained by a creed and greed.

Further afield there were hangers-on who ruefully
were iron-****** and aplenty, lurking amongst the poor
and wretched, ******* solar power from the weak,
fiddling with the filth and holding back on sustenance.
These were the parasites of the field.

Turning to the left of centre, the holy melted in the crowd
of doomsayers, prophets and penitents, preaching
a word distorted to draw attention to themselves
under the guise of royal purple robes and stolen sceptres
pompous idiots who claimed to own the field, but
wore egoistic hot air and lead balloons of pride
and prejudice.

On just the one small section of the field you could play
delightful soccer, kick the ball or backsides and feel proud
you played a fair game, in spite of the pale bellied creatures
that roamed the tunnels and turrets of the level playing field
ready to draw you in for dissection. Of course, they smiled
benignly, when you passed by them, watching you slyly,
but all the time with hands at the back of them
clutching razor sharp daggers to shed your dignity
and lay waste to your humanity.

All of us are listed on this game. Some play, some referee, some refuse,
mostly spectators, watching and cheering, unaware
of how the level playing is set out in layers of deception.

Have you purchased your tickets for the next game?
Author Notes

A huge metaphor for injustice and greed. Play the game as you are expected to unless you want to be part of the underground network of deceivers. Pick a part in this game, which involves everybody. The colour of your skin dictates the price of the ticket to the game. Please take part. If you are a spectator
in this stadium with bright lights and pom-pom dancing girls, you will know what I'm talking about.

The game begins everyday at sunrise!
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

Its been so long....
I already cant see your face
We shared a name
You were a partner in crime
And i never snitched
Never disrepected
And u did the same
Ill always miss you
And the times we had
Shootin the ****
Damon....
if i let this part of my life go....
how long until you're just another faded memory
How long before my brain turns dementia on our memories
And i forget everything...

I had these anchors holding my smile down
As I smell the last time you laid your head on this pillow
I curse the sky for your poison
That induced me into a coma of despair
All I am hypnotized to do is use this pillow
To capture all of the screams
That seem to escape my slippery mouth
All I can see is a bunch of why’s floating with no answers
I seem useless like a politician
These are the whys
Why I failed to make you fall asleep happy
Every night

Why do I bother to be perfect?
it seems that the more I try to be what you believe is me
the more I peel off the the pages of *******
and spread them with the ashes
Left by this city I burned down

Why can’t I see myself in the mirror?
My shadow trumps the room with anger
All of the lights,
All of the lights,
All of the lights,
Went away when I stole your switch
But my brain snitched and broke every stitch
Left by the bits of hate thrown your way.

Why oh Why
Do I still Blast your music?
Maybe if I drown my heart with this bass
I can forget the way you carried my soul with grace
Until I slapped your hands away,
Why do my hands still hurt?

Why do I see her when I close my eyes to blink?
Why am I writing this poem?
Its not like she will hear it
Over the words I carved into her
She can't read it
I blinded her with my demons
Why?
Why did I say that?

He never hit me
She said and we believed it
Okay, that's fine
Relief and gratitude
It wasn't that bad...

Am I going crazy?
I remember the arguements...
And the black eye...
I remember them fighting
And the red marks on her cheeks

"My baby girl won't talk to me"
"Mom that's not your fault"
"I protected her
He was trying to hit her
She was just a child.
She went to hide under the chair"*

Speaking of the places we used to hide
The closet, under the table, behind the couch,...
Stop yelling
He came home drunk
And I went to sit on his lap
He pushed me on the floor.

She never snitched on him...
Her lips sealed tight
She never said a word...

focus
but I'm focused
let loose
cause its been a while
here I am
here I was
not believing in my being
I like
I love
the way
you acknowledge my elegance
delicate
blowing bubbles with the goons
go ahead and flip
I'm a warrior
you sent me flying  
in tune
with more than my soul
your energy snitched on you
I don't keep just everyone around
you are here
you have earned it
ride or die.

GAMES OF HOPSCOTCH

In the days of innocence and Eisenhower,
most girls would play their games of hopscotch.
Jay-walking to a vacant lot across the street,
we’d kick away debris and bits of broken glass,
              
              scratch out our game-boards
              on rough cement with pieces
              of chalk snitched from school.

Like kangaroos, we’d hop, hop, hop, jump, hop
turn around, till sweat dripped down our rosy cheeks,
and our lips craved ice-cold cherry Cokes, grape
popsicles from Sweeny’s drugstore down the block.
              
               We’d skip off laughing, hand
               in hand, stepping over wide
               cracks, sparing our mothers’ backs.

               Just yesterday, I read the news:
               DOPE DEALERS BUSTED
               on my old street corner.  Bullets
               popped, brains and blood
               littered the black-top war zone.

               Now, trails of paint, white as lines
               of pure *******, mark the place
               dead bodies fell...down, down, down,
               all meandering toward the spot
               we girls once played our games
               of hopscotch...high on life.

There were better nights than this. Better than cropping people out of your photos and throwing everything that you are into a cardboard box you lit on fire and watched burn, and coming to the decision that the ******* that hurt you was never going to do it again. You can't do **** about that. But what the **** do you know because by the time you were twelve years old you'd never actually been a child. Since the time you could barely walk you've been on a sinking ship and it was every man for themselves. You would rip your hair out and then cry about it, you've been clinically depressed for ages, your parents had been long gone strangers, and you moved more than any military family you knew of. You didn't see a point in making friends so that made you a ****** person but you didn't know how to be an unshitty person because you've never met an unshitty person. You knew potheads and people who did ****** and never thought anything of it because that was all you knew. That was how you were supposed to grow up. You'd never "found god" like a lot of people seem to. And school just seemed to make you even more of a *******. Everyone you had ever trusted bailed or snitched so you just stopped giving a **** about anybody else but yourself, and you didn't care if that was selfish because you were just trying to survive. There were better nights than this.

People, like silence.
Why?
Many feel uncomfortable with the truth.

Main, media and conservative new outlets similar in certain ways.

They give you a soft story of a child mainly white as a good humor story.
You know, like the loyal white soldiers surprising their child at school.
Good story, good news.
****?
Don't minorities have children too?
Serve just as loyal than any other in the forces.
We just don't constantly seek attention.

Every challenge to a wrong that any minority does.
You going to have a negative one crying foul.
I say just do it.

Worry not about those criers of society.

Just do it.
Like Ali.
Like Malcolm X.
Like King Jr.
Just do it.

They can't give Obama his dues.
So just do it.

Realize some of your own race won't support you.
Then research for yourself that many didn't support those above in their rise against wrong.

We aware doing slavery that the one at the house snitched on the field servant planning their freedom.
To escape brutal treatment.

Just listen to how many not comprehending this stand-alone football player message.

He states injustice.
They cry anthem.
He states brutality.
They state loyal to the flag.

Nothing near to his protest.

So just do it.
So what?
They burning a corporation product.
Their profits won't be seriously hurt.

Wait?
Let return to the complainers of the flag twist.
Research the web social site and notice that one group has burned it more.

Wait?
That's too much truth and reality.

Funny, truly funny police organization can cry about his protest.
But can't challenge the crooks within their own department.
Oh, they can't do it.

So just do it.

the old school i went to was filled with the best, worst, and funniest memories. i only talk to four of my friends from that old school; i don’t really ever talk to two of them, but i have texted them. it doesn’t really matter. there’s so many people that have come and gone that i’m not even phased anymore.

1. dear s, you. oh, you. you were a strange soul, but i always remember respecting you. my other classmates said you were really weird. you peeped over stalls and you loved this one kid, (i’ll get to him later) you got so sad when you had to leave in kindergarten. i missed you back then, i don’t miss you now. i barely remember you anyway.

2. dear t, so.. you were technically my first kiss. i chased you around on the tar playground thingy and i kissed your cheek right before the teachers rang their end of recess bell. you were my first love, i like to claim jokingly. i played some foolish kindergartner game with you and when you left in first grade, i had no more reason to play. so i didn’t. we had play dates at your house. your cat bit me, your sister was running up and down the stairs, you showed me your bunk beds, and you hid me under a blanket fort so that i didn’t have to go back home with my father. you gave up peanut butter for lent because of me in kindergarten. that’s honestly the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. you now go to high school with me and i don’t think you recall. that’s insane to me.

3. dear s, i just remember you being best friends with the kid i mentioned above. you were quite shy and never talked much. i never really got to know you. the only thing i recall about you is that you had to put things in your shoes and you broke my best friend’s front tooth.

4. dear a, you and i played with toys together and we got along quite well. i was upset when you had to go. you were pulled out of class to be placed into a better school? i was bummed. i think i still see your face pop up into my mind occasionally.

5. dear j, you were the best at dodgeball and i always thought you were kinda odd, but i am too so… i don’t know. i went to your halloween party one year and you didn’t even speak to me. luckily i never wanted you to. i was a dog that year. when you left, it was just another person leaving. i hope you’re good now.

6. dear a, you came in third grade. everyone disliked you. it could’ve been the way you always read books while the teacher was teaching or the way you bit the collar of your shirt and your lips would get so red and chapped. when you left, everyone rejoiced. (no offense.) i was never really friends with you anyway.

7. dear p, i don’t really remember you much. your brother and your sister..possibly? if you had one…were really weird. no offense, i promise i’m not judgmental. we never talked much, that’s literally all i remember about you lol. hope you’re good.

8. dear p, you were a very interesting person. you sang let it go one time and said Hell instead of Heaven in the lyrics and everyone at my table was shocked. (that was in third grade.) you called yourself some weird name and everyone looked at you strangely when you did. you pinned one of my classmates against the wall and tried to kiss him. that was very creepy. you got sent to boarding school and i haven’t heard anything about you since. i hope you settled down after those years.

9. dear e, you always tried to steal my dessert that was in my lunch. (i’m pretty sure it was you who did that.) i cried to my parents about that. thankfully you stopped. one time, we played jenga and we couldn’t stop laughing so we had to go to the bathroom. i was peeing my pants i was laughing so hard. that is honestly one of my favorite memories. you got mad at me for how i read and you were a horse girl, but other than that, you were a good friend. you go to my new school now and you definitely don’t remember me. you’ve still got that red hair and those freckles. you look the same. i miss you a little.

10. dear s, you were my best friend. i got to show you around the school as a resident, (idk lol.) i complimented your lunchbox on that day. later on, i would stay a little after class so you could gather your hefty science book in your arms and we would walk up the staircase together. my cousin and my sister always claim i had a crush on you, but i never did. i was very upset when you left the school. you now walk around the halls of my new school with your head lowered to the ground. i wish i could make you happy like i used to. i honestly miss you. i really do.

11. dear b, i thought you were funny, but you were always disrespectful to the teachers. you once did this insensitive imitation at lunch. i didn’t want to sit next to you cause you would spit your food everywhere. you were the worst kid i think i ever knew. i once said to you “die in a hole cause you really are dirt.” maybe that’s why you claimed people at that school bullied you. but you were popular and everyone loved you, right? you could be pretty mean yourself. you go to my new school now as well, i don’t know if you recognize me, but i definitely recognize you. you’re a lot more tame now, i think.

12. dear a, i went to your birthday party and everyone was shocked since i never went to any party i was invited to. it was a lot of fun, you considered me as a friend then. but when i said hello to you a year after you left that school, you didn’t say anything back. i was humiliated. i missed the version of you back when i had to move my seat cause another kid and i were getting too rowdy. we sat beside each other and we became best buddies. perhaps only on my end. you came from minnesota and you talked about how cold it got and what scary tornadoes looked like there. you liked my stupid best friend, but you never even liked me, i’m guessing. everyone at my new school hates you. i don’t think you go there anymore. i never really liked you anyway.

13. dear z, you were fun. you were always quite fond of me. you saw me on the playground of the other middle school and wanted to say hi. i was afraid and didn’t think you really wanted to. but i said hi anyway. i told you that your mom looked like mine one time and i think you laughed or something. you go to my new school and you stare at me like you remember me, perhaps you do. i miss you.

14. dear e, the art teacher used to say that she wanted your hair type. she tried it one day, it looked awful, and i don’t even know why. it was kind of weird how obsessed she was with that. on the first day you came to school, you read two paragraphs too much about smoky the bear. how do i even remember that? we were the rowdy bunch in second grade. we laughed at everything. in fourth grade, you did something really creepy that i don’t even wanna say. i won’t out you like that. you were rich and pretentious, bringing fiji water bottles to school every day, but i miss you. i don’t know where you are now.

15. dear s, i had the fattest crush on you in fourth and fifth grade. everyone in my class liked you, it was kind of funny. my best friend even liked you. it was crazy, i tried denying it, but everyone knew anyway. (you actually liked my best friend though, you said some weird things about her.) i almost killed you one time. i gave you a peppermint because you asked for it and you started choking on it and had to run to the bathroom. our teacher was so worried for you, and i hid my head in shame. you were fine though; you didn’t snitch on me. you told me i was strong and you picked me to do a project with. i was so shocked and happy that you wanted me to be in your group. my sister said we were best friends, but i never thought we were. i really thought i was that unlikeable. i miss you? that’s a question.

16. dear b, in seventh grade you would only stand beside me during sparkle or whatever game we played. (if you never played sparkle, you haven’t lived.) my friends would call you out on it, especially a, but you would just smile and say nothing. one of the only male teachers was obsessed with you, probably cause he didn’t want you to feel left out. you almost cried every time you couldn’t solve an english sentence or when you got a c on a test. you were a wreck. i don’t even know what school you go to now, but i guess i wish you the best.

17. dear a, scratch what i said about the other kid being the most troublesome person i ever came across. you brought the board game chameleon to school and i had a blast playing it. sometimes you would cheat or stop halfway through the round and it wouldn’t be as fun. i defended you once to a teacher. you called her assignment dumb and she said, “are you calling me dumb?” and i was like, “no, he’s just calling the work dumb.” and you were like, “yeah.” you rarely came to school and i was shocked when you would actually turn up. a rumor flew around that you got expelled and God only knows where you are right now. prison? lol, probably not.

18. dear m, we sat on the same bus together and we laughed in the back every day. we both “hated” each other. we had debates on who could stand out in the freezing cold longest. it was me, always me. you once left in third grade after an ice cream party, but then came back. you left in sixth for good. you still live in my neighborhood, but i never see you. i miss you.

19. dear c, you were the most fun person i ever met. you told jokes and they rolled off your tongue so easily, you made me laugh on my most difficult days. you touched my neck one time as a joke and we talked about it from then on. you would always mention it. you called me so many funny nicknames and i know for a fact you started liking me. you loitered around my locker and tried any chance you got to talk to me. it was very flattering. i miss your laugh, your weirdness, your enthusiasm. i miss you more than most of the others for the attention and the kindness you showed to me. you didn’t show up to our graduation cause of covid and march thirteenth is the last day i ever saw your face. i wish with all my heart that that wasn’t true.

20. dear k, you were knowledgeable about everything and i always thought you were a know-it-all. you were never particularly nice to me, but again, i didn’t really notice. you snitched on people so much. you liked my best friend too and you wrote her a note and asked her if she liked you back. you both go to the same school and you talk to her a lot. that’s upsetting. i think you remember me and it’s awkward. sorry.

21. dear k, you were my best friend. we were partners in crime, but i’m not gonna write you a huge letter since i have written about you so many times and the wound just gets deeper every time. we sat together in every class. one time, we had a substitute teacher and we both changed seats so we could sit together. we got snitched on the next day. ugh. i miss you extremely. you wander the halls of my new school and you’re just everywhere and i can’t shake you. you hate me, i just know it.

22. dear c, you got ridiculed for your weight and i might have participated once. my friends joked about you needing to use head and shoulders because you had dandruff. i’m sorry. my one friend would act like i had a crush on you and he would make you sit next to me to see if my face turned red. i hated it, but i could tell that you didn’t mind. i have little clue where you are now. i don’t really miss you.

23. dear k, i’ve seen you a couple times since going to my new school. you’re still best friends with one of my good friends that stuck. we went to an escape room together and we laughed like old times. you’re shy like me and you make me feel comfortable. i hope to see you again soon.

24. dear c, you and i would fool around before class every day at seven thirty. it would get annoying sometimes, but i never acted bothered. i don’t like to make people feel like burdens. we would do morning announcements and i like to think that we were really good friends. i’d like to think that you thought that too. there was something about you that was just so welcoming. i miss you and i wish we could’ve kept in contact so we could’ve hung out more. my friend saw you at the ice cream shop the other day and it would’ve been cool if i had been there too.

25. dear a, you sent me a message and you don’t know how much that meant to me. i even wrote a **** poem about that, (don’t think i’m crazy though hehe.) you asked me about school and i took a whole ten minutes to answer because i didn’t know. should i have lied or told you the truth or what? so i just said it was good, just different. and then you showed me pictures of your new cat and her scratches on the drywall. she was a cute kitten. you wanted me to go to basketball games at other schools and i always came up with an excuse on why i didn’t go. dang it, i regret not going now. after my best friend left school, you and i became closer and we sat up in the math room together figuring out confusing problems. i miss spending time with you and i miss seeing your wet hair in the morning. i hope we can reunite and meet up soon.

26. dear s, you couldn’t go to the restaurant you wanted to for your birthday because you misbehaved. i told you about that incident a few months ago and you claimed it never happened. it did. my friends all used to pick on you since you were such an easy target. you don’t get social cues so i rarely ever try to joke with you. you said my voice was pretty when i was singing and i have always hated my voice so thank you for boosting my nonexistent confidence. you left in kindergarten, but came back in third grade and you were gonna go to a different high school, but you’re stuck where i am. we text now and we have lunch and class together. it’s fun hanging out with you sometimes.

27. dear f, i write poems about you all the time and it’s kind of embarrassing. at least you’ll never read them. in fourth grade, my old crush said you had a crush on me and i brushed it off. i know you still did all the way to eighth grade. you gave me so many nicknames and all of them made me laugh. you placed things on top shelves and put your arms against walls to show how much taller you were than me. i liked it secretly. we had spelling and academic contests together. you won some, i won spelling. i miss you more than everyone else i think, even though you made me feel like disgusting trash everyday. you’re the reason i still call myself ugly in the mirror. thanks. i still miss you, do you miss me?

28. dear j, you’ve helped me so much through high school and i don’t think i’ll ever be able to thank you enough. you introduced me to so many people and they have been excellent friends to me. we were never super good friends back then, but now we are. we text and we laugh and we have inside jokes and it’s all i could’ve ever wished for. you used to be a snitch, but you aren’t anymore. we have three classes together this year and i can’t wait to see you again on the first day of school. see you there.

and these are all the people who have shaped me into who i am,
wherever all of you are at this moment, thank you for spending most of my life with me.
thank you.

Those lips, that nose,
Those brown eyes,
Traditional orange gown
Could've led to my demise.
Is this how angels disguise??
When they climb down
From their crown
That lies up over seven skies.

She was so bright for my eyes
I got blinded by her light
Ever since that encounter
I chased for her attention
As if it was my birthright

Days passed, months too
But not our nights
As we winterized
Our body temperature raised
Never rushed in
Between those thick thighs
Cause I knew she had my prize
A holy *******
Just a touch with slow rub-down
Made her feel butterflies
And so, I got an angel paralyzed
Its always been our way to over-romanticize

God caught upon us
And he didn't like
My idea of love
With his beloved angel
He snitched her from me
And all I did was to watch her go helplessly
Witnessing our terminal twilight
As she ghosted me to drown in my tears of blood
As I was nothing. But her God's creation, out of the mud.

God committed a crime
When he took away my pride
God assisted a suicide
When he took away my ecstasy
The love of my life...

(Verse 1)

Once upon a time, living in streets full of crime.
Got economy turning Oppenheim, poisoning the community with hopes filled with turpentine.
Got many coping to make a dime instead of snorting some lines.
***** so taxing it be giving me some wrinkled lines.

Watch as others front with them gold chains danglin’, ignorant to fact that most of populace be dangling.
Some by the rope, some by the ledge, at each throats, even got some finagling for they bread!
Perhaps that’s why everyone today be so crusty, wishing they were dead.
Everyone starts out a dreamer till reality shoots em dead.
To the facts that society never really cared.
****.
They say shared pain links stories;
I say scars harden tissue, everyone wants the glory, till the fame up and guts you!
So, best learn to stay humble and go find yourself a loyal crew.
Cause when absolute power corrupts, there ain’t **** you can do!

(Chorus)
I’m the goon with many tales, got style so divine,
Silk shirt shinin’ as I sip upon that wine.
Walk with a bop, see them haters fall in line,
Legends never rest, the crown will soon be mine.

(Verse 2)

Homelessness on the curb, as many stroll with ease,
In them Tailor-made suits; ya you bet they got that lapel crease.
They say karma is a ***** that plays *****;
So better watch your ******* knees.
Praying for forgiveness, but not even God’s going to hear ya pleas!
Got to help your fellow man to cure the disease.
There’s a reason for law and order man;
Like can you imagine if we just did what we pleased?

Every life eventually stops, but the clock stays ticking without prevail.
Reflecting on them schemes pulled off; to the nights spent in jail.
Best believe I never snitched, ***** I rather burn in hell!
Gotta kept that honor tight, otherwise the vultures start to swell.
While the weak cower & fold, I stand up with confidence knowing I will prevail!
I’m the goon with class, movin’ at my own pace.

(Chorus)
I’m the goon with many tales, got style so divine,
Silk shirt shinin’ as I sip that wine.
Walk with a bop, seem them haters fall in line,
Legends never rest, the crown will soon be mine.

(Bridge)
Now the lessons I’ve learned, they don’t come cheap,
From the flashy nights to the secrets I keep.
Respect over fear, but I’ll lay it down swift,
Eyes sharp as blades, and my word’s my gift.

(Outro)
So remember the swag, the story, the game,
The goon who one day will stroll down the hall of fame.
Be careful not to brag, stay humble, stay sane;
Reach for the moon, don’t let no one or nothing keep ya tamed!