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Criss Jami May 2014
Lately
What I do is a vacancy with
A disposition made just for me and it's
In a position that they can't see, you see
In deep blue seas
There's the place where a vacation is free for me

And then you dream in peace

So call me maybe the ghost protocol where most of those photos of all the things I do
Are used as prototypes, baby so-called clues of my new call to move where-
In everywhere and wherever and with whomever and whenever which
Is whosoever or whoever's whichever of whatever, for all of you
Whether the weather's a typhoon in-
Cluding the SoCal blues but
This isn't all I do
It's just that it's my call of duty
On a mission for all of what's true
But without bailing, balling or brawling in her suit
And then failing, falling, bawling and calling and then crawling in pursuit

Like some other subliminal, minimal flukes
'Cause it's done much better than those "lyrical, miracle, spiritual, individual and criminal" dudes
Or bitter, fritter critiques with the use of twitters
In order to refute the fullest of all hippo-critical fools and critters sitting and fitting
Itching to switch to snitching about this glitch
Which is hitched to renewing, stitching and gluing our fitches to truth and
And yes without twitching to their witch's magical, musical flute

Then in lieu of the altitude of the attitude rude of my pirate-like crew's mood
Whether longitude or latitude and more than impractical platitudes
I'm not as irate as I seem al-
Though it ensues that right on cue in due
Time with an aptitude of gratitude and exactitude in
Solitude throughout fortitude or servitude, to allude what you elude and dude
To intrude what you conclude with certitude in an interview interlude and now
Then out of you, under coveralls to view the overall outerlude
I rate the magnitudes of the habitudes it seems you take for granted in dreams and all types of things

And though my soul is a hologram
Hollow weight and zero grams
Hero traits with a villain glam I'm
The man of love and that of
One of the toughest clams above
Or below, I should say
Like Poseidon
Oh baby we ride on
Or sail on, should I say
The ghost of Poseidon

Then in lieu of the attitude of my pirate-like crew
I'm not as irate as I seem or
Even irritated as they deem nor
Norse, Thor or a heart of granite
I rate the things we take for granted, granted far asleep
Stereo-hyped in dreams with all heights of wings and

Although my soul is a hologram
Hollow weight and zero grams
Hero traits with the chill of a villain vibe or glam I'm
The anti-hero, champion of love and that of
One of the toughest clams clamping it above
Or below, I should say
Like Poseidon
Oh baby we're riding
Or sailing, I should say and it's

It's the ghost of Poseidon that's
That's trailed night and day
The ghost of Poseidon that's
That's trailed night and day 'cause
They say, I did it my way then they're
On my tail right away
On my tail right away
ConnectHook Sep 2015
☮ ☮ ☮

Society needs more Social Justice.
Humanity needs peaceworkers.

Peace and Social Justice must be promoted aggressively. There are inequities that must be addressed. Power is not equally distributed. Neither are resources or wealth. Neither are poetic gifts or vision equitably distributed. Unearned privilege is rampant. Poetry must confront this global crisis of capitalist exploitation and manipulation. Poetry must speak to the masses. Poetry must radicalize and inform consciousness to new levels of social change. Marginalized citizens must be empowered. All ******, gender-based, racial, religious, age-based, homophobic, xenophobic, and gynophobic bigots must be brought to see in a new way through our poetry. Community building and local empowerment are of the order. Our poetry must be global in scope – yet rooted and grounded in local community empowerment. Selfless acts of service to promote and increase Social Justice are needed. Lives selflessly devoted to establishing social justice are called for. Our poetic lives must be laid on the altar of the dis-enfranchised and unrepresented. We, as consciously aware poets, must advocate and speak out for those who have no voice.

We, as poets, must, through stirring words of Social Justice, embody through our radical verses the burning hope of a just and sustainable future. This future must become increasingly collective as formerly marginalized consumers become empowered community-builders  –  through our poetry. As poets of the sustainable future we will empower and inform. Our poetry must collectivize, entitle and enslave. We must speak with ONE VOICE: the voice of change and social justice. Our words will rise with healing in their wings and lift whole communities from despair to radicalized self-awareness in communities filled with strident, intolerant and maniacal practitioners of PEACE & SOCIAL JUSTICE. All poets who do not lay their entire creative and lyrical selves on the altar of struggle to bring CHANGE and SOCIAL JUSTICE will be LIQUIDATED by our own EMPOWERED POETRY. IN THE END WE WILL WRITE A PURE POETRY OF SOCIAL CHANGE, ALL IN CAPS, AND THIS POETRY OF SOCIAL JUSTICE AND EMPOWERMENT WILL BE READ OVER THE GRAVES OF ALL SELL-OUT, CORPORATE, FASCIST, SNITCHING, SELFISH, UNEMPOWERED AND UNEMPOWERING TRAITORS AND ENEMIES OF SOCIAL JUSTICE.  IN THE END THERE WILL BE NO PUNCTUATION OR EVEN WORDS ONLY PURE IMAGES OF CHANGE + VISIONARY COLLABORATION IN SOCIAL TRANSFORMATION/MAYBE SLASH MARKS/OKAY MAYBE EXCLAMATION POINTS TOO BUT ONLY THOSE !

WHY? BECAUSE THE ONLY GOOD POET IS A LIVING POET WHO HAS LIQUIDATED EVERY FALSE POET NOT COMMITTED TO THE STRUGGLE FOR SOCIAL JUSTICE !

LONG LIVE POETRY IN ACTION THROUGH CHANGE!
WRITE/SPEAK/AGITATE
FOR  **SOCIAL JUSTICE  & EMPOWERMENT !


POETRY IS STRUGGLE☻
STRUGGLE IS CHANGE☻
CHANGE REQUIRES SOCIAL JUSTICE☻
SOCIAL JUSTICE BRINGS PEACE☻
PEACE BRINGS WAR☻
WAR BRINGS CONFUSION & DEATH☻

(SO DON’T BE CONFUSED)
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2014/04/03/agitating-the-spin-cycle/

☠☻☭
Emma Nov 2018
Mocking bird do not
go to the grinning sun and
tell him my secret
I guess this haiku is about someone with a secret, another person who's a snitch, and a person who's a leader that doesn't take kindly to deep secrets and makes those lower than him go against each other
Katlego Tladi Oct 2014
Reality hanging by a thread.
Coke cans and cannons by my bed.
Show girls shooting up to the head.
Solace for the strong, seizures for the dead.

Pac in the boombox
If the packs don't boom I hope the boom pops.
If the boom don't pop she got a new pops.
Red lips serving blows up on the new blocks.

Humble pie in my abode in a bid to abide.
But the coke on the stove says the law is a lie.
Caught slipping, no snitching so my name shall survive.
Out in 10, when I return
Throw some paper to the sky, let the wind and caution colide.

I'll need a long island on the rocks.
Escape the piles we turn to rocks.
We held their lives within our glocks.
The doors were locked so we turned to the knocks.

Boys in the hood with the little coke babies.
Girls in the hood holding little hope babies.
Daddy never came but we live in hope baby.
All I had were bricks, had to build a home baby.
When Sophistication and Ignorance meet. Sparks fly.

I wrote this purely on impulse. I just woke up and started typing. Then I stopped, Listened to Kendrick's Section80, watched Al Pachino's Scarface and got back to it.

If you don't understand it you shouldn't. The echelons play a vital part in life, know yours.
Bless!
"This for the Moms out there, you know
what I'm saying who done told their kid shit but
they don't wanna listen and have to go through the
hard way of finding s
hit out Know what I'm saying,
cause I Was one of them kids..."

"Tell me who knows a peaceful place that I can go
to clear my head I'm feeling low"
Losing control
Losing control
Losing control
Losing control

Ay Momma!

"Tell me who knows a peaceful place that I can go
to clear my head I'm feeling low
Losing control
Losing control
Losing control
Losing control...

Ay Momma!

Wish I could turn my **** around and did it how you told me
don't **** with everybody every smile aint your homie
I had to learn the hard way most people is phonies
played that tough guy role then they snitching on me
and member when you said the truth rule everything
never believe everything a person telling me
and jealousy is always close than you ever think
that was some real **** Mama you the best to me
and the way you raised me giving you applaud for that
my mother my father my friend girl you're all of that
a hard head started opening loud packs
involved with gats
soldier known for
walking off with sacks
I like that then I thought I need to try that
the right stack I guarantee you I could buy that
and notice just how you leave and come right back
they say you going down the wrong hit the right track..."

Tell me who knows a peaceful place that I can go
to clear my head I'm feeling low
Losing control
Losing control
Losing control
   Losing control...

Ay Momma!

Tell me who knows a peaceful place that I can go
to clear my head I'm feeling low
Losing control
Losing control
Losing control
    Losing control...

Ay Momma!

If you could look in my eyes you'll see all the pain that I felt
another victim to the streets moving that cain for the wealth
my pops never gave a fuck at night I anger myself
puffing **** till my eyes bleed they say that danger my health
but f
uck it my mind corrupt from all the **** that done happen
and rest in peace to my papi I love you I have you imagine
coming up where I came from it aint fun
when people die every day over the same stuff
and cops notice your game until you change up
I love my mother she claim tough she aim up
a lot of jealous muh fuckers no name for
with no fingers
it's f
uck you when I get famous
I aim to see a billion for I'm dead sir
I think about this paper so much my head hurt
Stay on the grind legit now but I did dirt
my time to shine Ima dive in this game head first

Tell me who knows a peaceful place that I can go
to clear my head I'm feeling low
Losing control
Losing control
Losing control
   Losing control...

Ay Momma!

Tell me who knows a peaceful place that I can go
to clear my head I'm feeling low
Losing control
Losing control
Losing control
Losing control...

Ay Momma!
One of the best rap songs you'll never hear on the radio
2Pac sample
"Tell me who knows a peaceful place that I can go
to clear my head I'm feeling low"
L B Aug 2016
She hushes me repeatedly
as if my voice could be– too loud
for these shrunken, elder walls
What voice can I revive to tell her
that this little place...reminds me...?

Ratchet up the memories  
the young mistakes
my welfare “townhouse”

as if my voice could be too loud?!

Where does anger go to say
These cheesy rugs remind me!
of the smoky halls, stoop-sittin’
head lice, **** roach
fumigated invasion
Music loud enough to blow pipes
induce trauma through the walls
Thud Crash
“Stupid ****!”
Knife-weildin’, drug-sellin’, boyfriend-of-a-future

A can of beer later...
with stress on hold
the smells of dinner, now—all fifteen of them!
Assault me through the front window
“Ya there yet?
...to this “cute little apartment, I mean?"


So it’s sold…
Someone else will wash windows, rake the yard
Shovel Massachusetts snow

Christmas lights come down
in my mind—
Running toward them still
Toes numb
Skates bouncin on my back
Sled firing off sparks against the sidewalk in my wake
Running and as always late
Mittens soaked, heavy
Like my eyes—


Mom and I
looking out this window for the last time
Looking out toward the daughter of the woods I was
Behind—me
the bride sinks
to the bare mattress—
“Was it really 57 years?
How can it be?”

since...clutching can opener and Coke
He scooped her up and through that door....
  
“How can it be?   Oh my….”

"You can always keep the memories."
she chirps to check the tears
                                                           ­                                                                 ­But I can’t taste them!
…Mom baking cookies
stew and dumplings on the stove
Snitching chocolate bits
waiting for the bowl
Impatient little helpers at her side

Colors slipping…
A child husks corn in sunlight
A blue Huffy gleams behind birthday candles
Sheets billow from the line

Sounds fading...
A choir of music boxes
before the Christmas carnage
Doing dishes in three-part harmony

I can barely wrap my words around our voices!

“You can always keep the memories”

Preamble to the dutiful decision
Hypothermic excuse
to dump the place

Street sign shrinking in the rear-view
Because I have lived away from my hometown and away from my family, I had very little to say about the decisions my family made for Mom and Dad.
Rabbit Oct 2012
my kindness is my weakness
not mistaken
but taken for exactly what it is
and you
you peeped game
recognized that nothing in me would allow life to hurt you
so your shield i became
taking every bullet
every sword
every bill collector trying to put you in chains
handling things the way your woman should
the way your woman could
the way your woman would
if your woman was me
but it's not cause i'm crazy
content with being less than anything
no title
no name
no definition
just occasional **** to prolong my *******
i'm itching to get to snitching
and tell all of your women
that it's
no competition
The Problem's coalition
all on a mission to handle all of your business

you're welcome

but i'm not thanked
no gratitude or appreciation shows on your face
your clothes are washed
you're well fed
and your bills, all paid
at this point
every ***** is wondering why does she stay
but my ladies know
we see our men as what they really could be
if they didn't have
3, 4 or well
15 on the team
so you have no time to worry about my needs
cause what i wont do she will
and she does
and she's never done but
she'll do it for you
you lucky ******* fool
the world is in your hands
and i'm Pinnocio for you
my girls know
how my nose grows when i lie
and say i don't care

cause everytime i'm ready to exhale
and exit this hell
of living in the balance with you
you smother me
sucker me
cover me with a pillow of sweet words
and gift me
with a hope filled rillo
you season my chicken
with new found understanding
and pour me a tall glass of
tall tales of how you hope this **** last

and i stay

so for my unhappiness
who else can i blame
but the good in me
for hoping that eventually you will change.
Eugene Isahi Nov 2018
FAKE FRIENDS

You call me a friend, as you pull out a knife
You stab me in the back, not once but twice
Friends for life, but that’s a straight up lie
You aint gotta clue, about Ride or Die

I’m surrounded by wolves that are dressed like sheep
Telling straight lies, dry snitching on me
Claiming it wasn’t you, behind the line up glass
You straight pointed out me, to save your own ***

I’d rather sweat buckets, to search out peace
Than spilling gallons of blood, fighting demons in me
The battle continues, frighten the anger within
It’s a full time job, dealing with FAKE *** FRIENDS

Ever time I think I know, what you’ll do next
You end up selling me out, for a yard or less
You made you a dollar, so I’m screaming again
You’re a straight up punk, a FAKE *** FRIEND      

I can sit and formulate a plan in my head
Take a ****** shot; make your FAKE *** DEAD
Now I’m on the run, a fugitive at large
Aint a FAKE *** FRIEND around, worth taking a charge

Their a dime a dozen, you can find them anywhere
Just don’t be fooled, because its buyer beware
It’s a known street rule, don’t say it wasn’t said
Because FAKE *** FRIENDS, usually wined up dead

But ill take what GOD gave me common sense, and walk away
It’s a soft *** move, but Ill write another day
Not locked up covered up, dealing with my sins
Nothing wrong with cutting off, a FAKE *** FRIEND

Aint a chick or dude around, can’t relate to what I’m saying
We all had friends, which were straight perpetrating
Saying they got our back, all the way to the end
Same ole same ole, just a FAKE *** FRIEND

So now I ride solo, I know it’s a risk
If push comes to shove, Ill add my girl to the list
Now I’m RICH and FAMOUS, and you wanna make amends
But as I told you before, **** FAKE *** FRIENDS!
it’s hard to express yourself when, the voices say i am snitching or squealing, i am not, i am trying to express myself

you see it’s hard to express myself when the people know they are in the wrong and they know it, so they tease in a very horrible way, i am a person

you see it’s hard to express yourself when, nobody cares what you have to say,

i don’t want to have this horrible teasing voice when i am expressing myself

i am not squealing, i am trying to clean my brain out, mind you it’s hard to express myself when i hear voices of my past being horrible to me

i don’t deserve this, you see it’s hard to express myself when when i express myself, my dad comes in and says your too shy to be like brian

let us men take over, but what i am trying to do is clean my brain, i don’t want give money till i want to give money, i need to look after myself

i didn’t want to buy that kid a pack of smokes, i hate kids who tease like that, just to get me in trouble with the men

it’s hard to express myself when, people think i liked being shy as a kid, when i hated it, it’s hard to express myself when my voices

are keeping me with the crazy people in the psych ward, i will never be as ******* up as them, but they have problems, and i am a nice person

i am too nice to be a psych ward patient

it’s hard to express myself when i feel people are saying your getting kidnapped all the fucken time

it’s hard to express myself when people judge me me of how i used to be, and not how i am now

it’s hard to express myself when people treat me like the person i used to be, a scared to express myself dude, to who i am dude, a loving life dude

it’s hard to express myself when i feel people are trying to get me back to the person i was, because, i ******* a lot of people, I HAVE CHANGED

it’s hard to express myself i hear that voice of the past saying, what’s ya problem, ****, what’s ya problem, ****

it’s hard to express myself when, the voices laugh at me when i have problems at doing something, i don’t want to be shy no more

it’s hard to express myself when, people say when i say i am not shy, people presume i want to fight, I DON’T

it’s hard to express myself when people are saying i am christian, but i am a buddhist, ya know cleaning my brain

it’s hard to express myself when i say i need to clean my brain, someone gets a garden hose and splashes it in my eyes saying, your still a little shy boy, LEAVE ME ALONE

it’s hard to express myself when, people are wanting me to do what i used to do, when i want to move on to the next phase of my life, putting my art and writing out there

it’s hard to express myself when, people saying we’re still not leaving you alone, all the fucken time, LEAVE ME ALONE, ****

it’s hard to express myself when people wanting me to be like their mob, when i hate being treated like a little woosey

i would like to find the person who put the voices in my head, and give him these voices to see how he likes it,

I AM NOT MENTAL, I HAVE SCHITZOPHRENIA, ok
Ston Poet Dec 2015
Young Ston *****, The young ****** Disciple, (keep ya eyes peeled, dawg2)..Keep yo eyes peeled. Uhh..Keep yo eyes open (at all times2)..Keep ya eyes peeled dawg, Aye..Keep yo eyes open (at all times2)..Yo

I'm trying get outta this struggle I been in for so long dawg, I gotta put that work in tho, I gotta work hard dawg, I gotta get up off my *** & I gotta go out & get it for show , & (Imma  go hard
3)..(these demons won't stop me2)..Uhh, (gotta keep yo eyes peeled dawg2)...yo, these ****** & ******* (will cross you2)..So you gotta keep ya eyes open (at all times2)...you (gotta keep yo eyes peeled dawg2)..Yeah (keep yo eyes peeled dawg2)..these ***** ******.. (They plotting2)..these ***** *******..(stay stalking2)..so keep yo eyes open (at all times2)..gotta (keep yo eyes peeled dawg3)..(Yeah2)..Keep yo eyes open (at all times2)
(keep yo eyes peeled2)..Yo

My eyes peeled at all times man,yo Cuhz, its alot of evil out here that wanna take control of me but I won't let em, I got the remote control homie,no Adam ******* but I push my own buttons mane, I gotta keep praying up to God constantly daily mane, (God got me
2)..God got the whole family, OFTR mane, ***** we all eating ***** we straight, (Aye2)..I gotta keep my eyes peeled mane, I gotta keep my eyes open at all times no sleep..

The government dun made me a target now mane.., so I gotta keep my eyes open, & ears clean dude..Uhh, gotta keep my eyes peeled homie these ***** ****** fear me, & they hate on me so much, they so scared of me dawg, Imma weapon of mass destruction mane, I'm more dangerous than the wilderness, I'm more dangerous than a nuclear bomb mane, Yeah Imma terrorist, A extremist, A fanatic, I'm so radical, Yeah man I'm starting a revolution up soon so beware, America ..
Aye my goon ******  don't be scared just join  wit me & let's have some fun ******* **** up, dude,..

(Aye I gotta keep my eyes peeled
2)...gotta keep my eyes open at all times now man.., Yeah, gotta keep my eyes peeled all day everyday, gotta keep my eyes peeled mane these ******* just want (my cake2)..they just wanna (take2)..untill I'm broke again, Shawty,.. Uhh, put a rubber on young ***** don't  be stupid, think wiser & smarter, I don't care how good the ***** looks mane, If you don't play yo cards right then there will be problems,Aye..real talk dawg

& Watch who you hang around Cuhz, these ****** is undercover cops Yeah..They snitching, Yeah them **** Informants be out here looking for trouble, so you better watch who you buy drugs from, &  watch who you talking on the phone wit too partner, Cuhz the FBI, is bugging all of us  Yeah, but **** em we still thugging..we still rebels no matter what..OFTR Yeah..Uhh

These racist cops keep killing my brothers , these busters , they don't give a **** about taking food outta a childs mouth..*******..
So you better keep yo eyes peeled dawg, Yeah (watch out..2)

My young ***** stay on the long narrow route, Yeah it's gonna be alot of times when you feel depressed sad & impatient, just keep waiting, but while you waiting hustle smater not harder & keep scheming dawg,..Yeah..
Aye gotta (keep yo eyes peeled dawg
2)..yeah its alot of  evil (out here2)..that will cross ya,..Uhh, so (keep yo eyes peeled dawg2)..keep yo eyes open (at all times2)..Cuhz, these demons out here will cross ya..yep..they will cross you..(Ohh2)...Uhh

Gotta (keep yo eyes peeled dawg2)!/its alot of haters out here , **** they will even try infiltrating in yo squad..so watch out ..Uhh , (you better watch out2)..who rolling the blunt up too, they might lace that **** dawg, these ******* so jealous, they mad for nothing , man **** they might even try to first 48 yo ***, I'm just spitting game man, You gotta keep watch out, you gotta (keep yo eyes peeled2)..my *****, Cuhz..Imma say a prayer for all of the (real ******2)....Psalm 23: verse 4..Uhh


Even though we walk through the darkest valley, we will fear no evil, for The Heavenly Father is with us all, Jesus Christ is our protector & our saviour, his rod & staff comfort us..Amen.

OFTR keep yo eyes open..
Keep yo eyes peeled up in these streets mane..Aye
I gotta keep my eyes peeled homie,
I know these busters our here (wanna **** me*3)..
Aye
stonpoet.tumblr.com
C J Baxter Jul 2015
They dance tae boots n' cats
like ants being crushed by boots:
Squirming, wriggling, writhing
wae jaws scraping the flare.  
They scurry like wee rats
under the ground in cahoots:
snidely sneaking, snitching
under the boots n' cats they blare.

"Boots n cats urr booming doon yer ears.
 Boots n cats huv been oan repeat fur years.
 Boots n cats will perforate yer ears.
 Boots n cats huv been oan repeat fur years"

But then sumday changed the beat:
         It Came in oan the and.

And everyone forgot how tae dance.
Amanda Kay Burke Jul 2021
I don't know how to say this
Do not want to break your heart
Want to be the person you wish I could be
We'd be better off apart

Where is this going?
Got to be able to tell
Noticing for awhile
Haven't been doing so well

I fought dozens of battles
Silently in mind
Kept them imprisoned
Less conflict confined

I should face problems
But I am a coward so I run
Hard to conquer an argument
You already believe you won

Maybe I am being harsh
I can only take so much
A relationship is supposed to be
More than people who touch

See sometimes feel a tingle
Think "this isn't so bad"
That itself means it is
To deny must be raving mad

The friction is obvious
Where do I draw the line?
I am stuck in an internal war
Between your emotions and mine

My hands might be lonely
When clasped something is amiss
As long as yours fills gaps between fingers
Nobody else can see if theirs fits

If being totally honest
Seems you don't really care about me
Tears drip out eyes all the time
You are too self-centered to see

Trying to build life back up
You are standing in my way
Making things harder than already are
Painting sky shades of grey

I am opening eyes to reality
Hope you do that too
We both need to stop lying to ourselves
We know it isn't true

I taste sorry on my tongue again
Taste regret on my lips
Obligation squeezes tighter
When you put arms around hips

Only now letting you know
How much feelings have changed
My head full of hope for a heavy heart Hung from noose was exchanged

I should have been forthcoming
Informed you was over as soon as I knew
I can't stand causing others pain
Why it took this long to say this to you

But sick of home not feeling like home
In own room feel out of place
You've transformed it to your own
Do not have a single private space

You are a tornado
In wake is a trail of destruction
Many flaws get in the way
About time I move obstruction

Your ego too big for me
To properly see around
In fact how do you even lift your head?
Must weigh a thousand pounds

Your conceited attitude more often than not
Provokes until seeing red
Arrogance unattractive
Try acting humble instead

I cannot picture a future with you
You are inconsiderate and dumb
No ambition or work ethic
Would rather be a ***

You take time with everything
Never met someone so slow
Put so much effort and see no results
Almost no progress to show

Without my aid what will you do?
How will you get high?
Depend on everybody else around you
If you desired you could get by

Lungs filled with poison
Bloodstream with *****
Need crutches to get through each day
Think these substances are helping
They really only get in the way

With only pride and standards
I will continue life in solitude
Better than being with someone who's naive
Not to mention selfish and rude

Consequences for actions
Finally caught up to where we are
Have tolerated a lot of *******
I've decided I'm raising the bar

My goal is to go further in my life
Than you plan to go
Hindering distance to travel
Making it challenging to grow

Soon you'll be left in the dust
Discovering I was right
Won't be able to use me as an excuse
For failure when I'm out of sight

You call me idiotic pet names
What I am in your contacts under is bold
McPoops?
Actually prefer "The *****"
What are you? Six years old?

How many occasions have you pouted?
Sulking because you disagreed
With words said or things done?
I gave no choice but concede

I have every right to be unhappy
How can you not understand why?
May not always be reason for tears
You sure do not help them dry

Are you center of universe?
That is how you act
Helping yourself to anything viewed
You are entitled and that is a fact

I do not know if you do it on purpose
You disrespect everyone here
Using stuff but not asking
To rules you do not adhere

The only person I have ever met
Who is even lazier than me
Make messes faster than you clean up
Cannot handle responsibility

Not to mention you can't keep track
Of any possession you own
Or that you failed to pay back majority
Of money you have been loaned

Your expensive eating habits
And cockiness get on nerves
Believe you are correct about every subject
Isolation what you deserve

You break trust without hesitation
Snitching on me like a rat
If I plead with you to keep a secret
You can't even follow through with that

You probably think we are being mean
That you are misunderstood
If that's true then tell me this
What have you done that's good?

You disassemble stuff like a tweaker
Not putting back in one piece
Have given you so many chances
Still the madness won't cease

It is an eternal struggle
To even get you to barely move
Just procrastinate your life away
After promising to improve

Rather live in solitude
Than with a theif who lies
Took two CATs of my dad's
You thought he would not realize?

And when telling you something
You do not want to hear
Pretend to agree with statement
Goes out the other ear

You have to get your priorities straight
It's clear you never will
How are you expecting to survive
Without ambition
Sapience
Skill?

You expect others to carry your load
Piggybacking much as you can
The behavior of a little boy
How dare you call yourself a man

But when affecting your wallet
You are stingy as they come
Generosity is not in your vocabulary
Unless receiving some

Then have the audacity
To judge the way I live
Degrading me because of choices
After the ****** up **** I forgive

At least I do not blame my dependency
For why I'm unable to function
Worse still you put fault for your addiction
On pharmaceutical corruption

I have met plenty of people
Fed prescriptions as a child
Medicated whole **** life
Their abilities are not defiled

You envision the world to your favor
Instead of how it is for real
Perception the problem here
Delusion rooted in privilege you feel

You have a lot of growing up to do
Wish I would have waited
Gotten to know who you really are
Now I wish we never dated
A breakup poem
Dorothy A Jul 2010
The barn door creaked open, and I faced it like a scared rabbit, my breath panting, short and rapidly.

The silhouette figure of Jim stood there, his strong, distinctive voice calling out, "Mary?"

I couldn't respond like I wanted to. Maybe I should of just stood there and hid in the darkness and he would leave. I felt so cowardly and so ashamed of myself.

"Mary! Are you in in here?"

"Yes, I'm here", I replied nervously, my voice shaky. I couldn't stop my lip from quivering, even though the darkness of the night hid it from full view. Trying to look brave, I quickly asked Jim, "You got a smoke?"

Where did that come from? I never smoked before, even when Sue and all her friends did it. How they used to make fun of me for refusing a cigarette! Now here I was blutting out things that never would have come out of my mouth before.

Firm and steady, Jim held the match to my cigarette, but my hand shook so badly that he looked at me intensely. Soon, I feared that I would faint if he did not look away.  In the warmth of the flame, he eyes flickered, and I felt goose bumps rise upon my skin.

He steadied my hand for me, and I took a weak puff upon my Lucky Strike. "What's the matter?", he asked "You look like you saw a ghost. You're shaking from head to toe!"

"I'm just cold", I lied.

In a flash, Jim wrapped his jacket around me, and in another flash, his reassuring arms were folded around my waist as he pulled me close to himself.

Now my knees were really ready to give way. Thank God that he had me in his grip, for I would have fallen for sure. I looked out into the darkness, it nearly pitch black if not for the tip of my burning cigarette.

Sue stood there, hands on her hips in her cocky way. "Don't be such a baby!", she warned. "Relax, or it'gs going to hurt a lot worse!"

I shuddered. Why did I have to think of her! My sister!

Reluctantly, I asked her for advice this morning. She was the only one who knew where I really was tonight. Oddly enough, she was the only one I could trust to keep her mouth shut. To Sue, snitching was something only weaklings and losers did, and she was neither. We were not close sisters, but I realized if anybody knew anything about anything, it was Sue.

So maybe I was a baby, just a step away from dolls as far as my sister was concerned. Yet here I was, on the edge of a fate that was supposed to make me a woman, that made me desirable to a full-grown man. Who cared about Sue now anyway? I imagined her just slipping away, becoming smaller and smaller.

Jim's comforting arms, his wondrous touch--I felt his warm breath against my cheek, his fingers work magic upon my back.

But someting was terribly wrong.

I was pulled into it too fast. It was not me standing there as his deep kisses engulfed me into my make-believe fantasy. As Jim overpowered me, I should have been on the top of the world. I should have felt beautiful, felt like I meant something.

I tried to stop, to pull away, to refuse to go any further. All along I thought of what I should tell him.  I don't want to do this! Stop! I can't stay here with you. I really like you, but I can't! Will you let me just go back home, please?"

Instead, I could not find my voice, or my footing. He was going too far. It was all going too fast, on a runaway freight train which I had no way to jump off from . I felt too weak, too overwhelmed, embarassed just to push him away. Blood rushing into my temples, I felt myself spinning as the room was spinning, spinning out of control like that crazy, old iron rooster skating about in the wind on top of the barn.

Jim lay me down so easily as he placed himself on top of me. For that awkward moment, I did not want to be there, so I removed myself from the situation the best that I could. In the remaining time we were together, fear ruled as I shut my eyes and expected the worst.

Finally, I did find my voice. My scream was so piercing, lough enough to knock that rooster off its bearings from up above. It was as if my soul had been pierced too, torn right down past the flesh and through a writhing pain of guilt and sorrow.

Like a woman in heavy labor,  at last I knew what my sister was talking about. The rip and tear of my innocence seemed so gone away from me. Just like that.

All I could do was wimper like a puppy, the illusion of what love was shattered before my eyes. Pulling away from me, I swore that Jim  gave me a look of suspicion and anger, one that I would never forget.

From the gaps in the roof came enough exposure to shed a few rays of moonlight. I lay there as Jim harshly grabbed me by the shoulders.

"How old are you!?, he demanded

"Fifteen", I admitted, meekly.

For a moment, he just sat there, stunned. The moment felt like a lifetime to me. What was he going to do? Slowly, he bagan to shake his head in disbelief.

Then abruptly he rose up. "You're bad news!", he concluded. He grabbed his jacket, took off, and left me with words that would hurt and sting far more than our encounter together.

What occurred after that seemed like slow motion. The night seemed to last and last, in punitive judgment, as it took me a while to leave that spot, my knees curled up to my chest in a fetal position.

Eventually, I did rise up, fix myself up and headed for home--only because my stomach was growling.

But I did not feel hungry.

I tried to imagine what Sue would say after she pulled the truth out of me. You know you are still a ****** if you couldn't go through with it! She'd have that superior, smug look on her face. And ****** if I was going to feel small in her presence!

I went through the kitchen door of my house. The dawn barely breaking after the dark hours, so punishing and so long.

To my surprise, there was my father's voice from behind his favorite armchair. "You came home from Janey's house sooner than you said", he commented, startling me back to reality. "Much earlier than I expected", he added, almost as if to say, "It's nice one of you girls listens to your dear, old dad".

That was enough to bring about a true confession, a flood of repentant tears. But turning around, as I made my way upstairs, I forced a weak smile.

Yet, what I really wanted to do was turn around and run right into his lap and pour out my heart. That would be the fantasy of a child, and I fought off the urge .

I did not know what I was anymore. Still a girl? A sucker? At that moment, I felt like I did not even exist, numb and shocked to the core.

Sue met me in the hallway and started to ask me in eager whipsers, "Ok, did you do it? How was he?"

I shoved her down on the floor so quickly that she couldn't believe it. "I couldn't get enough!" , I sneered at her, my fist curled up, ready for another comment from her. Our eyes met, and mine were so steely that her reaction shocked me.

Sue never saw me this way, and lay there before me, speechless.
  
I got away and made it to my seclusion. Before the bathroom mirror, at last I was safe. The tears fianlly came as I studied myself closely. There was no sound, only silent, long, wet tears.

Who now stood before me was different than who she was before, and I mourned the loss of my innoence.
copywrited..............integrity....What's mine is mine.
Sam Temple Feb 2016
1- Totes inaprope dope smoker swisher toker blunt wrap roper you be like my ole aunt groper
2- She be grabbin ***** on all ya’ll in the Fall by the ball court short shorts and written reports
3- ******* dorks and eatin pork like nanu nanu Mork with a stork baby drop on the porch
4- Carry the torch to the couch jump up ta bounce see a fool to trounce and slap in the head
5- Make him brain dead said I see red in bedrooms full a un-wed mothers slack jaw brothers
6- Druther act like one another than smother muthafuckers with rubber maid garbage cans
7- Hand feeding planned partenthood in the hood acting no good wit mad wood ya shoulda
8- Put those down came round and found a pound for slingin, bringing back the Ringling elephants
9- And cellophane wrapper sandwiches ******* snitching on rich kids for gambling small wagers
10- Drunken rage-ers deranged rangers feeding bears strangers and rearranging body parts
11- Carded farters impart special gasses on mass media fascists  allowing brash
brooke myers Jul 2015
I dont need help.
Maybe I do.
Do I?
How the hell would you know..unless you are in my head fighting the demons off..but you know that you’d  NEVER **** them..right??
Im talking to myself.
Is that crazy?
Insane?
******?
Does everyone talk to themselves the way I do?
I need help!
I’ve asked but,I ran away.
From help...thats how insane I am…
help?
Is there such thing?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Well maybe not for me.
Help is a definition of **** me slowly..
When you ask for help you get tortured,humiliated your demons in your head scream and laugh at how much of a ******* wimp you are for snitching on them!
You will never get help if you're  in my situation you’ll only suffer your heart will only keep breaking and your demons will grow bigger.
Classy J Jun 2019
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Verse 1
Driving around fronting like a boss.
Feel the connection, better come correct kid.
For in the hood one is always in need of some protection.
And if ya don’t ya best watch your neck kid.
It’s all about respect kid.
So better watch your mouth kid.
Because yawl be dead if ya ever start snitching.
For If you wanna survive you just gotta be packing.
And If you wanna a meal on your plate than ya better start stealing.
Just be careful because the pigs always creeping.
Watching our houses, tapping our phones,  
Every day and every weekend.
For there is no freedom in the project zone.
It’s like gulag out here man, with gangs all trying to sit on the iron porcelain throne.
But it doesn’t mean ****, for the government will still be the true al capoene.
Testing out their drugs on us like we lab rats.
Using racism and propaganda to keep us on our backs.
Which makes makes me wonder why the rest of our society don’t just neuter these ***** cats?
****! But as long as...
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Verse 2
Stunting with my money like a true mob boss!
You want power?
You want respect?
You want to fly around in a purple jet?
Than ya better come correct.
I feel ya J, we gotta makes them waves.
Like a big kahuna, drinking some corona.
Coming in like a super hero to save the day.
We will be the rulers, taking out the opposition like a true mobster.
And ya might think us monsters, but we just doing what we can with this natural disaster.
That you created, ya I ain’t faded.
Opportunity for all, in this world so devastated.
From Atlanta to the bronks.
Only got one rule, which is don’t be a foolish punk.
You gotta think smart and not just rely on luck.
For every dog has its day, so be careful where you run a muck.
Just as long as you never forget...
He got the sauce, he got the sauce driving around in a purple Lamborghini like Ric Ross.
Ya I got the sauce, he got the sauce.
Got that money, power, and fame like Kriss kross.
Do you got that sauce?
Does he have that sauce?
Because if you don’t, than that’s a loss.
So remember to never lose that sauce.
Emily Tucker Feb 2015
The beautiful pedals on a rose shine vibrant with sunlight. Morning dew still lies on top of the white veins in the flower.
Society is calling its hour
They say we fight for peace and freedom but do we really?
Or do we fight of judgment and sorrow…
Every day's hour is calling for tomorrow.
Girls walk and boys play
As the rose is watching from far away.
Poison hits the air when she gossips her words
Another sound of judgment is passed on to snitching birds
Spreading like fire through day and night
Electricity is in this fight
The boys are viewed as tough not weak
Squishing girls underneath their cheek
This is an injustice
This is not right
To have society let the man go who caused a fight
To let him walk with his sin of ****
While the girl sits alone listening to a single song tape
How is this justice to let him go
The young girl sits watching & breaking on her own.
She is now broken for life
A memory that’s placed as quickly as a clasp knife
To hide behind smiles and lies
This man will strike a again…
While the red rose dies.
brandon nagley May 2015
Anomous snitching,
Tooth dead crinching,
The Grinch has made his way in!!
Talk of the town,
What's made is yours,
And what's ours is yours.
You bee sting amongst the nest!!
Epeleptic symptoms turn the chairs of doctoria request!!!
Antsy fingers,
Written unspokeness,
While the ongoing brokenness rewrites history paradox sense!!
Repentance,
Repentance,
Jurrassic marmelade!
Giving up all your readiness for our creditless credit carded trades!!!
Grass root momentary,
Head stone obituary, you are soo lovely in day!!!
The weeds that pull wrap divinely,
Enter signification relieve all things timely...
Relinquishments own freshing!!!
Grads of the ages for a scripturetic blessing,
How seasonal this all is!!!!!!!!!
Four chambered mansion, hearts beats immaculate to sweets and treat's of sugar can value!!!

Where coffee rocks fall through open lace of white state rags....
Story of my life....
My criminal offense
I did 2 years in a cage
Got sent away for loving you
I participated and didn't call it off
I was an accomplice to love
I was there for you, with you
Played a part in your love affair
Then you trapped me in your circle of promises
Broken promises

I went to jail for your own sins
Dishonesty, untrustworthy, alcoholism irresponsible, careless, self-centeredness sexist, ungrateful, unapologetic
Should've known better
That **** got me locked up
Got released but am on probation
Had to do a little bit of snitching...introspection
Got lucky, things could've went pear shaped
Pulled myself together now I got to testify
Tell the whole world how you molested my trust
How you emotionally ***** me
How you beat my heart to a pulp
How I couldn't stop you though I tried
I have to confess all of that
Else I am facing a life sentence of abuse, brokenness and loneliness
I have to testify against you
and set myself free from binding chains
So help me God to tell the truth
And finally get to walk away
For everyone who is stuck in a toxic relationship and holding unto broken strings, walk away before it consumes you.
Mane Omsy Dec 2018
Take a saw
And cut me down deeply
Slowly,
Starting from my head
Through my heart,
Down to my sick belly
So, I could feel the agony
You poured on me
Vengeance might be a way
But I will settle down for a say
Like a boiling water on ice
Dripping the pain into my veins
You shall succeed being a monster
A stranger after all we did
Together, snitching out on me
Being suspended from work with my friend snitching on me (lies actually). There is nothing but pain for what he had done after all we have been through.
Big Virge Sep 2021
So What’s The Real Deal...
In This World Nowadays... ?!?

Because People For Real...
Are Getting... IRATE... !!!

Due To Vaccine Mandates...
And Government Claims...
That Corona Has Made...
Us All Have To Change...
The Way We Behave...

And Of Course VACCINATE...
So That We Can Stay Safe... !!!

But Protests Are RISING...
Due To The Downsizing...
of Wages And Payments...
As If They’re In STASIS... !!!

But What Is The Basis...
For Claims That Their Making...
In All of Their Statements... ?!?

Because... Depopulation...
Is What... Some Are Saying...
Is Why This Reset’s...
Setting New Precedents... ?!?

And Now The U.S....
Has A New President...
Who Wants To Progress...
To Seeing Vaccines...
Become Mandatory...
For... FED Employees...
To Stop This Disease...
From Spreading Quickly... !!!

So What’s The Real Deal... ?!?

Do We Really All Need...
To Be... VACCINATED...
Because It’s MANDATED... ?!?

Or Because of The THREAT...
of More... CORONA DEATHS... !!!

Because of This Virus...
That’s Killing In Silence... !!!

And What’s The Real Deal...
With This Track And Trace Tech... ?!?

Does It Really Reveal...
And In Turn Then Protect... ???

Virus Infected Heads... !?!

Instead of Cause STRESS...
Due To Pings That Direct...

People To Stay Home...
Or In Quarantine Zones...

Is This Tech What Is Best...
To Help Hinder The Spread...
of This... DEADLY Virus... ?!?

Is The Info CORRECT...
In The Messages Sent... ?!?

Or Does It Have DEFECTS...
That Need To Be CHECKED... ?!?

Because What Is REAL...
Is That World Governments...
And Pharma Companies...
Are Known To Conceal...
And Keep ***** Secrets... !!!

That Generally Tend...
To Embrace The PRETENCE...
of Doing What’s Best...
For Peoples’ Progress...

But Are We Progressing...
Or Are We Regressing... ?!?

What Is The REAL DEAL...
With Where We Are Heading... ?

Because I Now Feel...
That Big Tech Investment...

Will Cause A Recession...
GREATER Than Depressions...
That Have Come Before...
When Inflation SOARS...
And Causes The Poor...
To Want To Start Wars...
That Will Cause An UPROAR...
That Hurt People For Sure... !!!

While Actors Tread Boards...
And Promote The New Cause...

of MASS VACCINATIONS...
In Ways That Are BLATANT...
Because of The Payments...
That Keep Them Located...
In... FANCY Locations... !!!

Because of The Deals...
That Keep Their Lips SEALED...
When It Comes To What’s REAL... !!!

Because They Now Seem...
To Mostly Join Teams...
of Heads Who Mistake...
What’s Real For What’s Fake... !!!

So What’s The Real Deal...
With All These Famous Names... ?!?

Are They Just Slaves With Chains...
Who’d Rather NOT Play...
... The REALITY Game... !?!

Because What They Lack...
Is The Strength To Make Stands...
That Deal In What’s REAL...
Instead of Fake Tans...

And Claims That AREN'T FACT...
When It Comes To Attacks...
And The Usage of Blacks...
To Act Like The Man...
Who Was Played By Sam Jack... !!!

In... Django Unchained...

Showing TRAITOROUS Ways...
Like A Snitching Inmate... !!!

The Real Deal Is What’s Fake...
So Has Imprisoned Brains...
To Believe What Is Said...
By Those In Governments...
And Our Employment Heads...

As Well As Their Friends...
Who Set Financial Trends... !!!

It’s Time For MORE TRUTH...
And LESS Evidence...
That We Have Been Fooled...
By Lies And Pretence... !!!

That Have Now Reduced...
... Rebellious Heads...
When Laws Are Now Set...
That Will Clearly PROTECT...

Heads In Law Enforcement...
From Facing Judgement...
For Acts of... Violence...
Against Those Who Protest...

Which Is Why Some Now Feel...
That This New Age RESET...

Will Just Create STRESS...
And A World of PROBLEMS... !!!

While The Sheeple Consent...
To... WHATEVER Is Said...
By Groups Like The... UN... !!!

Well This Little Poem...
Has A Question For Them...

That For Once Needs An Answer...
That DOES Keep It Real... !!!

When It Comes To The DRAMA...
That’s Now Part of Life’s Meal...

“ What Is The Real Deal ? “
A reasonable question for these days and times....
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By:Cedric McClester

I hope a random act of violence
Can bring an end to the code of silence
Because a six-year-old boy was stabbed to death
And his seven-year-old female companion was left
With multiple stab wound injuries
Now the doctors are exploring contingencies
And the neighborhood is left feeling bereft
Tell me what more could be left

He was just a little baby
His mother cried, "Lord save me!"
What’s this whole world coming to
How could somebody do
What they did to her only son
But now that the deed has been done
Will the neighbors cling to their tired code
Or have the courage to unload

Things have gotten too far gone
To say they’ve not would be wrong
I know for some snitching is tough
But when is enough, enough
How many children have to die
Before the police will be able to rely
On someone stepping up to the plate
To stop the madness before it is too late




(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
Anna2000 Oct 2017
I remember when I was still smallest in the lands,
And he smiled as I held the still beating heart,
Of a gasping fish in my pretty little hands,
A ruby red ball we gleefully tore apart,
Just to drop it used, a memory now distant,
To be forgotten in an instant.

The bigger I grew,
The more transparent he became,
Once I was through,
He was always the same,
Belittling, snitching, cutting and loathing,
Yet I was the one he proclaimed danced in sheep's clothing.

As the end of my imprisonment grew near,
A golden number just a few months away,
Something broke, discretely shattering my fear,
Leaving the cold little stone for which he now must pay,
For by tarnishing my heart with his cold grimy hands,
It was a key he threw away, his arms encased in cool shackle bands.

Soon it will be I who is free,
and trapped to rot,
it will be he,
bitter, and green, he asked and he got,
he laughed when I cried,
now with no guilt, his pleas are denied.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2023
Kaiser Clown

borrowed shoe:
stolen foot.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

auf die frei zungen ich kennt -
   (of the three tongues i know) -
ich kennt zwei
    und kennen eine:
    (i know two and know of one):

auf die frei: ich lieben dieser
                        äußerst
(of the three: i love this utmost)...
                      
    in my youth i spent a good deal of time
watching Disney's Robin "fox" Hood
cartoon in German, somehow it rubbed off
on me...

      i was never born with anything even remotely
resembling the love of the English language...
can there be a love akin to the Anglophile
that excludes the love of the language?
i love everything English except for the language...

each day i'm slowly planning my escape
into womb of the mother of the isles that
was first spoken in Saxony...
         tired Bavarians? tired Pomeranians?
but the Saxons were a landlocked people
who gave them the courage and adventurous
spirits to claim the seas with more than
oars and steer the winds with
sails?

      English didn't come to me as some
poor Romanian kid listening to current pop music
or back then, early 1990s... movies from Hollywood...
i didn't want to speak gimmicks...
i was ****** into the deep-end of speaking this
tongue by starting off a mute...
even with the influences of cartoon network
none left a too great impression on my ears
as the German version of the Disney cartoon
of Robin Hood...

   even after watching the English version many years
later... i can still hear the German dubbing
and i can't escape it...

auf die frei zungen ich spre(s)chen es
mit ein konkurs auf substantive...
(of the three tongues i speak it
with a bankruptcy of nouns)...

        at least i have made progress with predispositions
and conjunctions:
i am better coordinated...
but how... how can one be an Anglophile
without a love of the language?
i can adore the way the English care for
the countryside... how traffic is managed...
how taxes are collected how foreign cultures
can slowly integrate and everyone can feel
somehow, seemingly at home:
even if the natives do not for a while...
but without a love for the language
i cannot be a true Anglophile...

                the beauty of Shakespeare disintegrates
when a simple German neo-folk is played to me...

   in der zwölften stund (sage vom untersberg)

- in der zwölften stunde -
at the twelfth hour
- wenn die raben fliegen um den berg -
when the ravens fly around the mountain
- tun sie lautstark kunde -
they loudly proclaim
- von des kaiser macht und tagewerk -
the emperor's power and legacy
- solang der kaiser schlafet -
as long as the emperor sleeps
- tief drunt' im dunklen bergensschloß -
deep down there in the dark mountain *****
- solang fliegen auch die raben -
the ravens will fly
- hoch über seinem marmelschloss -
high above this castle of marble...

   no words in English, and their meaning make much
for... however simple they might be in German:
the simple fact that... they're spoken in German!
das: sie sind gesprochen im Alt...
    
it is only natural that i sought out the origins of
the English tongue in German,
as much as i am not interested in the etymology
of designated word:
i could never be this youth exposed to too much
English culture wishing to sing pop songs
or utter single line pin-pointers from
films: ehrilch mein schatz,
   ich tun nicht ein pflege
   (frankly my dear,
    i don't give a **** / care)
    or... ich wille wieder (i will be back)...

so the indentations of learning English in a later
developmental stage of language acquisiton
didn't rub off on me: as it does on people
with accents of their mother tongue
who never lose it... and merely culturally appropriate
English as a spoken tongue of culture
and not a "cultured" tongue...
native tongue: a shape-shifting accent
of an educated "class"...
    even today! West Ham was playing Everton,
Toffees... ******* Scousers... Liverpool dwelling folk...
two younglings asked me to speak to one
of the managers who took their banner away
expressing disgruntlement with
how the football club was being managed...
huh?! am i still in England...
i have an easier time understanding Scots
than i have understanding anyone from
Manchester or Liverpool!
i can't understand them!
maybe that's why the Scots are like the Irish:
they come from a proud literary history...
oh... i spoke to an Irishman today at
the football game... woke up at 3am to come
to the game... i understood him perfectly...
i can understand a Scot and an Irishman...
i wouldn't be able to tell you an Irishman
from a North Irishman...
but i could tell you decipherable English
of the Scot and the Irishman from
an undecipherable, local, "polyglot"
mishandling of the English language with
such local accents and idioms as that of
Liverpool or Manchester...
can't understand the *******: even if i tried...

obviously i can't relate to a love of Russian...
as they might say in Poland:
better 6 years of **** rule: by fire...
than the subsequent how many decades it was
under the rule of the Soviet rule: by ice...
a slow burn of war is more demoralising
than a quick stretch of spandex and all hell
and all fury and all hearts united
than this scuttling of rats and shadow-bullets
shot from shadow-pistols!

of course i would naturally side with the Germanic
side of my upbringing:
i have no itch for rekindling any Russian brainwashing!
and i know that the Germanic side of "things"
has become a breeding ground for feral creature-oids
that resemble as best cuckoldry and at worst
the shadiest parts of the ***-scenes in Amsterdam...
but... bone-headed Russians and their
pride... that Russian pride... it's one of those intoxication
liquid i want to drink any of!

hmm...
   perhaps because i know English as a utility,
there's nothing romantic in it for me:
i buy bread with it, i ask: i used to ask for directions
in it, i ask someone in that conventional
formal way how they are and hope for the less *******
that most Americans reply with: how all is dandy
and it's all Texan blue above and not
the grey of the island skyline...

i did think for a moment: i should haven taken a step
further and attached myself to Swedish...
or Norwegian...
but then that's what a German would do...
as an Anglo-Slav it was only natural for me to succumb
to the allure of German...
the natural dynamo...
i fall on German and the German falls on Swedish...
or Danish...
**** knows who the Scandinavians fall on for
inspiration... the Finns?!
after all: the Finns are somewhat Scandinavian:
more Inuit people than...
        
one is a tongue one learned: or, was rather thrown
into learning...
but it's unlike a learning from it being passed on...
no one passed English down to me...
i'm a first generation immigrant...
i learned the tongue in the same time
as my parents learned it...
unlike all those 2nd generation immigrants
who were born in this land
and learned this tongue outside the dynamic
of their parents learning the language:
the only difference being...
i kept the mother tongue, the native, intact...
by refusing my parents' claim that:
if i only spoke English at home,
the English i acquired from being schooled
in the English educational system...
if i forwent me speaking my native tongue
to them: their English would somehow improve...
that they would, somehow, miraculously not have
a foreign accent!
as a child i picked up three majors things...
Catholicism wouldn't take me... i might have been
baptised without my consent...
but i had all the necessary obligations to
give or not give my consent when it came to confirmation:
i haven't been confirmed... i head too many
Gnostic Heresy texts as a teenager...
their idea that somehow i would mistreat my native tongue
in order for them to gain something for it...
like most Pakistani 2nd generation children...
perhaps, maybe... a few slip through the netting...
who still pride themselves on knowing Urdu...
most? with their loss of the mother tongue pick up
their own idiosyncratic accents within the confines
of English: they are literally children robbed
of bilingualism by their parents...

i mastered it and by mastering it found it with
shortcomings that only the tongue i was born
with could expose...

today this alpha looking male sat next to me on the train
and spread his legs... smiling... listening to music...
**** me mate... how much spreading do you need to do?
what i found:
poetry, best read when commuting...
i'm building up a complimentary package for a friend
of mine... she sent me macadamia nut shells
and dried pineapple and honey and...
a feather... i said to her: i will not send you anything
before i compliment a feather you sent me with a feather
of my own... i went cycling two days prior
and: imagine my luck! some magpie... ELSTER...
was either shedding her feathers or was in a fight...
i picked up about half a dozen ELSTERGEFIEDER...
magpie feathers...
on the train... you're better off reading a book
of poems than a newspaper...
the optics are much more clarifying...
none of the claustrophobia and oczopląs
               of a tightly-knitted (printed) column or opinion
paragraph... spread out text...
  poetry books as an alternative to reading newspapers
in transit... that's how i imagine "it"...
once upon a time newspapers were tightly knitted
beyond the scope of the printed paragraph:
it would require the solitudes of Sundays
to sit in calm and quiet and read them...
these days: that tabloid press with headers
and exploding wordings for the newly acquired
people of literacy: the addition of pictures...

nothing new, therefore nothing old...
mein herzenskummer ist was giBt
                   der Sonnenaufgang seine
      rinnsal auf schüchtern farben...
und! unt!
        der Sonnenuntergang seine
    busen-auf-verkörperung:
                auf: das nie vergeht!

                   how easily the displaced spiders...
turn to new architecture of the spider web
should their former and no sooner
than sooner: distraught with the havoc
of a man's quill of fingers having to differentiate
walking into a spider-web confusing it
with: are my eye-lashes camel's now?!

some shifts at work are terrible,
esp. when working with two females...
everything is wrong...
even telling after-work jokes is wrong...
talk of fish fingers... loads of ketchup...
that's wrong too...
top it all of this one is joking about the other
and the other is lesbian
and she has a new girlfriend
and fish-fingers: well... i am a man and i never
equated the smell of ****** with fish...
i know that tadpoles and ****...
but never fish... fish fingers... *******...
ketchup? i joked: that time of the month?
no laughter... no laughter...
if women are joking about their horrid ****
i better not be asked to, ******* joke!

better working with mute men on zombie mode...
i'm already a year behind having my social medial
stalked... sure... they can stalk me when they
figure out my middle name and some Slovak
diacritical markers... not until then...
just because i look silly when ice-skating
and everyone has seen the video doesn't
mean i'll give up my internet presence so easily: so...
i have a project aligning myself to German
so close to my heart i can find it forgiving...
to desire in the heart-of-hearts
to: **** this tongue enough to speak it when drinking!
because i find that Wilhelm was sort of right...
about how Germany was no empire
expect something on the continent
that gobbled up a part of
the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth...
because the Germans were an established people
and there was no sailing spirit in them...
after all: one might be inclined to think they
wanted to upkeep the romantic, familial orientation
of Christianity...
but the powers, the colonial powers at be...
whether the French the English or the Spanish...
who does, Christianity belong to, these days?
one might have asked the same question
before Christianity spread to the Nord Lands...
prior to its prior occupation with the Syrians
and North Africans and the Greeks...
Romans as a side joke?
who are the current mass of Christianity if not
the former colonies of the English
the Spanish and the French?
i know of Christians in South America from
the cross being dumped by the Spaniards with
vain hope... vain hope of the French in Africa...
and the English in Africa... and North America...

at least the Germans didn't... spread this...
Christianity might be allocated to about 12 individuals
within the confines of a single generation...
beyond that? money-grabbing money-laundering:
a religion with only the sole focus on LOGOS
while reading up on Zhuangzi you have several
other, dutiful terms to meditate on...
i might have been smitten by Hindu thinking before
being doubly smitten by Taoist dialogues...
one still remains a categorical imperative...
outside the realm of dialogue:
the best way you can help the world is
to help the world forget you and you in turn forget
the world...
obviously i'm doing X and counter-X...
i'm writing... by extension of writing i "want"...
or is that: "i" want to be remembered...
but thinking is no telekinesis nor is speaking
any telepathy...
             i speak... like today... i get this oddity of looks...
first she asks me: oh what should i reply
to my friend... just been to a Hen-do...
strippers? oh sure... there were strippers...
first time married? no... second... so what's the ******* point
of a hen-do? cluck x2 laid eggs x4?!
  
so her friend sends me a photograph of her newly bought
dress... laces... or whatever the ******* call
a would-be reimagined-curtain...
i tell her: she could pull it off... if she was a size 0...
the lace could really add dimension and curves to
a thin body...
to hide the skeleton...
but you know what would work for her?
a meringue dress...
you know the type? a one piece...
cut just above the ***** line...
simple: smoothed over... no patterns...
all the way from the cleavage to the feet...
so then she shows me her wedding dress...
it cost her £130 while her friend paid over £2000...
exactly what i was describing...
she just sent an AWW and tried to deflate the question,
or simply avoid it...
yeah... she looks like a flayed torso...
because... SHE's fat...

           eat all you want and as much (perhaps)
but at least burn it off...
if there's no work in the fields:
then there's no work in the fields...
but there's enough rubber burning on the bicycle
to escape the monotone drudgery of
urban living... as i found today,
upon Hook Lane cycling up to Chigwell Row...
there's no need to eat excessively...
no comfort in all that fat without
a leather chair or enough warm clothing...

treating people as these existential morons:
conceptualizing the non-existence of free-will is one thing,
another: to debrief them: life is without agency...
a choice-less Darwinism where
jelly-fish are somehow automated: sprouts:
well... no other life could or would ever be!
people without free-will is one thing:
the shackles of the dynamic of choice...
one choice sets you free, subsequent choice shackles
and inescapable binary of freedom-no-freedom...
science governing the flip of a coin...
but... people, robbed of any sort of agency?!
of self-authority over themselves:
so, so easily mangled and mishandled leaving
their fate unto... no fate: double sure...
unto others?!
i watched a few horror movies in my lifetime...
none seem as horrifying as this +mundaneness
of the horrible leftover: forgotten...

i must have a Germanic attitude toward these matters...
i was born into the living spirit of the ****** tongue,
the membrane in situ staging the conflict
of Rome vs. Greece...
or Germany vs. Russia...
i see no end to it...
i was born from the Germans trying to burn out
the Jews from "my" lands
while the Russians trying to subdue the flames
all the while...
i was still borne from a history that required
a solitary antagonist...
less so an protagonist of solitude...
either way: i was going to slither my way through...
like water like serpents...
wie wasser wie schlangen...

mein herz bricht aus hungrig flammen
als ich stürzen blind Samson's
already toppled temple
            
i know i that i will not write the sort of beauty
that's poetry that's everything that's
Zbigniew Herbert's
Godly Claudius
the Game of Mr. Cogito
Mr. Cogito observes his face in the Mirror
the Seventh Angel
   (my favourite of the angels listed?
Dedrael - the apologist and cabalist)
   to name but a few of the poems...

it brings such relief that i can't bring such
beauty into this world: perhaps if my mind was
not muddled by the utility of English
and my romance with German -
perhaps but only perhaps:
i don't even know why i started to write poetry:
maybe it was my lowest ebb
psychotic running on steam and pretend
legs between Edinburgh, Glasgow,
London, Dover, Athens, Belgrade,
Katowice...
                    walking into a bookshop buying
a copy of Rumi's verses...
buying Dostoyevsky's the Brothers Karamazov
and, just by chance... Bukowski...
what was so supposedly special and hiding
within the poetry of this man?
absolutely nothing: i was mad enough
to try it then and to keep at it:
not really knowing why...
  
compared to Zbigniew Herbert i write trash:
perhaps i read too much fiction,
even autobiographical prose: prose in general:
i don't know how to shut up the ten mouths
on the tips of my fingers but
i know how i can seem menacing
on a shift at work... hood pulled over my head
leather gloves squeezing each knuckle
asked by the atypical extroverted woman
whether something is wrong...
pulling my hood up, smiling, yet still being
compared to the grim reaper...
jokes aside: someone is counting the time...

a welcome break from Knausgaard...
this little safe-haven of poetry read in transit...
finally! something that's not mine
and not in English!

that's the terrible difference between men and women...
going to the Fulham shift i was sitting
behind three women... i'm guessing two were
newly arrived brides of war from Ukraine
who also picked up a Thai-surprise bride...
birds sound chirpier and more pleasant to talk
to... sitting behind them reading my little poetry
book... with a magpie's feather for a bookmark...
the women talked... about?
photographs... filters... instagram models...
plastic surgeries of people wanting to look
like their photographs...
impossible dreams! dreams of women...
and some womanized-men...
on my way back... same book same bookmark
and a young man sat down next to me...
put on some decent music i could
make out through the headphones...
angled his horizon to look over my shoulder
as to why i was reading a book with so much
open space and so little words...
not any fiction, not some constipated prose
of imaginary conversations...
and i could feel his leg pressing against mine...

perhaps i am not gay but i can't imagine
being friends with a woman...
i truly can't... there's either *** for me: with women...
or there is friendship with men...
with each man i meet i can achieve this
transcendent: otherwise unpackaged will
of subduing and seduction that only a woman
can provide me... but a conversation with a woman
is painful: at least for the majority of times:
there might be a special place for a woman
who might not necessarily:
but is probably older than me and shares
the same sentiments as me...
probably lives far away and thinks that hand-writing
is like exposing herself all naked...
will go out of her way to send me a feather of a bird
from over 3000miles away...

while i will send her a necklace with a single amber
stone on it... or i will send her a crab's pincer with a hole
drilled in it and ask her to buy some leather-string
to have herself a second necklace...

at work Stephanie the supervisor had to make it adamant
for me alone to know that i would be her Alpha...
whatever the hell that meant...
Alpha... well yeah... because i do try to ensure that
everyone is treated fairly...
the Asians boys of Bangladesh and Pakistan caved it...
this work or this cold of England
finally bit them...
     it's an unrewarding work if you don't have
an escape plan, like i do...
i'm always flying to other pursuits outside of this
work... customer service... being polite to people
that might not be polite to you or simply ignore you...
but even my standards i thought they were
taking it too far...
but i made a pact with them...
they took out a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured
out shots... if there's going to be a snitch among
us... it will be the man who does drink...
so when asked if i'd like a shot i replied: why not!
the weather calls for it... whiskey to warm up!
mixer? oh no no... straight!
plus... you can't mix Jack Daniels with Fanta, can you?
a few new colts were bullied into peer pressure
of silence, asked if they wanted a drink: said no...
me? i had a drink... i'm not snitching...
well i did when Stephanie was coming round
when i just said: nothing about the drinking...
but if there are 7 of us standing in one place...
but i'm the only one giving any customer service
by giving directions and good-evenings while
they're just standing talking to each other,
having a good time? apparently some people still
can't internalise being drunk for their own
self-amusement, drinking is somehow: getting together...
clearly these boys haven't been alone
and drank a litre of whiskey each and every single
night for months on end...

what really bugged me is when they took out a spliff
and smoked it between the four of them...
even as the customers were coming to see
Tottenham beat Fulham 1 - nil...
oh for ****'s sake... it's one thing having a cheeky sip of
whiskey on a cold day to warm up...
but to also smoke marijuana on a shift?
in full view and easily scented air of winter
before customers?
these guys don't want this ****** job...
thank god none of them are either bus drivers
or train drivers or plumbers for that matter!
maybe doctors who forgot to take out a pair of
scissors from a patient's body when
the patient is getting stitched up?

the worst i ever did was drink the night before
and sobered up on my way to work...
ah... not to mention that one time this
girl tried to scout her paranoia from prior relationships
with abusive alcoholic boyfriends onto me:
a man she just met... pampered with an array
of chemicals whether that be a cologne or this alcohol
containing face spray...
who i later tried to sooth by bringing her my homemade
weisserwein... cloudy... like any weisserbier...
chirpsin'... 3 way conversation conspiracies...
until the lie stood on dwarf's legs rather than stilts...
and to think: no i wasn't thinking seriously about
getting into a relationship with her...
she tried to get me fired for "apparently" drinking
on the job! a person she just me...
neurotic ******* *****... it's good that i showed her
what she would never, ever... get...

the difference between men and women...
the shift finished... prior to finishing we already knew
that there was some major ****-up on the tube...
the signals went down...
no Circle line, no Hammersmith & city services...
no services on the District line
from East Ham to Earls Court...
ergo? you'd think there might be a northbound
service to Edgware Rd. from Putney Bridge...
nope... Earls Court is a 4 x 4 junction...
sure... there was the southbound service
from Putney Bridge to Wimbledon...
and whatever service that's a station after
Earls court toward Richmond and Ealing Broadway...
as i'm guessing from Upminster to East Ham
and from one station after Earls Court
to Edgware Rd....
this girl was supposed to come with me
to Stepney Bridge from either Romford or Chadwell
Heath for the shift...
i was 15 minutes late because i felt like getting some
tea and an almond croissant...
she was? an hour late...
by the end of the shift when the transport invonvenience
was building up we went for our debrief
and she was all irritated in the eyes
when she wanted to get an Uber to Hammersmith
or whether it was she thought about going
without telling me: where that would cost her £50+
quid...
                  so when i told her...
i'm not going down the Putney High Street rail connection
because: (a) look at the ******* congestion
of the crowd and (b) i don't need to go to *******
Waterloo because that's ******* south of the river...

mmm hmm mmm... what, should we do?
i told you... i'm either walking or getting the bus 220
to Hammersmith...
debriefing over: she stayed behind for banter
and all the things that hinder an extrovert,
esp. a female extrovert... un-decisive, fatalist,
everything just ******* happens by some whisper
from astrology...
    Aquarius said to Libra that the waters were
about to spill... i ****** off from the stadium
like a hart... shook hands with the managers
thank you goodnight... as i was walking out
toward Hammersmith some young stewards were
shuffling really quickly it all looked very much like
they might be scratching vinyl...
i asked... you heading to Hammersmith?
yes yes... see! that's i like to see!
male to male camaraderie...
we have this unconscious motif of: from *****
you came to ***** you shall return...
it's a bit senseless to go to war these days...
less senseless when you're trying to get from
point A to point B...
there was about 40 of us running for the bus...
amongst us? 1 woman...
***** AHOY!
   obviously i left this girl behind...
her other option was asking one of the managers
to giver her a lift... ******* free-loader...
by the time the manager would have clocked out
all the other parties i would have wasted an hour...
just to get a lift... and then what?
stranded with her? even though we weren't going
to the same point B?
   i left with the *****-mentality... happy too:
because i could read my poetry book in the prized
possession of solitude... and no solitude...
because given the hour... something freakish was
bound to happen on the train or tube...
and it did... some proper English boys talking about
not wanting to take a nightcap in Romford heading
all the way to Shenfield joked when this guy started running
down the train carriage...
and those SKANKS so drunk who were blocking
the doors: subsequently delaying us
subsequently not catching their train blah blah...

well... just as today happened: talking so freely to men,
boys, young men, first point of "concern" / conversation?
establishing "taboos" or habits...
you smoke? you drink? first time you got drunk...
when did you start smoking marijuana first?
and then a natural progression into...
so... what music do you like... just... so naturally?
with women? even with Francesca,
this butcher boy of a lesbian...
it's a cul de sac sort of conversation...
she only talks about herself,
even today i received a text from her...
i broke up with Natalie... broke up i.e. she met her
on Tinder... she stayed round her house
for three nights... Natalie made her lunch for
work one time... cooked dinner another time...
4 days and nights they dated... already broke up...
there you go... Tinder-dating-shoplifting hearts...
window-shopping romances...

free market capitalism? sure... but not when
capitalism overstretches its influence
and we're worse off than the despairing existentialist:
PHILOSOPHERS of the 19th... the precurosor
fabric... i'd say the 20th century existentialist
philosophers had it easier...
but anyone in the 21st century, thinking, even remotely:
would be hard pressed not to express something
of substance bugging all of us:
no great war, no great upheaval,
proxy wars, the Thespian dictatorship over all
the other arts (with the exception of pop music, perhaps)
and the journalistic juggernaut of the quickened
availability of almost anything and nothing...
the free market of capitalism having invested
in creating this... Frankenstein in pieces...
this IKEA ******* LEGO model of a Frankenstein:
but at least Frankenstein bothered to construct
the entire monster rather than creating this
shattered Pandora's box... left in pieces and in
some realisation of a Copernican West...
in a Copernican East... Copernican "west"?
there's a "west" without a setting sun?!
up in outer space?
                         capitalism all fine and dandy:
but not outside the realm of a couple worrying about
how many kettle and toasters sets they will
have to buy during the year or even the wardrobe
needs revisions, or whether it might be worthwile
to change the wallpaper in the living room,
or what movie to watch on a date night at the cinema...
all of that is gone when the free market made
us profile ourselves... with some of us being pushed
so far as to fake cubist like pictures of ourselves
and subsequently implement plastic surgery to
double-fake ourselves...

the shrapnel-shelving-of-self...
it's like people are a library with no alphabetical order:
free market on psychology, morphed beyond
any concern for dreams: if there were any
as the luxury of the Freudian rich...
this... what happened to historiology in the modern
sense as stressed by Heidegger?
a study of history of the people by the people
or at least by individuals... morphed into this grotesque
pop psychology: archeological mapping back
to the primordial Pharisee of Ape and Aping...
farce: Darwin's Curtain of History...
   will we ever remember the beauties and horrors
of centuries from the 16th to the 19th?
no... everything of said years is nil: null...
because the ape's origins quickly morphed into
the man hunched over a microwave adamant in his
belief that... the carbon footprint of producing
a kilogram of chicken meat somehow, somehow would
"save the planet" than producing a kilogram
of tomatoes... given that a kilogram of tomatoes would
only yield a fraction of the necessary calories
than a kilogram of meat... and still the growing
of one kilogram of chicken would cost the planet
less than growing a kilogram of tomatoes...
who needs tomatoes in winter?!
eat, your, ******* root vegetables! carrots boyo! carrots!
but chickens don't need solar energy, nor suntans,
nor greenhouses... chickens cluck just as much
in winter as in summer... and eggs are a year round
product... plus you only need a barn in winter
to keep chicken!
tomatoes rot... chickens? they grow old and die...
until they grow old they still produce eggs...
and when they die? you eat them...
you can't exactly call a chicken rotten if it isn't already
days X already dead, can you?
it might not be as fresh... but...
ugh... no wonder

Zbigniew Herbert: from mythology (of Rome) -

   in the end only the superstitious
neurasthenics carried in their pocket a little figurine
made from salt, resembling the god of irony;
since then there wasn't a greater god.

then the barbarians came, they too greatly prized
the idol of irony.
           they pounded it with their heels and sprinkled
it into their dishes.

no clay-monster of the Levant can intimidate
me now!
not armed with these words:
let us witness the great divorce of man from woman!
let us watch!
pray... let us be brothers and friends and
secretly wishing we were lovers:
in the thinning air... let us talk about the strange
glow above the Thames hanging over Kew Gardens
as if: as i said to him:
as if the sunset still claiming an eye
in the night...
      what woman? what woman could i share
this romantic conversation with?
my interaction with women is so blatant so cold
so forced to claim the male in me and the woman
in her that it's only ******...
oh sure... i was going to the brothel...
but i was coming home already late...
i had two pairs of socks on, drawers, trousers...
a tank-top a shirt gloves and a thick coat...
by the time i would get out of all those layers
and have a quick shower...
half an hour i would have paid for would have become
nothing more than 15 minutes...
not enough time to get a hard-on
of being in the mood...
i already had more than ***...
a conversation... and no woman has yet to actually
provide me with one...
perhaps we are not in the trenches...
but men have always managed without women...
for as long as time knows...

a shift prior... at West Ham... ******* guy with a bald
head and a face as endearing as a plump baby
we great with a handshake that turns into
a thumb against thumb contest and a hug
tells me that i should come and find him at Cavern Cottage
and he'll sort me out with some free food...
hey presto i go and find him
i get a free steak and ale pie...
i know it's a one off...
    we already get discounts for burgers from the burger
van... but it's nice to give a reminder when
being invited...

     we do our rounds in the park...
among the Pakistanis and the Bangladeshi who at first
thought i was British when asked:
oh no... i'm not British... an Anglo-Slav at best...
from that lineage of Anglo-Saxons...
the Saxons who came among post-Rome rule
Britain and mingled or not mingled
with the local Celtic and Welsh and Britton populace...
i'm the second wave that didn't make it
because the British Empire collapsed
and the eastern Europeans were not too dearly minded
in the history of the British Empire...
but they know that i'm from Poland
so when asked: where are you from? there...
and "there"... but i've been living here since i was
7 so there's no "born and bred" argumentation
with me and those in your ethnic stratum
concerning any anti-Pakistani villification
of those in the "upper-castes"... blah blah...
they know... while the three of us walked around
this 40 year old Yugoslav woman
who escaped the Yugoslavian collapse of
circa 1992... starts talking as i switch her around
so she can have a walk with us to warm up her legs
from standing stiff still...
where are you from? oh... here...
i'm not going to tell her what i told the boys...
not after she deflects my attraction to her
by paying more attention to the Pakistani boy
of 20... i'm closer to her age...
but... then she does this sick thing of asking
me to hold her empty cups of tea that
have an unused teabag in it and some dried milk...
oh... right? i'm going to be your waiting boy?

******* testing women... this woman is past her prime...
i know it she thinks she can "test" my patience
by me being her ******* pet-shop-boy?!
fine! fine...
the more and more i talk to women
the more i find them diametrically opposed
to any sort of psychologically asexual universalism of:
ecce ****...
                 women have: and will have to...
sexualize everything from Aristotle to Zeno...
there was once a maybe female version of Aristotle if
only the: give me the drill... i need a bigger hole to see through:
these eyes aren't large enough...
if only there wasn't an oppressive patriarchy...
the oppressive "patriarchy" of autistic geniuses?!
oh... that one... the sort of men cowering
from female sexuality?
  wow! how oppressive!
                    magnificently oppressive!
we all should be so magnificently oppressed by the man
who discovered the wheel by meditating
the O(micron) - what came first?
the wheel or the omega, or was it the sun?
if Prometheus brought down fire... by teaching man
that scratching flint against flint could illuminate
the cave and give man a second womb of poison-fire...
before the forests turned to ash...
before Pompeii's negative of a whiplash of history...

i tried loving women... i loved them for:
the many months i would rather not use
the fingers of both my hands for...
    absolutely un-relate-able creatures...
what *** beside that of female would whisper in
man's heart to leave their minds without
reason to stage the Trojan War
                        or bring architecture to kneel:
like Xerxes: but the madness of Xerxes was rather
beautiful wanting to lash the Aegean into submission
rather than that little Pharaoh ***** who might
have said: best to chisel down a rock face
and glue together sand with egg-whites and spit
into bricks and polish up a craggy mountain:
lest we forget: from a lineage of a people
that once said: let us "reinterpret" the mountains!
pyramids...
                at least the South American tribes invented
the pyramid as an altar... not a tomb...
but we're no smarter than they were dumber:
the myopic-vision strategy of the vantage point
of: what came prior... with hindsight...
but hindsight only works in reverse...
the unmistakeably irreversible past
within the confines of the motto: the terrible
has already happened!
  
                       and some variation of the historically
terrible isn't already happening,
on some microscopic level?
                           not if / not yet?!
                                             hardly...

poetry is air and not the prose of water...
i am stranded between wanting to breathe air
and at the same time more in need to drink water:
no wonder i cannot rest with merely breathing air...
if only i were to breathe air and leave my efforts
with so much nuance as to allow others to breathe
the same air... alas i am like that saying of Heraclitus...
i'll pour you a glass of water
i have prior to drank... leave it for you to drink a day
later: it will not be the same water that i have drank...
i wish i could write like these words might be air...
but it's... aqua post scriptum et plus aqua
post scriptum ad fluenta...

                    verschließen dein augen:
    sehen wieder... immer wieder:
                               bis: es gibt
                             nicht freude:
noch aufschub träumen...
                              kalt silber-rasierer
                                 schneiden auf
mondklären... nacht als auch wirklichkeitstoff.
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By: Cedric McClester

They wanna know
Am I obsessed
Perhaps I am
Just as they suggest
But lies eventually
Get undressed
Whether denied
Or confessed
And we’ve been lied to
Convincingly
And that’s the problem
Don’t cha see
Cos I refuse
To let it be
One day I know
We’ll all be free

They wanna know
Why I’m so mad
As if bein angry
Is so bad
The fact they’re not
To me is sad
Guess they don’t know
When they’ve been had
They wanna wave
The red white and blue
But would they still
If they knew
The true nature of the beast
And why were really
In the Middle East
So that the vultures get to feast

They wanna know
Why I write
About this subject
Day and night
But I’m just tryin
To shed some light
On how and why
We’re in this fight
And someone has to speak
Truth to power
So I seized the moment
And the hour
I’ll not let them
Make me cower
The situation
Is too dower

They wanna know
Why I feel
So compelled
To keep it real
Snitching don’t have
Much appeal
But someone has to
Tell the deal
The 9-11 sentiment
Ain’t the reason
That we went
It’s the oil
Get the hint
That’s the truth
Of why we went

They wanna know
But then they don’t
Some will believe
While others won’t
But I still try
To raise the roof
And I don’t talk
Without the proof
Now he won’t tell ya
That he goofed
He should have stayed
On the Vermouth
Maybe then
He’d be more mellow
Instead he’s just
A cocky fellow

They wanna know
But I’m not tellin
That George Dubya
Must be jellin
Y’all know
That the man’s a felon
And I don’t believe
You’re askin me
The nature of his felony
You have eyes
Use them to see
Yo we’re at war
And don’t have to be
And I guess it's clear enough to see
That he is not the remedy






(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
Tammy M Darby Nov 2019
There was no choice except to lie about the drug use though everyone in town knew the truth. He was a heavy cranker, a tweaker and tried to keep it secret then the inevitable came, long under drug-induced strain, its parts wearing out, his heart started failing.

He had done the drug for a long time and did a good job of hiding it from most of the people in town until his best friend revealed his habit to a person close to him.

At first, he tried to explain it away by telling everyone it was a disorder ran in his family but those that did the white powder lines with him just laughed. They knew why he was having problems with his heart and soon they would be too. But the damage was done and there were no stories or excuses he could use to cover his operations and hospital stays anymore and soon the whole town knew what he was. He kept the instances of violence against women and other small crimes under the covers by snitching to the police when he had a little useable information and they, in turn, cut him a little slack for his efforts.

But everything had changed. He became thin, gaunt and black blue circles appeared underneath his eyes, his hair fell out and he became an old man what seemed like overnight. Afraid, and rightly so, he wondered if this was the price he paid for his treacherous behavior. For the lies, he told her, the promises he broke and the damage he inflicted because of his greed. For the lives, he had destroyed from his past.

He could not shake these perceptions that tortured him night and day sitting in the back of his brain like a tightening knot that refused to be expelled. It weighed heavy on his heart and more so in his mind until his thoughts turned inward and outward and twisted like snakes. He remembered the last words she spoke; the crying and chills ran through his body, he began to violently tremble and his breathing quickened with the memory of her.

Then it began, in earnest, the nightmares, the echoes of crying, and cold gales of the wind that carried words he had once spoken in pledge. He began to cringe in fear at shadows that he was convinced were lurking and lying in wait for him around each and every corner and the whimpering that came from thin air. that no one else could hear. Paranoia was consuming him and there was no controlling it. The last piece in the puzzle of his destiny had come at last to rest in its final tomb.

He could tell no one of the thoughts that consumed him like cancer lest he revealed the monster that he was. and what he had done. So, his fears festered like a rotting wound that would never heal, putrid and decaying, distrustful and suspicious of all he encountered. Counting the beats of his pulse in his wrists wondering if they would slow and stop day after day until in the end he sometimes wished and yearned for death.

There would be no escape this time or reprieve from his actions and it was not hatred that doomed him but love. Steady as the winds in the sky, the flowing waters of the earth, and even the stars that dwell throughout the universe. The emotion that was stronger some say than the face of death itself.

When the fates deemed, he had suffered enough, the bowels of the earth opened before him and they came. But they had no pity for him and it would not be the sounds of angel wings that greeted his soul. But the moans and shrieks of dark spirits from the underworld, and the smell of sulfur.

It would be her voice he heard laughing, as they took him, her small face he saw smiling until she turned and walked away slowly becoming a blurred vision. His eyes dimmed, he cried the name of the one he had wronged and he strained once more to see her before breathing his last. It was her love that had bewitched him and love that took his life.

My attempt at writing a ghost story
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M.Darby Oct.31, 2019
All Material Stored in Author Base.
Walking down the street
I see the tune of nature's heartbeat
Peeps claim they in cadence
But off beat cuz their minds on a seat
Of their subconscious under hypnosis
People quick to defend the system
The same system that'll lynch 'em
Got folks telling on folks only to get yoke
And comedians always make a joke
On how asinine the citizens are
Too busy trapped on houses jewelry and cars
Thinkin' they stars when they really in.bars
Prison to the world in place you can't
Touch see or taste
But the since minds is tapped it's all gone to waste
Wars of race got folks in a chase instead of trying to place
Themselves in a better position
They rather save the commission by snitching
Only to get the reward of a pat on your back
Keep you in tact what childish acts?
Wake up and stop being a duck to the system that hates you
Classy J Jan 2021
When good faces evil,
You get one intense battle,
Eyelids trace intents of cattle,
Placing weighted content that’ll,
Shift resilience towards the peaceful or deceitful.
It all depends on the type of people,
That contends genetic designs of primal,
Adrenal glands that defend against the lethal.
That could stem back when our moms had labour.
And whether or not they harboured,
Alcohol, drugs or other stressful factors.
That can affects the hand one has like a game of poker.
That can become dreadful detractors,
For children once they grow older.

As one wanders closer,
One has to wonder,
What fatal gates await,
Will they reach Aslan’s place,
Or end up in motel Bates?

Who decides good and evil?
A gang in the hood is stable,
Until police are dispersed from the snitching of a weasel.
A burst of betrayal that leaves brothers in jail.
Got the weasel on the run, alliances have sailed.
Trying to find ways to cut off their rat tails.
Getting a witness protection detail.
So, I ask you is that good or evil?
I guess it depends on perspective.
Is it wrong to survive by being deceptive?
Doesn’t everyone have a selfish incentive?
That drives them towards their objectives?
Or is nature or nurture that determines genetics?
What if you committed a crime,
Because of being neglected.
Products of environment,
With freedoms unprotected.
Is it their fault or societies fault?
I guess it depends on your perspective.
So...

As one wanders closer,
One has to wonder,
What fatal gates await,
Will they reach Aslan’s place,
Or end up in motel Bates?
Check it, I'm from the streets of Texas, wait that's Houston reigns,
All day and all night mayne, temple dented from a shot, another dead mayne,
Traveling on death lanes, so I had to switch the lanes, looking for a pinky to give me brain, wait I'm speaking Louis Lane,
I'm superman, flame lit like a butane, check the boys whos game, no name,
But I'm making a name, **** the game, got a Benz over a Range, Rov
Bigs up to Freeway Beanie and Hov, yo I keep it hotter, than food on ya stove,
Turn me up, to the hottest degree, you'll see the birth of a new pedigree,
Come from the spitters tree, hip hop ancestry, peep my whole family,
Ain't to many can see what I see, some seek for poor, some seek for the money,
I'm just tryna up my community, speak unity,  like latifah a lost queen bee,
**** it's so much tragedy, in this day in age to be, a seed of the Gen Z,
I know y'all feel me, ogs to tgs, feel these keys, of life everyday melody,
Says who says me, we all talk alot of **** but we still family,
I remember when pops was handing me, short buckets of money,
Didn't peep the whole scenery, lost as Keanu Reeves be, on the movies,
Wait I'm the one, like Neo, kin to desert eagle, watch it fly, and put holes in evil,
Evil everyday is a new sequel, I try to talk to the people, without speaking in riddles,
Eat egg mcgriddles, only the real know, psychopaths feel no,
Remorse for those, in power who love to see others take blows, woooah,
A black Mob, waiting to rob, see I got the power like Moses, with his rod,
Hands of God, giving me powers spite all enemies with electrical shower,
Now feel me out every, minute and every hour, life's sweet and sour,
Hope in the classic Eddie Bauer, fresh kicks with fresh bricks of powder,
Nah let me no tell on my self, cuz rap snitching aint good for ya health,
Too many name dropping, seethe fours I keep hopping, Kevin X with the propping, put a sight, cuz I'm show stopping,
By pictures of a drive by, funeral music hard to cruise to it,
Everyday they pray, for my downfall, cuz death is only a one way phone call,
And we ride for the cause, and cause we ride for, something to die for,
Like Shakur, real name Brooks, I'm a **** I'm a crook, that's how I get the ***** looks,
Don't dress to their style,
They call it wild, I was touched by an angel, since I was child,
Hold the mic, concrete grip, overfill watch the flows drip,
Off the tone, smooth baritone, spin in it own my own, one man throne,
Nah, spit so hard so it's hard, to make a clone, more thugs than bone,
Ouija are with me, the demons tempt me, creep with me,
Walk backwards, through the door like Eazy, please believe me, never do it cheesy,
Only when the rats close to me,
Let the poison conquer thee, respect ya noble majesty, y'all cats small to me,
Compare me like Jordan to Kobe, killer instinct shinned up my third jewelry,
That's my eye why lie, still let the sun graze my my eyes, til it forms a sty,
Visions of gods, beaming on my dreams, showing me how to intervene,
These lizards all over the screen, they live wasnt just a movie screen,
Sublimes told within a theme, y'all chase the cream, and I chase Solomons redeem
Classy J Oct 2019
Sweat on the brow, full moon night howls.
Tread right down, but watch out for owls.
For You never know whose watching.
You never know who be snitching.
My girl gets on me, hooting and hollering.
Prying charlatans set off trying to make this my finale.
Some may cackle, but not me.
For I don’t see what’s so funny!
For only the lord knows if it’s my time honey.
I’m not in this game to have people love me.
I’m just a snot nosed demon, trained for a role that takes a toll.
But I gots foes breathing slowly, aiming and loading.
So, much for gun control.
Poker faces showing, villains and golems growling and prowling.
Brains being run on remote controls.
Fools whose souls might have honest and well intended goals.
But progress is hard when you’re already in a sinkhole.
With climate changing and rising, but when I speak up all people hear is Español.
Saying I should know my role and shut my mouth.
But you won’t shut me out!
Step too lightly, imma knock you out!
Give up? Is something I’m not about.
I’m not weak willed, because I never forget to drink my milk.
Ice cube said it best, because you gotta check yourself before you wreck yourself.
So if you front on me, boy that’s bad for your health!
This world is ours and we destroying it.
And don’t say you didn’t have a choice in it!
Because if you do, you bet imma call your *** out and claim *******!
What do you think? That your **** smells like roses?
What kind of dosage do you have to be on?
To not be aware of this crisis?
It’s not ******, and it’s not isis!
It’s all our faults that our environment is like this!
And it’s not the boogie man, and it’s not a Pegasus.
This is reality!
And Our world is truly dying!
And We are the virus.
But if we all stand together to fight this.
We just might have time to escape this.
Infamous one Nov 2019
Grew up on the ghetto side of town
How you claim to be loyal
You been snitching all this talk
Claiming to be a player
Saying I love you doesn't make sense
Words don't go in the same sentence
Questioning the logic
Trying to make sense of it all
Caught in a lie stop with the nonsense
Classy J Mar 2023
Jargon gets muddled, to mouth is to fumble, to ***** is to muggle.
Snitching means trouble, bragging meets knuckle, ego gets nuzzled.
Ten hut that’s a huddle, life is a struggle, especially for those that stay suckled.
Like Malcolm in the middle, might just go unstable,
So, best not pop my bubble!
Got to stay on your toes like Barney Rubble,
Can’t ever stay idle in the jungle!
Where desperados need the narcan,
Overdosing daily, organs go to the black market, **** what a bargain.
Indulge in the bourbon, might just light up a Cuban, if I die it’s outta my hands.
Welcome to the land of the ******,
Where no one has a long lifespan.
So, get sloushed; do a keg stand.
Yeah, yeah.
Gotta party up, it’s weekend.
Yeah, yeah.
Not much else to do when you’re drowning in the deep end.
Yeah, yeah.
Our worlds on fire, that’s for sure.
Guess smash mouth was right,
Everyone’s a victim, everyone’s poor.

Hey now you’re a rap star,
Keep the show going,
Get laid.
Hey now you’re a rap star.
Keep the drugs and ***** flowing.
Get paid.
And all that clout is gold.
Only popping pills breaks the mold.

Don’t get it twisted or entangled,
Name might be on a banner,
But it certainly ain’t star spangled.
Fame is a curse filled with idle chatter.
That’s slaps harder than a Will Smith scandal.
Where money is more vain than Jada.
Gee I don’t know Jane,
Perhaps we should be more like Greta.
Taking names like Andrew, is that dude even humane?
Narcissists are insane, especially those that believe they’re Alfa and Omega.
Get too full of yourself, might just end up worse than Ye.
Pride comes before the fall, man you should’ve known better.
Our worlds on fire, that’s for sure.
Guess smash mouth was right,
Everyone’s a victim, everyone’s poor.

Hey now you’re a rap star,
Keep the show going,
Get laid.
Hey now you’re a rap star.
Keep the drugs and ***** flowing.
Get paid.
And all that clout is gold.
Only popping pills breaks the mold.

— The End —