My Mom needed something from the store
So I told her I’d walk up there for her and get it.
We were barely getting by
The two of us.
She was living on a disability check
And I was in between jobs
Again
So these little walks to the store were all I had.
I got her some Epsom salts and was walking back
Had just walked past the hardware store
When a small, sleek, black, BMW pulled up next to me.
To my surprise it was a chick
A big titted redhead with pink sunglasses.
There was something in her eyes
When she peeked below the sunglasses
I saw something in them
that frightened me
A voice inside was screaming at me
Just keep walking
Just keep walking
But like a fool
I ignored it
And bent over the passenger seat
In the convertible that smelled new.
“How big is your ****?”
The lady asked
Her chest just heaving and jiggling
With every breath she took
And every word she spoke.
“What?”
“I said….how big is your ****?”
“Ha ha!”
I took a look around
Expecting to see a hidden camera
Or a film crew in a van across the street.
There was no one
No witnesses.
I leaned back down
“7 inches? Maybe 8? I don’t know lady, I haven’t measured my **** since the 11th grade!”
The redhead took off the sunglasses completely and looked me up and down
Those bright green eyes scanning me
From my worn out Converse to my greasy pompadour on my head.
It seemed like an eternity
I got uncomfortable.
Just standing there
Squirming
While the redheaded fox
Kept inspecting me.
“Okay. Get in. Hurry up.”
I wasn’t even thinking
Just reacting to it all.
I’d always dreamed of this
When I was walking down that
Same old ******* street
The only street that I ever saw
Dreaming of
A beautiful woman in a sports car.
And now here she was.
Here we were
Driving down the street
The breeze blowing in our hair
She made an immediate right turn
Onto a suburban side street.
She parked in front of a house that was up for sale.
Again she took off the sunglasses.
“Let me see it.”
She said, staring at my crotch.
“Whoa, whoa, lady. What’s this all about?”
“My husband and I…..we have certain…..tastes. Things we like, things we enjoy. He’s an older guy, so he likes to watch young guys **** me. I mean, just really give it to me good, make me scream. And of course after your services have been….rendered….you’ll be paid two-thousand dollars. Now do you think you can do that?”
“Uh……I—I think so.”
“Well, I need you to know so. And if you were bullshitting me, if that **** isn’t at least 7 inches, you can get out of the car right ******* now.”
“No it is, it is.”
“Well...”
“Well...you gotta start my engine first—“
Before I could finish my cheesy line
She was in the passenger seat
Climbing on top of me.
“Rip it open” She said looking down.
I did as I was told
And ripped the front of her blouse open
The buttons flying in all directions
Bouncing off the windows and rolling on the dashboard.
Her two, round, fake, **** sprang out of the top
Hitting me in the face
As she rubbed them up and down
And all around.
She kissed me sloppily
And then started in with that biting *******.
She met my lip so hard
It drew blood
acting purely on reflex
I grabbed her by the arms very hard
And pulled her back from me
Staring at her with those crazy, intense, eyes
That I sometimes got when startled.
“Oh…..” She said looking down, at the ******* in my Levi’s.
“Alright. You wanna see the house?” She asked.
I let go of her arms and she rolled off of me,
hopping into the driver’s seat and starting the car up.

She drove all the way to the edge of the city
Where the Red Mountains in the east
Meets the long winding road out of town
And into the desert.
It was a large ranch style mansion
Decorated with cowboy themed ****.
The redhead parked the sports car in
A massive garage
Filled with dozen of rare and expensive automobiles .
She told me to leave my plastic grocery bag of Epsom salts
In the car
She said I could get it later, when we were done.
I followed her to an elevator at the back of the garage.
We took it all the way down to the very bottom.
Stepping out of the elevator
I found myself in a large expansive grey room.
The floors were concrete
But they were shiny and slick
Reminded me of the floor in the meat department
At the job I had just lost.
The room had a few beds in it
Some custom built sets were erected all over the room
An office, a jail cell, a medieval dungeon, a medical examination room,
There were a lot these little sets built all over
In the back of the room
The corners
Were pitch black and covered in darkness.
I wondered what they had over there.
“So what do we do?” I asked, fidgeting in my pants
thumbing my switchblade stiletto in my right front pocket.
“We have to wait for my husband to come down. I just texted him.”
“Oh okay.”
“You should take your clothes off and put this on.”
The redhead said, taking a hospital gown from a hanger
Next to the medical examination set.
“….put that on and I’m gonna go get into character.”
She said, walking behind a white privacy screen
The old kind, like they used to have in doctor’s offices.
I undressed myself and got into the hospital gown.
I can’t say what it was exactly
But I still had that real nervous feeling
I couldn’t ignore it
So for some reason
I hid my switchblade on me.
Put it in the waistband of my underwear.
And that made me feel a little bit safer
This whole thing was beyond belief
I was never this lucky
Something was rotten in Denmark
I could feel it in my bones.
But there was no backing out now
I was riding this all the way
No choice.
I took a seat on the medical examination table
The thin paper crunching loudly beneath my ***
They had it down to the finest detail.
Even the little slots with the Highlights magazines.
I watched the black & white clock on the wall
And it took them 28 minutes to finally come out
The two of them together.
The tall, beautiful, redhead and the rich old man.
But they matched in an odd way
His face was nearly the same color as her hair.
A red faced, big nosed, drinker,
I’ve seen that face a thousand times
Ain’t no mistakin’ it.
He had white hair all spiked up
Like how young people have it
And he wore nothing but gold
All over himself.
Gold necklace, full fists of rings, bracelets,
I couldn’t ******* believe it
I tried my best not to laugh
I was snorting to myself
The ******* had a Mercedes medallion around his neck
Like Flavor Flav or something, it was that flamboyant.
But the guy was like 70 years old
None of it made any ******* sense.
The florescent lighting above
it did this thing where
his eyes were so sunken in
that it created these two black shadows
where his eyes should’ve been
just pitch black
endlessly hollow and empty
with a red face.
Satan himself, covered in gold and diamonds.

“What’s up?” He said, extending his well tanned, leathery claw.
“Hey.”
“Alright, so let’s not waste any time. Let’s get down to business? Huh?”
“Yeah, sure.” I said.
“**** yeah! Let’s ****! You wanna **** him baby?”
”Why do you think I got him? Hell, I almost ****** him on the way home.”
“Did you now?” He said, looking over at me with this look
I couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or rage.
“Alright, alright then.”
The chick started to walk up the three little steps
Of the examination table
Her feet were pale as snow and her toes
Shiny and red like a the paint job on a brand new Cadillac in 1956
I remember that.
She climbed on top of me
Started kissing me and
Rubbing my ****
Under the examination gown.
From the corner of my eye
I saw the husband moving over to the camera
Which was setup a few feet away
Looked to be hi-def ****.
She bit my lip again
Really ******* hard
Pulled a big chunk of skin off
“*******!” I yelled.
“What?” The husband shouted back.
“He hates it when I bite him!” The redhead shouted with a smile
blood on her lips, from mine.
“Well, don’t take any **** son! If she does that again, you just give her a good smack!”
“What?”
“Yeah, don’t be timid boy! This ain’t ******’ Sunday school! We’re ******’, here!”
She did it again
And I wasn’t even thinking of what that old coot was yelling about
I just hit her on principle.
A good open handed smack across the cheek.
“There ya ******’ go! That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”
The old man threw his hands in the air
And started doing this little dance it was the weirdest ****
I had ever seen.
The redhead grabbed my face with her hands
Taking my eyes off the old man
Who was now singing some song
And shuffling around the floor.
She looked right into my eyes
Those mint colored eyes
She whispered to me
But I read her lips
“I’m sorry.”
And she pulled me in and kissed me
Put my hands to her *******
And proceeded to kiss me
Like a long lost love
Not some guy off the street.
And that’s the last thing I remember.
Besides the ***** of the needle in my neck.
Just her red hair hanging in my face
The florescent light shining through.
When I came to
I was standing upright
But I was strapped to a table
My arms
My legs
My head
Every part of me strapped down
Tight.
I wasn’t going anywhere
This was that bad feeling I got when she looked at me.
This was where it ended. Right now.
They were both standing there
Staring at me
Smiling with drinks in their hands
The cameras rolling
They had multiple cameras setup
Some 80’s techno playing from an iPod dock.
“What? What are you gonna do?” I slurred, it was hard to talk.
“I know, I’m sorry. Okay, look. We both agree that you probably are owed an explanation, I mean….these being your last moments and all…”
The redhead interrupted, looking at me, like she had before
There was love in her eyes
“Honey…remember what I said? About how there are things that we like and things that we enjoy? I’m sorry, but this is what we like.”
“*****?” I managed to choke out,
just the sound of the words chilled my ******* blood.
“Yeah. Hey…son, let me tell ya…we’re actually saving you a whole lot of heartache and disappointment. You weren’t gonna go anywhere, you weren’t going to accomplish anything. You’d work the same **** jobs, bouncing from one to the other, until you finally died of either ***** or drugs.”
“It’s for the best, sweetie.” The redhead said.
And I’d love to tell you that
They left the room for a few minutes
And I was able to free my hand
Taking the switchblade
From my underwear
Cutting myself free
Killing them both
And cleaning out their safe’s cash and diamonds.
But this was no movie.
Well not the kind with a happy ending anyway.
That’s when she walked over to the table
And grabbed the knife.
The song on the iPod changed
And I instantly recognized it.
It was the song.
I never could explain why
But as a boy
This song would come on the radio
This 80’s electro song
And it always scared the **** out of me
Turned my stomach
I never knew why
But now it all made sense.
That song would be the last thing I ever heard.
With the cameras rolling
The redhead gave me one more kiss.
I closed my eyes and pretended.
I pretended that she was a girl that loved me
That she was kissing me goodnight
Sending me off with a smile.
I just kept my eyes closed
Squeezing them tight
And I didn’t even feel the knife
When she slit my throat right there
In that slick, shiny, grey basement.
It didn’t hurt
I didn’t feel any pain.
Just warmth.
The blood flowing down the front of my neck and chest
pure warmth sliding down me
And I started to get light headed
Everything getting dark
Very quickly.
I could hear my heartbeat
In sync with a high-pitched ringing in my ears.
The last thing I saw
Was the redhead standing there
Luckily the husband had his head behind the camera
So I didn’t have his scary face as the last thing I ever saw.
No
It was the redhead
And those mint green eyes.
They never found my body.
The couple put me through a wood chipper
And fed my scraps to their dogs
After slicing off my biceps for dinner that night.
They went on doing this for years
Picking up guys and girls from the streets
who were down on their luck
And wouldn’t be high profile missing persons.
They acquired hundreds of DVD’s
Selling these ***** films
To their elite and powerful
Friends in high places.
But they justified it all.
Surely I wouldn’t be missed.
I didn’t have a mother
Like they had a mother
I didn’t laugh and love
Like they did
I was expendable
Disposable
Use once and discard.
The rich eating the poor
Blood meal for their insatiable & gruesome appetites.
It’s okay though.
I’m not mad or anything now.
It’s just blackness
A dreamless sleep
I don’t even know how I’m telling you this
But the worst part
The thing I still think about the most
Is my mother.
And what she must of thought
When her only son
Went to the store for her
Epsom salts
And just never came back.

Clinically insane
I feel you coursing through my veins.

I've grown chemically fixated.
You leave me inhabilitated.

Is my heart out of synch with time?
Or is this as real as I've dreamt it?
For what seems to be an eternity;
I have coward in your glow.

You're invigorating, and intoxicating.
but I am suffocating;
stuck in waiting;
for you to make your move.

Switchblade fantasies,
which direction do I run?

Keep me safe;
another head case.
Inking my tongue and
longing for your touch.

She's like a switchblade dancing across my tongue.
She's like a hurricane crashing through my lungs.
She's like a nightmare strangling my dreams.
She's like a sobering feeling faded screams.
She's like a ... (kiss)
She's like a ... (fist)
She's like a ... (kick in the teeth)
She's like a firefly shining through my night.
She's like a lioness killing with all her might.
She's like a devil stealing to save my soul.
She's like a guardian angel I don't know.
She's like a ... (kiss)
She's like a ... (fist)
She's like a ... (kick in the ******* teeth)
She's like a switchblade dancing across my heart.
She's like a hurricane crashing from the start.
She's like a nightmare mangling my dreams.
She's like a sobering feeling torn from the seams.
She's like a ... (kiss)
She's like a ... (fist)
She's like a ... (kick in the mother ******* teeth)
She's like a priceless painting inside my mind
She's like a permanent image that I can't find.
She's like a devil lying to steal my soul.
She's like a guardian angel I still don't know.
She's like a ... (kiss)
She's like a ... (fist)
She's like a ... (kick in the ******* teeth)
She's like a switchblade dancing across my wrists.
She's like a hurricane crashing through the mist.
She's like a nightmare dangling my dreams.
She's like a sobering feeling without means.
She's like a ... (kiss)
She's like a ... (fist)
She's like a ... (kick in the teeth)
She's like nothing you've ever seen.
She's like nothing you've ever had.
She's like nothing you've ever gleamed.
She's like nothing you've ever read.
She's like a kiss, a fist, and a kick in the mother ******* teeth.

They weren’t all cut from the same cloth
vilified tenders of the iron *****
some were lovers
(or lucid dreamers)
stage romantics
hidden behind jackboots
and skull caps
and switchblade seams

Caste members of a forlorn pack
counting their patchwork and deeds
conjuring up demons
around the console
filling their dreams
with radio reds
and dusted quarries
and faded sepia prints

Brass knuckles
and marches of the few
lightening bolt cracks
from a chilling blood moon
death’s dark specter
cold and ominous looms
the cobalt sea swells
near the nestled, and lost
Clubhouse at Kiusta

I lived on the city streets of Bangkok Thailand for years, I felt right at home I know Bangkok inside out

...from the sukhumvit in nana klong toey to Khoa San road to Klong Thom market in China town to orient circle at night the most incredible high crimson monolith I ever seen to

Chao Phraya river near wat Sam phraya Buddhist temples to samut prakhon to Sam rong imperial world to bang na to on nut Tesco Lotus to

ekami to BTS sky train to Siam center plaza to Phetcheburi road to Pantib Plaza

I would walk for days nonstop with no money no food no room beat up a lot

knifed gang attacks had two switchblade knifes pepper spray wore wigs and barefoot in age old soot many kilometers on foot through the took tooks exhaust at the cost of lusting for Thai girls ***!

a kid in a candy shop Thai baht sniffed out by lovely Thai ****** they know how to thrill steal and **** a man 10,000 years old bold tradition consumes your soul

Sweet **** teenage Asian girls will ******* to ruin. Black and blue dumbfounded man taken down faster than a sandblaster can

Dilapidated old buildings all rusted.
Sidewalks all busted apart chased by dogs Siamese cats all over at night Bangkok is Halloween every night of the year especially in nana near soi 11-5

The era of the diamond Siamese cats that's the price to pay to come to Thailand!

Silom road explodes with colored gemstones and Thai gold chains to dazzle the girls who entertain you at Pat Pong and deploy joy at Soi Cowboy

Hanuman king God of the monkeys flys on your back to attack your backpack Jack

Sultry femme fatale ladyboys exist to emerge nightly sinister moves to take down the forang old man *** clown

Drunk bar man crawls around to eat kitty girls pink underwear so beware fool dog of the danger lurking at every corner don't warn her she already knows you wanna **** on her cute Asian toes

Signs all over read ... We love our king
He resembles Michael Jackson with a cowboy hat, and gold military jackets

I was in very good health from eating fruits water pad Thai pla mook fish and sangsom and Chang
I could speak basic Thai

Bumrungrad hospital on soi 1 - 3
Is the top rated in se Asia

I was tested as age 18 healthwise

I was not surprised

The environment is superb to health

Nice Thai people nice asian **** slutty girls to hang out with and more so much more
Age notwithstanding

Thailand is indeed...

A whole other world

beads of salt and sweat edge
the Cuban sandwich zest from
the tip of my tongue
flavors of my own theme song
echo in my throat

I'm merry ******* footfalls
on hot concrete snares
and the groans swinging
between my thighs take lead
singing cat whistles
along Main Street

snakes will be snakes
and tight cotton shirts
is asking for venom vial shots

don't worry though
those are my brother's loosened trousers
I'm a sweet gardener
I hold doors open
and voted for Hillary
I'm blinding reflection
standing over the hill

but don't shake my thoughts
with your pepper singed howls
cleaning you up messes my stride
dress like a lady and
monsters look for prettier things

oil stains dripping through
the elbows of my shirt
writes working man sonnets
across noir alley doorways
named Touch But Don't Tell

keep quite and use the suggestion box
and don't blame me for chromosomes
genetic randomness isn't my fault
biochemical cocktails don't drown babies
you just fill your bathtub with them

why do you need life jackets
to fill my shirts
empty your oil can and get a promotion
so you can buy your own

I'm tattered sheets stuffed
over hotel window rails
you're a frail damsel selling dreams
I won't buy, I peep keyholes
save digital copies and call the cops
stop screaming and let me save you

your fingers compress a sweaty glock
rioting my stomach
your tones too ******* loud
remember I loaded the bullets
so at least credit me the shot

beads of blood and sweat
whisper cat o' nines tails
see I'm your martyr
but only on favor street.

Tupac said: **** the world
And on the first day he wept
Tupac said: **** the world
Because he knew God had slept
Tupac said: **** the world
No promises to be broken or kept
Tupac said: **** the world
This baby was already in debt
Tupac said: **** the world
In anger there is no word of thanks
Tupac said: **** the world
He **** sure wasn't shooting blanks
Tupac said: **** the world
So I ask why am I so sheltered?
Tupac said: **** the world
And act so self-centered?
Tupac said: **** the world
Is it because my Mom held me?
Tupac said: **** the world
And she was always there for me?
Tupac said: **** the world
Why can't I see his point of view?
Tupac said: **** the world
Why are white people so scared of you?
Tupac said: **** the world
He was a product of real life
Tupac said: **** the world
His bottle was a switchblade knife
Tupac said: **** the world
Yeah we thought he was a criminal
Tupac said: **** the world
His anger was not so subliminal
Tupac said: **** the world
So while we give thanks and pray
Tupac said: **** the world
It seems we really just look away
Tupac said: **** the world
Man what's wrong with that boy?
Tupac said: **** the world
A gun in his hand ain't no toy
Tupac said: **** the world
Where was he supposed to go?
Tupac said: **** the world
What if you were raised by a **?
Tupac said: **** the world
Are we in a position to judge?
Tupac said: **** the world
Maybe it's us we should begrudge
Tupac said: **** the world
What should offend you more?
Tupac said: **** the world
The reality you try to ignore?
Tupac said: **** the world
The shock of all the profanity?
Tupac said: **** the world
Or the fact of his poverty?
Tupac said: **** the world
He knew he was disposable
Tupac said: **** the world
A gangsta rappers's not so lovable
Tupac said: **** the world
That was the only way to survive
Tupac said: **** the world
Nobody cared if he lived or died
Tupac said: **** the world
The industry only wants the money
Tupac said: **** the world
But they never called him honey
Tupac said: **** the world
He was dead before he was born
Tupac said: **** the world
But he could rhyme about scorn
Tupac said: **** the world
And now he's dead and gone
Tupac said: **** the world
Did you think he was wrong?
Tupac said: **** the world
He knew how to die better than you
Tupac said: **** the world
What do you pay attention to?
Tupac said: **** the world
Reality tv and some situation?
Tupac said: **** the world
Being trendy and *******?
Tupac said: **** the world
The money really didn't really matter
Tupac said: **** the world
He kept up the harsh street chatter
Tupac said: **** the world
He wasn't climbing no social ladder
Tupac said: **** the world
Because his heart could never gather
Tupac said: **** the world
All the Lord's blessings
Tupac said: **** the world
Like flowers and angel's wings
Tupac said: **** the world
Living on the streets instead
Tupac said: **** the world
Where the ladder is full of lead
Tupac said: **** the world
The lead of pain and bullets
Tupac said: **** the world
And not soft golden nuggets
Tupac said: **** the world
Of love and tenderness
Tupac said: **** the world
Just blood and nothingness
Tupcac said: **** the world
So who is holding him now?
Tupac said: **** the world
Is he where love will allow?
Tupac said: **** the world
A man to become a boy?
Tupac said: **** the world
A boy with happiness to enjoy?
Tupac said: **** the world
You don't like gangstas rapping like crooks
Tupac said: **** the world
There's no page for him in the good book
Tupac said: **** the world
Were his sins from his mother and father?
Tupac said: **** the world
And those who would string up a brother
Tupac said: **** the world
Try to just say no when your ship ain't sailin'
Tupac said: **** the world*
Hey God what is it that you were sayin'?

The rumbling motorcycle pulled in
The Cowboy entered the luncheonette
And Doctor Boss was sitting there waiting
They licked their lips, shook hands and that was it
This is the Legend of The Cowboy and Doctor Boss
Two stones untouched by complacent moss
Together they made a deal
His satin suit and His Cuban heeled boots
This is how it began

Doctor Boss was a respected physician
Shaved, shampooed and conditioned
Wore a stethoscope, had tongue depressors in jars
The Doctor had a gold tooth and fancy cars
But he was crooked as the day was long
Had no regards for right and wrong
Just as long as he was making a buck
He had connections to the cartel down in Mexico
And they lined his pockets with rising dough

Back in 1955 he was peddling dope in med school
Made the junkies line up and the women drool
Until he was challenged to a switchblade duel
Got his right ring finger sliced off and throw into a pool
He turned around and killed that man
Slashed him in the face and punctured his gut
He packed his trunk and headed north and ran
Darted toward the Jersey Horizon
On the way he picked up gun and a phony medical license

You would think a ****** would weigh on a man’s conscience
But not the Doc his mind was on motel options
He got a room and went to a local hole in the wall
A smoky, run down biker bar
“Dewar’s and water” said a pretty little thing
Boss looked at her, downed his drink and suffered whiskey sting
“Hey there beautiful, what’s your name?” “Lillian” she said
“What’s yours?” “Well, Lillian that’s not important but I’ll tell you what is”
“I got a motel room all to myself and I need some company”

Paper thin walls and a moaning women
The mattress squeaks as the vacancy signs flashing
The next morning Lillian awoke
Just to see The Boss had hit the road
She got dressed and went on her way
The motel bill remained unpaid
She wished he would have stayed awhile
But he was miles away by then
And starting a new life
This was the origin of Doctor boss
Wayward bound and identity lost
How a boy became a man
From check ups to drug trafficking now
This is how it all began

Now The Cowboy thought life was a game
A wild child that wouldn’t be tamed
He lived his life against the grain
Behind his aviators was repressed pain
He never knew his dear old dad
And his mother, run over by a drunken cab
Broken home launching pad
The kid went mad and hopped on his bike
He began his quest to quench his thirst for an exciting life

He raced and robbed from Cali to Michigan
He broke every law from Dallas to Vermont and back again
Until the day when he wasn’t fast enough
They tackled him down and put him in cuffs
He was charged and sentenced to five years in Cook County
An extensive criminal record by the age of twenty
But as soon as he was behind bars he busted out before anyone knew
Off to continue his life of debauchery
Of freedom and existential ecstasy

He was an escaped convict with a bounty on his head
The warden of Cook County didn’t want him alive but dead
But The Cowboy went on his merry way, making deals and getting laid
Getting ******, kicking *** and taking names
He was just looking for a good time
He was searching for a new trail to ride
All he wanted to do was live
Do everything in the world there was to do
To him every day brought something new

On a faithful day, The Cowboy came to Hacketts
The city where Doctor Boss opened up his practice
The tired traveler went to go get drunk
Over in the corner of the bar he was slumped
The Doc strolled in and everyone paid their respects
But there was something The Cowboy didn’t get
“Why are they kissing the ring of this nine fingered quack?”
He pulled out a knife on The Doc and a bottle went smash!
Over the poor Cowboy’s head and he blacked out

“Now, son I know that’s not how you say hello”
“And you seem to be a nice young fellow”
“So how bout I cut you a break”
“And we’ll go over to my office and I’ll clean up these scrapes”
The Cowboy agreed and got to his feet
They walked to Boss’s office just down the street
And The Doc sewed up his head
“Say, boy where you from I never seen you around here”
“It doesn’t matter you three piece suite wearing queer”

Doctor Boss chucked then pushed The Cowboy down by the throat
Pulled out his gun ,“I can **** you now but I won’t”
“No, you’re gonna do me a favor you little ****”
The Cowboy couldn’t breathe but Boss wouldn’t quit
“I got a package that needs to go to Georgia”
“If you take it there , they’ll be four grand waiting here for ya”
Now how could The Cowboy resist such an adventure?
Not to mention the grip Doctor Boss had on his Adam’s apple
He let him go and began to cackle

“Now around here, I run things”
“I’m free to do as I please”
The Cowboy was amazed at this man, he was right
He owned a gun and  got involved in a bar fight
Could this man be in the mob?
“Boy, you can call me Doctor Boss”
“Well Doc, they call me The Cowboy”
“So tell me, where am I going?

Doc Boss loaded up The Cowboy’s bike
With Mexican white powdered dynamite
“Now that’s four kilos, you got there”
“You get the money and bring it back here”
“You got it Boss, I’ll be back by Tuesday night”
And off went The Cowboy out of sight
The Doc new he could trust him
He had that look in his eye the he did those years ago
The one when you yearn to search for the unknown

This was the origin of The Cowboy and Doctor Boss
They paid no attention to consequence or cost
They saw themselves in each other
Just trying to reach one height after another
Cowboy respected a man so free
And Boss saw his prodigy
Together they became filthy rich
They shook hands and that was it

Nero: Deep cover another 187 on these hoes with my flows ya know I riddle like little Italy Punisher life Frank castle I slice ******* up like cattle I'm a lover but undercover like Eddie Griffin my brother I'll slice up ******* and leave they men in the trunk nervous with trauma twitches I'll cement up your shoes I'll use my pen to get the message to you headless hunters I'll be the soul edge and slice the heavens asunder I can feel it in my head and soul I'll reap with the flow and grow the flowers on the tombstone I'll make ya ***** moan and groan while I **** her in your stead while she gives me head I'm deciding who's the next to be blessed from the deliverer of death

DaSH: Kept the switchblade in a balled up fist
Probly ******
Off a lot of *******
But got longer lists
Like ******* who tasted blood soon after my ******* gotten licked
Threw up on my ****
And promptly dipped to get the shotgun grip
***** spit
Got me not wantin to work these long *** shifts
I know im sick
Smell my aroma tell its ebola when
I walk up in the room
Shut up talking and get a stronger whiff
Im the kid who was too demented to have gotten picked
For any extra curricular
Anyway I was busy plottin how to get to ya
Radio waves confuse em make em **** themselves
Silly me Billy Madison was happenin
And i was in the back with Chris Farley doin smack again
Rappers get smacked with used **** pads
A ****** *****
Is all I'll ever be in their eyes
But in mine,
All I see is bodies burning alive

Decadence layered like waves of fog
swept up in a world class, wide range whirlpool
road of autumnal glory, stained like gray day dream
peaceful in its silence, soft in its simplicity

however beneath that dream soaked ragtime sunrise
there was the sharp cut of cold that seeps into your bones
sealed with a padlock engraved in armored frost
drained of summer sincerity

Long have I lingered in morning's eyes
swept into her breath and held in her mighty lungs
holding the moment like a ripe apricot,
which is to say gently, in both hands

Though the moment lives in the light filtered through leaves
I live in the dirt cut from beneath my fingernails,
a warm leather jacket, pressed close to my chest, worn in the elbows
I live in my own switchblade sky

Born heavy as adorned many: objectivity lifts ready existance carried more steady with the fist than a switchblade as to fist crave: yall just manisfest id shame when you spit back like all my family here to spit crack bone in been gripped back when at grown taught to **** Macks;
I'm the R to the Mack Marck M heavy to my fam born carried since Nas dropped the bomb that Eminem levied in so to spit back, like ghost spittin the **** shittin at all emcees here to spit back:
only time you'd get a note outta me relative is when i'm posing for death: like tupac menacing his pelvis still for the ****** levy in neglection in pics wack;
i spit bone quick when it comes to being notorious in a jacuzzi playing sega and super nintendo **** be in disrespect to ever understand that i don't spit thick back.

i flow sick that before i flow spit that between to post ****:
I pose **** to even to boast fits forgotten what the Ohmegaus finds the rest as undereducated life in being in the sun.
Ghost spittin future written past to see all the conjugatives relative like ****** games on the run:
games on the fun like extension big sides as big sizes like chasing dreams again straight to the the sun is what we've become.

unfinished...

this ain't motherfucken games, and you know id through wish-epic

The chao phraya river song
by david john clare

Down by the River (echo-ee, a Capella) Down by the River (echo-ee, a Capella)

1 Down By the River, don't dive in, them sharks are real-****-mean but, that's where you'll find me...

along with buzzards, ******* and kumoi dope fiends...

chorus 'cause we love that ***** water ... oh oh oh Bangkok, Thailand; you're our home !

2 now...Oriental Asian Ladies, Thailand's **** Siam queens

I dig them slant-eyed ******... Them
Sticky cat-faced chicks on Soi 13! 'cause they love that ***** water ...

oh oh oh Bangkok, Thailand; you're my home !

(Harmonica Solo)

3 You'll find me trashed one morning (smashed!)

Iced-down in China Town; all crying alone...

One day I'll never leave here (Lord!) Unless an Esan Girl might claim me for her own...

'cause I love that ***** water ... oh oh oh Bangkok, Thailand; you're our home !

Refrain

Chao Phraya River, Chao Phraya River... Chao Phraya River, Chao Phraya River...

Buddha!

Chao Phraya River, Chao Phraya River... Chao Phrya River, Chao Phraya River...

Oh, Bangkok you're my home!

(Big smiling shark jumps from river with switchblade knife in between teeth...)

fin

(c) in perpetuity, David John Clare Clairvoyant Music BMI

Thailand...

This is how you set a circle with the switchblade someone shoved in your purse at a party; remember how even in your sticky-haired, belly-foaming, hot-breathed drunkenness you knew its potential,
Finally an amulet.
Finally a flashlight.

How you would coo a greeting to it and let a centered, solid voice, (frying a bit at the end of most words, softening them like frayed denim)plunge down cold metal like a rickety ice luge that’s long been disqualified.
How you came to learn the weight of it in your hand,
all the ways to open and close it-
how to threaten,
how to strike.

These were the dewy-dank months of frozen toes shrieking in boots because you never got it together enough to dress in proper socks.
These were the mornings when your alarm blared alive from across the room because you could not be trusted with the snooze button.

Remember how you would wake up terrified, day after day,
with a stinging heart and metallic mouth?
How; dreading even the smallest bit of duty, you’d take a panicky inventory of the day’s looming obligations and graph the ways you might avoid them.

These were the stretches when even a full night’s sleep left you sunken eyed and exhausted-
when the idea of being anything,
even just being,
was too much to take.
These were the days you realized; with little alarm, that you might prefer sinking into death
over lifting up your head and getting dressed.

There were a few weeks that winter when you wondered if the snow would ever stop falling and the calendar was clean. You set your hair into two braids and cut them off with fabric scissors, fully intact.
You tweeted a picture of them with no caption then threw them away.

You were sad and putrefying, slowly collecting candlesticks and diligently keeping track of the moon.
You were color-coding post-its for each lunar phase, plotting; with a thawing-thick body and knotty spine, where your mishandled energy and menacing hyper-focus should be applied next.
These months were so heavy- dragging your feet through them made your skin crawl with static. Your shocks cracked rooms. Your clothes never felt completely dry.

This was the season you halfheartedly turned to nature, searching for a pulse in the barks and rubble of the surrounding land which you might mirror into something almost alive.
The days were bright and white and the nights were swaying and L.L. Bean navy blue and you didn’t smoke but your hair always smelled like Marlboro reds.

When the moon was highest you called out to it, asking for favors.
These were the hours where you could swear you were the only living soul taught to bite down.
These were the hours where you knew for certain what it is like to be dead.
Drinks up to the year you read poems aloud to storms and set fire to handwritten letters with your best friend in the middle of your white collar condominium unit at 1pm.
And smile because at the time it was exactly what had to be done.

Now comb out your tangles and bury the switchblade deep in powdery dirt below your bedroom window.
Do it unceremoniously and fast- it belongs knotted tight in orbit to the year you are now galaxies removed.
Though you may unpack your telescope and salute that tiny hell from time to time- you will never call it home.


That year; however heavy, is the year you must carry with you.
It will be trekking along, a step behind, across every mountain you climb and it will race you to catch dreams in every room to decide to sleep. That year; tinsely-light and braided tightly into veins, sings softly to you from below the defaced skin of your wrist in a language you're just beginning to understand.

Lesson number 1: a web of scars arranged by and for oneself can be a compass. In fact, it may be the ideal tool for orientating oneself to a clear-eyed world where presence is not shameful and the terrifying decision to exist should not require apology.
Lesson number 2: A road map etched over your body, charged electric by the intensity crawling through your marrow and planted by bits of you now reconciling-
This map can guide you well.

And your compass pulses with the life within you. Instead of pointing north, the needle will spin wild and fast until your bloodstream rocks a calm tide up and down the coast of your chest, bathing your lungs and conducting  your breath into a rhythm swaying low.
You’ll think you hear the vague sound of something almost hopeful; something that reminds you,
giggling and bluntly, that there's a mystery of years ahead of you
and to wholly exist in them.
I finally see that whether I’m on a giddy spill south by southwest, housing a heavy sorrow in my kneecaps or walking in rain boots Due North while wiping away tears with my ponytail-
the very fact that I’m still trusted with years to travel through and a world to inhabit will be more than heaven on earth.

My friend brought over a switchblade tonight.

He warned me that it was
sharp.
But it was beautiful.
Black and sleek, like
a wild horse
you're not allowed to get
too close to.

(Or so I've heard. I don't know much
about horses.)

He was playing with it, flicking it
open, sliding it
shut, tempting
fate.
And one time he pressed a button and the blade
swung faster than I could see,
but all of a sudden
steel made love to skin
and then a painful line of
crimson.

It wasn't even the sharp side, it was
the back.
Dull. It should have been
duller.

He made a face.
Went in the bathroom
to clean up.

While he was gone, I picked up the knife
tenderly.
Thinnest pitch
against the palm of my hand. I ran
metal against my fingertips,
over and over again,
the gentlest touch.
Contemplated pressing
harder.

Just to see the scarlet.
Just to hail
a lovely pain,
so close to your heart you can't even
feel it
until you lift the knife,
blade and blood parting ways.

And then I realized
I was too scared.
Not even nervous, just
scared.

(What an ugly word. Scared.)

I put down the switchblade.

He emerged from
the bathroom.
His palm was still bleeding, and so
we parted ways.
He to cleanse his wounds,
and I to cleanse
mine.

the corner of my fetal
mind paste
what about the skin of demons
the shadow that turns away
a slow placid individual
hollow from everywhere the caution of snow-wheels
cling to manifest
the picture burning inside an apartment for rent
outside walls carried memory of days
eyes and bones demand face
what if nobody’s here
the idea  
myself as sunshine with so much to offer easier
what is the difference
the sentence that defines
unbelief the chain
breaks I wish
dilate the never-belief
wondering effect paste my ***** on your voice
an animal feel i cannot deal with your sense
an unborn skull
the wallowing feet under cypress
skies of fleece and miniature dogmas
slices of fragments red purple green crows sound
the deep drum beat i accept
where i fall
a flashing voice collapsing towards the inside
throwing punishment the idea that i am foliage
corresponding thought process that machines never
agree
pale doledrum insomnia my hands
the lines of another car
the breath of being manipulated
killing instant
the shoehorn a new salt visiting magnolia
a knee high minute falling upside
my carpe diem **** fist theory
and all day i plead for the corrosion to move within you
the system eating itself into oblivion
i announce it when ears are in rooted to the floor  
i had a dream of a jesus picture on a fanbelt  
curved ***** **** on the outside  
apocalypse on my lips
fumes down on the floor
a few hours’ days
gone
i am stripped
speechless walking home
for me
can this be your silence pregnant with strange
looseness in its belly
stars fragile your arms
pins forced into throat calming
touch faking the ***** sounds of avocado
thursday lust
driven into soiled ground
crumbling face in another room they lay your hands on
me
a fragrance of wings missing
an unexplained
dense and unchanged
kind of melting from you
i give in
the shoulder manufactures what is real to the sound
life is liveable
nothing accepted when offered
the thought process of engines
an angry naked shout
the underbelly of hanging
to what i show you
baking soda explosives
cake walk fixations on the vaginas of modern andromeda
i hope to never be lost with your sanctuary
dog sized emotions
a world punching out its timecard from the slot
a season for betrayals
the mantra of your dreams
dead enough to explain myself
a sunken cheek caring for the sun
a sweet lullaby placing of hand
the round syndrome between the
****** thighs
the strings attached are anything but labeled
upstairs is another passenger
first name last name
instead
mute all that is here
ashes
unnecessary you
the collective harm of all those images which if excluded contain
the replacement address of my kidney being
molested
or is it the usage of hiding
anything
dove’s postage junk mail
what you’ve seen before
the cost of being asked two days late
my fluorescent teeth the talk of spit blood
and ****
magnification of insects
the body moves
fondled colors blend
a ******
the ****** the cortex of beethoven
no answer yet  
on the verge of letting
go
wall of trees
a crowd of tongues the simple denial of light
my envelope seed
in cornucopia grinding
teeth machine a pullover switchblade
wake up from me
given the distant sun wrapped in
****** on clothes my miracle
tomorrow
  your fingers in me contemplating the ounces
of an inch thick sore
calmly anything in surrounding
distortion a weight of idle hands
needles
the acid belly
fortress within
your tourniquet
the victim of my believing in you
silent dead motionless
butterflies cradle the eyes
in the slit of dawn’s early malice
complacent and mind full
the choke hold is apparent in you
i wanted it
heart and throat convulsions the situation derives in itself
the wondering thought
your sickness dives among our ***** oiled mouths
spread like a homeless saint
save your self from the outside of me
as i look up you dissolve
the undeniable number of times
i spent inside you
it beats on
one short felt breath
my time is gone
everything’s alright
on my back
seeing unreal reasons for wanting
a crawling thought a
slip off the hand
grinding small animals the
door opens still life asphyxiation
the roundness of my echo
inside this explosion I ask for
blind allegiance to your *****
the simple duration of lust and gasping
acquaintances I have had
but all in tiny dreams that
eat away at my intestines
and rows or birds wait for their turn at me
for empty boxes cold whispers
and dead words
are what is left

I move swiftly like a switchblade run cooly through your veins
no matter how you try to leave I will eternally remain
there is something in the wicked way you smile and say my name
there is something in that wicked way that helps me stay insane
and I drop down on my knees confessions spilling from within
you spit coldly in my face and thank me for my sin
I know I am not beautiful I know I am not kind
cause when you hurt me baby you leave mystery behind
I am swift as a switchblade the baddest lil girl
the shadow of a ghost haunting always in this world

all my stop signs
     are draped with pearl necklaces
and my headlights
     caress wounded kittens
i am the dunce
     carusading thru the blues
the moon is emblazoned
     with indignation over
crowds of unemployed people

(nodody notices the white elephant)
     stealing
the hacksaw, the cookies, and all the money
     i saved for a haircut
all in all, a ***** is
     hitchhiking toward a pontiac
in the desperate desert sun
     counting
his thumbs with a switchblade


"anything temporary can be used for money reasons"

we were like a switchblade
sometimes a smooth surface
with pain on the inside
sharp edges hidden away

but we flicked out sometimes
taking it all out on the world
nothing deserves to feel the kiss
of our mind's rusty blades

She would hold us by the tips
polishing away the old blood
and revealing a dull blade
that never wanted to hurt anyone

In the Fatherland,
I found timeless memory,
the purest love.
Her blond hair glowed,
cute-dimples laughed,
azure eyes danced.
We visited the cathedral,
camped in Speyer
along the Rhine.
I learned all
about Bauchnabels,
baited hooks,
drank Pilsner.
We fished lakes,
ate potato pancakes
cooked by her Mutter.
She bought me a switchblade,
then sent me a dear Jon letter.

When my time comes, put a hot one in my right hand and its pin in my teeth.
In the covering dirt hide the mines, on the top soil a million and one mole traps.
Faster than a switchblade with its safety off they will get you, you will see.
Plunder my bed and I’ll show you no mercy.
Let me rust in peace, Yes I said RUST!

(CARSr. 4-19-12)

I feel this inhuman suffocation
when I step out into
that officially sponsored
fog machine artificial haze
to start the music blaring from
speakers that don't say a thing
Spitting throat lumps and grinds
lurching like scary monsters
controlled by raving mad super creeps
hiding behind walls of
electronic lies
and vinyl appropriations
committed to automation
in
beats making stage cages swing like
stray lanterns filled with
questionable electrocuties -
wild tarts that can't be broken
but you can stare all you want
at
Black-light-blemish-broken-razor-testimony
obscured with slashed fishnet and
splashed neon body paint
Move to the wavelengths
going to grave lengths
as
my dead beats facilitate this
Deja Vu machine world
of
backdoor audition submission
courtesy of half massed scrubstep poser pseudo-players
and maneaters planted on dance floors
Wearing short skirts low cut shirts
high heels long hair and plenty of
emotional baggage
and
I find myself feeling somewhat sorry
and guiltily enticed by the decadent
conspicuous consumption and sinister
seduction I cannot escape
until
The song crescendos and I slam an invisible hand
into the wreck chords
from now until the end of rhyme
I want to stop the whole thing
but this is what I signed up for
this is my punishment
so
with reluctant crossfader switchblade hands
I scratch the noise back into the air
and out of my head
because
the
beatings
must
go
on

Broken, life seeping.
Gutsy and lawless:
Gunpoint switchblade
Only seeing, never sleeping.

Groan and crawl, muck and mud
Run and ****. Push my luck, down over.
Over and over again. Head over heels
Brain splatter banana peels.

Spacey air, musty sight.
Cold nights in the cold earth.
Bent and spent, came and went.
Statement of your rebirth.

Voices drowning down salt streams.
Craters on Retna Moon; green beams.
Too many visitors. No hesitation.
Sleeping beauty, my proclamation.

Black cylinder, clear skylight creamy center
rasberries or cherries, frozen strawberries
this is a color for winter
red cheeks coming in from the cold
mini switchblade with the blood of my enemies
this is the girl at the party happy alone
stubby legs stuffed into tight jeans
the observatory's great circle lens
the last stick of gum in the bottom of a purse
and at the same time the ruby the queen wore
twelve dollars for .15 onces
the weight of five quarters turns into a dime

Put on your smile
Hide your eyes
For the day is coming
Don't forget your lies

Walk around lifeless
Forget the stares
You must keep quite
We wouldn't want glares

Rehearse your lines
Speak as if your fine
Don't act like your looking
You don't need a life line

They don't need to know
They will not care
Darkness may consume you
But life is never fair

The blade is your friend
The blood your life
I promise I'll never leave
Love your switchblade knife

She’s an end-of-the-rainbow hunter
Fighting the forces of Old and Evil
Wearing tea-shades to hide from
Exaggerated reality
She names her cars after fish
And swims in demented colors
Losing track of time when she
Can’t see the sun
She carries grapefruit in her pockets
Along with a switchblade
She’s queen of the highway
And she likes it that way

The dark is a scary place
(when you're all alone)
Get out your switchblade
(face your fate)
follow her home
(hiding in the shadows)

The difference between love and ******
(is the gun)

Grab her hand
(pull her close)
she wanders with someone else
(she was never yours)
The cold hard truth
(she doesn't even know your name)

The difference between love and ******
(is the gun)

wait at the train station
(they arrive at eleven)
get out your .45
(no one will ever see them again)
photograph their faces
(a picture for your album)

The difference between love and ******
(is the gun)