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"taser" poems
i'm living on a solitary prayer vandalized my ego to make it rare with teeth stained with lies i've told and promises lost in the cold i tussle and taser to hide my lovers and all that i am - a mess or tastemaker sprinkling tersely on my mercy seat will make my season go complete? i pull the labrys & the throttle artefact-sprites in uranium soil declaring my truth atop of the flagpole i'm the custodian of haute culture a flotilla of judgment riding skyhigh like dido's love-lachrymose down demise they say "better rethink your useless vendetta" but first we'd better get out of their siberia where the masses doubt the angry fix "ignore the (g/h)aze above the pyramid if we only couldn't have any more locked in dominican ****** wards
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Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 6:21 PM UTC
custodian of haute culture
your eyes are not oceans and you are not a natural disaster you are manmade and you will topple and i will be the one to topple you because you are a literal bag of human **** and if you think that telling me that i deserve **** will impress your fellow man friends, you had better watch the **** out because i am coming for you with a taser and a buzzsaw your mra t-shirts can't help you now, ****
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May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
ode to mens rights activists everywhere
Policeman: You, hands above your head, Turn around, no sudden movements. Black man: Officer I...... Policeman: Shutup, on your knees, hands behind, Your head! Blackman: Sir I.... Policeman: Shut the **** up! (Taser pointed) -Handcuffs the black man - Policeman: Now, what did you want to say sir?
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Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 1:02 PM UTC
A Conversation: Black Man and a Policeman
Interpreting Dreams Series Part 1 1/15/2014 I've got this idea that the world has too many feelings. Too many smiles that have turned upside down. Too many tears that have gone unnoticed. This couple sits at a table with a pretty white cloth. Glasses of fancy carbonated water, bubbly like their first date. But now, they hate each other. They sit and complain about everyone in their lives. and on their minds, they just hate their selves, not even each other. They look at others with a scathing jealousy. One guy takes a nap He finds an electric taser in his dreams He uses it to shock himself back awake, but then he realizes he didn't want this moment to ever end. Where dreams are reality and you don't have to suffer fraught with what's not. She puts on her pearls and then walks out the door. She knows how she got them, lies to herself, doesn't want to feel like a ***** But still, she wants more. There's something special about being the only one standing in a crowd. Whether you're up on stage or in the middle of a pit. You feel this sense that the moment is great but it isn't amazing without another person to stand beside you. They cried at a bus stop, a family knowing they had no money to celebrate holidays this year. They don't need to, but it's the feelings that matter. They cried. We never know what we will find, when we look for something. Our feelings are dangerous if we go looking for them and end up lost.
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Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
Interpreting Dreams (1)
One may be fun but several can be even better. She's got that certin something. But dam if her sister doesnt look good in that sweater. Had this problem since I was like five. Two might be tricky. But ******* off ten your lucky to be alive. Im not a man whore just gotta alot of love to share. A tiger does fear text. And Nine irons okay and left behind underwear. I think theres a problem when your black book reads longer than gone with the wind. I swear honey there's nothing going on. She's just a really hot shoulder inwhich I can depend. Saying goodbye never has been much fun. Bullet proof vest taser peper spray no it"s not a riot Just taking caution probaly be easier breaking up with only one. Hey if it works for hugh's old wrinkled *** then why not me. But at this pace I'll be lucky to make it past thirty three. I think theres a problem but that's okay. Cause if I get the boot. I got some friends with benfits house's inwhich I can stay. Im not bad just a lotta fun. Cardio is key. When she pulls out the meat clever dont play stupid just run. And if I seem terrible keep in mind it takes two to tango. For what is the banna without the mango. I think theres problem that I really dont wanna fix my dear. Im a bit of a effection ****** ***** the cold shower how bout a warm bed and a beer? Call me terrible cause hell even I know I'm not right. We should take this slow. So how bout we discuss this in a hot tub tommorow night. And if I did offend with these word I've spoken. Then please pull the twig out your backside. Grab a drink have some fun cause was only jokin.
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Feb 8, 2010
Feb 8, 2010 at 6:22 AM UTC
I Think Theres A Problem
One may be fun but several can be even better. She's got that certin something. But dam if her sister doesnt look good in that sweater. Had this problem since I was like five. Two might be tricky. But ******* off ten your lucky to be alive. Im not a man whore just gotta alot of love to share. A tiger does fear text. And Nine irons okay and left behind underwear. I think theres a problem when your black book reads longer than gone with the wind. I swear honey there's nothing going on. She's just a really hot shoulder inwhich I can depend. Saying goodbye never has been much fun. Bullet proof vest taser peper spray no it"s not a riot Just taking caution probaly be easier breaking up with only one. Hey if it works for hugh's old wrinkled *** then why not me. But at this pace I'll be lucky to make it past thirty three. I think theres a problem but that's okay. Cause if I get the boot. I got some friends with benfits house's inwhich I can stay. Im not bad just a lotta fun. Cardio is key. When she pulls out the meat clever dont play stupid just run. And if I seem terrible keep in mind it takes two to tango. For what is the banna without the mango. I think theres problem that I really dont wanna fix my dear. Im a bit of a effection ****** ***** the cold shower how bout a warm bed and a beer? Call me terrible cause hell even I know I'm not right. We should take this slow. So how bout we discuss this in a hot tub tommorow night. And if I did offend with these word I've spoken. Then please pull the twig out your backside. Grab a drink have some fun cause was only jokin.
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46
do people poke people on Facebook often? is that, like, a 'thing'? what does that even mean? what am i poking them with? a truck a stick a taser a **** a flower an eyefuck? what does the poke feel like? is it cruel savage menacing inappropriate friendly pleasurable blissful ticklish?
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Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 10:36 PM UTC
?
Churning in your stomach Burning on your tongue Taser in the chest Hatefully sung Pulsing of your mind Slamming of your heart Flatline screen Electric start Crawling through your veins Sinking in your blood Building, building, building Til your insides begin to flood Pulsing of your mind Slamming of your heart Flatline screen Electric start This is the buildup This is the monster's best Wait to see what happens When it bursts through your chest Clawing, crawling Stabbing, grabbing Feeding and falling This is the monster start Ripping out your heart This is the buildup The monster start
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
Monster Build-Up
Stuttering, sputtering, spewing words while noses were growing longer than the grey shark that lay dead on the subway car floor, no stronger words were uttered than a Brooklynese "phoque"  and then silence as the stench of death and black humour. The red bull can and a **** life, too many cigarettes, he didn't listen to his wife, and she was no where to be found anywhere around the sub- way walls and brick, mortar, concrete and rails with one like a taser. SHOCKING! Said the press, the greater subway transit authority has better things to do, and I agree so a short poem about this will be all this brings to the surface of a stolen idea, NYC has the dead shark, a but and a can, while in Russia, wild dogs travel free, in those subway cars.   cuz if it ain't safe for sharks it ain't safe for no one while in Russia every transit traveler may pet and be near a dog, and give and receive love.
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Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
The Shark Was Dead When I Found it (from Russia with love)
Ok. Real talk now. I've totally been thinking, for way too long. How the sorrow of my life, has had me becoming the demon that I learned of while I was a child. Redo the birth scene. Cut. Action. I cut off my last hair doo with a razor. Then the Taser of said fictions divide my molecular compositions into fractions of myself. *And that’s exactly the person I don’t believe. Myself. Me. I.* *Define that one for me again Mr. Fromm, the nature of man, me, the man who acts so honestly.* The hero, or the villain. I don’t ******* care. But I'll bare the scab for all my wounds. And each time I fall, I pick my fractions back up and redevise.
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Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
The Director
I see you in the dust particles waltzing in late afternoon sunbeams I see you in endless train tracks curving out of sight and into uncharted territory inside your chest. I'm sorry I didn't know how to loosen my dead bolt grip, you were your own world and I selfishly believed I could grasp your full potential in my tiny fingers. I assumed you were linear, two dimensional; one chapter rather than an entire library of life. I know you wanted me to speak up, unhinge my jaw and let the unwritten poems of my mind seep into your ears. I didn't think telephone wires stretched across so many miles just for dead air. I didn't think you were listening so hard with your eyes. I've been shaking my head, trying to find a solution rattling around in some stray cranial nerves. Maybe that's why they call it shock when it's not electricity at all. We went from caves and brutality to covered patios and toxic taser tongues ready to etch high voltage vocabulary into my bones until that's all I have left. You wanted a better fight but you shorted my circuit. I let go all at once and I couldn't turn away when you stumbled and crashed into a new reality. I still have trouble laughing around the lump in my throat when people joke about trees falling in forests because the way you said my name still has me by the throat and some days I think your grip is what kept my feet on solid ground
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Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 3:49 AM UTC
Leaving Galveston
In two seconds. You caught my eye. You placed yourself in my world. & I saw you. Through my eyes. & no one else's. Your smile shined. The way the sun & rain reflex the rainbow. You were worth the seconds. In two minutes. I knew your name. One I will never forget. It reminded me of the stars. On a night with the one you love. In complete darkness. With only the stars to show you the way. You were worth the minutes. In two hours. You took me there. Showed me the place in your heart. Where your dreams and nightmares rest. Trusted me. Knowing id never hurt you. Telling me what made you who you were. What chapter you were in the big book called life. You were worth the hours. In two days. I knew you. Everything. From your first love. To your first heartbreak. What made you smile. To what made you frown. I felt you. As my sunshine. My sweet sunshine. Warm & graceful. A new flight. Like Dancing. Around & around. Close. Not afraid. Safe. You were worth the days. In two weeks. Our lips met. Taser pulses went through me. Fireworks. Like on the fourth. Angels clapped & played music that day. Overwhelming the skies. Making drops fall. Bringing nature to life. You were worth the weeks. In two months. I felt those two words. In love. In deep. Deeper than were titanic sank. Somewhere. Where no explorer will ever reach. Will never discover. So deep. We created something rare. Not even the book of records could contain. I tasted what we were made of. You were worth the months. In two years. You wore all white. I wore black. We made a promise to commit. To stand for another. Through thick & thin. Better or worse. Till death do us part. Never moving on. Longing to be held in traffic. & watch the cars pass forever. Knowing. We are ahead anyways. Where we belong. Like the text in a book. Or keys on a keyboard. Or cold with snow. & heat with sun. Complete. Two as one. We finished. With two simple words. To make it official. You were worth the years.
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Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
Worth.
In two seconds. You caught my eye. You placed yourself in my world. & I saw you. Through my eyes. & no one else's. Your smile shined. The way the sun & rain reflex the rainbow. You were worth the seconds. In two minutes. I knew your name. One I will never forget. It reminded me of the stars. On a night with the one you love. In complete darkness. With only the stars to show you the way. You were worth the minutes. In two hours. You took me there. Showed me the place in your heart. Where your dreams and nightmares rest. Trusted me. Knowing id never hurt you. Telling me what made you who you were. What chapter you were in the big book called life. You were worth the hours. In two days. I knew you. Everything. From your first love. To your first heartbreak. What made you smile. To what made you frown. I felt you. As my sunshine. My sweet sunshine. Warm & graceful. A new flight. Like Dancing. Around & around. Close. Not afraid. Safe. You were worth the days. In two weeks. Our lips met. Taser pulses went through me. Fireworks. Like on the fourth. Angels clapped & played music that day. Overwhelming the skies. Making drops fall. Bringing nature to life. You were worth the weeks. In two months. I felt those two words. In love. In deep. Deeper than were titanic sank. Somewhere. Where no explorer will ever reach. Will never discover. So deep. We created something rare. Not even the book of records could contain. I tasted what we were made of. You were worth the months. In two years. You wore all white. I wore black. We made a promise to commit. To stand for another. Through thick & thin. Better or worse. Till death do us part. Never moving on. Longing to be held in traffic. & watch the cars pass forever. Knowing. We are ahead anyways. Where we belong. Like the text in a book. Or keys on a keyboard. Or cold with snow. & heat with sun. Complete. Two as one. We finished. With two simple words. To make it official. You were worth the years.
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91
What is freedom, to breathe, to talk, and to travel? Oh how we took for granted those past years: What is freedom summer, here in America? Where we can still purchase a bottle of cold coke cola for a dollar But wouldn’t be able to sit on the stoop with friends Just sipping, and chatting away. Thinking of a time in history when **Freedom summer was a nonviolent effort by civil rights activists to integrate Mississippi's segregated political, system during 1964.** A poet who knows her history is exceptional Poets words can sometimes comes off as gossip column What is freedom? In 2020 without the interference of Other countries, city or states…. or the faces of heart breaking stories of missing persons…. Who took a stroll or jog through the wrong street And end up in the news while they were trespassing in Karen’s neighborhood What is freedom:  not to be cage, Not to be muffled and not to be Taser by the police: What is freedom summer of 2020 in New York City. Limited! Complicated!
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Jul 8, 2020
Jul 8, 2020 at 2:26 PM UTC
What is Freedom: Is To Say NO
Cracked Damaged to hell Somehow still functional Works when it gets a chance Only happy that it's not dead yet That fact is as shocking as a taser While submerged in water
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Mar 18, 2019
Mar 18, 2019 at 3:43 PM UTC
My Life Is Like My Cellphone
in romeo will gather in street here with gypsum bandeau that might shed such fear with our dilatory cling only where he'll sing but anywhere nigh in romeo if a basket of groupers never taser hinds still heed the call whether love will shine in romeo
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Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 7:22 AM UTC
Pious Jorge
Students of Machiavelli perjure the body politic , meanwhile the Calvary arrives on scene , Constables attack in every direction , the Sheep fall back , redirect ! Mushroom Barristers appear , stand tall , feed amongst dung and debris ... Prophet picking fungi weeping meeting and taking pictures for magazines and Good Morning America , fumigate the cracks and crevices between each building , fingerprint , humiliate , declare open season , flip the truth to make it palatable , taser shoot to **** then kangaroo court back at headquarters .. Shot in the back , point blank ,  taser from behind , with hands up or down in plain view , in pockets , in public or in secret and live at five ! Who's shooting who on the six o'clock news and who's putting the screws on the law and the truth , a crying mother , an angry brother it's Beirut 2.0  up in this ************ !  ..........
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Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
Live at Five !
Trigger Warning, 2am cartoons, all you can eat buffets, toboggans rides that last all day, bald spots, black eyes, lighter fluid and burning plastic smells sworm the air. Warning, I don’t let people know, i was taught to lie like it was a breath coming out of my mouth. Warning, Letting people in as my sisters dad stares at my mother, He doesn’t look anything like my father, Maybe if he looked alittle more like my father, Maybe this would all be okay. Warning, Judges don’t trust mothers whos boyfreinds looks like a crack head, Judges don’t trust mothers who look like a crack head, how is it abuse when you allow it to happen. Trigger warning, Red and blue lights,  the sound of a taser,  handcuffs, and the gentle words "its all okay we are here now". Warning, i used to sleep with the thought I might wake up alone.
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Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
Trigger Warning.
They are all clawing at her now Everyone wants a piece She's at the peak of her powers A few years left in her at least Keep your taser in your nightstand the new one with laser sights things are bound to get heavy the way you spend your nights I'd say keep me on speed dial but i know you never will walking on the high wire without a net provides your needed thrill I lost you to those animals I fear this may be the case My love only was never enough Your preference a wider fan base So proceed down your path a prisoner of the rooms at least your fate is predictable you will be consumed
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Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
over the threshold
He sits there waiting. Gnashing his teeth together and barely holding on. As he waits inside his locked room, he knows he's not really waiting. There is nothing waiting for him. Nothing going on in his world to wait for. His world is reduced to this locked room, with barred windows and a cup full of medicine every morning. They say it's supposed to calm him. Relax him. They say it with whites showing in their eyes. And with a heart beating twice as fast. They say it with one hand on their belt, which rests a taser. He is reduced to a monster. Nothing more than a prisoner in his small, small world. No one knows he exists. No one knows how much he is rotting, slowly but surely. No one cares. He has millions of emotions running a marathon across his brain. A bit of insanity mixed in with a lot of crazy and anger and hurt and frustration and wild. He has no one to love. He has no one who loves him. He is alone. And forced to fight his battles alone. Whenever someone unlocks the door and hands him his meal, he always notices that they never make eye contact. They are forcing him to become something not human. With no love, no interaction, no help, no support, he is becoming a monster. A monster everyone is afraid of, a monster no one is willing to help. He can't see the sunshine. He can't see the rolling hills or the green grass or the blue, blue sky or the puffy, swollen clouds. All he can see is his locked room and the white walls and the punctured ceiling. He can see his whole world in front of him and nothing more. He can't even see himself. He lays there right on his bed. Wishing for anything. Love, a genuine smile, a conversation not dripped in fear, hope, a second chance, his dead family, something not within these walls of his world. Even death. He wishes for death. Because death is better than this. He would still be alone, but at least he won't be judged, won't be ignored, won't be feared, won't be restricted. He'll be free.
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Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
Alone
He sits there waiting. Gnashing his teeth together and barely holding on. As he waits inside his locked room, he knows he's not really waiting. There is nothing waiting for him. Nothing going on in his world to wait for. His world is reduced to this locked room, with barred windows and a cup full of medicine every morning. They say it's supposed to calm him. Relax him. They say it with whites showing in their eyes. And with a heart beating twice as fast. They say it with one hand on their belt, which rests a taser. He is reduced to a monster. Nothing more than a prisoner in his small, small world. No one knows he exists. No one knows how much he is rotting, slowly but surely. No one cares. He has millions of emotions running a marathon across his brain. A bit of insanity mixed in with a lot of crazy and anger and hurt and frustration and wild. He has no one to love. He has no one who loves him. He is alone. And forced to fight his battles alone. Whenever someone unlocks the door and hands him his meal, he always notices that they never make eye contact. They are forcing him to become something not human. With no love, no interaction, no help, no support, he is becoming a monster. A monster everyone is afraid of, a monster no one is willing to help. He can't see the sunshine. He can't see the rolling hills or the green grass or the blue, blue sky or the puffy, swollen clouds. All he can see is his locked room and the white walls and the punctured ceiling. He can see his whole world in front of him and nothing more. He can't even see himself. He lays there right on his bed. Wishing for anything. Love, a genuine smile, a conversation not dripped in fear, hope, a second chance, his dead family, something not within these walls of his world. Even death. He wishes for death. Because death is better than this. He would still be alone, but at least he won't be judged, won't be ignored, won't be feared, won't be restricted. He'll be free.
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Foie gras Exploitation of geese Posh food Cows with udder Too big for their bodies Industrialized Greyhounds Get legs broken If too slow Bleeding bull Disorientated in the sand Slowly dying Taser rowdy whites On uncontrollable blacks A gun is handy Water Rocks splinter rollers The breakers hones the rocks Into shark fins
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Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 7:05 AM UTC
modern haiku
The maniac , manic depressive walking city streets , world inverted , diving head first into the blue separation where night verses day , darkness at war with the light of the world . Gray day inversions , deprivations , tainted perception , misconception and miscalculations .. Bright eyes remit their focus ! The child loses his way . Incapacitated . Confused . Yet intent , focused on the garden of good and bad , temptation , righteousness ! Sexuality . Lasciviousness . Piety surrounded by Lucifers minions ! Crocodiles await the migration of wildebeest , rainbow trout tread turbid water for their afternoon meal , mourning dove to field of millet ! Bewildered sweet spirit reduced to crying in supplication , misunderstood , longing for the path by the light ! Traversing mean streets like the rat , the security of a structure to one side , on a high state of alert ! Pawn of the citizenry , cardboard empire and the bottom feeders . Catfish pawning for dung , corruption amidst the sea of inequity . Images flying point blank , a thousand miles an hour ! Shoot him dead ! Continue killing him long after his last breath . Send him back to the blue , where Angels await !
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Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
Taser . Shoot to **** . Off to the Next One
Arcs of electricity crackle above streets. Fields of inefficiency; noise of power lines taser misery. All I crave is silence. All I crave is silence. But please don't silence me.
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Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
power struggle
Love Is Blind First we talk, then we start discussing, turns into arguing and some fussing. Every compromise turns into a heated debate, who you out ******* when you come home late. Your drinking and drugging is out of control, wishing I could leave you, but my heart you stole. Not gonna lie, I wish you were dead, but watching you slowly killing yourself, I’ll watch instead. Not sure how much more I can take, meeting you is my biggest mistake. You beat me one night while drunk, from my head, you took a chunk. Me in the hospital, you in jail, I’m now blind and must learn braille. Waiting years for you to be set free, knowing you will come looking for me. My seeing eye dog, I keep very hungry, I may be blind, but I’m no dummy. My walking cane is also a taser, under my sleeve, I hide a razor. Through the grapevine, I heard you get out tomorrow, prepare to drown in a big red sea of sorrow. Then one night, I hear a knock, it must be way past twelve o’clock. I quiet my dog so it doesn't bark, turned off the power, so she could see dark. I listen closely and hear very well, knowing it’s her from her distinct smell. She slowly opens the unlocked door, my electric cane knocks her to the floor. With my razor, I give her a slice, I taught my dog to be a ***** eating device. There is no proof, she was even hear, some people just deserve to disappear.
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Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 10:37 AM UTC
Love Is Blind
Modern Haiku Foie gras Exploitation of geese Posh food Cows with udder Too big for their bodies Industrialized Greyhounds Get legs broken If too slow Bleeding bull Disorientated in the sand Slowly dying Taser rowdy whites On incontrollable blacks A gun is handy Water Rocks splinter rollers The breakers hones the rocks Into shark fins
0
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 7:04 AM UTC
modern haiku
You say that i don't do what you say, you say that i don't care, but what you don't see, me crying in a suffocating pile of regret, the fact that i am constantly at war, in a war that most times takes my focus, so sorry that i forgot one thing in a list of five, the sound of a bottle pouring alchohol sounds like bliss to you, but to me it sounds more like the night that she told me to **** myself, maybe, maybe i am a melodramatic fool, but you cannot say, my cousin getting beaten infront of me while i was to scared to say anything, does not involve me, and you saying that i don't care, does not make me perfect, it's more likely to be more amunition, him, coming at me with a taser, you told me you weren't okay with it, but you didn't try to stop him, why, why do you never stand up for me, even after all the **** she did to me, you react so much to me not doing my chores, and everyone always tells me to relax, sorry, i'm sorry that you would rater drink wine, And I'm sorry you'd rather smoke *** But for this Destiny I am not, I am nothing but a suit of armor waiting for the next person, Waiting for the next person to use me, But as little children painted with the perfect life, Stop to tap or bang or just admire, I turn my head away, Because I cannot feel guilt for something I'm not involved in, But this armor is painted silver, But underneath is a paper wrapped heart, That has so many dents, And so many craters, That it looks like the moon, Cascading over the water, The water that I am drowning in, Am I really the guilty one?
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Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC
Mom
You say that i don't do what you say, you say that i don't care, but what you don't see, me crying in a suffocating pile of regret, the fact that i am constantly at war, in a war that most times takes my focus, so sorry that i forgot one thing in a list of five, the sound of a bottle pouring alchohol sounds like bliss to you, but to me it sounds more like the night that she told me to **** myself, maybe, maybe i am a melodramatic fool, but you cannot say, my cousin getting beaten infront of me while i was to scared to say anything, does not involve me, and you saying that i don't care, does not make me perfect, it's more likely to be more amunition, him, coming at me with a taser, you told me you weren't okay with it, but you didn't try to stop him, why, why do you never stand up for me, even after all the **** she did to me, you react so much to me not doing my chores, and everyone always tells me to relax, sorry, i'm sorry that you would rater drink wine, And I'm sorry you'd rather smoke *** But for this Destiny I am not, I am nothing but a suit of armor waiting for the next person, Waiting for the next person to use me, But as little children painted with the perfect life, Stop to tap or bang or just admire, I turn my head away, Because I cannot feel guilt for something I'm not involved in, But this armor is painted silver, But underneath is a paper wrapped heart, That has so many dents, And so many craters, That it looks like the moon, Cascading over the water, The water that I am drowning in, Am I really the guilty one?
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44
Oh hey hey hey Stop ! that get out of that garbage can Look man . taking perfectly good Excess food thrown into a dumpster is still a crime What? No... it ain’t my job to argue who’s committing the Crime "I just work here man" I ain’t interested in your rants about the man Keeping us down Look I know you gotta eat /But "Don’t make me get out my taser" Don’t you know One man’s trash is still Their property until It hits the landfill and We Burn It Into The Suffering Sky?
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Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
Conversations With Security - The Suffering Sky