I AM a hoodlum, you are a hoodlum, we and all of us are a world of hoodlums-maybe so.
I hate and **** better men than I am, so do you, so do all of us-maybe-maybe so.
In the ends of my fingers the itch for another man's neck, I want to see him hanging, one of dusk's cartoons against the sunset.
This is the hate my father gave me, this was in my mother's milk, this is you and me and all of us in a world of hoodlums-maybe so.
Let us go on, brother hoodlums, let us **** and ****, it has always been so, it will always be so, there is nothing more to it.
Let us go on, sister hoodlums, ****, ****, and ****, the torsoes of the world's mother's are tireless and the ***** of the world's fathers are strong-so go on-****, ****, ****.
Lay them deep in the dirt, the stiffs we fixed, the cadavers bumped off, lay them deep and let the night winds of winter blizzards howl their burial service.
The night winds and the winter, the great white sheets of northern blizzards, who can sing better for the lost hoodlums the old requiem, "**** him! **** him!..."
Today my son, to-morrow yours, the day after your next door neighbor's-it is all in the wrists of the gods who shoot craps-it is anybody's guess whose eyes shut next.
Being a hoodlum now, you and I, being all of us a world of hoodlums, let us take up the cry when the mob sluffs by on a thousand shoe soles, let us too yammer, "**** him! **** him!..."
Let us do this now ... for our mothers ... for our sisters and wives ... let us ****, ****, ****-for the torsoes of the women are tireless and the ***** of the men are strong.Chicago, July 29, 1919.

Snow,
At least I think that that’s your name.
Falling like glitter in the wind.
So pale and simplistic.
Yet beautiful all the same.

See Google says you are
Atmospheric water vapour frozen into ice crystals and falling in light white flakes.
But even Google makes mistakes.

You are more than just evapourated water,
Encapsulated in cloud,
Left to freeze in the bitter cold,
Then fall through harsh winds
Roaring loud.

You are the evapourated sweat of a man in battle,
Ripping through the torsoes of his enemies.

You are the tears wiped from the face of a heartbroken lover.
You are the bitter screams of a child bearing mother.

You are memories,
You are the force of a thousand energies.

Snow they do not know what I know,
That’s why they undermine you so.

You are the toxic gases of a man racing through time and space,
To get to the airport in time to hold his lover in embrace

You are the bath houses of the past,
The sins of the present,
And the weaping repentance of the future.

You are every drop of blood spilt in the sands of time,
You are a poets every rhyme.

You are more than just ice encapsulated in cloud,
Falling in harsh winds,
Roaring loud.

See I have fallen through clouds,
And theyre just air,
A reminder of the force that keeps them there.

Im not talking about gravity,
Or of gods built on human depravity.

Snow they do not know what I know,
Thats why they undermine you so.

You are the squeals of joy,
Of the Indian boy who’d never seen you.
You are the rustling of leaves that lay beneath you.

You are the sweat and passion of lovers as they press against each others skin.
You are the water of those who aim to wash away their sin.

You are all this, I know
Dreams of winter told me so.