IMMEDIATELY PLEASE REMOVE ALL OF MY INFORMATION FROM YOUR DATA BASE FORTHWITH.  ALSO,
ADVISE ANY AND ALL CONTRACTORS, SUB-CONTRACTORS, AGENTS, SUB-AGENTS, AFFILIATES, PARTNERS, COLLEAGUES, ASSOCIATES, CLIENTS, WEBMASTERS, WEB BASED LINKS, WINKS, TWINKS, COLONEL CLINCKS, BOSSES, CO-WORKERS, EMPLOYEES, VENDORS, SUPPLIERS, SALESMEN, ASCCOUNT REPS/EXCS, ACCOUNTANTS, BROKERS, CO-BROKERS, HACKERS, SLACKERS, WHACKERS, JERKS, PIMPS, HOES, HOBOS, BUMS, DERELICTS, DEGENERATES, DOPERS, DEALERS, TWEEKERS, GAMBLERS, RAMBLERS, SOLICITORS, SIDEKICKS, COHORTS, WINGMEN, WHEELMEN, LOOKOUTS, OUTLAWS, IN-LAWS, RELATIVES, FIANCES, GIRLFRIENDS, BOYFRIENDS, FAMILY, FRIENDS, ENEMIES, EVIL NEMISIS', CANVASSERS, INQUIRERS, QUEERS, QUEENS, COWBOYS, KINGS, ****, DRAGS, HAGS, HETEROS, HOMOS, TONY ROMOS, FEMALE IMPERSONATORS, (PRE OR POST) MALE IMPERSONATORS, *****, *****, VAN *****, **** VAN ****, LESBIANS, LIARS, BUYERS, CRYERS, CIGAR SMOKERS, CARPET MUNCHERS, RUG RATS, TODDLERS, TEENAGERS, YOUNGSTERS, SENIORS, SUCKERS, TRUCKERS, MOTHER shut yer mouth, LAW MAKERS, LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS, JUDGES, POLITICIANS, PECKERWOODS, LEADERS, FOLLOWERS, DISCIPLES, PROPHETS, EVANGELISTS, SAVIORS, SINNERS, SAINTS, SOOTHSAYERS, MEDICINE MEN, GYPSYS, TRAMPS, AND THIEVES, WITCHES, WARLOCKS, VAMPIRES, LYCANS, ZOMBIES, WAR MONGERS, PROTESTERS, SOLIDERS, GENERALS, GOVERNORS, PRESIDENTS, PATRIOTS, PACKERS, LIONS, BEARS, BROWNS, BLACKHAWKS, REDWINGS, RIGHT WING, LIBERALS, OR LAW BIDING CITIZENS, THEY ARE NOT TO CONTACT ME AND LOOSE MY NUMBER.
BUT IF YOU SEE MY MOM, TELL HER TO CALL ME.

............................................................­............BA-ZING..............................................­......................

The youth of our nation,
Modern civilization
Young people dying in every city
Reflections of their own self pity.

It's sickening...

Friends selling each other deadly drugs
Pillheads roaming around giving fake hugs
Cokeheads blowing out their mind
Potheads in search of their next find
Tweekers wigging out for no reason
Junkies living in the same dark season
Crackheads stealing even a cent
Addicts never paying rent
Mothers giving up their kids
Selling them like an auction for the highest bids
People ******* for their next fix
Prostitutes on every corner turning tricks

Next thing you know,
It's almost the end of the show.
You are broke, homeless, and full of disease
Can't wake, can't sleep, only cough and wheeze
Your body is aching
While family and friends' hearts are breaking.

All this wasted youth, for what,... another high
Just to get you by
Yet another day,
Should you live this way
You will next be seen six feet deep
Forever is your place to sleep.

It's just sickening...

All this wasted youth.
WAKE UP!

Cars drive by outside the window
Lying on the bed smoking cigarettes
Watching the moon come in through the curtains

Heavy hearted
I pass the trailer parks
Shattered windows
Rusted cars
There's a baseball field overgrown
Two miles down
But these mountains surround me
Blankets of fog lay on the hillsides
Rain taps on the roof

I'm a small town kid
And I can smell the tweekers and the ****** down on main drag
smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee outside McDonalds
No one trusts a new face asking around for pills
But the girl walks over to the window
Her black hair is prettier than yours
A ***** t-shirt three times too big
And a big smile

Maybe I just need someone
Who can show me the mountains
Someone who can name the rivers that run through town
Take me to where the Indian villages were
To the face of a cliff covered in graffiti
Take me to where the ***** drunk red neck boys like me
**** pretty quiet girls like you


She showed me where the river flooded
And tore her house from its foundation
She took me to the cold plateau
Of some mountain in west Virginia
far away from mainstreet where
a single stoplight flickers green yellow red
I think Im in love as you point your long white finger at the stars
As you speak in quiet southern drawl
About indians and fireworks in July

It's not the fear that brings
about the images the painter
paints.
The words the writer writes.
The shapes the sculptor
sculpts.
Or the sounds the
musician brings.

It's the knowledge that there is more
than the trash filled gutters.
The windowless bars and
loveless street girls.
The foreign commerce you are
expected to buy and the life
you've been trained to sink
yourself  into while still dreaming
of oh so much more.

Some gifts shine and cast rainbows
in the light and some gifts expose the
darkness we all know is there but still
refuse to see.

The masses look to make a Hero
out of the artist.
They set prices on the works
and attempt to understand the
view.

This craft here comes in waves.
All there is to do is
try to keep up with the demands
of this ongoing battle
for time.

Time to sacrifice more
to the machine.
Less time for all the bad things.
More time for the gift.

My need to shy away from
the crowds in order to
create hand woven magic in the
dark.
The need to challenge Platos
view.
The need to feel the numbing
cold of Dantes Hell.
The need to live out my days
in Bukowskis harsh vision
of the world.

The gears of their clocks
keep grinding.
Grinding like a junk yard tweekers
teeth.

My remaining pages remain
unfilled and the sun has already
set on my tomorrow.

It’s your family, little sister, family.
You remember us, don’t you?
We’re your Christmas cards and your cream filling.
We’re your cheering squad and your taste testers—
Think of the barbies, the bears, the bruises that we shared, little sister
How about all the times I carried you home?

Is it coming back to you, little sister?
think hard.

oh.

I’m so sorry, little sister.
We’re trying.
But we can’t see you through all the fog and the fail and the ******* right now—
(the flunk-outs and the tweekers—
they’re ******* parasites, you know that…?)

but we’ll keep looking.
I feel like we’re always looking,
searching, seizing, hunting, hollering,
calling—MIJITA…?!
sorry, little sister, I thought that was you at the door.

Little sister, it wouldn’t be so hard to come home,
I pinky promise.
I made your bed for you, I really did.
and as soon as you come back I’ll French braid your hair, just how you like it.
Mom washed your slippers and got you a dozen new dresses.
And Daddy bought you chocolate turtles—your favorite!
That oughtta do it.
Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of turtles
waiting for you when you come home
the almond kind—not peanut—just how you like them!
All for you, little sister.
All for you.

From the early, early morning through the late, late night,
The tweekers keep on coming and it just ain't right.
  Yvonne gets up early and she's feeding the fish,
And here comes Ernie, he's wanting his "ish".
  So she breaks him off a little so that he won't gripe,
Now here comes Pino wanting something in the pipe.
  And next comes Debbie just a shaking that ***,
She's supporting the casino selling half price gas.
  Then comes Clifford call him Big Daddy Mac,
He got the Clabber Girl can goin' clackity - clack.
  From a quarter to a half, to a teener or a ball,
She's got more traffic than the Hill Top Mall.
  Now the daylight's fading and the night's coming on,
On and on and on and on and on,
  The Tweeks have worn a path in the ******* lawn.
Yvonne can't take it, she's headed for the hills,
  Yelling back at Ernie, "Yes, I took my friggin pills!!"
Betty, Sally, Gary, and James,
  The faces keep changing but never the games.
They promise to pay you. They only need a puff,
  A little more please, that's just not enough.
And they bring you lots of things that you just can't use,
  Like fake gold chains and someone else's shoes.
A cordless drill I got no way to charge and brand new jeans three sizes too large.
  "Say hey yo bro, I bet you need one of these".
It's a freaking leaf blower when I ain't got any trees !!!
  Yeah, they call their hustle and they're good at what they do.
You know that they are 'cuz they always hustling YOU !!
  HERE COME THE JUDGE !  HERE COME THE JUDGE !
COURT'S IN SESSION NOW.  HERE COME THE JUDGE !!

drunken podiatrist
face full of feet
seated at the reapers’
keep
pleated sneakers
freak seekers
weaker than peeking tweekers
needing respite a quiet pine cove beacons
alone with disorganized thoughts,
sleep evades capture
melancholy and fidgety
***** fingers fumble in the needles
absentmindedly truffle hunting
little piggy, sad and introspective –
well-wishers fish for the perfect dish
the combination of flavors that will remove pain
while creating pleasant inconsequential conversation
as no one wants to look at reality
even in times of loss
…but at what cost?
mossy lip gloss tossed
plausible pauses cause
raw nerve sawing –
bunion burns and yellowed toenails curl
once again seated in front of the lonely *******
red eyes hide nights of lies to wives
despising the rising bile
fruit flies dive against spore covered windows
cluttered floor acts as a shore against poor ******
and he has the audacity to charge my insurance –