Last night I dreamed
My life as a comic book.
An intermingled mess,
Those who have not read
Every single issue,
Cannot begin to know.
A brightly colored spectrum
Of unexpected blows.
Amidst all the villian’s
Unrelenting throws
Of powers no more
Than planting
The seeds of self doubt,
I stood armed to fall.
As each seed landed
Upon  my head,
I fell to watch
Each punch line
Read only
“Bam!”
and “Kapow!”.
The plot never thickened
And never came to save me.
In a story
from the villan’s head,
Perpetually trapped
Until the hero returned
to write her portion
of my tale.
As the seeds grew
Into absolute fear,
A twisted feeling
Took hold of my gut.
Who is the antagonist
and who the protagonist?

Graffiti

A tagger

A vandal

A villan

A hero
Graffiti writers channel there emotions through a can of spray paint, and then after they are done, they melt back into the city... just another face. Before you know you were even hit, He is probably at home sleeping

Life
It isn't a privilege
Or some dort of miracle.
It is a test.
A test to see what you've done
Who you are
And what you deserve.
Whether it's pain, joy
O neither.

Do you deserve to live among the shadows?
Where the sun never shines but the clouds never darken -
A world filled with emptiness.
You are neither hero nor villan,
Friend nor foe;
You deserve nothing.

Or have you killed?
Wronged the Gods in one way or another?
You deserve more than death
To be filled with hunger, food and water always out of reach.
To be live among fire, pain always present.
You deserve endless torture.

However
If somehow you managed to live your life right
Defending family
Friends
With everything you've got.
You will continue to live on
Forever.
Your name and story passed down
Forever.
People will whisper your name for strength
For help.
You will wander the fields of Elysium
Surrounded by endless beauty
Blue lake,
Green hills.
You deseve more than can ever be given

It was  at the crack of the afternoon always  when like some old circus bear i staggred to life.
Coffee surged through my veins with a touch of turkey to embrace the day to day troubles
with a sense of reason in the insanity.

The whispers were heavy like gunshot's that filled a early morning duck hunt.
Where half drunk men shared bottles and stories of conquest's some false others just straight *******.
He's losing it ya know?

They had read my scrbblings and saw the flaws yet dared never to speak the words to
the devil in the flesh.
But much like a villan or a dam good ****** with a std i was just waitting to
run yet again.

The Gonzo of old died hard and a writer of insanity
seldom was at a loss for words or  far from a intersection of trouble.
The road called.
And I her slave seldom ignored her for any woman worth her salt
was a cruel ***** at heart and thats what made them  so dam aluering.


I was the president of debauchrey the chairman of the boy's club
a locker room jester who seldom showed his flaws.
But time scars us all and I was no diffrent.

I had slowed yet went past that edge like a child who tears into a gift seldom
looking at the paper let alone who its from.
Still that gleam in the eye did exist and the danger was all but to real.

I was ready to claim it back although none could take it from me.
The bike was older yet still had a howl like a devils hound on a sunsets promise.
the drugs the ***** the women all where but part of the drive and freedom
of a perk.

Much like the whiskey that burns in my veins id never
water down my word's
Cold wether was pointing me south  the Key's were calling
in a tragic Hemmingway sense the old man's sea was but a bitter pill
and a islands stream of erased thought.

On a road that never grew old as I.
  Soon i was off.
And God only knows what would lead to this tour of destruction.
But all i can say is gentlemen start your engines.

For the chaos has just begun.

                                               Welcome  To The Boy's Club
                                                             Part One

they all suround me
calling me a villan
a freak
a deamon
a monster
just because how i act
my personality
my insaneity
and i realize if they waunt a moster ill give it to them
ill unleash my rath
just because they waunt a villan
but i realize that villans dont get happy endings
but no matter what i do
IM A MONSTER

When I first saw you, I don't know what I thought. Your hair was straight, and your bangs swooped to one side mearly covering the corner of your eye. You were talkative, clearly not my type. And yet, we held engaging conversations for 3 hours. I had forgotten your name, but I thought it would be nice for you to be my friend anyway.

Time passed and you opened my mind up to a lot of things, like not settling too young. You said you wanted me, and yet would not give me such a committing title as to say Girlfriend. I pushed you to like me. I was in such awe of you.

You were talented. I encouraged all of your successes. But I didn't see your true talent. You were talented in other ways that were malicious.
You were with two women. You were out with me by day, and talking with her at night. Confused about which one you liked more.

But it wasn't even about which of us you liked more. It was a game of chase. You waited to see which one of us would run after you the most.

Even after you gave me the long awaited title, you didn't tell me reasons you liked me other than the fact that I had won. Like you were some big prize at a carnival I had wasted all of my tickets on all the games trying to win a version of you. The version I thought was cool, and a version I could adore.

I wouldn't say it was a facade, or an illusion, or an illustration in my head. The version of you was real, but it was simply not the only version.

Some nine months later, you had declared a new version of yourself. One you said was better than all the others. One you claimed was going to be the final one. I had to grieve for the old ones, but had to accept the new one quicker.
I went to all of your appointments. Every doctor you had visited. Helped you develop your voice. Encouraged you when you got discouraged. And yet I was so discouraged.

You buried yourself. In other people, and in other things, never turning to look at me. I was helping you find your voice yet your voice would never speak to me directly. There was always someone else you rather talk to.

I found my solice in a few other people, too. When you took notice, that voice i never heard towards me, would suddenly boom into my ear as a loud sob. Also admitting all of your promises to me would be lies.

I was a Villan now. Untrustworthy. But had you not done the same? Wasn't it you who started it? Had it become another game?

I'd like to think I got good at the game, however I was still playing by your rules, and you were still the ruler. I had tried to cut the strings many times but you were still my puppeteer.

As I slept with one eye open, expecting you to scream at me in the dead of night- as you often did- I wondered, was this a new version of you, or was this your true version all along? Was this who you were when I met you? Was the adoration I had for you since the start...delusion?

You scream and you sob, and yet I can't hear you anymore. Your voice was hoarse and strained, and had becoming nothing more than white noise like rain on my metaphorical window sill. All the rain- the sobbing, and I still couldn't sleep.

I started to hear voices in an empty room. Angels? Hallucinations. You had encouraged I take a sip of alcohol, but the sip turned into bottles, routinely. And yet I still couldn't sleep.

I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. I grabbed a knife I had stowed in my pocket, just to see if I could still feel such human pain. As the blade mearly touched my skin I wondered, how deep could I go? Now a scar I carry with me for the rest of my life.

Maybe you were my hallucination. Every bad day, bad experience I had in a person. I feel like it was training. Training me for the types of people I might encounter in my lifetime. Teaching me how to solve such a problem.

Did God give you the right for such an act? Such false promises and falsettos? I still cannot think of a reason for all that I endured. And will continue to search for one.

After stage exist do i leave a true self behind?
As the act has taken hold of my existance I view only one out.
With the dust.
Will hidden message be reveled my madness never was there a more true
poisen to pen than vice thats nothing more than the man.


Cheap motel's road trips have taken there toll as ive taken more from thoose with which ive shared a
sin laced night.
Im fine I swear.
And  even togather I assure you im alone.

Start out slow just to burn out fast.
Empty the glass washed down pills and forgotten conversations
the jokes a cruel subject may I be your life's teacher?

Emptyness Inc. hollow my hall's least  it's better than some
self righteous fool who has been left to preach.

A cheap **** and a firm shake.
You cant run with wolves and stay the lamb.
Uppers to wake ***** to slow and coke to understand its somehow it's gotta end.

Im sorry next time i'll call only to show the sadist within.
Pray they cant view the sweats man he truely lives his act or is his addictions living as what
he once knew to be him?

Moments I breath only to sink underneath waters drowned are my demons
care to hear there thoughts clear?

A angry voice lives behind vice can i calm this storm how can I grant safe passage?
When I cant even stand in the slightest wind?
Another night and still they ignore it because they hate to comfront for fear they'd taste the razor of tongue and face vice's all there own.

Art in any form should never be safe.

Hello she answers waitting for the line within mind
she know's will probaly sooner than later be read.
I cant say something I can never feel.

Remorse is great for hero's.
Im happy to be your villan.

Another town it's always a old scene.
Were the ****** up circus come to fuel a always burning ego driven fire.
A hot night a devil's pornagraphic scene.

What the dust leaves no true care of a honest ******* I fear none but myself.

Dear Hello  

A dark cloud  has been allowed to loom over us for to long.
And for all of you who  have fell victem  to this overgrown
child of a cyber bully I am truley sorry,

Now  with that said  I throw down the challenge to
the one we do not speak of   my numbers are many
my pub is full  the whiskey is free and the message is simple
I will no longer take crap from a certin sweetheart from hell.

Who fianlly posted work and proved my point.
If it wasnt for the hipe she created there would be
nothing even remotley special   about her snore infested work.

Point blank its you our me and this site is not
big enough for the both of us.
If you are what people truley want here then i will gladly leave.

You could have went to poetry soup  but in all truth you wouldnt have made a ripple in the water the only reason you have is cause people react to your *******.

Half of your so called fans are actully you.
you want to cross me i'll out you everytime.
Cause a person who  enjoys huting others  is a punk.

And a old *** woman who goes around talking ****
cause she's so insecure   about her own work.
Well is just pathetic and people who applaud the garbage
that comes outta your mouth are either you or
just as ****** up as you.

You do not hand out  criticism  your a heckler.
Poetry is self expression and to be honest with people
takes courage but to simply say utter crap.
shows your ignorance and lack of respect
for anyone.

Not everyone you bash is a adult  so I ask you
this.
Being a mother yourself would you want
a grown adult verbally attacking your kids?

Your playing a character i am guilty of that also
but i do not hurt others in doing so.
Had you came here posted your work
offred constructive  critcism  you would have done
fine  here  I could care less  if you hate me.

Cause  good or bad Im not a person who hides.
I will not complain behind your back im talking directly to you.
drop  the act drop the hate.
If you do id never speak another word against you.

I will say one thing that was wrong of me.
I should not have revealed the fact  of who you
truley are for you are so insecure you must hide
yourself  from everyone.

I do not hide  and I do not spread hatred.
It's simple the people should speak not fear
we should have a vote  me or you who stays and who goes.

Because  if  your actions are what people want.
then I dont want  to be part of this.

It's fine not to like everyone  cause it's clear
me and you are just two diffrent kinds of people.
You speak about your high profile job  well
if you were so busy then you wouldnt have
time to waste on us lesser beings.

To me  I would like to hear your real voice.
Not the villan act for if that is who you truley
are you a sad human being.

So people of hello I ask are you going to tollerate  
the constant attacks  is that what you want?
Is that what you want a poetry web site to be?

You let one of these people stay soon the river will
become a stagnate pond.
Hate does not  breed creativity it breeds ignorance.

So I ask what do you want this site to become?

Hero


A hero doesn't have to be strong
A hero doesn't have to have a cape
A hero can be skinny or fat
Anyone can be a hero
A hero doesn't have to have a cool name
A hero doesn't need to be popular
A hero is you
Me
Everyone
You are a hero to someone
Everyone is a hero
Even some of the quietest people
But they can have a villa
It hurts to have a Villan
They can destroy you
So be a hero
Not a villan

everything happened so fast
we cried
i left
and just like that
it was all over
like we hadn't meant anything
as if we hadn't loved each other
it was nobody's fault
except for maybe life's
we had promised to stay together
a promise we couldn't keep
i wonder whether i am the villan
you stayed behind waiting
miserable is all you were
i couldn't watch
and he made it so easy
easy to forget
how much i loved you
despite the ocean between us
you saw me being happy
and you hated him for it
and i hated you
for not wanting me to be
you made my life colorful
it all faded without you
i was scared of the dull grey
and he sparked a fire, brought light
it felt like being saved
how unfair to want that
i disgust myself

I lay down in the pastures of the southern winds
I live seeing the skies of the northern stars
I close my eyes to the sparkles of the eastern twinkles
I stretch out my hands into the thorns of the western roses.

Would you be biased if you knew who I was?
Of course you would
Otherwise, you would be 1 out of whole population
Everyone has some type of bias
You simply cannot deny it!

Tell me,
have you ever looked at a young teenager
in the middle of the night, with a hoodie on
walking by the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets
with torn pants and old shoes,
with a bandana ******* in this hand,
and think, oh he must be a nice guy!

If you have, you are the nice guy,
free of corruption and free of stereotypes
at least just on that point.

Have you ever seen a pregnant young girl,
standing on the side of the street
looking like she is waiting for the bus,
with regular thrift-store clothes and some old purse
and said, "she has a bright future ahead of her"

Probably, I mean I depends on what you know.
A large percentage of pregnant 'girls',
actually live under what is bad conditions

On the other hand, Have you even seen a young handsome man
with a nice suit on, shirt that matches the tie
shoes brighter than the windows of the building he will enter
oh and the posture, the complexity of success
with a small pin from Harvard University on the right side worn with pride
And said "he must have lied, cheated and stolen to get there"

Maybe not, Maybe yes, maybe...
It depends on who you know and what you have done.
I depends on who provides you with information

Here is a much simpler situation

Have you ever passed by a neighborhood,
lets say, ****** houses, ****** backyards, ****** décor
in a nice car, with your windows wide open
with you arm resting on one of them while modeling the latest
model of the "magical watch" you just bought

I cannot see you doing that.
As much as you did not do it on purpose
it happened

That is the society we live in, it is not our fault
we came into this world loving all colors
but somehow the majority opinion weighed more than
YOUR opinion.

You cannot blame yourself for thinking,
as long as they do not leave your mind
you see, there is a difference, with thinking and saying
there is a difference between lying and staying quiet.

you think, and stay quiet, with things like this.
there is a moment to speak up,
but to them, with insults, is not the time

So stay quiet and don't insult the guy,
for going to the store late at night to get medicine for a sick mother,

Do not insult the young girl,
for being tricked and tossed away by the real villan

And do not look at the complexity of success
and put him over everyone,
for showing materialism!

Not like these things ever make sense. Makes sense? As if such a thing really matters. The relevance of something and how much it makes sense are both relative. As in doesn't matter. Nothing does. Not me. Not this room. Not the rain or the stars or the way my eyelids can't seem to stay open. Why? Don't ask me. Don't ask anyone. There's no need to ask anymore. Those old questions, will get you to nowhere. But if thats where you're after look no further. Welcome. A word I'd love to hear more often. You never seem to hear anything often enough these days. These days. Whats the use? Where's the appeal? Appeal? Oh I'll give you appeal. I'll show you a girl who gets everything she wants. Thinks she owns the world. And she does. But get this, she cries herself to sleep at night. Fair trade no? Some would say so. You look out those windows and all you see are packed streets filled with the stench of christmas shopping. Put a bullet in my head and paint the walls with my brains. You'd be doing me a favor. The first one anyone's done in a while. When its done I wanna fish away from wife and family and responsibility. Don't tv party too long. You won't be able to turn off the set in the morning. How long does it go? How long did I just spend writing that last sentence. Feels like ages. I'm half asleep. The other hand isn't there a hand unaccounted for. The last one to leave. Always. I leave alone. I go home alone. Even now... You guessed correct. Haunted. Vacant. Lost. I'm drowning. Growing up. But still. Ask yourself what you want. Subtract it. Head is pounding. And I hate to be alone. And I have to be of course. Of course. No. Never. I don't care and I don't care and I don't care. That's another story. A story about a baby who was let go. About yesterday. But sometimes these stories just don't have a happy ending. Sometimes you go from being the hero in your own story, to the villan in everyone else's. But not likely. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe its a terrible terrible tragedy. Sure enough they drive around again. That memories been following me. Burning me inside. The heat will bury us all. They can search all the want. Only I know the way. All gone. Everybody gone. Gone off the deep end. Okay. You never told. I wasn't told. Overrated. Under ground. Last kiss. But I threw it us up. So? No. Sometimes. I caught you like a falling star. The air is warm. The sun is gone. I am not well...

orcasio-cortez i got a word for you
what if we break the divide by dividing the break
like marvel heroes and villains.
we band together.
the young and fearless.
the old and wise.
the true hero and
the true villan.
we can name them all.
use them all. construct a narration
that builds a nation. we can live
in america again with
a little
imagination.

i feel so missunderstood im
no bad guy i wasnt a villan wearing a mask
i was never a person of lasting lies time flys by day after day feeling so missunderstood
nobody cares about my
intetions

my mission wasnt to target and destroy but was to nature and love with pation and grace i wanted to teach you a lesson but it turned out to be the end of our story

i feel so missunderstood because i love you but am taken as a liar a wommerniser im just a boy in need of your love and happyness
i wanna grow with you but you see me as a fool

tried to teach u a harsh lesson it turned out to be that the cadles whr blown out and the smake from the cadles are just our memories fadding up into thin air but the two cadles still stand fermly

i feel so missunderstood

Is it a curse that words do fight
Inside a head of a poetry knight
Slaying and loving crying and joy
Now the ink shall spill tonight

Saving a maiden from dragons of lore
Sailing the oceans is never a bore
Giving love to maidens fair
Whilst caressing your soft honey hair

So many things make a poet knight
Clad in armour with pen held tight
Riding on the back of the page at night
Hoping that words can rage
Or sing a song to distant mermaids

To be a hero or villan to boot
A poem can make whatever it suits
So hold that pen like a sword
And let those words spill out
On unsuspecting hordes

Every  minute
Of every day
I beg myself
Not to fight you

Not because I fear I'll lose
And not because of politeness cowardice,
Or weakness
But because this **** is not a
Game to the rest of us

And we've had the anger
thrown at us


since we could stand
Therefore we refrain from
Showing our fangs until
We have to bite back

I'd rather show I can stand for
something/someone
That I love and believe
With patience,
Humility,
And grace

Truth is,  
I hate seeing my dad in me
When rage rushes in
And makes the stage
its playground
Which creates the most terrifying
Plot-Twist
I tried my damnedest
not to star in
The entire time
Then  BAM
........................
Now, what fresh hell is this?

Oh so I guess
I'm both hero
And villan
flinching from glass shattering
Like a halo above my head
While screams fill my nemesis
With momentary madness
Breaking everything of mine
That's in sight

To try and frighten me?
Or cause me to cry in a high pitched whine you must like when I
  Hypervintalate til I'm blue in the face
Reliving worst fears
Miracles that came and I nearly made my escape
Only bc something saved me
But why is it were brought back
To walk right through hell
Again
Yelling "How could you"!
Chasing my self through hallways
Swearing to catch her