How many more of us are
dissolving into a creaky
puddle of salt and sweat
and glands and ducts
misbehaving, how many
of us are deserving of
a whack and thump
of never repeating
and never being happy

I need help I need
some serious help my
organs are failing I
smashed the glass and
confetti falls from spackled
ceiling oh wouldn't it be
nice if there was someone
to catch the little pills
rolling down my chest

What does it mean when no one
answers your call when you
can't pull yourself up anymore
and you cry out because you
failed to remember that failure
is a virtue, and that nobody
will ever remember you fondly
for playing with fire and violins

You scared the hell out of me
girl, you best remember how bad
it is for some humans in this world
and how you'll never jump any
hurdles, there were none for you
to even try.

They just ignore what they don't
like about you. They forget it
exists until it shows up again
and again and again and you can't
stop it because it's part of you
and no matter how hard you hack
it's still hanging on by more
than a thread.

Sticky red-faced and wanting
collapses in a pile on floral upholstery
exhausted, bleeding, and alone.

I have been a pilot and a doctor, and a chieftain, I've run a café and a veg stall and a shop
Discovered forests down the road, and caught a magic toad, and stormed the castle high upon the mountains top
I've walked about on Mars, flown a rocket to the stars, and been to places that are yet unknown to men
And just to cap it all, to amaze you, and enthral, I did all that before I was even ten

There are no boundaries for young minds, no comprehension of time, they are eager to explore this fun-filled place
Kids are free and are unshackled, from the first shake of their rattle, they refuse to run with rats in our sad race
I grew up with simple toys, simple pleasures, simple joys, yet life was then so full and so untouched
Not ashamed of mummy's hand, or a bucket in the sand, we had so little yet, we really had so much

We grazed our knees and ruined our clothes, raced around on tippy-toes, and turned a mangy dog into our bestest friend
We camped out, we camped in, went too high upon the swing, yet we never thought the fun would ever end
Daddy's voice was law, mummy's whack was sore, and being grounded was so harsh and was so tough
But we knew that we were safe, and we knew we were secure, and we really knew our home was full of love

Children were children and grown ups were grown ups, and teenagers were somewhere in between
Bad things were small, like the punctured old beach ball, or the sadness of a melted ice-cream
Park-keepers were alert, and everything actually worked, and if we hurt ourselves, mum didn't want to sue
She would kiss it where it was sore, cuddle us some more, then we'd be off and start our climbing up anew

A boy's first kiss was his mum, and love was bubble-gum, and his first crush was simply lemon or lime
Girls were chased but never kissed, cause you deliberately missed, and names could only hurt you if they rhymed
Little girls dressed in mum's shoes, and didn't get the blues, and they'd only dance in front of cuddly toys
They loved dolls and Winnie-Pooh, playing bubbles with shampoo, and they had no time for silly things like boys

Batman was always kind, and it would never cross his mind, to **** a villain, or ever break the law
You'd always be polite, always kiss your mum goodnight, and you'd always leave your cabbage for the poor
To be gay was to be glad, being bad meant simply bad, and there was no such thing as being overfed
Phones were just pretend, and your dog was your best friend, to protect you from the troll under your bed

But this world is ever changing, with more stress and much more danger, and the children must adapt or they will fail
Where once our kids were shy, and pleasing to the eye, we are now forced to grab a tiger by the tail
Like the trickle of the stone, before the mountain crashes down, life is gaining speed at an alarming rate
They are pushed and are in pain, carry guilt and carry blame, and there is no one to shield them from their fate

Home alone, and alone away, taught how to text but not to play, they just exist within their messed up little world
Forced to survive and take the knocks, always governed by the clock, too soon they are men and women, not boys and girls
Good and bad are now retired, you can do what you desire, it's no longer sin, but a life choice for childrenkind
And is there's a price to pay for this new fun, and for looking at the sun, there's always credit, which is far off (in their mind)

Goblins and trolls have become vampires and ghouls, and Batman is a nasty growling man
The train set is no longer cool. Its trains and stations are for fools, Playstation is now the thing that makes the man
Advice comes from the web, or magazines instead, because these sources have all the answers we need to know
Goodbye to picnics, sandcastles, parks, finger-puppets in the dark, these simple joys our children now let go

Today the little ones know too much, and their knowledge is that such, they are aware of all that mum and dad now do
The facts of life, thanks to the web, terrorism's dread, ***, carcinomas and Avian Flu
Immersed in the occult, and books that teach how to insult, they spend more time with gadgets than they do with humankind
The things they watch would scare grown-ups, the door to innocence is shut, while their music feeds the anger of the mind

“No” is spoken, never heard, simple manners never learned, “Love thy neighbour” is replaced by “dog eat dog”
But they are children, not our pets, they need to love, and not regret, and they need to find the time to think of God
Like arrows that are aimed, we can steer them through life's game, to ensure they find the target that they need
That of happiness and hope, take their hand, don't let them *****, and we may yet behold the day when they are free

So enjoy their childhood years, feed the ducks, and not their fears, and if they've gone too far, help them to rewind
Let them skip, let them skate, let them even lick their plate, and the memories will be forever in your mind
And before you do regret, and your little ones forget, and this life comes and sweeps them from your door
Give them back their childish ways, and keep the world at bay, and let the children just be children once more

Gone again Here again
Gone again Then back
Gone again Here again
Returned so out-of-whack
Gone again, again
Again Again
Again Again

Welcome home
Where you are madly
Brilliant

Because you're down again
Here again, up again
All around again again
Then you win
Every turn of phrase, all the days
Every phase beginning
Every morning
And ending every morning
You mourn for no particular
loss, you are lost only
a moment, but you hone it
Yes darling you cherish
that smile
The pleasant weather says
Please stay awhile and

You do because the weather is nothing new

Darling you
Grow again Shrink again
Gone again Then back
I disappear again
Again...
Again...

Yet it seems life is not repetitive

Don't follow
Don't lead
Proceed

If you have never done something, do it.
Who's holding you back from the way you act?
Your Dad, Girlfriend, Boyfriend or Mother?
Uncle, Aunt, Sister or Brother?
Friends?

No, you are holing back.
All you do is talk about skills you lack.
If you took all your skills and put them in a stack,
It could get you to the moon, then back.
Stop bein so whack

Because you are human.
All you mean to do is learn and adapt.
So go back to your roots.
There's nothing wrong with that.

You'll realize your physical body is the trick in fact.
And that's scary at first, but for better or for worse
You shed the veil, the forgotten curse.
This is an event one cannot rehearse.

Straddling the line of popularity
Teetering on the edge of trends and personality
As soon as I'm about to fall into them I revert back to introverted me.

This dissent from narcissistic sorcery may slip you into mental dysentery
Though reading into the stains is not necessarily a necessity,
It's a little difficult to ignore the symmetry.

Hock-up spit onto this canvas, rip up another piece for my portfolio.
Lock-up your kids inside the frames of your family's mementos.
I'm lashing out like diet coke infused with mentos.

I'm not your son, not your husband, nor your best friend.
I'm that guy you **** for fun sometimes on the weekend.

I used to hate people in school who said they "failed" when they got a "C",
Now I hate the people who say they're broke when they still have money.

I'll grab your skate-up , lame-duck, askin "Have you ever ate nuts?"
We need some action. Got the lights, the camera, but don't take cuts.
Shoot a provisional peripheral glance at my pay-stub.
Always take pride in where you came from even if it ain't much.

The glass is still half empty if you're only half full of ****.
Some days I'm a dog. Any day I'm a typical cat.
So on the days it's raining cats and dogs, I get really wet.
No...wait...not like that...
I mean I'm thrown really out of whack.
Spilling every drop of sporadic synaptic spit onto this paperback.

Help me understand

Why relationships are always birthed with complications ?

Why does blazing love blacken my dedication ?

How did love ignite me before my resignation ?

Our relationship was once a figment of my imagination

I grew accustomed to silent nights and isolation

I confessed to my lies and you gained new information

What's haunting me is that we've been here before ?

But I recall before , It was me who wanted more

My lies strangled your trust now our faith's on floor

Love's slipping through our fingers because we never moved forward

My trust is ****** up and your resentment stepped forward

The both of us are guarded but my walls seem lower

I say love you slower but my words are much colder

You say I love you too , but you wonder if I'm sure

You tell me all your secrets but I wonder if there's more

I love you for you but the world made you crazy

I can't stand to realize how the world hurt you baby

The world burned your soul and your spirit seems hazy

My minds out of whack and I've questioned God lately

I've been thinking like a man but reacting like a lady

what burned the most was when you said "I was hoping you can save me"

**** I wish you didn't hate me  

I do a good job of saying everything is gravy

I do a lot of thinking and my thoughts are driving me crazy

I've been thinking someone's there to replace me

To occupy your mind while I cause trouble on a daily

Weeks pass by

now it's over and you hate me

.....

To be continued

-Donkorfuad

I hate it when people think suffering is wrong. Learn to pick up your **** suffering, and bear it! Try to be a good person so you don't make it worse! I know you have a lot of reasons to be resentful about school, heck, even your existence! We know it's going to involve a lot of pain, and lots of it is going to be unfair! But acting out everything you're complaining about will only make things infinitely worse, try it. That's why we have the saying that hell is a bottomless pit, because some stupid ******* could figure out a way to make it a lot worse. Learn to accept it! This is what the real world looks like, full of suffering. What can you do about it? Try reducing it! Start with yourself! Get your **** together solidly so that people can rely on you! Square up with what's wrong with you, you know it if you'll admit it. You know that there are a few things you can polish up a bit, deal with it and maybe you can start managing your present insufficient condition. Don't be a **** victim. Shine yourself up a bit so your eyes will be a little bit more open, shine it some more and maybe you might be able to bring your family together instead of having to be that spiteful, neurotic room mate that you're doomed to spend the whole semester with. Be humble about your deficiencies. Figure out how you can make peace with your siblings. You'll get there somehow, and when your life starts functioning you'll find out, "Well, that kind of relieved a little bit of suffering," at least that reduced the opportunities for spiteful revenge. When you little by little start to get your **** together, you'll get acquainted with it because you're doing something difficult. You're wiser, so maybe you could point out a tentative finger out there beyond your family and try to change some little thing without wrecking it. We students are so conditioned to think that we can just fix anything, even something as complex as our society. Well, try to fix a military helicopter and see how far you get with it. You can't just whack it with a wrench and be like "Oh look, it's better!" NO! Life is complicated and to fix things are hard! We overcome suffering by being a better person, that's how you do it! It's hard because it takes responsibility. If you want a meaningful life everything you do matters! Unless you don't want meaning and not take responsibility, because who the **** cares? You can wander through life doing whatever your want! Gratifying your short term impulses for who knows how short it's going to be. Ask yourself if you want to get stuck in meaninglessness, but no responsibility. You'd quickly realize how the majority of your being are pursuing meaningless things. Because the fact is, pursuing meaningful things means taking on suffering. You have to put yourself together in the face of that, and that's hard! When you really get to the bottom of things, you'll realize that you need to make the choice to put yourself together. Transcend your suffering and see if you can be some kind of hero. Be that person who'll make the suffering in the world less. That's the way forward.

Ramble on I do
with visions I have of you,
pink pussycats,
a falling star,
itchy palms,
the balm of this or that,
Casablanca,
Philadelphia freedom,
the Red, White, and Blue,
******* you to the wall,
egg rolls,
soul-stealers,
planting seeds,
the madness of Jack,
quack quack quack,
****** body parts,
kissing Detroit,
drunk on sunshine,
mountain zephyrs,
pixie-talk,
Kingdom come,
down dogs,
London fog
Vegas folly,
dead roses,
sweet sensations,
hurt,
pain,
pop tarts,
warm velvet,
porcelain orbs,
whack whack whack
universal soldier
lover.

Thorns in the hearts of millions and fear in the minds of billions.

Heard across the whispers of machines, spoken to the minds of onlookers.

Entrances carved into the souls of children by myriad opinions.

Young ones engraved with a memory, reared to despise terror as one would hookers.

Advance the agenda. Propaganda distributed; phones, theaters, televisions alight.

Losing our souls to the terror, we huddle in our whining and dining rooms.

Lips loose and battering what we don't understand, they're the terrors! Don't you understand?

Destitute is reason in the fanatics worlds away, yet in our very homes.

Encouraged to make poor our own empathy, as we seek them out.

Solace lost on our tongues we devour them, mercy removed from our bones.

Everyone knows we have to get them first, right? Right. There's no other route.

Right is confused with fear. They've made us just like them. Just like them.

Vie for change! Do it all you want, but you can't change them, not with sinful might...

Entrance them with modernity, educate them, sequester them, it's a farce, a problem.

Aren't we the beasts? Shooting missiles from a, "Wicked City," televisions alight.

Grand mess we've made, hypocrisy ten miles high, sin ten miles deep.

Right. Where were we? Who shot last? Compare past to past, continue the fight.

Already we're planning, where to strike next? Whack the hive, make 'em weep.

Vanishing like shadows in all-encompassing light the terrors disappear.

"'Enraging us again,' coming soon!" the sequel should be good next year.

After all angles have been unraveled, after all was done and said, I still find myself baffled. What people have died and bleed for, the world is changing, that is something no one can ignore. After all we are all about adapting and making life better; don't be nervous or scared, just continue on being a go-getter. Nothing wrong with that, in fact I agree, but the degree of society today in my opinion is still whack. There is still death, racism and unequal pay, but try your best and keep pretending everything is ok. Technology seems to evolve faster than our dismantled mindsets, entitled idolatry confounding in misogynistic hearts; I think humans need a reset. But we let it persist, and for those men that beat women you need to cease and desist. If you beat a woman to me your not even a man, your just an animal that needs to be put down for your stricken by a bad omen. Oh man, oh lord, don't care if a struck a cord, for I can't afford to be anything more than a sword. Cutting through red tape, not all heroes wear capes, one day I hope we never again have to deal with abuse stories or ****.

Maybe I'm a little scared,
to really open up.
Maybe I just feel as if,
I'll never be good enough.

Maybe, baby, I miss you,
and I really want you back.
Maybe you make it all right,
when everything's out of whack.

Maybe I'm scared to fall,
into a new love.
Maybe I just want you back,
to pick me up above.

My life is falling into shreds,
and I just need you here.
To hold me tight hug me close,
and whisper in my ear.

I don't think you understand,
the tears that I have cried.
The nights spent laying in bed,
wishing you were mine.

I'm crying, I'm lonely,
will you please help me?
Come here and hold me,
tell me you love me.

All those feelings,
they didn't just leave.
Where are they in you?
where could they be ...

I miss you,
I miss being by your side.
I just want you back,
I want you to be mine.

“Even the streets leading up to its outer barriers were roamed by gorilla-faced guards in black uniforms, armed with jointed truncheons.”
                                                    ­ George Orwell, 1984* (published in 1949)

Which brings us, of course, to the subject of torture since 1949.
Come with me to the Casbah, Babaloo.
We begin in the 1950s with the French in North Africa,
****** baguettes in Algeria,
Couilles frits, anyone?
Electrodes wired to Mustapha’s *****.
And "Bigeard's Shrimps,” as the bodies were called,
Dumped over the Mediterranean from aircraft,
All things considered a je ne sais quoi,
Though Camus and Sartre gave it a whack.

Then the 1960s: the CIA dabbling in mind-control and LSD.
Later, a Phoenix Program,
Very secretive, sympathies with the Cong required,
Various elders selected,
The village disinfected,
**, **, ** and a bowl of Pho.

Apartheid anyone?
Thirty years of South African terror & torture.
Torment in the townships,
Shaka Zulu gold and diamonds,
De Beers in Swaziland swing.

1971: riots at Attica,
Prisoners abused and tortured,
Rockefeller’s overcrowded slammer,
An upstate New York katzenjammer,
Nelson’s finger on the trigger,
39 dead and counting,
But who’s counting?

The CIA, back in the news in 1973,
Torture chambers under Chilean soccer stadiums,
And the Khmer Rouge:
Those Wacky Cambodians with skull racks.  
And let us not forget the British,
With centuries of colonial experience behind them,
Occupy six counties in Northern Ireland.
Finally codify the imperial process,
The Five Techniques:
Sounds like a Motown group,
Satin smooth colored boys,
But more method than music:
(1) Wall-standing,
(2) Hooding,
(3) Subjection to noise,
(4) Sleep deprivation,
(5) No food and drink.

And there’s a bunch of horrible ****,
We still don’t know about the Argentine ***** War,
And other Mai Lai-like,
****-fest massacres in Vietnam.

How about torture since 1984?
Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo,
Come quickly,
(www.prematureejaculatorsanonymous.com)
To mind,
As do US-sponsored rendition facilities,
Spread throughout the NATO alliance.
And closer to home, it’s never a dull moment in the 5 Boroughs:
Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, The Bronx and Manhattan.
Take your pick from Giuliani’s Greatest Hits,
Rudy Kazootie’s campaign of law and order,
Not necessarily in that order.
More awful than lawful,
A bathroom plunger rammed up,
The Haitian voodoo ****** of Abner Louima,
While he be handcuffed at a Brooklyn station house.
Or, the NYPD partying like it was 1999.
When in fact, it was1999,
And a curious death it was for Amadou Diallo,
Would-be American citizen from The Republic of Guinea,
(No connection to Italy or Italians),
Abner & Amadou: a pair of cautionary tales,
Either/or reflecting standard procedure for the Po-Po,
Time and time again from coast to coast.
Either/or: poor Abner, no Haitian Papa Doc.
Poor Amadou, on his way home from night school,
When police squeeze off 41 rounds,
Most of them in his direction,
Hitting him 19 times.
Just the facts, ma’am:
Diallo had reached into his jacket.
A trigger-happy police officer yells “Gun.”
A jungle warfare quartet springs into action:
Shenzi, Banzai, Ed & Zazu,
Four equally trigger-happy colleagues,
Empty their weapons.
No gun was found on Diallo,
Only the wallet he tried to pull out,
Containing his Green Card,
4 U.S. dollar bills;
And a laminated,
Credit card-sized copy of the U.S. Bill of Rights.
(I just didn’t know when to quit, did I?
The wallet was there with Green Card and the bucks,
But I made up the part about the Bill of Rights,
Trying to add poetry to tragedy, as usual.)

I don’t have to say much about Rodney King (RIP).
You watched it on TV a hundred times,
And a picture’s worth a thousand words.
Or ten thousand or a million, I suppose.
“Can’t we all just get along?” asked Rodney Glen King.

Last but not least there’s Kelly Thomas (RIP),
Another incidence of police insanity,
It was July of 2011 in Fullerton, California.
Thomas, a 37-year-old homeless man,
Schizophrenic, but unarmed,
Beaten to death at a bus depot,
During an altercation with six Fullerton police officers.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2019225/Kelly-Thomas-Poli­­ce-beat-taser-gentle-mentally-ill-homeless-man­-death.html#ixzz1e­3­4QnHtr

Mervyn Lazarus | Attorney | (www.mervlazarus.com) Police Brutality, Excessive Force and Jail Injury cases | California . . . Albuquerque

Jackie Chiles perfect attorney -YouTube, (www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpcEietIoxk) Nov 17, 2010 - 13 min - Uploaded by Kroeger22 All the scenes with Jackie Chiles from Seinfeld."Chiles is a parody of famed attorney Johnnie Cochran; both ... www.seinfeld.com

Perhaps the greatest torture of all,
Is that which artists subject us to.
Let us examine the case of Roberto Bolaño:
Roberto Bolaño, the great Chilean writer,
Tells a fabulous World War II story,
About a Spaniard--an Andalusian--
Fighting for the Germans against the Russians.
Captured by the Russians,
He is tortured for information.
The Spaniard speaks no Russian,
He knows only four words of German.
The Russian interrogators strap him into a chair,
Attach electrodes to his *****,
Attach pincers to his tongue.
The pain makes his eyes water.
He said--or rather shouts--the word coño.
It is Spanish for ****.
The pincers in his mouth,
Distort the expletive,
Which in his howling voice comes out as KUNST.
The Russian who knows German looks at him in puzzlement.
The Andalusian was yelling KUNST,
Yelling KUNST and crying in pain.
KUNST in German means art,
And that was what the bilingual Russian heard, KUNST.
“This ******* must be an artist or something.”
The torturers remove the pincers,
Along with a little piece of tongue,
And wait, momentarily hypnotized by the revelation:
The word ART had soothed the savage beasts.
So soothed, the savage beasts take a breather,
Waiting for some kind of signal.
Meanwhile, the Andalusian bleeds from the mouth,
Swallows his blood liberally mixed with saliva, and chokes.
The word coño,
Transformed into the word *KUNST,
Had saved his life.
It was dusk when he came out of the building.
Light stabbed at his eyes like midday sun.

So, it’s a fact that I love,
Truly love the simple blunt Anglo-Saxon expletive ****,
****: I pray that while I am being tortured some day,
I have the dignity to scream the word out loud.
And if I am screaming **** at the very end,
When my nervous system finally fails,
When I **** my pants,
When my pulmonic heart and lungs collapse,
Is that so bad?
Is that so wrong?

Do you realize that 1984 came--
Came and went, without any significant cultural hoopla?
The networks ignored it.
As did the cable pundits.
No significant comparative analysis between,
Orwell’s book 1984 and the year 1984,
Was broadcast electronically or publicized in print.
Steve Jobs got it, but as usual no one else did.
Mr. Jobs (RIP) did his best,
To mainstream its profound cultural relevance,
But ultimately failed,
Despite the $1.5 million he paid one of the networks,
To air a one minute nation-wide commercial,
During the 3rd Quarter,
Of Super Bowl XVIII,
January 22, 1984.
Despite Ridley Scott’s astonishing spell-binder,
His 60-second spot for The Macintosh 128K--
Still considered a watershed event,
And an advertising industry masterpiece,
…YouTube it and watch it.  (www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8ji0B98IMo).
See the hammer throwing athlete chick,
See her fling the sledge,
That huge sledgehammer,
Smash into Big Brother’s flat screen face.
Despite Jobs’ global presence,
Despite Steverino’s unfettered microphone access,
Whenever he felt an oraculation coming on,
Despite everything,
He was unable to move the powers that be,
To either hype the book or the prophecy come true.

So, what’s my point? I have two.
First, in April 1984 the estate of George Orwell,
And the television rights holder to the novel 1984,
Considered the edgy Jobs/Scott commercial to be,
A flagrant copyright infringement,
Sending a cease-and-desist letter to Apple Inc.
And the advertising agency that produced the spot: Chiat/Day Inc.
The commercial was never televised as a commercial after that.  
Score: Lawyers 1, Artists 0.

My second point is that in November 2011,
The U.S. government argued before the U. S. Supreme Court,
That it wants to continue utilizing GPS tracking of individuals,
Without first seeking a warrant.
In response, Justice Stephen Breyer (one of the sane ones),
Questioned what this means for a democratic society.
Referencing Nineteen Eighty-Four, Justice Breyer asked:
"If you win this case, then there is nothing,
To prevent the police or the government from monitoring 24/7,
The public movement of every citizen of the United States.
So if you win, you suddenly produce what sounds like 1984 . . .”*

My third point,
(Yeah, I know I said two, but *******.)
My third point is that I’m just so ******* angry,
All the time, late and soon like Wordsworth,
(Was anyone more aptly named?)
I am angry about so many different things,
And every day that goes by I relate more and more,
To the thousands of Americans that occupied,
Zuccotti Park and Oakland,
And countless other venues,
Out into the streets.
Across the country.
Around the world.  
I am humbled by their courage and perseverance.
Yet, I am afraid for them.
I am made paranoid by the scope and power,
Of the government,
Of the ruling class that controls it,
And the technology they allow us to embrace,
Technology’s sinister potential,
Now that more and more knowledge and information,
Has been digitized,
Existing only in cyberspace.                                                      ­                                                 
What frightens most is the realization,
That anyone with a word processor,
And access to the database could rewrite,
Any historical or legal document,
To fit the needs of a current agenda.
The scary part is—
Repeating myself for emphasis—
That anyone with a word processor
And access to the database could rewrite,
Any historical or legal document,
To fit the needs of a current agenda.

Does anyone out there give a ****?
Does anyone out there share my nightmare?
Do it to Julia.
Do it to Julia.

Haven't freestyled in a while
since my name was Kyle
1 out of 10 in the room I'd revile
but I got the world swoon over this goon style
9 out of 10 be jealous of the attention
I be getting how fast these legs run a mile
**** it give me 500 miles
and I would rush 500 more
just to kick in the door
Of whack rappers, hit the floor
That's the D-E-C-K I pray to start my day
not doing this for pay just to play and say
what I need to say the state of the States
Got me in dismay as they pave way
For old goose stepping ways
Like **** learn history
About ****** and his story
Of the rise to glory of the Fascist party
and the deaths of Jewish minorities
That they had as priority
Along with any other minority
that wasn't white skinned with ***** grin
or Aryan origin on that topic it's La Fin
because South Park had them Laughing
and sanding me in wood shop
So going to that school had to stop
so I dropped out by expulsion
which fueled the propulsion
Out of my mom's place
At sixteen I started to chase
independence
'Cause that's all that made sense
I couldn't live on cents had to make dollars
Dreamed of being a baller shot caller
Show poster on the wall sir
But my crafts had to be refined before
I could start my spiritual war
Let my mind soar like a kite
In the white clouds past nine
Turned the phaser to eleven
As shrooms shot me a glimpse of heaven started making bread sans leaven
sick of toaster leave-ins knead the flour
need the flower extra sour
though diesel to ease all the pain
And refrain my brain
From seizing and freezing
The mainframe of my nervous membrane
I swear I'm not insane
but it would take me days to explain
The pain that had me nearly slain
so ride my thought train
'Cause I hate planes & listen to the refrain
you feel this profane pyre burn hotter than
blue flames from the butane or propane
Not real champagne lest it be made in France mane
where they sniff the Caine more than oxygen
I am the Champion.

Time to stop judging
Best to confess
Hiding behind your SOS
Feelings of others you ignore
Drama and chaos you adore
With your moralistic writes
Acerbic word fights
Sarcastic bites...
Why can't you be nice?

Instead, you play the part fully
As the intellectual bully
Disregarding the tears
Throwing misspelled word spears
Wielding grammar hammers
Pouncing when someone stammers
Hey, Bro! Don't you even know
What time it is?

Time to stop judging
Best to confess
Hiding behind your SOS
Feelings of others you ignore
Drama and chaos you adore
With your moralistic writes
Acerbic word fights
Sarcastic bites...
Why can't you be nice?

You say you're a godly player
But you're really a Sibboleth slayer,
An ill will conveyor,
Grand total naysayer,
Once you went away but then came back
Unbelievable, you're even more whack!
Hey, Bro! Don't you really know
What time it is?

Time to stop judging
Best to confess
Hiding behind your SOS
Feelings of others you ignore
Drama and chaos you adore
With your moralistic writes
Acerbic word fights
Sarcastic bites...
Why can't you be nice?

TONEY OUT - BOOM!

lifeguards, free life vests, at least 15 lifeguards, always holding red flotation devices
always on the watch, telling little children to get out of the deep end
to give a rest break, a child looked faint, one guard approached, nothing
forever on the watch, no one gets hurt, required swim breaks,
guarding, guarding, keeping everyone so safe
I wondered how anyone could even cough water down the wrong pipe
here in this fully, totally, completely covered and safe lake and beach

waiting for an outdoor rinse, the screams of terror of a small child and tears
and then whack, whack, whack, and the crying increased and it took me
awhile to adjust, to reframe, that this, a deliberate endangerment, an infliction
of pain, could happen here, in a place so absolutely and intensely safe
but there is was again, the sound of striking and crying and harsh words in Spanish
and I gazed at the lifguards wetting down the sand where they had to walk to cool it
a lifeguard with that perfect surfer boy look, like the ones I grew up with
but again, the striking sound, in the relative darkness of the men's room
and a man followed by a tearful toddler emerged
the man looked like he's just performed a self satisfying act and the boy
followed him like a dog and I realize that
we as children are dogs, little animals who are abused
and follow our attackers home and live with them in order to survive
the man carried no obvious weapon, but I knew what he'd done
to be that two year old child, unable to soothe oneself, in a dark, strange room
with a man towering over him, inflicting pain for some trifle
I wondered what to do, but they walked by and dissapeared into the crowds of
picnics and music and the safe beach, with the lifeguards standing, always holding
their red flotation devices, all eyes staring at the water, the beach
it now did not look so safe at all

Evil Tales

So you think, you know who I am,
I killed Mary, and ate her little lamb.
I killed Goldilocks and ate the three bears,
then dumped the porridge down the stairs.
I pushed Humpty Dumpty off that wall,
I'm the reason for his great fall.
I'm the one who killed Bambi's mother,
that deer tasted like no other.
I put the poison in Snow White's apple,
the blood from the seven dwarfs,
I put in every red Snapple.
I chopped off all of Rapunzel's hair,
yes I know that wasn't fair.
I'm the father of Cinderella's step sisters,
after midnight I gave her some cold sore blisters.
I put Sleeping Beauty fast asleep,
then ran her over in my new Jeep.
Georgie Porgie kissed the girls and made them cry,
that is the reason, he had to die.
Little Miss Muffet ate her curds and whey,
it was my spider who had a Muffet buffet.
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
I pushed Jack down and gave Jill a thrill.
Little Red Riding Hood went to Grandma's house,
then the big bad Allen pulled up her red blouse.
The Three Little Pigs never had a chance,
I huffed and puffed and ate pork til I **** my pants.
This old man, he played one,
knick, knack, paddy whack,
then my dog ate his thumb,
There was an Old Woman who lived in a shoe,
then one day, I filled it with crazy glue.
I killed Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy,
inside my head is very, very scary.

Delicacy in its purest form
Might have cried a tear tonight
Torn a chipper down foreworn
Tickled pink in fright

She wants to ****
To die in black
Not so simple anymore
She’s aches and whack

Can she feel the naught?
Cultural worthlessness
She is an endearment
They’ll **** her if she’s anything more

Baby

What must it have been like thirty-four years ago
For my parents, still with three months to go?
Weddings and funerals days before they had attended
Now one life begins just after another ended.

Nine months the calendar says we must wait
But not for my arrival; just couldn’t risk being late
July was the due date, not any time before
But I arrived instead in April, month number four.

Thinking back on it now, I must quickly pause
And ask what kind of commotion did I cause?
The first cries from my mouth, the first glimpse at my head
What were they thinking about where life had led?

A priest baptized me quickly as a child of the Lord
I gradually improved, and then their spirits soared
Months later I would come to my first and only home
But unlike most children I did not begin to roam

Both said I used my energy to speak
It was almost like I knew my body was too weak
I would give anything to spare them the pain and shock
Of being told by doctors I would never truly walk.

I don’t know for a fact but I’m guessing my dad
Took this news to heart quickly and got really mad
After all, this man wanted to make others feel better
And now his own son was sick?  Here come the four letters

Or was their no sadness between them?  No anger? No pain?
Just a quiet resolve to let normalcy reign?
I suppose in some way they had no choice to make
Just do the best job they could and accept any mistakes.

This may seem strange, but I truly want to know
After being told this, where did they think my life would go?
How did this change their plans for me?
What did they think?  What could I be?

Don’t mistake this for pity; I’m not feeling sad
My childhood was awesome; the best I could have had
A brother and sister who helped, played, teased and fought
Would I change anything, you may ask?  Absolutely not!

Parents who encouraged me to learn, grow, and love life
Never hiding that all of us would one day face strife.
I was never promised anything would be simple or done with ease
But lately I just want to shout “Can I catch a break please?”

Don’t misunderstand, I’m not here to place blame
We all have parts to play in life’s little game.
But sometimes it feels like the wheels have gone off the track
And I’m looking for ways to get the balance back

People often say with a grimace or a frown
That life goes by too fast, and they wish time would slow down.
That is not my main complaint, but if I had to take a crack
It would be that I feel just about a decade out of whack.

Up through high school was pretty much an active blur
Football games, pools, proms, I never really felt unsure
My 16th year passed without trips to Driver’s Ed
But I never really cared because I knew what lay ahead

Graduating HS and then leaving town
Heading to college away from parents?  Nothing could bring me down
That summer and the next four years simply couldn’t be beat
At that point, it seemed like the world was at my feet.

My time at college would change me at my core
Hangovers?  Drug-addled roomies?  Never had those before
I wasn’t totally naïve; I knew all three existed
But voluntarily choosing them just seemed to make things twisted.

Yup, I was a goody-goody; though not quite like the Pope
But whenever things went off script it was hard enough to cope
Like telling a mom her son was kicked out after she asked me
Or when he said, “If the cops come don’t worry; I crashed into a tree.”

I didn’t mind these changes; though many thought I should
If they didn’t serve as a reality check, what else ever would?
Old friends left and new ones were made
Some memories are gone now, but so many have stayed

My first prom date in high school soon went away
Freshman year of college, right before Valentine’s Day
Soon after, a new girlfriend came along for a stint
At that point, I saw what craziness meant.

It wasn’t her fault; that’s not what I meant
We had good times; including a traveling version of RENT
But there was no real spark between us; just one of those things
Very quickly she learned how to pull my strings

Those two people??  Yup, they’re it
Keeps running through my mind
Yet I still believe there is someone
Out there for me to find.

I’ve been out with women since and felt more than a tingle
It’s just that none of them have ever been single
Married, engaged, friendzoned, or my decision
It feels like I’m out on an undercover mission

Online dating pops up in my head
Don’t have the guts to see where that would have lead
Please don’t read this and start to feel sad
It is not intended as a personal ad

I’m bringing it up because all too often
People with disabilities falling in love is all but forgotten
Every time the subject comes out of my mouth
People run for the hills or start heading south

Even friends and family who go back a long way
Often stay silent with nothing to say
Kept waiting for that much hyped talk about safety, women, and manhood
But no one  ever said a word, and I’m not sure they ever could.

I’m not an idiot of course, I know how it goes
Have fun, be respectful and safe, put bros before **’s
These days, I will stop and think   Do people even care?  
Or simply feel like it’s impossible because of the chair?

That’s the million dollar question with an answer unsaid
I don’t regret a single minute of where my life has led
My five nieces and nephews bring more joy than I’ve ever had
But eventually someday, I want to be a dad

Whenever that thought gets some space in my head
I always try and visualize five plus years ahead.
Many logistical questions abound
Could I chase him or her?  Change a diaper?  Pick them up and carry them around?

Be a good teacher of what they should know?
Compassion and hope no matter where time may go?
Give them all of the best things in life?
Without adding a burden to any future wife?

Don’t get ******; I’m not cursing the chair
Or saying that it has become too much for me to bear
It’s my legs, my freedom, and my travel; hope that doesn’t sound cheesy
But I also understand why it may make others uneasy

I don’t drive on my own, can’t dress or shower without an aide
So people don’t worry much about me getting laid
Totally understandable, no problem there
My issue comes when others think I don’t WANT these things or care.

I’ve heard “You drink??” in surprise and “Hey man, you must have pills”
Not screaming back takes all of my will.
“I won’t hurt you; will I?; “Do you smoke **** for the pain?”
Comments like these just drive me insane.

Not all of them are meant with spite
I can tell the difference and am usually right
But it must be out in the open and said without care
That people with disabilities should do whatever they can dare

It’s not always easy; that’s why I started this rhyme
Unexpected obstacles and problems can eat away at our time
But always keep people around who will let you dream
Celebrate your successes, and be there when you need to scream

They may not be the ones you thought or who you knew the longest
But you don’t need physical power to be among the strongest
Even if it takes more time than first thought
Never let anyone say that you should not have fought

Go to concerts, casinos, see the B’s, C’s, Pats, or Sox
Resist when anyone tries to put you in a box
Always give and expect 100 percent; never settle for half
And I guarantee no matter what, you will have the last laugh

To those who may know me,  thanks for being there
In ways big and small, you’ve all shown that you care.
It’s good to get this out with no apology
My next step isn’t clear yet, but no one will stop me!

Ha ha! Here I am again
It's raining it's pouring
The criticism is soaring
******* I said just went and read
And could figure out why it was boring

This old mam she played ham
She played knock knack with my spam
With a sick sack fatty whack give a
Hog a pen this old mam came
Crowing poems

All around the burning bush
The donkey chased the ******;
The donkey thought 'twas all in good sport
Pop! goes the ******.

Hey ****** ****** a kiss and a fiddle
The cow entered the room
The little troll laughed to see
Such runs as the cheater ran away with a zoom!

Little miss stuffit sat on her muffin
eating her cares away along came a writer
Who sat down beside her and frightened mis stuff it away.

LONDON IS DOWN THERE
IS ANOTHER HORRIFIC ATTACK
THE TERRORIST'S AND WOLVES
TRIED TO GIVE US A WHACK


BUT LONDON HAS INCREDIBLE STRENGTH
AND A PURE HEART AND SOUL
MANY INNOCENT LIVES WERE LOST
AND THE WORLD AGAIN COUNTS THE TOLL


THIS NEW TYPE OF VENGEANCE
WILL NOT BREAK OUR RESOLVE
EVEN THOUGH THEY KEEP COMING
OUR DEMOCRACY WON'T DISSOLVE


I KEEP COMPOSING ABOUT
THESE MOST HORRIFIC EVENTS
WHICH ALWAYS BREAKS MY HEART


BUT THE TERRORIST'S MUST KNOW
THAT AS A STRONG AND LOVING MANKIND
IT WON'T TARE US APART

Oh yes,
Night terror, history:
The Orders of Guessing Hypothesie

Oven bubbling mutton
Ew, ew, ewe!
Nettlijg kethered kips
cym built

Figuring out the beating sounds
Against
Irony, Ann, me butte you plateau

Dactylic appraisals the young unable,
Kip Candy Whack
Fuzzy teg legs the lanolin glutton of mutton
The muted toot-toot of a train's  course of traction no left or right

Just go.
Just reverse.

Weighted out  fears for
Anxious rhymes with
Don't speak the heavy metal in the ending if he jungle. Danger plays to a child at play one day
Some pillows trying but something doesn't count.


Beautiful yours
Beautiful Hers

never fast again
eat and eat kirbojrrrrrrrr

Rich composition
Simple eyelids
Nictststensldnebt

I used to be a bright boy before the white noise,
disrupted my poise and ****** the joy
out from the world around me.
It’s astounding to see such a change.
No it’s strange but I found a way to get around the grey
but you’d probably say I’m deranged if I told you.
No I’m not scolding you I’m holding you to the acquisitions
you back with whack facts you extract from your fruitless
disposition. Act aloof but you and I both know it’s truthful
the only loophole here is feedback so don’t fear the relapse
and I won’t appear so relaxed to you.

I used to love the sound of white noise while I sat in bed.
I found it reminiscent to the voice in my head.
I counted sheep to the static;
the ratchet put me to a deep sleep.

I used to be a quiet boy before I found a slight noise
coming through the television.
I can’t tell you what it sounds like now
so you’ll just have to listen for yourself
Momma call the technician.
Something’s wrong with the transmission.
I no longer see a picture.
Momma fix it ‘cuz its pixelated.
Momma listen, I’d fix it myself if I had the proper tools
but school never taught me how to.
Wow look at what I amounted to
when you took the time of day to stay around
and watch what I’m doing when you could’ve found out
why I wasn’t viewing pleasure like I used to.

© Matthew Harlovic

A Joy to Behold

Holding a new born baby
Close in your warm strong arms
Baby food dripping down your shoulder
And the constant ringing of sleep alarms.
A joy to behold.
Walking the dog in the dead of night
It alerted you at two in the morning.
Waiting at bedroom door with lead
No fuss just a wet sloppy warning.
A joy to behold.
You just sit down with an evening meal
After a hard day’s work – the ‘phone rings
A sales talk on something you do not want
Slam the receiver down, and then say nice things.
A joy to behold.
Stuck in traffic when you are in a rush
All you want to do is get there and back.
You know something is going to happen
The chap behind you didn’t see you – whack!!!
A joy to behold.
You fetch your loved one from the supermarket
With a thousand bags for you to carry.
She has spent all your wages in a flash
And you wonder about the girl you did marry.
A joy to behold.
Watching your garden turn to weeds
After a heavy fall of the never ending rain.
Pulling them out with roots the size of parsnips
Your back aching, pulled a muscle once again.
A joy to behold. True a joy to behold.

Reaching over your shoulder,
A boulder is about to crack.

The giraffes, dinosaurs and pesky bores that glance
see you react.
It’s about language,
posture and poise

Presenting oneself like a broken toy,
One stepped on
broken and junk,
now its neck is whack thanks to that Chunk.

A paroxysm of coughing makes that Adam’s apple show
Somehow this perking out makes one dominant over a ‘poor girl’,
For some reason you think you’re a Hunk

Mystery how that fact of the Forbidden Fruit can paralyze your neck,
also sets back your assurance and confidence

in 2012 i experienced an incident with a rifle. my friend spinned it around and hit me in the face. the hit was hard enough to break my nose and make me fly backwards and land on the back of my head.
after that i started having seizures. cluster seizures which mean seizures back to back. they have to be stopped by iv or i can go into status epilepticus meaning continued or back to back seizures that can **** people. there have been several times where my heart has stopped or i stopped breathing from it. its hard to live with. soooo many pills, and doctors, specialists to help diagnose me. just about a month ago i was diagnosed with tbi (traumatic brain injury) before i was diagnosed i was so upset with everything. my health my relationship, my family problems. it just piled up so i decided to numb myself with drugs and alcohol. i no longer can do that because the last time i did i woke up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. i have right hemisphere disfunction and it effects my motor skills, speech, memory, decision making, confusion, and at this point the doctors say that my memory and confusion is dementia. sometimes i try to tell myself i don't need help, im fine, i don't need anyone, or that the doctors made a mistake. but they didn't and that was proven to me today when i saw my eeg, and mri.  i have built up white matter in my brain. and it only gets worse . i can never regain anything ive lost but i can learn how deal with it and move on from now. i can never be independent in the part of just living alone. i would like to marry the man of my dreams but i don't think i want to put him through all of this. he would have to take care of me when i get sick, and i get sick often due to my weak immune system. one hit in the face and my whole body went out of whack. we also recently discovered that i have a bundle branch block in my heart which means it is a condition in which there's a delay or obstruction along the pathway that electrical impulses travel to make your heart beat. i have a dog that can smell my auras which are mild seizures like warnings that a big one will come. but he can only do so much . squeeze under my head and bark for help.