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Geno Cattouse Mar 2014
Hey. I said I do to a sociopath.
No winey snivel.
No quibble.
No ****.

BPD= Borderline personality disorder.=sweet insanity.= submerged insecurity = indian giver = lifelong victim=child manipulator.
Slick as snot running below the radar.
Now.
Dropping pretty baggage
Finding perspective.
WOW.
Amazing what can reside in a mid sized cranium.
Disneyland in cog neat O.

Frued would have missed
This one.
CE Jun 2014
I sing my lonesome song
Calling for someone else who knows these words
I used to be in a choir of voices
Many like mine

Now?

A Lonely soloist
Acapella in my solitude
Far and wide these lyrics travel
No one ever completes my duet
But that won't stop me from trying

The ghosts that muted the songs of many try and mimic my melody

Hoping to entice me to them

they will cut me open and tear me apart

Ignoring my cries and pleads as they carry on their experiments

Vivisected

Stripped of all emotion

They will steal my voice

My breath

Use me as a slave before I am thrown away

Useless

They rendered many speechless

But not me

I'll not be fooled

Their webs stole everyone away

Why I'm alone is them

Those ghosts laugh

Awful voices

Winey

Nothing important to say

I'll swim through this vast sea

alone

For however long I need

Before I find that one

That completes my harmony
David Nelson Oct 2011
Grocery Store Blues

gotta get on down get me some milk and bread
maybe some relief for this pain in my head
getting banged in the cart by this old blind broad
and those winey little kids shows my patience is flawed

slipped on a banana in the produce isle
twisted my ankle and fell into a pile
of baking taters we're all rolling on the floor
this goofy assed clerk saying what you do that for

got them grocery store blues
got them grocery store blues
I hate going but Im out of meat
my pantry is empty and I gotta eat

need some pickles and mustard and toilet paper too
crap I broke my glasses so also need some glue
knocked over a bottle of Gin now there's broken glass
everyone looking at me thinking look at that ***

now where are the toothpicks they're not on the chart
geez what's that smell did somebody ****
they're out of my smokes my favorite brand
like to give the check out dude the back of my hand

got them grocery store blues
got them grocery store blues
it's such a big hassle but what can I say
can't live on Big Macs every single day

Gomer LePoet ....
little daddy waddy

******* his thumb

just like a stuck up little brat

i am a man, ya know, run of the mill

though i am penniless, but

that doesn’t stop me from being talented

but dad teased me like a stuck up little brat

is what he looks like to me

yeah, he helped me

but i wasn’t his cool kid, back then

what is wrong with me

to him, i was trying to be a cool kid

dad, to me was a nerd

cause he probably only liked together people

i tried to gain his respect

but i learnt together means theory for *****

i am never going to grow up for dad, but he isn’t around anymore

i am a real real man and dad was like a little baby wa wa wa wa wa

i liked pat in my head, because i didn’t want to pick fights with dad

i was visioning dad as a perfect little gentlemen, what’s wrong with that

i probably hear laughing at my mental health TV station idea, what is wrong with that

that’ll be fun for the poor and suffering to have a mental health TV station

mentally ill people love entertaining

i hate voices in my head saying to rob my stuff

i was a little young dude, who isn’t too woosey for life

who’s a little young dude, who isn’t too woosey for life

brian’s a little young dude, who isn’t too woosey for life

ha ha ha, i hear voices of old mates protecting me

they look like geeks who are trying to be like little homely kids

dad never understood that i was trying to be nice

he didn’t understand i liked partying at shopping centres

i wanted to be a real hotshot cool kid, to all the party young dudes, i liked that

i chucked a tantrum because dad wanted me to be with disability workers, i wanted more

ya know mucking around in groups with them, yeah they are nice

but i am an independent artist and writer aqnd youtube entertainer

mind you carers are helping me be an independent artist and writer

i was having delusions that my mates pat and lyle were treating me like a little cool kid, they ain’t my daddy’s though

dad was, i never got on with him, i wish i did

dad tried to say, your one of the young dudes, treating me like him and mummy, i hated that, but i tolerate that now

i heard old mates saying, leave the more big bad brainy winey, your not like us, NEVER

when i committed that awful act on an 11 year old boy, i heard my mate pat say in my head

you are not ever going to be treated like one of US  young dudes ever again

the voices say to me, i am a cool kid to the young dudes, but i ain’t better though

then the voices say, ***** are better, i told the voices, i am not a criminal, i am not a pheadphile

i am party loving, poetry loving cool man, dude

the voices can say **** till they are blue in the face, i ain’t getting worried, but the voices are annoying me all day, I HATE THAT

i tried to be a little cool kid playing cool for people going to bed, and dad said, uhhhh! get away from me, kid

dad was a man, and now he’s little betty campbell, see ya betty from cool man brian

you see dad up there in NIRVANA, i am the only disabled person in our close knit family

and you are being forgotten too, in a way, in the cool way, dad did say, he doesn’t wanna be cool

well, this affects betty’s mojo
softcomponent May 2014
there is a stretching vein in the
minutes of my life, shaved and
unsaved with every drag from a
cigarette, line of *******, or sip of
winey-alcohol. there is a moment
left unseen and soon severed, 20 /
40 / 60 / 80 years down the road.

I don't mind-- I've got the lungs of
an angel, long run, beast on the skivvy.
I've    got a mind like a bottle of sand,
scratch-scratch, lest we get the questions
in the little book you didn't mean to purchase
back before you knew your fifth grade teacher
could make kids as real as you

c'est la vie / & creeks would run the
blood like broken-facet-dream-containers

-- so you kept on waking up, j'st screaming
at the void
Poor little old me
Can't anyone see
That I am unique
And differently
If I only had a glass
Filled it up with wine
I would be a winey ***
****** up in my own mind
It ain't politically correct
To think more of one self
But I do it all the time
Not very humble
I say ***** being humble
I'm just trying to live life
If that means I'm not asking
You for help then don't get mad
I've taken hard knocks to
Learn that I'm just bad
I've buried my emotions
Deep down in my soul
Not to let you see all the commotion
And to think you know me
Is hard to believe
I'm just ******* human
Can't anyone see
...that...
Human
Not unique
To think beyond that point
Is beyond me
I bleed
Smoked a joint or two
Drank to oblivion
On more than one occasion
And now you want to control
My life
I don't ******* think so
I've made many mistakes
I'll make many more
But the one mistake I won't make
Is to give you reign over me
broken notes
shiver in shame,
for once they sprung
gloriously, young,
too hard to match.
red winey textures
now black in dust,
run in short,
panting breaths.

i've run too far,
too far from home;
now, i have no song.
KorbydAngyle Jan 2021
[note cuit can be acronym for coded user interface test or
a supposedly obsolete term for new wine boiled down]

I can Re- void
I emotions Run
Thorium arrives into the Re-murked
Subsisting dealt blazes Fortunes
Spells words announced Delusions
Baffled alights Under
Summons Cuit
Children
As you sit on bananas everywhere
A manticore kills your **** it *** face/ life
The arrival of the mystic soups 5 super spicy what else?
King jerold there's too much saint francaise this ****** *****
Yeah you're maybe a winey oven of fakeysz
Jailed money with a walkie talkie
Alphabet scores 2 more than antebellum
I can Re-void
Whiney delusional hate children will **** again.....

[look sorry i know this is pretty strange but when
i read it frankly it cracks me up]
Distant memories of summers past
dancing with the vibrancy of youth
love and romance;
The scent of your aftershave
still lingers in my thoughts
wafting, like little sweet forget me knots...
Butterfly kisses beneath the father tree
mulched in winey lips of dew
I whispered "I Love You"
you murmured,
"I Love You Too"

— The End —