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Jeff Gaines Feb 2019
And now, their desperation and panic sink to an all-new low. They actually begin an attack on my sexuality, my familial relations and even my ability to have an ****** ...

  An ******?

  When you stop laughing, take into consideration that they are also regressing throughout all of this because this dysfunction that they suffer from is deeply rooted in their youth. Thus all the silly name calling and accusations that they could not possibly be able to know or prove and yet they state them as fact, like a child. I.E: A child calling out: "Your mama is a *****". Now those words come flying out from a frightened child when they really have no idea whatsoever about this target's mother. It is just an attempt to hurt. Nothing more.

But in this next bit, you can really see this desperation and panicked choice of subjects to try and use "against me", as-it-were. They don't know what else to do. Their ego is on autopilot, telling their fingers what to type ... and their ego is regressing back to childhood. Thus the childish subject matter.


(Name Deleted) Jeff the TROLL..
Has never and will never reach ****** ****** with either female or male partners.

Has never had a stable and fulfilling love life.
Will NOT and can NOT never ever love anyone UNCONDITIONALLY.
Has never been loved UNCONDITIONALLY by anyone male or female.
Has always been consumed unto bitter and fierce hatred of anyone who has!!.
A deep and bitter jealousy leading to violent hatred consume this TROLL.
Get back under your bridge Jeff.
Any replies from you in future will be deleted unread-even your long overdue apology.
AUM

 0 
 1 reply 
15h

Jeff Gaines  SOOOO MUCH FUN!

Ok, (Name Deleted) ... THAT was your most humorous YET!

Your actions are truly textbook of a person with your deep psychological issues. So ... if you will not read any more of my responses to YOUR trolling, then I needn't worry about you then sending a new volley to this one ... Hum? Good, I'm glad. This is truly getting boring. It's not too challenging to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person ... and a predictable one as well.

Sadly, we both know that your silly, over-inflated ego will NEVER allow you to NOT read something written about you. And you not responding would be a cover for your pathetic attempt to have the last word. (Again, we both know THAT won't happen)

Funnier still, you call me a troll, then go to one of my pieces and begin yet another troll campaign on the same day that you claim to not read any more of my responses.

So, you are trying to say ... "I will continue to troll/bully you, but I will read none of your responses, so I win". (hands on your hips, stomping your tiny foot on the floor, no doubt)

You say you are married? I pity this person ... your behavior is that of a post-pubescent, angry little boy with serious ego and self-esteem issues. Her life must be a living hell, as I would bet money that you are an overbearing control freak with an intense king-baby syndrome to boot. Of course, I could be completely wrong and it is SHE who wears the pants in your household and THAT is why you must come here to find some sense of "control" in your world. But that is all conjecture that I do not wish to even BEGIN to address.

Your need to appear like some type of "guru" or all-knowing person who is better than everyone else is deeply seated, so I think it started very early in your life.

As I've said ... 'TEXTBOOK".

So textbook in fact, that I have decided to make this entire exchange into a piece about trolls/bullies and bullying. But don't worry about that ... I will leave it up long enough for you to read it, leave one of your hysterical troll responses to further prove my observations ... and I will have had the last word.

Then, predictably, you will write something about me on your page, then block me so that I can't respond (thus making your poor, decimated ego feel like it had the last word), which will not only further prove my observations about you, but it will lead folks over to my page to read my piece about you.

It'll be fun!

Now, on to your latest huffing and puffing:

"troll"

Once again, you accuse me of something that YOU are guilty of.

Once again, you are crying about me doing something that YOU did first. (I can't stop laughing about this. Just like a bully to cry and whine when he himself is punched in the nose and doesn't receive the response that he is seeking when HE does the punching!)

*** - Kettle/Gander - Goose, little man.

I am only guilty of responding to your trolling ... which is my right. Because, as is well established, you began this little soiree when you called me an "Unreconstructed alcoholic with no personal sense of shame" in a comment about a piece I had written about a friend that had recently died! Sadly pathetic, indeed.

Then, as I've stood up to you, you have spiraled down, like a burning airplane, in your pathetic child-like name calling and such to the point where you did schoolyard (at best) name-calling ("Electronic ****"? I LOVED THAT ONE!) and attacked my race, my religion and political stances (I picture you, a terrified little schoolboy, trembling in a schoolyard, shouting these things as you wee your pants in fear).

Then. you actually threaten me with physical violence (punching me in the nose). Now ... when NONE of that ridiculous posturing and panic-stricken chest-beating has worked, you take a jab at my sexuality and interpersonal relationships?

You are the one with "No personal sense of shame" here. You are publicly getting more and more pathetic and your ego won't even let you see that! Your imaginary pedestal is way too high, (Name Deleted). The fall from there is really going to hurt you.

Attacking my sexuality, love life and relationships?

Really?

There are few straws left for you to grasp at, huh?

Again, having never met me, something you couldn't POSSIBLY make accurate conjectures about. ANYONE reading this would laugh, knowing where this is truly coming from.

My FAVORITE was the bit about me never achieving an ******! It took me SEVERAL minutes to stop laughing about that one.

How old are you (Name Deleted)? 12 ... 13, maybe?

No matter your actual birth age, these silly claims and insinuations are definitely NOT those of a grown-aged man. They are straight out of the playbook of an early teen. To make such an unfounded accusation is nearly disturbing on SO many levels.

Wow ... just ... "WOW".

You spew them from your imaginary ivory tower, the one that makes you believe that you are above everyone else, so they MUST be facts, right?

And in true (Name Deleted) form, you state them like facts to the public.

A public that can readily see that it is all coming from a wee little man, standing on an imaginary pedestal trying to convince the world that he is a "somebody". You should have taken my earlier advice and just closed your mouth. But it is all too late.

Deep nasal breaths (Name Deleted) ... DEEP nasal breaths.

I've no need to respond to this silly notion with tales of my ****** bravado or adventures, nor my past love life. That is none of your business and a true gentleman NEVER kisses and tells.

Besides, THAT is the action of schoolboys and men who are lacking in the "endowment" department ... as is attacking OTHER men about these issues.

I won't bring my family into this either. (Taking shots at my familial relationships (Name Deleted)? Hmmm, I wonder if this a Freudian confession of your own family issues. But I won't go there. It's a can of worms best left on the shelf, I should think. It does pose some possible explanations for your behavior and persona though, doesn't it?)

So ... I hope you stick to your word and "not read/delete" this so that I needn't respond again. But, (long sigh) I highly doubt that you will. Your life AND your behavior are CONTROLLED by your fully delusional ego.

Watch for my upcoming piece, which will feature this exchange for ALL of the world to see. It will be cut and pasted verbatim, and I will even add a few additional notes.

I'm going to use it to help educate others on how to recognize and handle egotistical, cowardly, wanna-be bullies such as yourself.

Please, allow me to at least thank you for writing all these responses and demonstrating in such a textbook fashion, how your type acts and reacts and even letting us see inside of you a bit, thus letting us see what makes you tick.

And most importantly ... THANKS for the laughs.



This last one is where we can see the bottom of their barrel. As predicted, they can NOT “not read/erase” something that is written about them. Their ego would NEVER allow this. They MUST read and respond because THEY must have the last word. So, we are back to schoolyard names like “**** wipe”, attacking my sexuality and chest beating by attempting to assert that I have somehow “FAILED”. (You see? They HAVE to win, so it is easier to just let them think that they did.) After this, they can only lash out with slurs against my Mother and such. I think I've made my point here.

And now you, dear Reader, will have seen nearly the complete downward spiral of a bully/hater/troll when you stand up to them. I thank them for their 'help” in making this new piece and then show that I am the better man and offer to let them have the last word. I've no idea what that will be, but if you would like to see it, just go to the piece titled “Message To A Friend” (Link in notes below), it will be there soon enough. Their desperation to be dominant is so readily apparent here, it is sad. As I said, they can't help it. Their ego is on autopilot because these issues are so deeply ingrained in their self.



(Name Deleted) To Jeff the TROLLISH LOSER.
WOW so many words just to prove you are a piece of white liberal **** wipe.
You must really hate life with your filthy mouth spewing out
non stop TROLL NONSENSE--as if its a Fight or a Battle to be fought with any stranger just to prove you are a MAN!!!.
WELL JEFF YOUVE FAILED.
YOU are not a MAN but you do have a Male Body.
Never will be a Man.
Always a sexless TROLL.
.
 0 
 1 reply 
13h

Jeff Gaines Well, (Name Deleted), I want to sincerely thank you for all of this. You don't realize it now, but you have helped me to compose something that will, in turn, help other people. It is very admirable. I/we have taken something awful and made it into something positive.

Balance in the universe doesn't get any better than that. Besides, from here, there's not much left but you making verbal attacks on my Mother and such. Even I won't let you reduce yourself to that.

I wish you well. I hope all of your dreams and wishes come true, and moreover, I hope you get the help you need to finally find peace. A peace that will let you stop trying to belittle others with your condescension and bullying demeanor. I truly hope that you can release the tortures that keep you with this agonizing persona. It must be horrible for you.

And again, THANK YOU!

Leave any message you wish after this so that you can sleep well, knowing that you had the last word. I know how important that is to you and your ego, so have it ... as a gift from me to you in appreciation for all of your help here. I promise ... I won't respond. It's all you, Dude. My job is done here.



This one, sent to me on a completely different page/post, involves the “truce”. They did this on the comment section of another piece called “I'm Sorry If You Miss Me” (Link in notes below). They couldn't do this where we had been in our volley, that might appear as a weakness to someone who'd been watching it all.

They offer an olive branch (for all that's worth), but with it, they also offer to take me to enlightenment and save me somehow. None of this is sincere in ANY way. It is once again, them, trying to condescend to me that I am in need of THEIR help. That I am less, and they are more. Just as I described in the beginning of Part I.

(Also note that upon realizing that this has all been an analyzation of them and their behavior, they attempt to spin it around that it is THEM analyzing ME. Once again, textbook predictability)

If for some silly reason, I took this “truce”, they would feel that they have dominated me and nothing would change. As you read it, you will see just what I mean, especially in the way they go on and on about how accomplished they are at 'helping” others and how they can lead me to some new and better existence, as I am such a “sick human being”. The megalomaniac is really showing through here:



(Name Deleted) Dearest TROLL,
TRUCE?

Though you so obviously write vicious TROLL Gibberish you so obviously cant spell the word gibberish correctly.Not very Self referential eh?.
Diminishes your projected self mage of being a 'nice guy' somewhat eh?.
I have analysed your crippling problem and can offer you the only way out of it.
The presence of an individual Mind superimposed in strategic command over all your brain centres in the last hour before birth has led to you being NON Self Realised(which is your problem basically).
You don't know your Cosmic Identity--and the Mind in your head has led you to believe that you are not the Individual Isness but are the Mind created operating device the Conditioned Identity.
This replaces the ID and takes control over the Glucose and Oxygen supply to all Brain centres from the Individual Isness.
Send me a Poste Restante address and I will send you(for FREE)a copy of my only CD--on which I play Alto Saxophone and Alto Clarinet andAmplified C Silver Concert Flute and my wife who is my life companion plays Electric Bass.
We use the name Maneesha which is Sanskrit for Beyond Enlightenment.
The CD which is called 'Rolling Home' is as recorded--every track in one take-no electronic messing around!.
It was recorded under strict Tibetan Tantric rules of performance--I was a Flute playing Pujari in a Temple on the Burning Ghat in Varanasi where I played for Hindu Cremations for 6 years in the 1970s.
The intention is that the listener--you--will become Mindless .According to the sacred texts of the Vedas one must become Mindless as that is the only openly accepted way to reach the final end of Yoga Meditation.
Temporary union with the Isness of the Unverse.
Yes I know you will go off into paroxysms of laughter at my very absurdwritings but I must offer as you are a very sick human being--and your TROLLISH sickness will only get much worser as you age.
I have offered.
You will ridicule me.
Your choice.



And there you have it, dear Reader. A (disturbing) look, into a very disturbed mind. I am not, nor would I ever condone or recommend doing what I have done here. I did this for you. I had the idea while reading one of their demeaning comments on someone's daily. So, when they came to my daily … I put my hook in the water. The best thing you can do is give no reaction. Soon enough, they will go off in search of the attention they so desperately need and leave you in peace. As I have shown you here, engaging them brings a never-ending string of buckets … buckets FILLED with waste-of-time.

All you need to do is keep in mind this one simple thing when they write horrible things in your comment sections, or you encounter one in your life …

Something you are doing, or have done, is SO amazingly awesome, that it brought out ALL that darkness in them!

Just ignore them and they will go find someone else to pick on. Give them an “LOL” and ignore all that follows, or just delete their comment and block them. Your time is limited and so very precious. Don't give one second of it to these types of people. It simply isn't worth it.

Besides … You have MORE amazing things to accomplish!

                   Big Love,
                           ~Jeff
Alice Burns May 2013
We've had a turbulent journey together
And as he pushed the bike, slowly did his hand release me
Riding the crashing waves I admit my struggle
And my childish naivety gave passage to worser threats
Yet still he stands there, waving me on my way
Even to this day, despite questionable confidences, I still turn
And still he stands there

A rebel I didn't mean to be, but I am cursed with escalating emotions
Or maybe he would say a blessing, to empathize and find strength
As memories haunt me at night, teaming with those of ill will
The sensitivity he passed on to me prevails, Innocently I am slowed
But my wheels continue turning, and my heart stays true
Though my eyes and ears remain obstructed, my heart makes a turn
And yes, he still stands there

His presence unpurposefully commands attention
And his knowledge, he gives without catch
I understand the wars he must encounter, and yet he stays calm
Giving peace to the tide, he offers nothing, but gives everything
I unconditionally love him
I honestly hold respect for him,
He indirectly teaches me
And fuels me with his love

In this moment, I turn back, not for fear of falling,
But to wave back to the man who let me go
He is no longer there, standing firm in his spot
No
My friend, my father, he rides by my side.
I act like I do
because I act like you
i feel unloved
but you blame it all on me
instead of hugging me
telling me its okay

I was hurt many times
and scarred as well
but when i tried to tell you
you scarred me even more
and said that it was all my fault
for doing what i do

but the way i feel
it's all bcause of you
i feel unloved at home so i'll get it anywhere
thats offering it

they can't make me feel
any worser than i already do
so forget life
ive had my fun
i aint worth crap anyway
Mitchell May 2011
Assembly line broke down as the mirrors crashed and cracked.
"Angelina!!!" the crooked boss man yelled.
"Get in herre" the crook socks rang like bells.
Angelina poured sweat of the yellow blouse she had bought two days before for another interview in another office and another profession altogether. The room spun for her even though she would rather have it stay still.
"How much longer till this mechanism shifts and all of this stops altogether. Have their been madder women then me? Has there been madder men then me? Have their been madder times or are the times the same just with different tools and gears and nuts and bolts to tirelessly continue, heaving the corpses through the concrete cracked and littered streets?"
"Angelina!!!"
Another nail gun dropped to the floor, firing twenty rounds into fifty blue collared men's tie clips, deflecting them all to the near by wall which held the coats, the hats, the work shoes which the men were not allowed to wear due to "safety intrusions" and "labor union by lateral horizontal negative dairy laws". Another unfortunate fortune from the cracked mirror case but that, of course, is not the story, our story is...
"Angelina!!!"
Angy hurried up the hungry, empty metal n' holy stairs. She lost her high heels in a crack in the stairs but left them there due to the fear. 2011 had been a good year until she had been forced by her landlord, also her boyfriend, to get a real job rather then stuffing her knitted socks with her poetry and trying to haggle them to new age modern morons of the hip near sighters whom glasses were unintelligible but necessary. The mirrors of the conveyor belts reached the top of the platform but the door was shut. The mirrors bent and shattered leaving the splintered pattern of the world outside of them multiplied by the millions.
Noon was her lunch break and it was noon oh two. Angelina would be late with her lunch and the landlord, Nick, was planning to stop in with some home made sandwiches and home made potato chips.
"Nick will have to wait." Angelina thought to herself. "Nick hates to wait."
Angelina entered to stand in the wake of a shaking, sweating purse wearing, purse lipped boss boss. His hair was tossed to one side, struggling to hide his baldness. The subtelty of their relationship was difficult considering Angelina had slept with boss boss to get tossed this job. The act was actually enjoyable, Angelina thought him a good lay, but boss boss was not a fun person to be around, and he was a much worser boss.
"Angelina!!!"
"Hi."
"Your FIRED!"
"Bye then sir..."
"ANGELINA!!!"
"Yes sir?"
"AREN'T YOU GOING TO ASK WHY YOU WERE JUST SO HASTILY AND VIOLENTLY FIRED?"
"It is not my place to inquire why I was fired sir. If I was not doing my specific duty well enough I trust you, as my superior, to have thought what this subtraction would do to your company. If I had questioned you I would be questioning yourself as a boss and I would never want to do that...sir."
"VERY GOOD. DISMISSED!!!"

---

"So he just fired you, no explanation, nothing?"
"There was nothing really to say after the fact."
"You could have demanded an explanation."
"I was in a hurry to meet you. I know you hate to be late for our dates."
"That's sweet."
"And boss boss shouldn't have to explain himself, he IS a professional."
"He works in mirrors which doesn't make at all make him a ropes course supervisor."
"He's very handsome when He means what He says."
The home made potato chips had been burnt because Nick had fallen asleep while watching old re-runs of run marathons from the 80's. Nick had trained for the Olympics in 83' but while home after training and drinking an OK shake, Nick had stubbed his toe while drinking the OK shake and trying to get to a ringing telephone. Nick had collided so perfectly, so quickly and with such for that his right big toe had bent all the way back, his big toe fingernail touching the hairy patch on the top of his foot. The doctors said amputate the toe and save the foot or chop the entire thing off altogether. Nick, not being a dumb ****, opted for the entire foot. He never raced again.
"Are you going to try and get your job back?
"I don't know"
"Well. It's the 28th tomorrow and I need the rent either way. The insurance agency I'm with has been bugging me about percentages and utilities and...well, you don't want to hear about my worries."
"I don't mind sweety."
"Thanks doll. What're you gonna do?"
"Find more work I guess. I haven't written anything in a while, maybe it's a good time to get back on that train, see what comes up."
"I saw a help wanted sign at the mall nail salon."

---

Baby stroller wheels lined with pink and grey gum were lined up against the overwhelming glass wall enclosing the shops from the streets. Trees reflected green with the sun light lined across the clear wall. Birds flew at the top of the block near the ceiling crop, they wanted to come in but were confused how to do so. Children came through the valley with lollipops and balloon powder and strings lined with meats, they were headed to the capitalistic circus, a wonder land that only brought guilt from lovers and their future children's shame.
Angelina stood outside the electronic moment to moment receivers. She was afraid of not being allowed entry. Everyone entering entered easily, but what of she? Would she be accepted? Clicking her unpainted fingernail atop her leopard print clip purse and what was worse she had no cash to get her orange Julius or perhaps see a film if she couldn't conjure of the courage to stop off at the salon. That was why she had come here, right?
"Where had the salon been?" Angelina said aloud.
The mass of the mall was vibrating with a ferocious congruity. Through the fog of meaty torso's lay blank and content faces. Gripping their wares, their steaming quick food, some of it dropping to their foot only to be kicked around on the dirtied floor. At times a rat would scurry from underneath a traveling underwear salesmen to grab a piece of fried bread, half cooked meat, or small pieces of children's hair which floated softly down to the wet and mud streaked floor. Mall cops waved their sticks to each other, some kind of HAIL or CHEER that they were the one's in charge round' these parts and there wasn't nothing no one was going to do about it.
"Do I really want to work here?"
There was no choice though. Angelina needed to pay the rent or her landlord/boyfriend would kick her out on the street and from there, she had no clue where the blue sky would take her. Her parents, both dead thirteen years ago, would be a terrible place to set up camp, especially in a graveyard. Angelina's brother lived over seas working at a ***** clinic trying and failing to heal the weak and unwanted. He had tried to heal her through voodoo practices he gathered up drunk through his 6 month stay in New Orleans but it had only given her a bright blue and red rash for three to four weeks. She never longer trusted her brother with any kind of healing or "feel better" techniques and was no prepared to make the trek to Europe anytime soon, she was in a relationship at the moment anyway and she had a feeling she might be in love.
Angelina stepped through the glass exchanging doors in unison with a family that was entering at the same time. The door seemed to open for any body but was tentative if it would accept hers, this time, it seemed to.
Inside she made her way up "the miracle marbled stairs" which shined bright and blinded Angelina in certain parts of her eyes. They flashed bright red and greens and whites so visciously and fast Angelina thought she might have some kind of seizure. She planted her feet directly on each step as she walked up the 20 to 30 stairs, going very slow and gripping the handrail. People started to gather around behind her shouting "HURRY UP LADY" and "WE DON"T GOT ALL DAY" and giggling to themselves.
"Were they not seeing these lights?" Angelina thought to herself.
"Do you kind people know where the nail salon is?"
Angelina then realized that what she had just said made no sense. Her eyes were gripped shut, her hand tight around the shiny gold handrail, her feet pointed strictly out like some kind of paralyzed summer penguin. The people which had gathered behind her stood bare, jaw slacked, wondering who would step forth to help this poor helpless creature.
A little girl with red sparkled shoes and a orange bow atop her head stepped forth. She smiled even though she knew Angelina had her eyes tightly shut, maybe she would feel the warmth? The girl's mother reached for her so not to get to close to that "crazy lady" but the little girl pulled away, her father saying "If it's her time to go, it's her time to go".
"Miss lady with the tiger purse, I think the hardware nail pull on is on the 8th floor next to the people that sell bread with meat sticks inside."
The little girl stepped gingerly back as Angelina loosened her grip on the now stained golden handrail. She shook her hair out and ran her fingers through it, straightening herself up as if she were about to perform a song or late night poetry reading. Angelina opened her eyes and peered down at the girl.
"Thank you little girl. What's the best way to get there?"
The girl child said nothing. She pointed to a large metal box shooting up and down the length that looked like a rocket straight to heaven. People were gathered all around its foundation, oooing and ahhhing at the sight of the one's which entered. There was a sign over the line of tubes reading "A Shot at the Void".
"A shot at the Void..." Angelina tentaively breathed to herself.
Angelina stepped up the last couple glittering stairs and made her way through the thick crowd of stale clothes, cheap tricks, obsessed teeny boppers, hardware for wear, shoes with no laces, strips of bacon hanging from mouths, lettuce all shredded, soda cans with their lids torn clean off with small splatters of blood lined on the rim, and a perfectly painted fingernail was drawn on the number eight where the long lines and rows of numbers were there to guide the one's to the shot.
"Number eight. Easy enough"
Angelina pushed the button.

---

Inside the tube there was a slow light hum of jazz transfusion and children breathing. There were three little daughters gripping their mother's hands as they bit into their soda pop straws, ******* up the soda inside the plastic and cardboard cups. All three children stared up at her, maybe wondering what she was wondering, which was exactly what Angelina was wondering, a combination of mistaken telepathy, an accident of consciousness that would be never be talked about between the four of them but most surely existed between them.

Smooth as clay they drifted up the translucent clear glass tube, shooting skyward like a man made rocket shot from a man made gun. They passed shops hocking wears of angelic colors: clear pearl pastels shone through the clear blue glass shining into Angelina's eyes forcing Her to squint, dog barks could be heard through the whistling air begging for treats of black and brown, teriyaki chicken strips and duck heads spun absurdly fast with a rhythm that resembled the wave of a crowd at a baseball game waving wildly like children flying from swings never wanting to land in the sand; all this as the three and one flew higher and higher and higher.

---

Ding.

---

Angelina stepped forward, leaving the three children behind Her to fend for themselves. From the looks of the button they had pushed they were headed East. She gripped her bag and peeled Her eyes, twisted her hair in a tight knot to show her aggression, her vigor, her confidence and stepped into the rabid salmon like crowd.

She saw no signs of the nail salon. She saw only posters of rabbits holding artichoke legs and nail guns firing rockets of ice cream and corn bread. These were the mirrors of the supposed revolution but had nothing to do with her nail salon, she needed the cash and she needed it NOW! How hard were the numbers to acquire? How long must she wait before the envelope is sent and the letter read and thrown out? How long Lord, how long?

Questions for a time when the pay checks were easy coming and Her man was by her side. She passed by a little boy playing William Tell with her sister. An apple on the little tots head and in the boys a small, tight and silver ray gun. The boy pulled the trigger but only a small plume of smoke came from the top making the boy ball over crying and wailing and kicking and screaming, nearly catching Angelina in the shin, what a mess...The little girl stayed still in Her spot though because her brother told her "Now don't move a cinch." Wise move my girl, wise move...

At last! Angelina, reaching Her destination saw the brightly neon colored corner of her beloved Nail Salon. The windows shone with pure red glitter, miniatures of poodles lapping up puddles of ice water, women laying out on the sun to catch rays from the Earth, and husbands shaving their backs all in a circle and row.

"How beautiful..." Angelina breathed out.

She entered the store front. Greeted from every corner were beautiful young cupid like angels faces shining divine but with no torsos, floating heads of angels ***** but crying and smiling. Asking Angelina "What would you like today miss?" or "What are you after?", beckoning for her requests, begging for her touch of vulnerability and lack of knowledge of where she was or what she needed.

"Just an application...I heard you all were hiring?"

"Hiring!!!?" the cupid heads screamed in unison.

"You want to become one of us?"

"Yes, part-time...?" Angelina said hesitantly.

As soon as the words "part" had been uttered from Angelina's wise and brave mouth the many heads of cupid began spinning and spinning around Angelina's body. Faster and faster they spun until Angelina herself was spinning with them, unified in a quadruple hurricane stripping her of her former self and slowly manipulating her body, her hair, her other self into her new self.

As Angelina's torso lay in the corner of the store un-bloodied, clothes tattered as well as some scratches  on her elbows from the toss, Angelina's head was floating in the perfect center of the other three hovering cupid heads.

"How beautiful...how beautiful...how beautiful."

"Isn't it?" the three cupid heads answered.

"Yes, everything here is so beautiful," the four of them whispered.

And as soon as Angelina had entered, she just as soon had left.

END
PEARL SMOKE Dec 2014
Gotta Love This ****
Changes You Up Quick.
Take A Little Hit, Take A Pop, A Taste, A Bite A Syringe  .
Chemical Effects Seeing Life Unrealistic Getting Super ****** Twisted <3
Loving Life Feeling 20x Better Than Mighty Fine, iTs Fantastic Can Be Long Lasting.
You'll Truly See How Wonderful iT iS, Like Real Magic.
Body Sensation, Mind Blasting,  Euphoria Rising, Smiles, Hugs, Many Laughing.
One Simple Dose Can Make You Feel important, Wanted, Loved,  Above, Amazing, Powerful, Special, invincible.
Your Kept Focused On Yourself And Dreamy Like Flow That You'll Soon Fall inlove With
iTs A Feel indescribable & Just Everything You Can Ask For.
Blocks And Keeps You Away From Your Surroundings, its Unique, intense, Has Suspense , Gives You Affection & So Much Satisfaction Plus Attention Keeps You  Distracted By These Temporary Actions.
You Like What iT Brings You
How Happy & Better Of A Life You Seem To Be Living iN Your Eyes,
it Lies
It'l Keep You Wanting So You Begin And Keep On Finding .
You Used, Now You Abuse
Fell For iTs Tricks,Now You Say
I Can't Live Without This.
Your Life's On Pause Took This Dangerous Vacation Which No One Has A Clue Whether You'll Come Back The Same Or Alive Cause
Your Brains So
Damaged & Fried
You Keep On Consuming Assuming Everything's All Right,
Your Hooked On This Potion Poison That Hypnotized You
Took Ahold Of You
Your Becoming Unknown
Lost Control , Life Spans On A Thin Line, Fast Mode, Became So Distant , isolated
Your Un-Existent To The World Now. But You Yourself Dont Even Give A **** About Anyone But Your Drugs . Went So Low Sold Your Soul To A Heavy Substance Which You Consider Your Only And Lord.
Minds Erased,
Future Hope And Dreams Went All To Waste
Reality Seems Fake
So Used To Being High
You Feel its Your Normal Estate. Have No Faith Became So Negative , And Careless & Use Your Heart less Went Against Your Morals & Values Not Minding The Monster You Have Turned into.
Self  Image Beginning To Lose iTs Color iTs Details
Thinning , All Numbed Out,
Having No Type Of Emotions , Cant Laugh, No Smiles, Your Charm Fades,  Life Became A Daze Long Maze You Then Begin To Feel Hopeless, Worthless Thinking And Believing You Can Only Move On By Continuing Smoking
This Dope ****
Your Body Begins This Tolerance, leading & Waiting To Introduce You To What You'll Consider Hell Worser Than Comedowns
Withdrawls.
Body's All Messed Up Tricking You Into Thinking That A Nice Hit Will Fix You Up.
So Much More To This Bad Habit Of A Drug.
Havnt Mentioned
Money, Risks, And Lost's.
Drugs End Up ******* You Up Sadly Madly Disappointed At The Fact You Threw Away Your Life Without Even Noticing .
Or Wanting.
Your Addicted And Sickened
Strung Out But Still Looking Towards How Your Getting Your Next Fix? You Still Go Down The Lane Passing The Stop Sign
In Another Dimension  Nobody But You Only Mention
Going Krazie, Buried Yourself,
Your A New Person.
Paranoia, Voices, Shadows, Whispers Your Becoming insane Looking So Drained.
On A No Sleep Mode,
But You Don't Care So You Still Go Down The Same Lane
Cause iTs Really Hard To Change From What You Have Been Around And Same Routines For A While And So Used To Doing And Living With These New Drugged
Thoughts, Mind, New State Mentality Full Of Loving Drugs And Living With Day And Day On And On.
You Messed With Your Head
Even Though You End Up Making iT To Sobriety Days
Most Likely You'll Relapse And Fall Again.
Because Drugs Had Made A Huge Impact In Your Life For A Long Period Of Time
iTs A Strong Attachment That Can And Will Heal By Time iF You
Try
Have Hope in Your Eyes Ears Heart &
Mind.
james nordlund Mar 2019
untitled (vs. imperialism + its idyllic head, which is only idolic, cult of personality)


The tug of war between our better, worser angels, voices in our heads that aren't,
an aspect of sociological schizophrenia that Westerners were all programmed with
from birth on, tears at us as it was meant to, for the divided fall to ebony, ivory,
the black and white supremacies, conquering in perfect harmony, neigh, perfect war,
which can only beget more, thus the global unending unnecessary war against all life
only increases, as the irrelevant pieces are discarded ever more, for more, now, 13000
kids a day die of lack of potable water, hunger, while the 130 running for manager-
in-chief of the world's retail store, the united **** of assassins, won't mention it
once, what the real left always fought to end.  Like genocide, remember when it was
commonly understood if you knew about it and weren't fighting it you were a genocider?
Just last year Coates on the Hayes show said, "...if you think whites shouldn't be
genocided you're a racist...", a song of economic sukkkcess by ebony over ivory for
them and the republican conspiracy, for, the only other things, besides neutering of
newborns, assassinating infants in cribs, anatomical destruction and mass-****** of
kids, teens, that they have enforcing their 35 % ruling the 65 % are all the inter-
locking, laced economic systems based on scarcity instead of nature's abundance,
ever increasing the supposed garnering of ever more short-term delusional pleasures,
profits and powers, in ever more cyclical, centralizing patterns that dictate
astronomically larger real deficits over the long-term, in a word, Earth-******,
the central organizing theme of global defacto-slavery of all by the non-renewable fuel
industrial complexes, the real left vexes with our unifying song of liberation from
and abolishing of fossil fuel use, keeping it all in the ground, which is where they
pound the real (non-socialist) greens.  Why don't our hands demand "...We(e),..." climb,
our streching demand we reach only more over time, our lungs only more wind under an
only greater wingspan over time, instead of the opposite?  "...We(e),..." need to
turn 360 degrees around, back to the evolution and the future humanity will only
have if you, illimitable potential, indivisible as life, leave no footprints that
follow none, which will echo forever on, in all ways, always.  Viva la Evolucion.
My twig  of poetree that inspired this one   :)  

Nature's Balanced Path, Giving Back To Abundance, Furthers

Betwixt our better and worser ..., voices in our heads
That aren't, nor curser, for our inner candle's always lite
So we don't curse the darkness, weeded, bring forth
From the Earth more, demanded by our roots, feet, hands, score.   reality
pitch black god8 May 2018
are you generally happy?

a semi-innocuous query
now actualized as a two sided bladed poker,
hot stabbing me smack dab in
the chests hollow crown bullseye,
continuously,  as in all life long, and eternal longing for a
“yes”

it fits inside a pubescent aged wound that
refreshes with every breath;
a life long struggle for an accurate definition,
be a general of genuine happy,
that alone would deliver, bringing on bright day satisfaction

as a human, one operates on parallel continuums;
slide slipping on well oiled poles that over the years,
their lengths, increasing with add-on extender poles
formed by
twisty turny slips and falls of sundered hearts and sad loves,
marriages nicknamed Titanic, children found and lost,
complications responsibilities that are denied meeting the words  
  “The End”

a life that many would envy, questioning what’s wrong
with you dude, are you blinded to the riches yours,
reality is
shoulders permanently bent, a spine that’s held together by
spit and solder and curved by wearying wearing longing for
a straightness that is also called crooked unobtainable
and a piece of a peace that comes and goes
like a highway billboard that you pass too fast to be fully read

the body is corroding and worser yet to come and that’s a hand
you selected - luck of the self-selecting-drawing -

the opioids of the mind offers are rejected

the clarity of painful self exploration valued overall -
the place where the poems come from,
and go to die,
a landscape of a scene repeatedly visualized
but never been and never left,
the crazy contradictions come in two flavors;
vanilla smiles and chocolate weeping of tears that have
etched pathways cheek-chiseled

the city is a struggling strife for most,
the next red line on the side
of the measuring cup  and
everyone has a cell, a credit card,
and a measuring cup
<•>
here I stop can’t finish  
someone missing alerts me
to their real worlds troubles
making my complaints super superficial but
the silent running of the stilleto
cuts shallow
repeated hourly
the cut color,

pitch black
Juverine Wan Mar 2018
Daydreaming
of better things
of lovely things
of saddening things

Daydreaming
of Him who I wondered
ever really loved me
or did it mean no more

Daydreaming
of the life that was not mine
the life I left behind
the life I could not find

Daydreaming
of something I do not deserve
yet yearn for
with no reserve

Daydreaming
of things so harsh and deep
the ocean swallows me whole
and into quicksand I seep

Daydreaming
of the life I thought I desired
of the life I was inspired
but never became reality

Daydreaming
of better things
that became worser things
That became dangerous things

Daydreaming
Of things I don't understand
Yet yearn for
What nonsense, I am.
Thus did the Trojans watch. But Panic, comrade of blood-stained
Rout, had taken fast hold of the Achaeans and their princes were all
of them in despair. As when the two winds that blow from Thrace—the
north and the northwest—spring up of a sudden and rouse the fury of
the main—in a moment the dark waves uprear their heads and scatter
their sea-wrack in all directions—even thus troubled were the
hearts of the Achaeans.
  The son of Atreus in dismay bade the heralds call the people to a
council man by man, but not to cry the matter aloud; he made haste
also himself to call them, and they sat sorry at heart in their
assembly. Agamemnon shed tears as it were a running stream or cataract
on the side of some sheer cliff; and thus, with many a heavy sigh he
spoke to the Achaeans. “My friends,” said he, “princes and councillors
Of the Argives, the hand of heaven has been laid heavily upon me.
Cruel Jove gave me his solemn promise that I should sack the city of
Troy before returning, but he has played me false, and is now
bidding me go ingloriously back to Argos with the loss of much people.
Such is the will of Jove, who has laid many a proud city in the dust
as he will yet lay others, for his power is above all. Now, therefore,
let us all do as I say and sail back to our own country, for we
shall not take Troy.”
  Thus he spoke, and the sons of the Achaeans for a long while sat
sorrowful there, but they all held their peace, till at last Diomed of
the loud battle-cry made answer saying, “Son of Atreus, I will chide
your folly, as is my right in council. Be not then aggrieved that I
should do so. In the first place you attacked me before all the
Danaans and said that I was a coward and no soldier. The Argives young
and old know that you did so. But the son of scheming Saturn endowed
you by halves only. He gave you honour as the chief ruler over us, but
valour, which is the highest both right and might he did not give you.
Sir, think you that the sons of the Achaeans are indeed as unwarlike
and cowardly as you say they are? If your own mind is set upon going
home—go—the way is open to you; the many ships that followed you
from Mycene stand ranged upon the seashore; but the rest of us stay
here till we have sacked Troy. Nay though these too should turn
homeward with their ships, Sthenelus and myself will still fight on
till we reach the goal of Ilius, for for heaven was with us when we
came.”
  The sons of the Achaeans shouted applause at the words of Diomed,
and presently Nestor rose to speak. “Son of Tydeus,” said he, “in
war your prowess is beyond question, and in council you excel all
who are of your own years; no one of the Achaeans can make light of
what you say nor gainsay it, but you have not yet come to the end of
the whole matter. You are still young—you might be the youngest of my
own children—still you have spoken wisely and have counselled the
chief of the Achaeans not without discretion; nevertheless I am
older than you and I will tell you every” thing; therefore let no man,
not even King Agamemnon, disregard my saying, for he that foments
civil discord is a clanless, hearthless outlaw.
  “Now, however, let us obey the behests of night and get our suppers,
but let the sentinels every man of them camp by the trench that is
without the wall. I am giving these instructions to the young men;
when they have been attended to, do you, son of Atreus, give your
orders, for you are the most royal among us all. Prepare a feast for
your councillors; it is right and reasonable that you should do so;
there is abundance of wine in your tents, which the ships of the
Achaeans bring from Thrace daily. You have everything at your disposal
wherewith to entertain guests, and you have many subjects. When many
are got together, you can be guided by him whose counsel is wisest-
and sorely do we need shrewd and prudent counsel, for the foe has
lit his watchfires hard by our ships. Who can be other than
dismayed? This night will either be the ruin of our host, or save it.”
  Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. The sentinels
went out in their armour under command of Nestor’s son Thrasymedes,
a captain of the host, and of the bold warriors Ascalaphus and
Ialmenus: there were also Meriones, Aphareus and Deipyrus, and the son
of Creion, noble Lycomedes. There were seven captains of the
sentinels, and with each there went a hundred youths armed with long
spears: they took their places midway between the trench and the wall,
and when they had done so they lit their fires and got every man his
supper.
  The son of Atreus then bade many councillors of the Achaeans to
his quarters prepared a great feast in their honour. They laid their
hands on the good things that were before them, and as soon as they
had enough to eat and drink, old Nestor, whose counsel was ever
truest, was the first to lay his mind before them. He, therefore, with
all sincerity and goodwill addressed them thus.
  “With yourself, most noble son of Atreus, king of men, Agamemnon,
will I both begin my speech and end it, for you are king over much
people. Jove, moreover, has vouchsafed you to wield the sceptre and to
uphold righteousness, that you may take thought for your people
under you; therefore it behooves you above all others both to speak
and to give ear, and to out the counsel of another who shall have been
minded to speak wisely. All turns on you and on your commands,
therefore I will say what I think will be best. No man will be of a
truer mind than that which has been mine from the hour when you,
sir, angered Achilles by taking the girl Briseis from his tent against
my judgment. I urged you not to do so, but you yielded to your own
pride, and dishonoured a hero whom heaven itself had honoured—for you
still hold the prize that had been awarded to him. Now, however, let
us think how we may appease him, both with presents and fair
speeches that may conciliate him.”
  And King Agamemnon answered, “Sir, you have reproved my folly
justly. I was wrong. I own it. One whom heaven befriends is in himself
a host, and Jove has shown that he befriends this man by destroying
much people of the Achaeans. I was blinded with passion and yielded to
my worser mind; therefore I will make amends, and will give him
great gifts by way of atonement. I will tell them in the presence of
you all. I will give him seven tripods that have never yet been on the
fire, and ten talents of gold. I will give him twenty iron cauldrons
and twelve strong horses that have won races and carried off prizes.
Rich, indeed, both in land and gold is he that has as many prizes as
my horses have won me. I will give him seven excellent workwomen,
Lesbians, whom I chose for myself when he took ******—all of
surpassing beauty. I will give him these, and with them her whom I
erewhile took from him, the daughter of Briseus; and I swear a great
oath that I never went up into her couch, nor have been with her after
the manner of men and women.
  “All these things will I give him now down, and if hereafter the
gods vouchsafe me to sack the city of Priam, let him come when we
Achaeans are dividing the spoil, and load his ship with gold and
bronze to his liking; furthermore let him take twenty Trojan women,
the loveliest after Helen herself. Then, when we reach Achaean
Argos, wealthiest of all lands, he shall be my son-in-law and I will
show him like honour with my own dear son Orestes, who is being
nurtured in all abundance. I have three daughters, Chrysothemis,
Laodice, and lphianassa, let him take the one of his choice, freely
and without gifts of wooing, to the house of Peleus; I will add such
dower to boot as no man ever yet gave his daughter, and will give
him seven well established cities, Cardamyle, Enope, and Hire, where
there is grass; holy Pherae and the rich meadows of Anthea; Aepea
also, and the vine-clad slopes of Pedasus, all near the sea, and on
the borders of sandy Pylos. The men that dwell there are rich in
cattle and sheep; they will honour him with gifts as though he were
a god, and be obedient to his comfortable ordinances. All this will
I do if he will now forgo his anger. Let him then yieldit is only
Hades who is utterly ruthless and unyielding—and hence he is of all
gods the one most hateful to mankind. Moreover I am older and more
royal than himself. Therefore, let him now obey me.”
  Then Nestor answered, “Most noble son of Atreus, king of men,
Agamemnon. The gifts you offer are no small ones, let us then send
chosen messengers, who may go to the tent of Achilles son of Peleus
without delay. Let those go whom I shall name. Let Phoenix, dear to
Jove, lead the way; let Ajax and Ulysses follow, and let the heralds
Odius and Eurybates go with them. Now bring water for our hands, and
bid all keep silence while we pray to Jove the son of Saturn, if so be
that he may have mercy upon us.”
  Thus did he speak, and his saying pleased them well. Men-servants
poured water over the hands of the guests, while pages filled the
mixing-bowls with wine and water, and handed it round after giving
every man his drink-offering; then, when they had made their
offerings, and had drunk each as much as he was minded, the envoys set
out from the tent of Agamemnon son of Atreus; and Nestor, looking
first to one and then to another, but most especially at Ulysses,
was instant with them that they should prevail with the noble son of
Peleus.
  They went their way by the shore of the sounding sea, and prayed
earnestly to earth-encircling Neptune that the high spirit of the
son of Aeacus might incline favourably towards them. When they reached
the ships and tents of the Myrmidons, they found Achilles playing on a
lyre, fair, of cunning workmanship, and its cross-bar was of silver.
It was part of the spoils which he had taken when he sacked the city
of Eetion, and he was now diverting himself with it and singing the
feats of heroes. He was alone with Patroclus, who sat opposite to
him and said nothing, waiting till he should cease singing. Ulysses
and Ajax now came in—Ulysses leading the way -and stood before him.
Achilles sprang from his seat with the lyre still in his hand, and
Patroclus, when he saw the strangers, rose also. Achilles then greeted
them saying, “All hail and welcome—you must come upon some great
matter, you, who for all my anger are still dearest to me of the
Achaeans.”
  With this he led them forward, and bade them sit on seats covered
with purple rugs; then he said to Patroclus who was close by him, “Son
of Menoetius, set a larger bowl upon the table, mix less water with
the wine, and give every man his cup, for these are very dear friends,
who are now under my roof.”
  Patroclus did as his comrade bade him; he set the chopping-block
in front of the fire, and on it he laid the **** of a sheep, the
**** also of a goat, and the chine of a fat hog. Automedon held the
meat while Achilles chopped it; he then sliced the pieces and put them
on spits while the son of Menoetius made the fire burn high. When
the flame had died down, he spread the embers, laid the spits on top
of them, lifting them up and setting them upon the spit-racks; and
he sprinkled them with salt. When the meat was roasted, he set it on
platters, and handed bread round the table in fair baskets, while
Achilles dealt them their portions. Then Achilles took his seat facing
Ulysses against the opposite wall, and bade his comrade Patroclus
offer sacrifice to the gods; so he cast the offerings into the fire,
and they laid their hands upon the good things that were before
them. As soon as they had had enough to eat and drink, Ajax made a
sign to Phoenix, and when he saw this, Ulysses filled his cup with
wine and pledged Achilles.
  “Hail,” said he, “Achilles, we have had no scant of good cheer,
neither in the tent of Agamemnon, nor yet here; there has been
plenty to eat and drink, but our thought turns upon no such matter.
Sir, we are in the face of great disaster, and without your help
know not whether we shall save our fleet or lose it. The Trojans and
their allies have camped hard by our ships and by the wall; they
have lit watchfires throughout their host and deem that nothing can
now prevent them from falling on our fleet. Jove, moreover, has sent
his lightnings on their right; Hector, in all his glory, rages like
a maniac; confident that Jove is with him he fears neither god nor
man, but is gone raving mad, and prays for the approach of day. He
vows that he will hew the high sterns of our ships in pieces, set fire
to their hulls, and make havoc of the Achaeans while they are dazed
and smothered in smoke; I much fear that heaven will make good his
boasting, and it will prove our lot to perish at Troy far from our
home in Argos. Up, then, and late though it be, save the sons of the
Achaeans who faint before the fury of the Trojans. You will repent
bitterly hereafter if you do not, for when the harm is done there will
be no curing it; consider ere it be too late, and save the Danaans
from destruction.
  “My good friend, when your father Peleus sent you from Phthia to
Agamemnon, did he not charge you saying, ‘Son, Minerva and Juno will
make you strong if they choose, but check your high temper, for the
better part is in goodwill. Eschew vain quarrelling, and the
Achaeans old and young will respect you more for doing so.’ These were
his words, but you have forgotten them. Even now, however, be
appeased, and put away your anger from you. Agamemnon will make you
great amends if you will forgive him; listen, and I will tell you what
he has said in his tent that he will give you. He will give you
seven tripods that have never yet been on the fire, and ten talents of
gold; twenty iron cauldrons, and twelve strong horses that have won
races and carried off prizes. Rich indeed both in land and gold is
he who has as many prizes as these horses have won for Agamemnon.
Moreover he will give you seven excellent workwomen, Lesbians, whom he
chose for himself, when you took ******—all of surpassing beauty.
He will give you these, and with them her whom he erewhile took from
you, the daughter of Briseus, and he will swear a great oath, he has
never gone up into her couch nor been with her after the manner of men
and women. All these things will he give you now down, and if
hereafter the gods vouchsafe him to sack the city of Priam, you can
come when we Achaeans are dividing the spoil, and load your ship
with gold and bronze to your liking. You can take twenty Trojan women,
the loveliest after Helen herself. Then, when we reach Achaean
Argos, wealthiest of all lands, you shall be his son-in-law, and he
will show you like honour with his own dear son Orestes, who is
being nurtured in all abundance. Agamemnon has three daughters,
Chrysothemis, Laodice, and Iphianassa; you may take the one of your
choice, freely and without gifts of wooing, to the house of Peleus; he
will add such dower to boot as no man ever yet gave his daughter,
and will give you seven well-established cities, Cardamyle, Enope, and
Hire where there is grass; holy Pheras and the rich meadows of Anthea;
Aepea also, and the vine-clad slopes of Pedasus, all near the sea, and
on the borders of sandy Pylos. The men that dwell there are rich in
cattle and sheep; they will honour you with gifts as though were a
god, and be obedient to your comfortable ordinances. All this will
he do if you will now forgo your anger. Moreover, though you hate both
him and his gifts with all your heart, yet pity the rest of the
Achaeans who are being harassed in all their host; they will honour
you as a god, and you will earn great glory at their hands. You
might even **** Hector; he will come within your reach, for he is
infatuated, and declares that not a Danaan whom the ships have brought
can hold his own against him.”
  Achilles answered, “Ulysses, noble son of Laertes, I should give you
formal notice plainly and in all fixity of purpose that there be no
more of this cajoling, from whatsoever quarter it may come. Him do I
hate even as the gates of hell who says one thing while he hides
another in his heart; therefore I will say what I mean. I will be
appeased neither by Agamemnon son of Atreus
Anonymous Dec 2018
I.
Most days I’m great,
I’m pretty average looking but I’ve got a personality
That’s much bigger than my physical body
I’m goofy more than I’m serious
And I procrastinate more than I should
Most people call me the energizer bunny;
Always running around brining energy and smiles
Most days, that’s me.
Just your average normal person;
Not every day is perfect…
There are good days,
                      bad days,
                             better days,
                                  worse days &
                                         worser than worst
                                                          ­           d
                                                                        a
                                                     ­                      y
                                                        ­                       s


II.
How can a day be so bad that you make up your own version of “worse” you ask?
Well those days go something like this:
The air is heavy,
My senses are heightened
I can feel every droplet on my back
My lungs are tight, but not quite tight enough to be suffocating
My throat is dry, I can’t tell if I’m burning hot or freezing cold.
I get dressed, I go about my day.
There are good things.
There are bad things.
The bad things always stick on these kinds of days.
Inevitably, I can feel my anxiety begin to grow
It begins burning in my chest first,
I can feel the toxic attitude begin to bubble beneath my skin
Destroying everything inside
I am painted red with an unexplainable anger and rage
I sit alone, until my anger devours itself feeding on its toxic irrational thoughts


III.
This is when it happens, the (worser than worst)
It’s always when I let myself let go of the anger,
When my voice resumes its normal tone and pitch,
When my breathing is in sync with my heart,
And my once raging and thrashing thoughts
Begin to quiet and wind themselves down
It’s always when things start to feel okay again
Then it happens.
I’m walking in a crowded subway station
Hundreds of voices around me, yet they all drown out each other
Until a loud one breaks through the rhythmic hum of a busy commuter city
My body responds automatically searching for the noise
I see her in the distance,
Dressed in all black
For how cold it is, she’s not wearing nearly enough
She’s old.
Her face tells stories
Through the hard-pressed lines and crevices of her weather-beaten skin,
Her skin shows it all,
A Face that has laughed, cried, and experienced
Her eyes are glazed over
Chills run down my spine so suddenly I’m almost startled
It’s the eyes,
It’s always the eyes, they always trigger me
I can feel you in the atmosphere
Pressing your cold pale lips to my ear and whispering
“You couldn’t save me”
“You’re forgetting me”
“I won’t let you forget me”
I stand motionless trying to will my body to move
It doesn’t.
I watch the woman for a bit longer
Lost in her own world, eyes glazed over and lost
I feel sorry for her and then I feel it
Like all the muscles inside of me are suddenly limp and weak
With all my effort I push my feet off the ground
So, focused I don’t notice the tears streaming down my cheeks
I walk away in disappointment
I do what I do best,
I leave
And as I do, I hold my breath
And count
I count until the numbers feel right
And until I force myself to forget your presence
And the lingering guilt that still takes root
In the void you left behind.

IV.
Most days I’m great,
Just your average normal person,
Most days are easy enough to get through,

It’s the few days,
The ones spread so thin throughout the year
The days that remind me
That eyes are truly gateways into other places
It’s those days
That being to engulf the great days
Beneath its roots of your memory
And I am reminded that after all of these years,
If you can manage to keep resurrecting yourself
Through the people still on this planet
Than my words, will once again resurrect with you.
For you.
Mitchell Nov 2011
Not in the way I
Look through these eyes
which water but instead
Of sadness entranced upset
Near to death love
making where though and
Design laugh at their own
Gluttony and ill usage and
away from me i say no not here and
away from itself i hear nothing for you
are here within me but away
Comet and the see to hear blues with
Everything to give but nothing to lose
And the far off sights are much too bright
And inside you hear yourself crying
Not to mtters or mold your soul
With what your parents said to you
Ordered you to be bold and
The aftermath of your own tightened slack
Makes you wonder if growing up was an actual
Choice in the matter of the batter which is
The family foundation were games are played
For keeps and children weep as they keep
Toiling on as adults just for bigger and better things
Come into the waves of a brain malfunctioning
No face for ye' faith meand nodding to the higher
Ones whose noses are broken and the lips cracked
The spinning brain of hurts doughnuts and Americana
Rip offs selling the flag by the millions to turn a profit
For the moronic billionaires who think no one is watching.
Watching with their hats turned sideways and trying to
Escape old age and grey hair and sagging ball sacks and
Poor english and worser bread, stale with their mother's
Ghost hovering on the shoulder of their pouting diamond
Drenched wife as if madness grew a larger pair **** within the
Hilarity of connection of concoction of happiness and
Satisfaction and a longing to burn the entire ******* down
Just to rebuild it the way you see and you do see it and the way
You feel it used to be and perhaps, maybe, could be and where
Experimentation is now a center fold for the dock workers and the
Laborers of the world to spit and ******* and cry over in their
Twisted and rusty beds for inside their pea brains and melted
Mouths filled with colgate and beer, they slobber over the excess
And humiliation and celluoid dreams of **** and *** and spreads
That would make any grandmother of 37 weep and Mozart meander
On the veranda, contemplating smooth jazz and the way he would like
Not to be buried with the hat trick hockey nick who swore he saw
You fall in love before and that sobriety was the touch of the Christian
Way of life and ye' far out and tormented young ones meant nothing
By what they said at the rally and they do believe in the good of the
White government and we are headed toward a technological maelstrom
Of the golden age of the HUMAN RACE but alas I hope I decipher I pray to
No God but whoever has the ears and eyes and arm fat to listen with their
Splintered consciousness and their painted red toenails and girlfriends who
Whisper they have always loved another and how TRUE UNTRUTH IS and
How vindictive we rant on and read on and hope and believe that the end
Is the end but it is only the end for you and their will be new blood and new eyes
And new minds and we will grow old but the rivers water will be recycled, as we
Will be recycled into the dust and the mud and the rubble to further build the streets
As the street makers and the bread winners will smile as they think they are the
First ones to think up such a crafty, inventive invention but hierarchies are on the horizon
And I remember I was born with a name that I never grew to know or fall in love with
Or defend or keep close to my heart for the heart is weary hunter and it ventures on
With or without the body.
Note to self.
Recall the last rite before you begin on to the next one.
History has spilt its blood and its fair share of orange juice, try not to remember the numbers but remember the amount of burned chairs.
Note to self, returned.
The heaters on and the soul is not dancing but jiving like icing on a three year olds birthday cake.
Submission time to the chief, submission time
To those other guys, whose faces I've never smelt, but who are there waiting and whining that the times are no longer a changing.
Keep up the smiles, keep out the frowns.
Negativity is the attribute of the terrorist. Don't be a terrorist.
All fine men and women have once in their life been truly scared.
One ten till the train leaves.


Good night major split hairs.

On the second of the fort
Nights beckoned a call dim
Lit by ill fated mechanisms that
Were men and women and
Children and the forgotten dream of
What was meant long ago and was is
Meant now but not followed through.

With heaven comes hell and hell fire and
Clouds of white with shelling from
Wars not of this world or the next or
The one's thereafter and lingering history,
With its bells and trinkets and tombstones,
That have been weathered but are still not gone.

Memory not mourning, pictures in a frame lit
From the inside out and drinks were there
When we were not meant to be there like a
Kiss on a flower you picked at an age where
Life was not known and death was even
Farther away for it existed not in the eyes of yours
But in everyone else around you, except for the
Other children of course but oh' of course.

If your trying to get the part of the stuff
That makes you recall the upstairs of the
Idiocies of the room romance that restricts but
Contains life and halters life and stifles life with
That one must recall a past life where tears
Mean nothing when you produce them too often.

Can of the hypocritical malice of mis-informed family
Foundations and we break into the minds of the way
It should be and the way it shouldn't be and yet here
When we gaze out across the wide spread of the world
And its many ways it spells out with a God's own language
The morning of the ear who listens and speaks when not spoken
To breaking every single rule of the word and smiling
Throughout the whole ****** thing.

Canons of repetition where life winces and the wife begins to wheeze
And fall, her dress is now clear and her eyes just don't seem to be
Where we are now I believe that money is the root of this soon to be dead
Tree and streets are now empty as the moon casts its silver glaze and
The breeze is now naked with her bra on the floor cast in straw while
The wizards write their spells and comb their hair and draw out plans
For the next great fall but watch the fireworks and the way they hail and
Crawl throughout the entire bawl and Ol' Ezra P. mass amounts of rage
To bring to the stage but here ye' O great one this place is for us all.

Here in the house of the not that is shared but all is seen here
Where the wind blows to no east and no west and no south and
No other way that you believe to get headed to the world of
The no names and experience makes you wise and yet old
And remembered for the drinks you paid for but especially for
The ones you forgot to pay for but that is what friends are for.

Omnivores in latitudes that matter not to the public eye but
To the ear of the Lord that is not everyone's savior but
Chosen just for the right eye so within that decree of mastery
We entrance the light and shovel up the leaves leaving the last
Way of things to be the first way of things when the lights
Are quickly turned off and on and off and on again and again;
Stars are naked until the sun rises in your hometown and the radio
Turns on.

And the background music chimes with a willingness of a cockroach but
Holds the beauty of a **** statue found in the under toe of a lost
Beach in a lost land forgotten in time but embraced by eternity and
Though does not dwindle its numerous names or its many ways
Of being for the hour does shackle us all but here in high array of
None other then eight times the way through the cobbled up in the
Attic of the fiercest neanderthal dictator with ideas holding truths upon
Truths that in the end mean nothing  for advancement is not determined
But continued upon as long as we forget the past and look to the future hymn
Of the childless winged' beasts that were once forgotten but now embraced
Angels.

Not of this world but of the entirety of the reality of banality
Breathing back and forth inhaling and exhaling releasing the
Mind of the mares of the wandering rewinds of infinite space
And inside the eyes of the highest levee which has broken but
Has not yet spilt holding back its power for the remainder of the
Year and catacombs upon catacombs of forgotten text of never
Forgotten men recalling their former lives and their former passions
And the hastiness of their possession of the word and the avoidance
Of the death touch the death mark the black spot upon us all.

Dog on a hill cloud high in the sky nut on the ground no not a sound
Frost on your fingertips toe of the boot covered a steel dull mud
Suds from a water rushing miles away nodding branches of a dead tree
Wind through the high grass birds in the sky that fly but not chirp
Sun in the sky rice fields burn brown crickets rub their thighs together
Not here but in the corn stocks and pig stocks brown in the reverse order
Platters of pinch salt and pepper underneath the floor boards creek for
Creak and dollar for dollar we make the rounds and we do not frown.

And the meet of the neat make their rapid conversations in dual order
Where they tell themselves this but I hear that and you make what you want
Unless you ain't got the stuff but if your lucky and if your smart you'll
Grab the oven and bake that **** but in case you don't see the sunset and
Your buried without your toes look for your voice because that's the only
Way you'll get to know the stars in the sky or the dirt on the ground for
The fun is growing but the lurkers are smirking for they got the pennies and
They got the nickels and these streets are breaking so you gotta' start thinking
Of a way to get outta' this place and FAST or else you'll be staring down the
Barrel of a 33 to ONE typing and writing and peeping around the corner of
Your dear old ***** that hasn't found in a home in years but don't look too
Down because one day that ONE will come around either by taxi or by train
Or by some kind of war and if you've got the gut and the money and the honey to
Keep her tight and alright and flying that lovers kite then your bound to keep
Yourself from the giggles and nearer to the harmony of the way things ought to
Be but may not really be but perhaps can be if you will it around and swill it with
Your will making sure your lies and that white or ain't that black or ain't that real
Or you ain't lying at all but stay truer to the truth with the water resolution of the
Insipid insecurity of the first love you thought you knew but now see that it was
The one three or four later and how right I am in knowing nothing and knowing
Everything and letting the mind skip and play and register new friends in the new
Cities and the new alleys and the smiles that break across the ice like a crack of of a
Whip and counting the days ones gone blowing through the high valley and the low
Trenches of war I do not wish to go to but may be forced too because this man believes
Just what he says.
Ston Poet Dec 2015
Uhh,..Young Ston,..Uhh.
/(Ohh I3)..(want you2)..(just you2)..(Ohh I3)..I want you , just you/2
Just you..(Ohh I *3)..,(want you
2)..(Just you2)..(Ohh,Yeah2)..(Just you2)..(I want you3)..
(Ohh I2)..Ohh Yeah..(I want you2)..Ohh,Yeah..(Just you2)..Ohh..(I want you5)..(just you3)..girl, Yeah..(I want you girl3)..(I want you2)..& just you girl, (I want you2)..Yeah & (only you girl..Yeah2)..

You so beautiful, you so fresh, you so cute girl, Uhh..that's why I only want you girl, yeah.. Only you girl, Yeah just you girl...Aye you give me a different special feeling that I never ever felt before I met you girl..a feeling in my spirit, mind & heart Yeah..(Like Ohh I
3)..(want you3)..(Ohh Yeah2)..I'm really feeling you girl..girl you got me in my feelings baby, **** I might even shed a tear while I'm hitting it..like..(Thank God2)..(for you..2)(Ohh Yeah2)..Uhh,Aye

I wanna feel yo insides, baby yeah I wanna fill you inside up with my love..Yeah you a good girl you tighter than a waist trainer on a big girl, you don't even need one, even tho you hella thick girl..yeah you super thick girl like Amber Rose.. like (got ****
2)..Yeah..your body (so right3)..its banging like Baghdad,.. Like (Ohh Yeah3)..(I want you3)..Uhh, Yeah..these other **'s stay bugging & running after me but..(Ohh I2)..(just want you2)..(Ohh Yeah3)..(Ohh I 3)..I want..(I want you, just you3)..you..Ohh Yeah..Uhh

So give me dat *** Babygirl Yeah,  don't make me ask baby..don't  make me beg & if you do make me then Imma just go harder while I'm in you & make it hurt even worser , Yeah you gonna be so soar Babygirl..like a..work out,Ohh Yeah...I'll help you exercise I'll be yo trainer..,(Ohh Yeah3)
Don't play wit me baby.., I said take this ****,babygirl you the only person I'll let in my lane..but I'm the only one thats  doing the driving..so  park that ***** up on my ****..I'll be your provider..

Imma beat that *** up Yeah..of course, Aye Imma put Dat ***** in a hearse, Yeah that's what Imma do..(Ohh Yeah
3)..,yo ***** so good to me babygirl, so I had to dedicate this verse only to yo ***** yeah its so tight..Its so mean..its so sweet, Its so clean,like..(Ohh Yeah3)..Uhh..(I  want you3)..(Ohh Yeah3)..
Aye, Imma get you so high boo..(so high
3)..like Ohh yeah..Ohh I, want you, Aye baby everytime, when I look (at you2)..I'm so grateful & thankful to have you, you a blessing to me Yeah girl.., So Imma bless you..(Fo life3)..(no lie3)
Ohh,(Yeah girl you so amazing
2),

I wanna taste ya, I wanna take ya away girl, Away from (all the **** ****2)..that you (deal wit2) me Shawty, you ain't gonna remember any other man, that you ever had..**** em, forget baby real ****, leave them in the past..Uhh,
Noo I ain't desperate for you boo, but yeah, I do want you..(I want you2) & only you..Yeah I..(want you2)..Yeah..Uhh
I wanna eat yo *** up, just like a ice cream cone Babygirl,.. (Come on2)..Babygirl.. Imma throw some whip cream down on ya, & Imma go to work on that ****, forget them lips Babygirl,..Imma make you (tingle3)..Uhh,.Imma make you (sprinkle3)..Yeah..you best believe me girl, Yeah I'm so g girl, Imma King girl,yeah, you can be my queen girl,my queen (yeah2)..my gangsta boo..
Ayo,what up, What's good Gangsta Boo, Ayo,I need me a trill *** down chick like that dude, she get up on a track wit me & spit Dat real **** that **** a ***** **** , Yeah (that gangsta ****3)..mane..Yeah I need (a gangsta chick3)..Ohh Yeah..

(Ohh I 3)..want you, I want you,..(Ohh I2)..(want you2)..(Ohh I2)..want you,..(I want you3)..
(Ohh I
5)..want you..(I want you3)..(Ohh I6)..want you, just you..(Ohh Yeah3)..Aye

You can twist my **** up, baby..girl come kick back relax &  chill with a ***** thats so unbelievable girl, Imma keep g & Imma keep it real with ya..Yeah, ain't nothing made up about me baby **** pleather, Im comparable to real leather, so expensive, but I'm giving you a special bargain, baby Yeah..Noo, I ain't on that **** ****, & I ain't no captain save a ** shawty, but you so delicate, you the definition of class Yeah.. You (a real woman
2)..,that's why..(I want you3)(I want you yeah2)..(just you baby2).. Yeah (only you girl..2)..just you..Uhh
I'll come to your rescue, when ever you need me to girl,baby, I'll give you your every want & need (Yeah2)..I'll protect you from these **** boys..I'll be (yo hero Yeah2)..girl you can be my biggest fan, I'll give you a special VIP pass, baby you can be my best friend..Uhh..Yeah baby let's get married & have kids , I promise to be there for you, I'll hold you down, no more crying girl, at all.., baby we can ride (to the end2)..Uhh..Ohh Yeah..

(Ohh I
2)..want you, you so fine, you so fly, you just you, Baby I love it when after we make love then cuddle together boo..you so bearable, you so unique, Yeah I wanna share my life & happiness with you & only you baby...Yeah
(Ohh I2)..want you..(I want you3)..(Ohh I3)..
(I want you *3)..(Ohh I
6)..Young Ston


(Yeah *****..*2)..Yeah..Uhh..
Ston Poet..
I want you.....
stonpoet.tumblr.com
Joseph Childress May 2014
Titans clashing
In writing classes
Sessions
To profess progression
Or
Progress to professions
Blessings
Brought through the lessons
Learned
In College
A student as truant
As undeserved triumph
In the form
Of a form
That says what he’s worth
Diplomas
Handed out
To show
You’re on the road
To success
The rest are asked
The ultimate question
Of “Why not?”
Embarking on the quest
When the ultimatum
Is failure

Fail lures in
Those with no ambition
Men *******
About getting papers
To show worth
Working with no
Apparent purpose
Versus
Being apparently worthless
Pairing the two
Against the view
Of a *****
Who stares at the moon
And gives a ****
About the bull
The one
Whose wit
Could split
The tightest knit
Brain
And undue the sutures
Of skulls
To undue
Their mundane
View of success

The *****
Who calls himself
A *****
With more pride
Than Aryans
Carrying his opinion
Higher
Than the mass vision
Just to show
How low
They truly are
Arrogantly ignorant
Ignore rants
Of others
And smother them
With the truth
Of knowing nothing
And understands
They’ll never understand

Overstepping the boundaries
Without
Diplomatic immunity
Yet immune
To the qualities
Of the Hippocratic views
And sees
To seize the future
You must
Tackle the present problems
You must blitz
To get you’re quarter back
If you want
To make a change
And sport all the qualities
That seem to them
Strange
Deranged
In the range
Of misunderstandings

The illusion of progress
For humans
Are usually
Said in words
And never
Set in stone
So I will throw
Sticks and stone
The stupidity that’s grown
Words hurt
But actions hurt worser

For example:
Worser
Isn’t a word
Until I worsen the
Worst situation

I’m waiting
For my chance
To blow up

So I can dumb down
Your intelligence
And smarting up
Your ignorance

If you can’t understand
You’re either too smart
Or too **** ignorant

If you’re offended
Then you’re opinion is unneeded
Because the truth
Will tear your *** to pieces
Once I seen a human ruin
In a elevator-well.
And his members was bestrewin'
All the place where he had fell.
And I says, apostrophisin'
That uncommon woful wreck:
"Your position's so surprisin'
That I tremble for your neck!"
Then that ruin, smilin' sadly
And impressive, up and spoke:
"Well, I wouldn't tremble badly,
For it's been a fortnight broke."

Then, for further comprehension
Of his attitude, he begs
I will focus my attention
On his various arms and legs--

How they all are contumacious;
Where they each, respective, lie;
How one trotter proves ungracious,
T' other one an alibi.

These particulars is mentioned
For to show his dismal state,
Which I wasn't first intentioned
To specifical relate.

None is worser to be dreaded
That I ever have heard tell
Than the gent's who there was spreaded
In that elevator-well.

Now this tale is allegoric--
It is figurative all,
For the well is metaphoric
And the feller didn't fall.

I opine it isn't moral
For a writer-man to cheat,
And despise to wear a laurel
As was gotten by deceit.

For 'tis Politics intended
By the elevator, mind,
It will boost a person splendid
If his talent is the kind.

Col. Bryan had the talent
(For the busted man is him)
And it shot him up right gallant
Till his head began to swim.

Then the rope it broke above him
And he painful came to earth
Where there's nobody to love him
For his detrimented worth.

Though he's living' none would know him,
Or at leastwise not as such.
Moral of this woful poem:
Frequent oil your safety-clutch.Porfer Poog.
Damaré M Sep 2013
Where do thugs go?
Who do they run to? 
Where do they call home? 
Not a house that they go to, but a place where they feel belonged 
How do they cope with the scarcity of love? 

Thugs, not the kind that most women think they are attracted to; therefore, not the imposers
Not the kind who landed at the bottom of the hill, sliding from the top only to scrape off their rot 
Not the ones who were born with all the right people in their corners, but boxed them off while trying to fight to be someone that they are not 

Thugs, the ones who momma loves? Because he appreciates her worthiness, her works 
She's the only real love he ever had since birth 
Thugs; who can't really go places because trouble doubles 
It multiplies whenever he is with his guys 
Because they all know how it feel not to live under a roof 
Neither one of them have anything to lose 
His dudes are equal to himself cubed 
They rely on one another like proofs 
And they are radical from the roots 
Living in a negative atmosphere trying to multiply it by itself 
So that they can make it to where the grass is greener and the sun does shine 
The other side of the number line 
Where the gunfire and homicides are divided
And the dope is reduced 
All their lives they have been thinking that they are enduring the truth 
That they "cannot amount to nothing and cannot be put to use"

They are neck deep in the streets 
And the authorities is at their throats like a crew 
But nothing around them is cotton 
So when their fingers symbolizes a "V" they are only representing the place where they have to be 
And they are not weak, but sometimes they wishes that they can take off a week 

Black cats can't chase yarn
Mexicans don't have a specific day for casual dressing 
Asians don't get any waivers 
Cubans can't take less hours for a semester of schooling 
Haitians don't get vacations 

The **** life is given 
Difficult to make it
As it is to escape it 
It's hard to deal 
When all they know is reeling in deals 
To people who are saltier than Dill's 
While at the same time trying to act real... Kosher
Without a companion to share meals... How do they find closure?
Too busy being tyrannical 
Never learned how to be grammatical 
So **** just got "worser"
Interviewee for a job 
Or being suave to a child's mom
Besides their eyes,
Their oration is just exposure 
Not knowing their duration to exist on this surface 
Thugs need love 
It's hard to tell through his mean-mug 
But he's hurting
When I was young I used to dream nd wish to get older then that happened but I've realized the stress of being old is much more than the teenage drama I used to get through, the stress of having that solid life is much worser than the stress of high school, the stress of wishing is much lesser than the stress of pushing harder  but still find your self in the same page, the stress of which u have to report off everyday is much better than the stress you have to handle everyday, the stress of seing your family falling apart is much better than the stress of trying to bind your family together but it keeps falling apart, the stress of things which are far from you is much better than the stress your part of in anyway
Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether that my angel be turned fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;
But being both from me both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another’s hell.
    Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,
    Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
PEARL SMOKE Mar 2015
Im not Going to go on
If all we do is argue on & on
I Can't Keep Up.
Fighting With Both my relationship & sobriety & trying to remain positive.
We Talk nonsense
We Never sit down and work it.
We just let it pass bye.
Im Not liking this anymore
Being more mad at eachother than smiling & laughing.
We say were going to work it out
It all seems to get worser to me.
I Want to be with him
But the experience is hurting.
So many wrongs
We don't seem to even get along.
Friends & enemies
At the same time.
You can't see yourself without me & i can't see myself being without you.
But its probably the best thing..
I Love my boyfriend.
I fought and went through so much to be with him.
But it all Dosnt seem to put together
I want to be with him forever.
But lately ive seen this relationship isnt doing good for me anymore.
"Your love is like a caged bird
Beautiful when standing outside looking in
But imprisoning when you are the bird"
R Apr 2018
"You'll be fine,
It'll be okay,
It will get better,
birthname"

They say

If only they knew that sometimes a name is a shackle, holding us to what we've never been and keeping us there until we can admit to ourselves that we've never been fine, nothing's okay and it first gets worse

"Why are you so mad,
Nothing seems to be wrong,
Why aren't you happy,
girl"

They say

If only they knew that sometimes feelings are subtle masks, painted onto our faces with the blood we drew yesterday to hide what we need to say to escape the viscous cycle of hate and tears and figurative death, and emotions are betrayals of what we need to be

"Everything would be fine,
They'd all be cool with it,
Why can't you just come out"

They say
(skipping
my name as the smallest act of a
hand in the darkness)

If only they knew that coming out is something that never goes fine, a delicate balance of worse and worst that makes our hearts beat so fast that cool is no longer a phrase but a temperature we need to reach in order to play our everlasting game of pretend

and

a name is a shackle, holding us to what we've never been and keeping us there until we can admit to ourselves that we've never been fine, nothing's okay and it first gets worse and even when it's not said we can hear it in the air, lingering on their lips like the slurs that we always expect to hear but haven't yet because to slur they need a target, an out, and coming out is something that never goes fine, a delicate balance of worse and worst that makes our hearts beat so fast that cool is no longer a phrase but a temperature we need to reach while the world spins faster and hotter and turning on the fan at night just keeps us up, dreading the dawn where we must once again play our game of pretend like everyone's born how they'll be for the rest of their lives and no one is different from the norm while still being okay

and

we go to Society everyday with a smile on our faces to say

"You'll be fine,
It'll be okay,
It will get better,
birthname;
Why are you so mad,
Nothing seems to be wrong,
Why aren't you happy,
birthsex"

because emotions are like coming out delicate scales of worst and worser and when we can't feel them we get enough cool relief to realize That This
Dysphoria
Is
Crushing
And
We
Can't
Get
Okay
Save me
Susan O'Reilly Apr 2013
Ach, a delicah constitution, have I

me auld bones are getting wearier

if somebody sneezes I have a cowld

its getting worser the more I get older

I can’t get a dacent man

but I’m looking as hard as I can

I’ve got a little piece of land

so for a dowry he’d be grand

See, since I buried my first two

it’s not easy to get a beau

and these day’s I’m not such a pretty view

I can be a bit contrary

and my moods oft vary

but unlike my sister Mary

I haven’t got a tash long and hairy

I don’t need any of that *** stuff

I can tell ya that for nuttin

Its help around the farm I’m huntin

I can make a dacent cup-o-tay

and I’m handy at baling the hay

so if your up for a bit of honest toil

and your humour don’t make me blood boil

Come marry Teresa Rafter

when I’m gone you’ll live happily ever after
Chalsey Wilder Oct 2015
Everybody says "It's your life, take control of it."
Yes, quite indeed it's my life
And naturally, the controls comes with limitations
I keep falling back into bad habits
And each time I fall in I only get worser
"But Chalsey, you shouldn't let life limit you."
Limit me?
Well, I don't know how much of me there is.
Maybe this is all anyone gets
Maybe there isn't much more to me
*Maybe I am at my limit
I think I'm pretty close to my limit.
Martin Narrod Feb 2016
in the penguins luck the furnace begins
at reprograming the news. Picture frames on 2 x 4s , three
photographs and glass bottles in the most decadent of matrimonies.
Three-hundred million dollars.
And the race riots show 'em who'll take the dampit from the mound of
Soot stained elements, canvas, trash bags, electric guitar riffs, giraffes, bingo, the drip-drop on the drop cloth. Easing into the new processor.

She who settles the wages of crickets with ether and single-barrel vanilla buckshot and maple. Incisors and cynical stereotypecastes and the shadows of the other mugged and loose canonical charades the worser and worsening play their ad keywords at in the sketchmakers many movements her dactyls fine and her fingertips many. Sweet lines of breathing and setting.
Guy Braddock Feb 2014
There is no place in this modern age, it seems.
No "I could if I would and wouldn't if I couldn't"
Or some other convoluted phrase of a pod. Now
Getting out your phone is sufficient
To show to another some ghastly memes
Puerile goldmines, or else perhaps
Some comic vines
Or worser still, oh dear me
Some animal *******

Now nothing shocks if not in the flesh
News of paedos on TV
Where used to haunt old sir Jimmy
Elicits now some some disinterested grunt, whilst genocide
Suffers horribly from being juxtaposed
With the football scores.

If nothing shocks, if nothing works
To divert the mind from those ****** tweaks
What good are words to those who still
Prefer to sit and tell a joke
Rather then hopping on the rumour mill
And spew much **** till we all choke.

There's no place for Wildeisms, for how
Can they compete with lolcats?
Wit is no longer about sarcasm and irony
For, dear god, the Americans run the world now,
And is now about a carefully placed
"Yolo", or perhaps a reference to some Facebook trend, or
Some other fatuous *******. It's so **** it drips with ****
So goodbye, dear wit, let me blow you a kiss
And let you know that I say, "**** this,
I'm going to go watch Tommy Cooper videos on youtube."
HappyHappyHappy Feb 2017
To all the artist in the world- good and bad.

What do you draw? Anime? Manga? Cartoon? Animation? Animals? Humans?

This is a letter to those of you who consider yourself as a terrible artist.
Not the ones who know computer designing with drawing tablets and copy paste art. Not the ones who are actually good.

To the ones who have been depressed by their art. The ones who thinks their art is terrifying.
The ones who have no hope for their art.

Listen up.

Those days.... when you peeked across the table to your friend's drawings and mumbled, "That's really good. I wish I could draw like that too." And depressed for you thought you were the worst drawer within your friends. When you moaned, "Will I ever draw like that? Could I possibly?" And while staring into the arts of others. Depressing and filled with jealousy, feeling like your art is getting worser and worser.


SHUT UP!

Those were lies of yourself.
Those thoughts that pulled you deeper into misery.
Those were all FAKE.

You think others are better than you.

But to be honest. (This is the important part, read carefully)

There is no good or bad in art. Better than or worse than.

There are no good and bad, but there is different styles and types of art.

"Good." "Bad." They were the words that tricked you. They were illusions.

There is only varieties of drawings in art.

Everybody is different. So is their art.

When people see the other styles of art, they mistake is as "Good."

You think that person's art is "better" than yours.

No.

It's just- different from yours.

So don't say your drawings are "bad." Don't.

Everyone's art is special. It might seem "bad" to others, but it's actually wonderful.

Because it's yours.

Yours only.

The one and only you.



Your style of art.
was that long? yes that was long. reeeeaally long. longest i ever wrote, probably! haha!! well sorry to people who dont draw, sorry if this was boring heehee
Jessica Head Sep 2013
Lastnight Wasn't As Worse As Few Years Ago.
When My Mother Was Drunk Nearly Everyday,
She Didn't Care About My Brother And Me.
Now I'm A Little Bit Older And Much More Protective
Over My Brother And Myself.
At Nights When My Mother Was Drunk Out Of Her ******* Mind.
Use To Hear Her Yelling And Going Crazy.
Taking Her Anger Out On Us Like We Were Her Punching Bag.
I Had No Choice To Live With Her And Put Up With Her.
My Biological Father Was Gone,
He Lived Far From Us.
Only People I had To Depend On Was My Sister's Or Granny And Uncle.
During Some Cold, Blizzard Winter Nights I Walked Off.
I Walk To Somewhere Safe.
I'm Sorry I Couldn't Take My Brother With Me
It Was Too Dangerous And Risky.
Putting My Life On The Line
Daring Jumping Out Of A Window And Landing On Snow Or Either Grass.
My Brother Was Always In A Safe Place With My Uncle's Somewhere.
My Mother Kept Me Home, Didn't Let Me Go Anywhere
Or I Had Nowhere To Go.
Glad I Didn't End My Life
Had All Those Chances To
But I Don't Know What Stopped Me.
To This Day I Still Don't Know Where I'm Trying To Go.
I Have Everything, Just Got To Try Figure Where Or What Am I Going To Do.
Happy I got My Granny And Uncle's House To Help Me.
My Mother Is Sometimes A Drunk But Not Worse.
Yeah! She Still Calls Me Down And All That.
I'm Use To Words And Fighting Back.
I Walk Away Cause Its Useless Arguing With A Drunk.
I don't Hide As Much Anymore.
My Attitude Changed After I Realised There Were Worser People In My Community.
I'm Still Happy That's If I Got A Dog Beside's Me Always.
raudha Aug 2013
rain is pouring
a stranger awaits
i don't know what i'm up to
but today's the day
that i'll shut off from
everything

you can say i'm a mess
a mess worser than the hair
on my head
because i am
i am a walking catastrophe

life's full of what if's and almosts
i guess i'm just one of them
an eternal drowner of my thoughts
a dead weight
a scribble of god's creation

i don't matter
i cease to exist
it's a revolting pull
a cycle
of madness & me
this poem was originally written in backward handwritting on a piece of paper sometime a month ago
mûre Mar 2012
anguish (as a species)
is a most fearsome animal
came to visit my abode

it is bigger than life and
at once too vibrant and too shrouded to define edges
save the glittering Chesire rictus that splits its skull
like broken mirrors
reflecting original sin as if you were the author

it characteristically blinds its victim
before inserting a single spine into the cardiac muscle
paralyzing both beat and brain

you may open your eyes once
(it will allow you that)
before the end

so you may appraise its shark-like maw
jaw dislocating wide wide wide
to afford room for your entirety

when it closes,
it is not like going to sleep.
it is no gentle light.

a worser fate, it lets you live
in the acid of its belly
peeling away your skin
pickling your eyes

until from yourself you can draw a sword
tear from the taut and distended skin of malice
and ******* forgive yourself.
Melody Dec 2011
I just feel like crying..

She doesn't deserve this...

I haven't heard her soft voice in so long...

And I was gone when I could have called her!

I was gone when she was put into the hospital!

Those devilish pure white rooms,

The rooms where everything bad can take the worser of turns!

I just feel so...

Helpless...

Useless....

I can't lose hope..

But I am...

It is all my fault...

I've always been there..

And tried my best to be her sister...

She's in pain and I can't help!

**** IT!

WHY HER?....

I'd visit her if I could...

But ....

I can't lose hope!

I won't lose hope!

EVERYTHING WILL GO JUST FINE!...

Won't it?

I am such a horrible person...

I should have called her everyday to check up on her..




I'm so young...

I don't understand ...

She's so young...

She doesn't deserve this...

I do...

I let this happen..

I'd **** the pain from her if I could!

But I can't!

****!

I feel so helpless..

Useless...

Hopeless...
james nordlund Nov 2018
Betwixt our better and worser angel's voices in our heads

That aren't, nor curser, for our inner candle's always lite

So we don't curse the darkness, weeded, bring forth from

The Earth more, demanded by our roots, feet, hands, score.

Solutioning with reality is always diluting or concentrating.
Topological energetic relational reality, as any and all life are relation, furthers   :)   reality
Raena Kidd Jul 2012
I found myself in a dark room all day
Hoping the silence would take the pain away
No one is here to hear me when I cry
Maybe if I see, someone, I should just tell a lie
Because without you here by my side
How am I meant to stay alive
Why... am I a heartbroken girl... again
I guess the best moments happened back then
When you said you still wanted to be my friend
I can’t deny my heart started to mend
In a way you were my angel
Now every breath I take without you is painful
The hole in my chest is getting worser
And at the same time getting better
I’ll sing I out like Jason Derulo
Boy, I’m riding solo
I’m lucky I can handle this pain
And unlike you I can make it through the rain
I have a heart of gold
That never gets cold
I thought you would make me one less lonely girl
Because every time I saw you, you made my stomach whirl
I get it that your shy
But together boy we could've flown high
You’re a sweet and funny guy
When it comes to love boy you don’t have to lie
You said you liked me
That was hard for me to see
I don’t believe you were playing me
It was just hard for you to talk to me
It’s hard for me to sleep at night
Because in my head you’re a shining light
And maybe it’s true
That I’m still caught up on you
And maybe it’s all in my head
That without you my heart feels dead...

By Raena Kidd
When skies flash and dark tides boil,
And the land’s set all aflame,
I’ll close my eyes and face the morrow,
To be a soldier born again.

Through shattered rock and broken stone,
Through vacant, barren squares ,
A curse upon who struggles on,
For on them the burden bares.

With ****** lip and battered bone,
The human treks the sand,
A victim to the past, not present,
Desolation of the land.

Those that find are left behind,
Can thank the stars they are.
But worser things than deathly sleep
Leave a different kind of scar.

If and when the 'end time' comes
For the untimely task to take,
A head held high, a glimpse of sky
Can freedom and hope make.
Magdalyn Jan 2014
Running.
Run across your street and mind
Take your memories cause I don't need 'em
but think of me

Scars to prove it, tears to fake it
Can you read my mind? No.
The time that towns forgot
Running through the street and running quickly through your mind

It's unfair

It's not love, it's just love.
One of many problems, many problems in one
Snipping out the bad parts,
pasting in the worser ones
Running from your problems back into
circle one
waiting for the ax to fall
and cut off my split ends.
Okay, so you can tell I'm a little sad.
jeffrey conyers Sep 2012
She the strength.
The force.
She's the leader.
The enforcer.
My angel.
My love.

She don't need wings to guide.
She flies upon her personal truth.
She comfort us in our dire times.
That alone is the reason to place her at the top of the line.

She a very impressive person.
With the power to stop things for getting any worser.
My angel.
My love.
Who's simply wonderful?

We surrounded by many.
And loved by plenty.
Point one out.
And they will deny it.
Simply because they don't seek recognition.

My love.
My angel.
She's simply wonderful.
CP Walker Jul 2014
I lie in bed,
And stretch my toes,
And ***** a sniffle,
Before it goes:

Achoo,
my friends,
Achoo once more,
I'm spread upon...
my house's boards.

Boards,
I hold,
my back,
against.
I float,
above,
the ground,
of sense.

I leave you all,
for now tonight.
Though all I really crave is light!

May companionship...
find all.
May you're somber...
sorrows fall.
May your every worry fade,
like surfing the wind upon a wave!

Let,
good,
waves,
bless,
your,
days,

And good vibes,
bless,
your,
nights.

Amen perhaps?
I really don't know!
Can I borrow a map?
To find Mt. Flow:

And climb,
And climb,
And search and look,
And stumble upon,
the sacred book.

I quickly take,
a little peak,
before the...
libra-
rian...
slaps...
my...
cheek.

But it in that time,
short though it was,
I still managed,
to catch a buzz.

I took the apple,
from the tree,
and found a worm,
and A, B, C ' S

And Newton,
may have found,
gravity,
with his,
apple,

But he never explain it to children.
so forget the inconsiderate man...
who does not value the opinion...
of young minds,
that will them.

Mind the thunder,
between your knees,
the graceful rumble,
of ominous trees;

That lean and lean,
and wait to fall,
and challenge the roof...
with squeaks and squalls.

I hope no birds' nest downly fall,
and families get ruined.
Such tragedy, oh this'd be,
hard eggs shells turned to fluid.

Can a worser scenario,
be brought up by life's passing?
Can I witness such tragedy...
and forever forget laughing?

All life is equal,
in His holy eyes;
all questions silenced,
by his grace, Divine.

Night buds!
Too late is how late...
samara lael Jul 2019
he sings:
all he wants is nothing more
than to hear her knocking at his door.

& all i want is nothing more
than to be the one opening up my own.

she walks through streets of calmed anxiety,
a technique she has nailed into closed doors.

tranced, coffee sipping, malamente listening;
she lives in her mind for the hours she has to rest.

the summer soars; the light winds are for
whisking away the days til she returns.

though today she practices for the worser days,
she can’t help but realise these are more than okay.

— The End —