WHAT ARE DREAMS, i have a few to tell.

What is a dream?
The body is asleep, while the brain is still active. The truth of dreams remain a mystery to me. I dream a night then I dream a year. In my mind dreams are fantasy. A story without titles or names. Some call dreams nightmares, others call nightmares just dreams; until you re-live a dream as Deja Vu. I had a good many of those. Also in dreams, I don't see the sun reflect in nobody's eyes. A dream has faces, those faces are whatever; sometimes it's a friend or family members...other times those faces have no faces at all. And those faces scare me the most. That is a good thing, never in my life have I dremt of killer devils or large spiders as big as a house. No evil spells cast over my sleeping body.
Most of my dreams are with views. Like bomb's dropping and exploding, running away from something on familiar places, re-uniting with friends, friends I have not said sorry to. My dreams are always about me. My name is never mentioned by name or yelled for that matter, and I have never pasted a mirror. During some dreams I want to stay and sleep until the end, while other dreams wake my body in a cold fright. Sometimes on nasty-occasions, I struggle to move. My brain spins so fast that I fell like I'm spining with it. Spinnig so fast that maybe I'll spin off and fly away.
So I decided to remember my dreams, when I wake in the morning or in the middle of the night; no matter how sleepy I am, I'll write what I remember and I'll post a few in here.

Last night was a slow paced night. My mind painted a Zombie foe. A tired old drunk man with stuttering steps. The dream took place in this house and down a dusty road.
The steps of the man dragged across my wooden porch. Saw him through the front window. A man about 45 years old, with dirty- muddy clothes. His face was similar to sun-baked hamberger. In a dash, I raced to the door and turned and bolted the locks. I was alone in the room, family members gone, only empty white walls. From outside the door I heard a mumbleing sound, which led me to believe that this man was never a great specker. His un-hearable voice then went away. But left something behind, or used another way to communicate. The Zombie with the Zombie bite turned the knob to my dreamy room. Frightened as he pulled the knob, then another.. I was again frightened. As I stood against the door, he on the other side yanked the door knob. The sight of his bleached fingers and strained muscles pulling the knobs; forced me to place my living hands around the straining bolts of my 5 dollor knob. Hold him out, and I'll be alright, was what I thought. In a few dreams, listening is forgotten; only this night in my dream, I heard the metal parts twisting and breaking...finally the knob snapped and the Zombie was gone. The knob was broken in my hand. A jitty-jumpy knob was all that was left. It did not fall. I slid across the wall away from the broken locks. My eyes where focused on the slightest movement to alarm me. As in many Horror movies; when the villian is quiet, its o.k. to let your guard down. For that split second its good, then in a sudden the movie monster will jump through the window or mysteriously appear behind you. In my dreamy nightmare the broken door opened without force, more like a simple breeze blowing the door open. The swaying door kept me alert, any moment the zombie would appear. And so it did. I could see the figure move slowly through the side cracks of my now open door. Leaving fear out for the first time; I jumped into the door. The momentum knocked and smashed the zombie. As he fell the broken knob fell where the zombie lay. I didn't pay any attention and jumped over the dirty hemp of dead human. Jumped out on to the porch and ran to the dusty road. There I turned and seen the zombie get back up and make its troubled way back down my front stoop. I seen his face for the first time. The un-reconizable face appeared to be the victim of my fathers victim. The man was the man my dad killed. He marched toward me and reveled a set of razor shape teeth. The teeth were dirty and some fangs were missing. I yelled for help and noone came. On a dusty road and the Zombie with hamberger face woke me right out of my nightmare.

( all things are fiction, mixed in with my vivid imangination and inspired by that simple dream.)

this little song( if you can call it that; or if you can find a tune to make it work. LOL) i made was about a family of cannibals. a family who celebrates ever august with granddads discovery back in 1932.

enjoy....
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Let the poor man sleep, then we take his bed
little room for future kids, o-ver-pop-u-late this crowed bed
no mat-ter how many times, so many idiots spawn a crime
Dumb do the dumb while young bums drum some song

outside the hell wall of backwash plague
granddad came to hunt, lands dry, lands wet
someplace forgotten during candle light
the troubles of human nature, a hint of manifest flavor

flashback to hungry people, look at granddads silent stare
out on nomad lands of Madagascar;
lost guns, forgotten law and sent marcella home
No meat to eat, hunger loud as dropping bombs
...until Candawase, of a unknown tribe,
told of human and self-fried methods...

fall of 1932, August, rise of something new
a way to settle the fuss, cel-a-brate every year
let the mean, dirty, healthy man shun the helping news
it so, then we take and bake his nasty head

Rid the world of nasty souls, a red ripe apple
eat the body of un-trusting crows, never again with hate
so we sit and rip flesh like wild lions
trained reality, railroad train...out in a grassy field

Only half way down, Buck the murder count
no extra bread, turn the man to market dead
one by one, pass it to the next family member down
nothing wrong with screaming dawn
long forgotten mean man, human red sand..human bled........

this thought came, when i was coming back from seattle by plane. i looked out the window and seen the highway without cars, we were so high up, you can't see the cars, so i wrote what it would be like to travel home with a thousand miles to go....
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One Day & Miles a Day to Go.

20 bucks on pump #4 and a pack of smokes.
"20 and Smokes...what kind?"
A pack of Newport Mediams..Boxed.
"That comes to $4.83, is that all mister?"
Yeah, that's good...and keep the change my friend

nothing like a free man with a full tank and a pack of smokes
TIME TO RISE AND RIDE, AHEAD OF NATURE'S LAMP
time to put miles behind me with a thousand miles to go
shades of blackish purple burn with a lite orange glow;
behind black silhouette elevation
some say a lucky 7 is luckier than heavens triple 7's
i'm not a gambling man; but here on earth..
my 1977 convertible has two
and thats fine with me
just me and my thoughts again
5:45 A.M., has been a good friend
on the way back to people i know
a thousand miles east, riding through county's and states
go back to the place where i started and left
those dusty faces are sure to be clean
the years did nothing but update calender dates
no worries, no More animosity...nothing has entered
sometimes its a blessing to go away
only this day, i will arrive without hesitation
nothing like a open interstate to get me there
SLOWING DOWN AND CHANGING LANES OVER TIME
a free man in my '77 convertible with a lit Newport
on the way home to people i know...on the way home.

my dreams are usually about the story im writing / book but i cant share it well not yet at least the first chapter is olmost done

where could there ba a place like this? Hmmm...someplaces are overlooked and passed over..what if we(as a nation) decided not to help a burning city or a smoking little place called Never-Never Land.
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Never_Never Land

A Place where light is blackish-grey with darker shadows
no plants to disrupt this neglected sight
the air smelled of heavy smoke mixed with foul play
the aftermath of genocide and suicide
creepy frights and ghoths work payless jobs
killing and betrayal; wrestle like gluttonous pigs
it would seem almost irrestible to do the samething
...only time changes along with peoples' self-insight..
or you can leave and never come back...
unfourtanly for me, its home without order
how can you blame an entire town?
a town without law or justice;
mechanical madmen ride crazed individuals;
a lot of sinister beings, like:
THE ASHY-SKINNED PEOPLE WITH MISSING LIMBS EAT RATS
THE DASTARDLY-LILLIPUTIANS WHO FLING SPIKEY BONES
everyone in this burnig shit pile commit MURDER!!
THE WORST DRAG THE DEAD AND DISFIGURE THE BODY
CANNIBALS PLUNG DIRTY TEETH INTO RUBBERY-WHITE-SHELLS
the answer for destruction is START OVER
but these days its difficult to explain
no leaders among stipid groups...can't read or write
as dumb as a blind dog..killer groups..santanic words...
50 years of this nomad convention, and not a DAMN ONE CONVICTED
silky metal worms spred red mur-da germs
THIS WRECKED COMMUNITY:
blood, bones, flesh, rotten, dirty thick air, dark, no wind
killers, ghoths, psychos, RED, BLACK, frosty white-skin...DEATH
A town beyond god's reach, stained with burning living souls
somebody call the plummer, united plummer
we've got this town leaking blood like broken pipes
THIS PLACE, RIGHT HERE, SOMEWHERE...
A PLACE CALLED NEVER-NEVER LAND..................

i went to this rodeo in a town called farmington, nm. there i seen this cowboy busting a mack with this mother by the outside blechers. the sight was funny. the guy wore a light brown trench coat with black jeans. and of course a cowboy hat...and how did i know the women was a mom...well..she was the type of mom any single man would say "HI" to. how about that? two men looking at a buttiful women with kids.. and that was the concept for this..out there in the world alot of the men think about sex, and not to mention the women. it just proves that we are all impervious and in the raw. cept my cowboy here, he pays no love to anyone. gettie up, YEEE-HAAA!!! no respect for women leads to younger women disrecpecting men. the cycle continues....
.........................................................................................................
Confessions of a Impervious, Shilly- Shally, Cowpoke...in the Raw.

Ache my heart, my horny heart. so many cows come callin'.
da-de-da-do-da-de-da-doo! another tune for this cowboy
come up with me to my room. my head is banging like a runt potato inside a hoping sack race. baby, take off my boots. oh, that feels good. oh, what a day. hon, could you get your man a cold one, you can gat one for yourself too. one on one and noone needs to know. but today i'm tired, baby. i'm cramped and racked fulll of pain. today i broke fences and put up new ones...done that for the past two months. yeah i watched them ride bulls, made me want to join. watching those jerks ride those bulls wanted me to prove them wrong, i can ride bulls, i ride bulls for fun. but my boss told me to clear out the horse stalls with a dog named "reek leak" that furry black bastard took a shit in there too. bending over and enhaling that dark green shit really bucks with your nose. anyway, bending over and heaving pounds of shit into the bags where not what i wanted. i believe we can't go bump in the night. my bucking back! we don't need to buck tonight. i'm tired...but, but..if you're still here at 8:30 to 9:00, then yes we can buck until you get tired and weak. for now this IRONMAN needs some rest. just lye beside me and massage my ass and the small of my back. you're fun-thing and my fun-giver make music like a bow and violen..this cowboy is civilized.oh, bitter sweet. another one hooked and reeled, someday i'll let you go. i've been bad, but, since you're here; forget your mission and get me done. another tune for the shiney-peter-salute: this old man i had many..with thier hips and lips..give this doggy a boneyard.

the story i'm going to share is about this kid i knew. this kid was about four years younger than me. this guy was just a kid a few years back..back when he started to mess with his life. i seen a bit of myself in him. i hung with wild people, in return i to was bad. the reasons were stupid as i look back..but for his life, he's a low-life give up. the boy is on his own.. i'm also gald i understood the meaning of bein' alive and free. well here you go.
........................................................................................................

A FALL FROM INNOCENT

there was this little boy, innocent as could be. he never swore, or maybe just a little nasty word here and there. not too much to make him obnoxious. he was a kid in his early teens. no simple pimples or any major acme. a simple kid with a simple life. he was too weak to talk. to weak to defend himself. his plan was to finish school and nothing more. baseball was the place to foget a cry in the halls of the empty school. everyday he would take grounders and bat with his right hand. his instints were good. but little precious was too skinny to fight in a rumble when he was confronted. EXCEPT, WHO WAS THIS? WHAT WAS THAT?: "HEY PUNK! YOU WANNA LOOK THE OTHER WAY! DON'T LOOK AT ME YOU SKINNY BASTARD!" they were the words of the school clowns. the clowns who picked on the helpless and hunted them everyday. the only way was to cry. when noone was around and he kept all the pain to himself. day in and day out, little precious was at odds. it didn't matter because it was always against the grain. no matter what were at odds, precoious made and finished his day with swollen pink eyes. crying wasn't enough...so one day he left the mean town without a goodbye. left me behind....

a few years had passed. was it his thought or was it his will. that the last time i seen him, he was pure as snow. now who was this? the kid changed in a dramatic fasion. unreconizable, what had happen? clearly he wasn't the same anymore. the face was a face with longer and comed back hair. the thin mustach was visable only up close, but still he would trim everyday. when i stood and watched . he threw a book across the room and told his teacher to BUCK OFF!! the colors of his clothes was black and white. nike sneakers with a blue banddana tucked into his back pocket. his baseball members were forgotten, his new team did not ware the school colors, they were the gang posting on third street walls with black and white spray paint. he looked like a gangsta. i seen the fall of a bright mind with talent on the diamond. now smoking weed and crack behind the city buildings. hanging with his thugs, drinking a fifth of souther comfort. or soko as they call it. things i never thought would happen. a tuff guy with his MOB now....

a few months had passed and he loved it. what could he ask for? he had friends, a group, a girlfriend and a reason to act. until one December night. a party in the north hills. not in the boondock, but near a abandoned store. a night of careless drinking left precious in disaray. he was having a ball. his women sucked the base of his neck with a vampires pose. all the city homeboys held cans and puffed cigs in hand. life was it, it was life to celeabrate. no worries, no blame. everything he did to change was in his mind the best thing he ever did. UNTIL WHO WAS THIS? WHAT WAS THAT? FAMILIAR VOICES CRACKED THIS MELLOW SETTING: " HEY PUNK! WHAT'S YOU'RE DEAL? THIS SUCKER LOOKS LIKE A KID I RACKED UP IN THE HALLWAY'S BACK IN MID-SCHOOL."
it was the teens who pushed precious before. but precious was to drunk to stop this next move. soon after they insulted him, precious blew a wad of spit on the face of his older rival. what was he thinking? his homeboys left earlier with a few young females of they own. now back at square one, little precious was at odds. he was alone and drunk when the mob of his rival smashed the side of precious' face with a eppty bottle. then they threw him to the ground and stomped the sides of poor precious body. the sight was terriable. beaten so bad, that the sound of the sirens was his only reaserance he'd live.

now lying in a empty hospital room about a two days later, little precios cryed for a reason. he cryed with the salty tears sinking into his dry lips and said to himself; "why?".

no more morals and dreams crushed this young man's life.

writing this and re-reading it, while i posted was a bit haunted. we have to agree, no matter how young or how old. we have a bill to pay when were done. oh, this came when i seen two burials in a span of 8 months. there i seen with mature eyes the faces of death inside 2 caskets.
A LOST AND A LOSER MAKES-UP NO WINS NOR A TRIUMPHANT RETURN. BUT A MAN OF FAITH NEEDS NO SECOND CHANCE AT LIFE.
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My Way or the Other Way

i think its time to do this before its too late
the day we die is not predicted by the stars
you don't know when its time
so when i drop and pass
you'll understand my future,
that my life in eternity starts when my heart beats no more
heaven or hell...who knows where i'll be
just hope i had dinner or lunch,
cuz when you dead, your always cold and hungry
my ghost sits on a road post as cars drive by
just leave me where i died
i can't believe the sight..how peaceful as i rot
so before i die, i'd like to say:
" lord, forgive me and let me enter."
the only time we pray is when we question our actions
the years of sin and selling sin made me file for chapter 11
from my birthday to my death day, let that day forgive
and don't you cry or feel betrayed
because i lived my life this fast and short
race the mid-night moon with my summer kite
i always thought as dreams as a gift
so when you stand over me and look
just imagine me dreamin' a dream
that long sleep with no wake up call
it's best i did this
before they pick my suit and the color of my pine box
my way was to live
the other way was for me to die..now i'm a done poem.

everyone seen COPS, the show. and its reality with no winners. the dirty house, car chases, dope, floozies, and 10-million cop reports scribbled on a pocket notebook. its all the smae. different city and you get the picture..AND MOST LIKELY THE COP WILL ASK...
.........................................................................................................

WHAT'S THE PROBLEM?

this women from the street has a problem
she is skinny and tall with brunette hair
a women in her early 30's
she walks a lonely hall to her apartment
walks the night until she taken to rented rooms
its a good thing, cuz she has a nasty home
dirty and smellin like cat turds and rotting trash
a smell her neighbors despise,
i've responded to a couple of arguments several times
when i get there, there is a older woman
Mrs. P is standing between her door with her mouth running
when i question..Mrs. peppers rants like a overbearing mother
THATS HER PROBLEM!
SHE AIN'T LIVIN' RIGHT!
OR SHE AIN'T GETTIN' MONEY THE PROPER WAY
COULDN'T CARE FOR HER TWIN BABY GIRLS!
spoken like a mother with kids of her own,
the face of Rebbecca is hidden with her long brunette hair
her misery is known to her and everyone else
cheating husbands don't know her name,
but they know the street name,
the truth is that she does not respond to added responsibility.
life is so hard, that she can't snap and get a burger king job
the only job she knows are the ones who employ her
every other night, a drunk and drugged sex doll with bills to pay
thats the truth, i ain't lying', seen so many as a cop
the cycle remains with unlimited revolutions
different faces, dirty facts, and same shit, different day
over the years, there is no hope for this woman:
jail, lost kids, shitty-house, and a plain bucked-up life
she will never learn, won't ever see what we see
and thats why shes despised in her own neighborhood
she say " i wanna be, you can't make me.."
I DON"T NEED TO HEAR IT
then i close the backseat door
it don't matter to me, my job is what i do
i arrest stupid and wrong criminals
i shake the hands of smart and serious citizens
i have common thoughts of my own
SO LONG WITH THESE PEOPLE
after next year i'll send my pink slip
get going with my family to another part of America
tired of these, investigations take years
20 years of crime and a million gallons of gas
come to think of it, i joined the academy when i was 18,
38 years old ain't that bad...
looks like that trip to Australia is still a go,
i heard the Aussie people were the nicest people to know
next year with 273 days to go. on mar. 5th
until then i'm doing my job, hope i don't catch a bullet
someone can fill my role, but Mr. Denzel wouldn't know
cops and divided sides, i chose whats true.

i think someone already put a thread for these "special" lyrics...well, i'm not them. this part of this song is what i envision for my self and that one. it specks 4 itself. if you understood the words of 'Pac, then this should come to no suprise...
(4give me 4 the spellin'..the names of the drinks...DD.)
.........................................................................................................
A HAPPY HOME

lets turn this house to a happy home
this is for all the homeboys couldn't get they HAPPY home
always one of us got it, some of us got it.

Now we been kickin' it 4 quiet some time
remain beside me through my trials N this life of crime
we fought so many times i 4got 2 count
i'll never hit U, not a coward, rather leave your house

remember back in December, when we was tight?
sippin' alazay and Cristal
while every night N my bedroom promising that i commit 2 U soon
tongue kiss me evertyime U C me step inside a room,
str-8 out da hood

we promise to be good to each other
plus i love you, so i know you'll make a good mother
just try to understand if i change the time
its only 'cause i never owned anything that mine
so i'm tryin'...
you can stay with my mama
but keep the drama to a low
Never call the police,
i'll never call you U a Bit@h or a h@
we were all born hungry in this world alone
finally moved out my moms house, and got a HAPPY HOME
...................2pac..............................2pac...........................................

ok...i can't bare to see this thread end up in the 2nd page. so i decided to keep it afloat...and thats the problem..i have comp problems..my disk won't load and i have tons of poetry and future stories on board..and i'm frustrated because i can't find the right DIALOUGE for my characthers... i'LL POST after i type this one. I UNDERSTAND THE VALUE OF A SIMPLE STORY, and believe me, i have one. and thank you for reading this..i shoud have used a spoiler to get you to read...not just a read...but curiousity..damn..oh..well...

That precious one is excellent.

more and more, when i drive, i see wooden figures with two straight arms with one leg, the head has no shape. sometimes thier is a group, and sometimes just one..they greet the road to say: slow down and remember me. the roaring roads do not see the group of crosses.
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you really have a beautifull language, Clark Kent (hopefully that didn't sound too feminine ..)

1998 World Winds with Highly Warm Hands.

What is there to say now?
Getting this started brought back memories in a rush.
Like a song you never heard in a long time, or a letter re-opened years after.
These tears are the obvious emotion for this, but it was never like that.
The feelings of being so Young and getting started with LIFE.
Seems to be the reason why we’re apart, never to be 16 again.

1998 is so long ago, 6 years and 7 months; Many new songs, new dances.
What can I say? Its been a long time....(Guess who wants your phone number?)
I was Young and played it cool when you was around.
New Peers in Junior-High, so easy to get lost without friends
Who are your Friends?...here are my Friends...know any of ‘em?
Vivid Memories of exchanging smiles before class, puppy-love at its finest.
Finally exchanged our Phone Numbers as well, as the streets we live.
Months of youthful Fun, smiles in the sun, and weekend comfort.
..Until, the World forced us to grow up and go to new places...
...Hey...its hard to go away, stuck with Today as I heard a song we use to play

Nothing was ever wrong, nothing to be nervous about.
Never thought theses words would combine to tell you, I miss you.
Away and getting old, too much truth for a fantasy like Peter Pan to exist.
Man..! I wonder how you look now, a woman now?
I only wish the best for you, the wish you deserve with God’s blessing.
Not a suck-up or a cheap trick to lift your skirt up.
I want nothing to destroy our peace, and nothing to bother our lives.
And to think that You and I didn’t speck for awhile, back when I wasn’t at Peace.
I remember those weeks apart and that Late Night call.
The World seemed to stop and I could hear your heart beats from across town.
Not ashamed, and so free to call 1998 a year of Literal Reality with a Fantasy Feel.

These words are the truth, I have enough prof for you to understand.
That my Eyes have seen 6 years go by and close without your figure.
Or your Friends who dissected my every word...and continued to hassle me.
Yeah, I’m getting old, You and I, as well as our friends.
See the reasons and you would agree,
That year of 1998 will never be re-lived again, nor will our History be written in Latin.
So I hope you got the letter I sent; its more for you, and less of me, the best for both.

So you see why this brought back pure Memories about You and I,
How many more years will it take before we both realize what we lost?
It took me 6, What about You? Im Living Life like all others,
Only on a slow pace, It works Best for a Man like Me,
Can’t Rush the Time, Need Time to Trust....you, understand don’t you?
Still getting use to Living Life like You and Everyone in this Changing World.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
i'm back, nice to be, thank you very much.

well, well,..what can i say about this one? well, i can say this is my Romantic side, if you wanna call it that.. but thats not the point..
i wrote this when i was feeling low one day. i just sat and thought of my first girlfriend, i mean, the first ones always carry the most memories, just too bad she had to leave, and so did i. i wrote another one of these, i'll post that later. oh, its true, i sent her a letter just for her, a grand slam, if you wanna relate...shes doing fine, and living well on her own.. thank you and don't judge me. i'll take a bullet for her, but not in the head.

Those pieces of Shit.

Richard W. Stevens ... The kid who loved to play, the one that always stayed. His evolution like a sour grape to a sour Ape, started when He was a little jerk and cried to get everything his way,

“Aw,... Poor, baby.”

A Trouble maker and a tattletale at the same time little Pamper-boy with perfumed shit.
Sassy and Mean when he got his girlfriend,

“Nasty-Man Stevens, receive your piece of @ss at the age of 15.”

He never had a bad day. When he did, he called for some Gangsta Joes to clean up the mess. A coward and afraid to do it himself. Just a solid pretty boy with a hollow body.

I hate this guy, look at him and his expensive life. Mr. & Mrs. Stevens pay for everything. Until they died in a auto-accident coming back from a Florida Resort in Key West.

Poor Richie Rich was sent packing to a house in Wisconsin to a Foster Family. That happens when there is no living relatives and your not an adult. Too bad, as he was just a poor kid living in a 70, 000 dollar house. Sad and Sad with no Money to get Happy, fancy girls hate poor guys. I loved it; I like when the rich go belly-up...a distant smile watching fish in a barrel suffer without air. . Now he had to work hard, had to get a real job and finish public school.

That’s what he did, and graduated with a scholarship to a secondary-business school in New York
Never seen him since, until I read the paper about 24 years later; his story was told with RE-BIRTH.
He looked happy with a that huge grin with crow-feet at the corner of his eyes. A Office filled with people dressed in Black-Suits and Camera light’s reflecting off his Eye-glasses. The Headline:
MAN OUTSMARTS THE WORLD, CLAIMS TO BE THE LEGENDARY PHOENIX.
That article covered at least the whole page, interviews and reasons...remarks and future spending were listed . I bet he was a monster, a monster..I tell you..a real @sshole..if you know what I mean. And that was proven with this clipping:

“Finally back in the Life I was born with. I’m Richard Stevens, Billionaire Extraordinary and definition of a true PHOENIX!!............So long ago, my Life was complete with the gifts from God. My Family worked hard, and had life easy, easy like I once had. That was the Life to have,.. sadly... with their Deaths, the currency stopped and I was a poor kid looking back to my past. Wishing and working hard to obtain the position I now stand. And to think, I was considered just another bum at the beach.
In closing...
It’s a shame Father and Mother will never ask for my Riches, they would have loved my wealth. A little side note: My Fortune is more than theirs.
With that aside: The days of my 45th year, I live better than the whole World, a modern day King of the 21st Century and not living in London or Paris...all hail me as Sir,... Sir. Richard Stevens. Hell, I know I m not a Brit, look at Madonna; shoot!... Ben Franklin looks more British in his dollar PIC, and as we all know, money is enough to be considered an Elite Member of the Billionaire Population ..few and if any get as much as I do , than I welcome them..just remember to phone me,..as of right now, I’m all here for you to interview. Now snap, snap, I have places to go and women to greet.”

I knew that was Richard. The grin , the Name and the way he spoke was Richard. My life is still hard. I was about to use that newspaper to wipe my @ss, before I seen his face with big black bold letters.
Look, I’m not a rich guy, I’m a poor guy. I mean just look at my teeth and my clothes. I spent too much time looking at other peoples problems, that I developed my own problems. Down I went and a Drug Troll I became. A smelly man with a serious drug-problem. But, I can’t Bucking believe it, when that,... Richard W. Stevens still made it better than me. He found his damn way back up to Snob-hill, one lucky bastard. I wonder what he’s thinking right now...it don’t matter, I’m 100% sure he don’t give a remorseless Buck about me and my shitty problems. I think I’ll scoot to that alley over by that Late Night Club...maybe someone will drop a few bags into the trash-bin tonight.....

Departing thoughts as he nears a trash bin, a little insane tune for the not-so-lyricist expert, your’s truly...from...Romero Fonzeno:

On and on I go again, my days filled with flies.
Walk the streets and between allies, me alone or with buddies.
No rent on flattened cardboard boxes, my place to sleep.
Pull dry weeds for money.
Under shades I sit and talk with this month old tomato,
Mr. Tom Auto, is what I call him..
Its true, I’m a scum bag, dirt bag, and a full blown drug addict
No one knows the paths I take, as my cancer grows
Turn down a blow-job from my boss from two years ago, flip her off.
It’s a Daily grind, just to beg for a daily fix, on a good day I can..
Have a party with junkie whores and throw up mixed flavors
Same smell, Smelly shit....dirty underwear from daily fart’s.
My jeans, crusty underwear, and muddy boots, feel like skin
this is my life, these are my scars, pain is sooo sweeet
I would never switch for a puck-sucker-bitchy-dick like Richard W. Stevens!
Because, Dammit! I’m a man with no home, hobo is what they call me.
A Rock Hunter, seek and steal, wait a day and ask, “what was that?”, and, “where is it, Than? “
Look at this Dirty man, scruffy looking ape, with no DNA from a civilized Human.
Grey and hairy, as well as gold encrusted teeth, I have color baby.
These Rotten teeth can taste Burps,
Bigger ones get you a second High, catch ‘em before the sky.
Single nights surrounded in a crowed city, so many stars and I can’t sleep.
Romero to zero dinero and 12 years near Central park,
buck the chirp of birds. Be lucky just to eat one, Pigeons carry protein, I think...
All I wanna say is, oooOOoooweooOOOOo damn, you Richard Steevens,
oooyeahooOOoo Hope ya choke on a sock full of puusss, ooOOooOOo–WEee-ooooOO..

The night is young and Richard is ready to dance, all dressed for a night out on the town. Pockets filled with a money clips and a cherry red suit looking fine. All ready to strut a playah’s stride.
The bald head shined to a mirror shine, his goatee trimmed and plucked, the rings on his fingers reflect light onto the walls, a walking shine, a shine of honor.

“Yeah, I got the moves and the lines to get myself a lovely vixen..maybe a line of cocaine, too. I’m so damn rich, I’m not afraid of sassy 18 year old girls..because, Jack,... I gots the currency that receives power, that or I can find a sexy hoe in Hollywood. So stand back apple dumplings and watch the MAC flip these booty burgers. Off to the Par-TAY with my pockets of MON-NAY!!!!”

Mr. Stevens and his platinum jewels walk to his humming Bond Car. Pride and nothing more. A fun guy to hear, but a ass to stand near. His comic lines are the talk of the town. A jerk with endless words, just talk, talk, talk and soon enough to fill up the room with his breath. If Richard was at sea and his boat was sinking, he could keep it afloat if he read the Mormon bible out loud. That would never happen, since he hated the oceans and rivers, he was a concrete and complicated. A real jewel.
Like he said, Off to the par–TAY with his pockets of MON–NAY!!!

He sits in his Astro-Martin and drives to the Clubs, puffing on a cigar, thinking: A female won’t be hard to spot, I’m the brightest bling on the road. Pick her up and drop her off with a bra full of money and panties full of...of...glue?

A little thought comes across him as he flicks his stoggie out. This thought right here
( a little fun to entertain himself with his wise words):

I got’s my life, I earned it, I worked 20 years without a raise.
That day ended when I quit my job, out sold everyone on Wall-Street.
Sell! Sell! Sold so many shares, in return I got the biggest check ever.
Enough money to retire at the age of 45 with no kids and wife.
A bachelor all my life, my home always quiet. That’s going to change.
I have so much money to count, these dollars beg to be spent.
Moving out my Condo and into a Victorian Mansion next to Bill Clinton
Time for that plasma screen with a 5000 dollar entertainment system,
A back yard pool so big that the Olympics will cry when I tell them they can’t use it
Vehicles from around the world, luxury and speed is my obsessions.
Do you know what I can do when I wanna have a party at Disney Land?
I can buy all the tickets and spend two days alone and have every ride available.
Golden monkeys and Slabs of Egyptian history sit in my Mansion
So much money that I don’t have to worry about bills.
A wallet full of cash seems to hypnotize these women,
They love it just like me, they bounce for my 20 dollar bills,
The capabilities of a stretched Bill in a Pink thong are limited to the strain of paper
Wow! You can GRIND? I didn’t know that, I thought you just danced.
Come over here and earn a living with my dollars,
Leave those weekend horny Bastard’s to envy you and me
You are my number one and soon to be richer than the longest girl to work here.
You look wonderful in those sexy pink temptations, and your body is worth the money.
Here you go. Where do I stick these Bills? Don’t worry I washed my hands.
Sweetheart, be careful because of paper-cuts, you have my knee to ride.
My Tailored Suits are far more expensive than what you have on.
You love money? I love money. I have enough money for you,
All you have to do is wiggle and shake my tree,
And watch these green leaves fall onto your lap.
I’m not wrong, I see you love me, by the way you stare into my eyes.
I can tell you are eager to do it for free, maybe upstairs in a hour,
For now, do your job and I’ll continue to pay, I’m the man with a lot of money.
Money is Power, a Man with Money receives more Action than a Man at Work.

At a club called the ’ Red Velvet TWO 41' is where Richard’s 007 car turns in and finds a place at the back. Richard don’t even trust them valets workers, so it’s a parked deal when he goes to a club. A familiar night, a night like two nights ago. It’s going to be a night with the dancing women on brass poles. He hopes to see that Ebony Queen, by the stage name of, Julie Sandbar, famous for her booty, a J.Lo imposter, but close enough if you squint your eyes a bit. Its all the same for Richard. Money rules and sweet ass’s wiggle and jiggle for Mun-NAY.

“A place where I can show off my money in front of low-class people...what they wanna do? I’m rich enough to sue the next generation of poor kids...let me park this Martin and fill up a drink of Whiskey..shaken..not stirred or somewhere near those lines,” as he drives into a empty lot “This right here looks like a gem to park.” than he got out his car and walked a distant before Richard heard a mumble by the trash bins. As always the curious man has to check what startled him, so he walks over to the trash bins’s.

What was that? A fat demon trying to wiggle out of the storm drain? Was it a dying man trying to make enough noise for someone to hear? To his surprise, he saw a bag of chicken bones near the trash bins. And beside that, was a man ripping away the remaining pieces of meat, and in Richard W. Stevens manner, Rich said to the man: “ What A-sshole did you fall from?” and walked away laughing.............

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i had fun with this piece of shit, i really did.

the capitals were the 'hooks' that held these fears up. like useing them as a template to create the everyday fear. i guess you can say, that i wrote those in capitails and followed them up with someof my fears and her fears. if you read it, and see the connection, than kudos' to you. my girlfriend read it and she liked it, so now you see it, and maybe you saw it in another thread...read, read...extra!
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BOO!!.....Where you running?

DANGEROUS SPIDERS, SILKY SNAKES, POISONS OF DIFFERENT FLAVORS.
Watch for the death bite, they scurry with 8 eyes trying to bite you.
You don’t tell them to come, they follow the rest like a army of fangs and legs.
Careful with the shadows in the grass, they slither with a quick strike!
A slow death if you can’t get to the ER, “ Help! My Heart is going to stop.”
Choose your Poison from a list of Venomous fangs, Vampires also count.
HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND MY CONCERN, EVEN IF YOU CAN SMASH THEM.

CLOSET MONSTERS, BOGGY-MAN SHADOWS, NIGHT DEMONS
To the kids alone in the night: Monsters never sleep when they hear you speck.
Street lights and star lights stretch the shadows for the mind to question
What shadows are there to choose from? “Mama! I’m not turning off my nightlight!”
That one looks like a branch or is that a Monster hanging from the roof?
BEWARE!! Monsters have names like you and me, sneaky beings who crept the night.
NOT ALL MONSTERS ARE FOUND IN BOOKS, TRY THE FRONT PAGE.

ALONE AND QUIET, UNKNOWN AND WHAT IF.
The dark wind starts to annoy you, then you notice just how quiet it is in your house.
ALONE with silent squeaky doors. What was that?! “What the Buck was that?”
Unknown sounds echo off your basement walls, while you pick up a Oak BAT.
Paranoid and visualizing the worst outcome, a problem you never have in front of friends.
YOUR THOUGHTS OF FEAR ARE LOUDER WHEN YOU SIT ALONE

DEVILS AND GHOST, FUN OR REAL, FUNERALS FOR SOME.
Halloween treaters ask for candy and dress for the night, little demons from the world of fun.
A single night with hours to spare and a trip across town for some candies,
Done once a year after school. Remember its for fun, unlike the older kids:
Meet the real Cults from this World of Sin, A group of Satanic Cults chant black verses.
A few Cults go to the extremes and execute a First-Degree-Felony.
These humans love: “ MANSON, DAHMER, BUNDY,& S.O.S...and their beliefs.”
A EPISODE OF THE TWILIGHT ZONE, NO TRUTH IN WHAT THEY DO

PEACE, WAR, KILL, CHANGING THE RULES TO MATCH MINE
The years before the Wars, were spent at the Malls with a list of horny girls’ phone numbers’.
A kid ****ing the shit out my female peers, with no worries about wearing a condom.
Until of course, my ass was drafted for a Third World-War conflict.
The years in that shit, really ****ed with me.
Not a Man, but a certified serial killer with a AK- 47, and a job to patrol.
The wish of many are to make it out alive. A few, like myself choose to Buck the rules
My change is that, I say, “ Gim’me a bytch from the enemy-lines to Buck!”
ITS NO SHAME, A WAR IS WHAT THEY GOT, NO RULES APPLY.

TODAY BRINGS ANOTHER DAY, WITH A NUMBER TO TELL ME THE DATE
Each passing Day is like the Day before, Only we try to alter the outcome with Decisions..
Learn from the Day before and re-write our own History. And before Night becomes Day.
A LIFETIME UNDER THE SUN, AND ETERNITY UNDER A MOUND OF DIRT.

In the middle of No Where, a desert flat with tumble-weeds.
The Sun above looks like one of those heating lights that keep burgers warm.
No roads, no pavement, no black lines to divide the desert.
Bushes and weeds are the only trees that stand 2 feet tall.
The wind picks up and blows sheets of dust into a man’s face.
He sits in a chair, a Chair good at going down hill.
One of those Chairs with human power, a Cripple-Cart
The man is wearing thick black goggles around his white bald head.
A beard of brown line his jaw, as he sits in the wind without a twitch.
The rest of his body is unclothed and dressed only in black boxers.
His face hangs to his left side, and his body paralyzed with duct-tape.
Movement never comes, as he has a face of maroon blood,
blood that has dried with particles of dirt collected around his open mouth.
A man locked in place, out in a life-less sea of sand,
Goggles Black enough to block out the sun, undisturbed in a empty desert.
What was the case, how did this man get here?
A man sitting in a wheelchair in the middle of the desert?
Sitting with no movement, hours in the sun and sand has not bothered him.
He’s defiantly dead, he ain’t going no where,
even if he’s in a coma, he’s going to be found dead.
Could take up to a day or two before his friends wonder where he is,
Or a month when the Parents get that awful news.
Its very unknown, depends on the activeness of the Police Department.
For now the man sits in the desert as the sunset mirrors on the man’s Goggles.

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there was this terriable accident about a two months ago. ok ..umm there was this gang fight somewhere near the rail road tracks, they fought over weed and money. in that fight, a guy 21 years old was stabbed and killed. he died in the desert. in the desert the killers dragged his slummped body on the tracks. where they hoped to cover up the murder. and what happed next scared me too. the train came rolling along in the desert landscape...and ripped the dead man apart. what inflamed this in my mind was. his dying thought was that his mom and family was to see him in a casket; not knowing that his body was to be sliced and diced...i mean, damn, that was some pure bullshit. pretty scary stuff if you asked me again.