WHAT ARE DREAMS, i have a few to tell.

thuggish outlaws from 2 tales

clever and daring with youth and smarts
2pac and billy the kid
their lives similar in terms of Westside!
ahead of their times and blazing history
a thug and a outlaw
humble rush to newspaper prints
not a damn story for fairy tale readers
something true at different times
to the dusty trails of southern New Mexico
to the dust kicking streets of California
time for some changes and some growing up to do
rewards for defied delight
American souls testin' new and old societies
sometimes burning bridges behind them,
so in packs they rode," OUTLAWZ," AND " REGULATORS"
a story of raised men who held 9mm glocks
or a pair of six-shooter-peace-makers
from platinum records to treasured revenge
courts and prison, fines and sales
it was strange not to see the light in sunny hot states
25 years old, 21 years young
fate and early exits blazed then and now
american souls testin' new and old societies
given me a reality other than nino brown and the man with no name
something i learned,
TUPAC SHAKUR, WILLIAM H. BONNEY...YOUR PEACE.

.........................................................................................................
what can i say , again? these two are my heroes'. sure i like others but, these two are the best of them all. look at their lives and see a common fate. besides, billy was made famous in my home state. and for Tupac, well, its a damn shame to see him gone. i always wondered how he'd be right now. for damn sure the Rap genre wouldn't suck as much.

again, peace to the deceased.

THEM..again!!

Relentless eight-legged bastard munching on a fly under my Back steps.
A Big Black Widow sits in the corner with its legs on the threads.
Draining the victim who flew too close and entered its webbed-tractor-beam.
A Mortal- Mistake deemed by the ugly housefly pilots, they keep away and scatter his ceilings.
Like the start of Pearl Harbor, zigs and zags followed by a buzz.

He hates bugs for every seasons, spray them with “bug spray”
Similar to Saddam’s chemical crimes against humanity,
Only the dead bugs will blow away on a windy day, his reasons to buy chemicals legally.
Good riddance to ugly-squiggly-rubbish like those of the Creeper Legion.
That was last summer, now its the month of December.
The un-killed eggs of last summer return in the middle of his nap, awoken nightmare.

When it got cold and the temperature dropped outside.
The movement of the bugs begin to flow like the traffic after five o’ clock.
And that’s why they are here. Sure is cold outside for the baby spiders.
They sit in a row with the light reflecting in all their eyes.
Mama Spider, with a community of Spiders scatter the floor like oil slick.
A invasion, a sneak attack, D-Day all over again, round up the wagons!!

Aw! Damn! Here they come at full speed, they precede like warrior poets.
A million legs brush and flutter back and forth like over-sized-eye lashes.
Oh, damn, here they come! His choice is to retreat to higher grounds, this is not the Alamo!
Quick on top the stove! The creepers of the earth gather around the bottom of the oven.
“Ow! Ow! What was that?! Ow, I hope that was the burners! Ouch! Ow! AAAHHHHHH!!!”
It’s wasn’t the flames that bite his naked foot!...OUCH! Its worst than ever!

A solo spider came and got him from behind, a Lincoln type Assassination.
That little black shit with fangs like two railroad spikes continues to puncture his skin.
He smashes it with his other foot! Out comes the splat and the color from under the belly.
Black spiders, Red Bellies,......
”OH, DEAR, GOD, HAVE MERCY AND SAY THAT WASN’T A BLACK WIDOW!”
Oh, man, the predicted ending without the rolling credits after a film...
Surrounded and beaten, a spider ladder is constructed as bugs scatter up his oven doors.
The Enemies have seized the Capital, we are about to experience a power black out!
The dying thoughts as more spiders make their way and snip the area around the foot.

The body of the now dead man has fallen to the floor.
Where it was quickly engulfed with a swarm of reflecting black shells
A eye for an eye, and that’s literally what happened to him.
A terrible death to endure, this death puzzled the cops and morticians
For the spiders, proved to be as smart as a army headed by Gen. George S. Patton.
The S-Day is not on his tombstone, no reminder like the Pearl Harbor Memorial...
...It reads the date of birth and the expirations date:

JUNE 6th of 1970 — DECEMBER 7th of 2004,

A lonely shrine of M&M characters are placed among plastic flowers with tiny wooden crosses.
The rose of his girlfriend sits in a glass vase with fresh water placed near the headstone
A swarm of mosquitos hover around the vase, while little eggs float atop the water,
Spiders emerge from the stems of the flowers. And Centipedes slither into the dirt.
These Spider Holes have no Saddam in them, a plot of dirt infested with the BUGS.
A Bug City, Hotel Halls crawling with new tenets.

“Aw, Damn....Them..Again?!”

.........................................................................................................

i personally hate spiders. some say they are small and smashable. yeah, true; but when i was a kid i was tearing apart a barn with a few family members. thats when i came across 3 black widows. i remember like it was last week. i pulled apart the door and 2x2s' away. there and behold, them black spiders ran in every direction. i, in the mean time jumped backed and gasped out loud, that most of my family heard me. man i really hate spiders, not of daddy-long-legs' though, them thin slickers are easily smashed.

Er*Ugh*

This person bothers me, she has two personalities, and both act like A-sshole’s .
I’m serious, its never great to have a simple conversation with her.
She can really bug you out, she finds a weakness in your life and attacks it.
Like when I had trouble paying for my Bills, I had too much.
So I asked my parents to help. And they did, Aw...Sweet Parents.
I received important Mail with Money tucked between a letter.
Thank them so much, thank them for sparing a few dollars.
Now I can get on with my life. And pay my Bills. I really did.
The Phone, the Books, the Grub, the Transportation, Nick-knacks,
And of course, my Internet Service, a 15 dollar a month payment,
All hooked up to my 1994 Apple comp.
Sweet things I have, mainly old, nothing new, except for my socks and clean briefs.
Have to wear those clean, everything else, just wash them until faded.
My life as it was, was cool to have, I actually enjoyed that experience.
Just another kid learning things the hard way, others think not.

So this bytch gets on my case during Christmas Break.
The bytch was aware of the given money, that when I visited her,
She brought that up and a 10 minute argument, I heard too much and left.
Hey! I’m a poor young man with a gold “MIND” of ideas to un-earth,
For sure I know that, but she does not believe me, “It’s a fable and a waste.”
Her words have no power in them, a mouth forming words without knowledge.
Elementary studies did her well, A-E-I-O-U...round circles look like slanted ovals.

She is my 36 year old Aunt, my mother’s youngest sister,
A very old dog when you look at her, she works for the Road Department,
The ones that flash those “ Slow” signs during road construction.
So many years roasting in the sun, has shrank her brain and continues to burn.
She has to tell me about the “real world”, when I already know.
In a way she was just another City worker making me slower,
and a pissed off Aunt nagging about my problem, after a day’s shift.

Problem?.......
I have no problem, I can get by; difficult times are always there.
A few 100 dollars borrowed for a another month of BILL$.
A little help if you mind, still young and learning to spend,
In her snotty words,” LEARN SOMETHING TO DO SOMETHING”
I hate that phrase, I know what I wanna be, what did you want to be?
So when we sit and talk, she has the nerve to call my work,
“ not useful to the world, very over-rated..and blah, blah, blah...”
My pages, my feelings are burned and fall silent.
Just before she piss’s on them to dash the ashes apart.
A broken branch in my family tree, leave her alone and forget.
The easiest way to go, I don’t want to argue, besides she’s a Lady.
So I got out the chair and left her house, not looking back at her house.
Could still hear those words bounce around in my head:
“Not useful in the world,” that mean female dog.
Like she knew the in’s and out’s of every human decision or outcome.
I was born poor, I continue to live poor, my life won’t end poor.
I plan on getting myself out of this slum-bucket and into a ivory tub.

I don’t have a f***ing clue why she always cuts me down.
She doesn’t work that hard, just standing and flexing the elbow.
Than its home and doing the opposite of a polite woman,
She pulls out a sixer and downs a few shots of Jim Beam.
She has a problem with me sitting all day and lifting a pencil or my fingers.
Or does she hate the way I live and work?

When she gets drunk she drinks with the flies,
She turns into a meaner bytch and howls with these:
‘Mama and Daddy’s Special Touch-down’ or ‘Ruby Red checks deserve extra sugar.’
Those are her views on me, a child who gets everything my way,
A kid still sucking to live, a man still going home for a roast sandwich..
I tell ya, she can really burn the germs off you with her breath.
A real dog, a real bytch, a real doggy bytch with foamy beer lips.

As of right now, it’s a shame to share the same blood as her.
Will she feel real stupid when she wakes up one day and reads my book?
To see my picture at the back with my “After Word” listing Family,
Except for Shelly Q. Miller, as the name reads on its dog tag.
For damn sure! Her mistake was placing doubt on me and hurting my thoughts,
The only recognition she will receive is being called a bytch of a known breed.
And the pure reason for this,... My Duty is Done, I didn’t forget where I came from.
I also have not forgotten the people along the way,
And if you can remember, I have this great phrase for you.
Your time with me will live in the characters I plot for you,
Good or bad, it depends entirely on your shoulders. Too bad you really bugged me.
So now you see why I love to talk, as you read what I thought about you.
A token of my love, all that was left. At least I spelt your name right, at least......
SO SORRY, SO SAD, MY BAD, HAPPY ENDINGS AND MARRY CHRISTMAS!!

.........................................................................................................

i hate these sort of people, they destroy me. then i destroy them. not killing them, but making them parish in one of my stories...well, not all.

The Man with FEAR....(Her Painful Curse)

“ I can’t Die, my name holds a Curse:”

My fear,... Her fear, Our fears...
Her fear was Me,... my Wife’s curse would hurt me more.
The year she died, she used the final months to plan a hex.
My abuse on her, forced her to fear me and my name.
So when she Died it was the first and the worst, the ones after, knocked and said HELLO.
Unwanted distress and Un-welcomed visitors at the door.
No one has the curse I have, it’s a fear we all have in common.
What does Death feel like? What do you feel?
Death is always around, so am’ I.

Everyone and Anyone who mentions me by name, curses me with their death.
Its like when they die, I feel their death pain.
Anywhere in the World the pain finds me,... to hurt me.
My body drops with Regia mortis and my Brain receives no air.
It hurts more than being in a Auto-Accident, it feels like a hour-long Heart-Attack.
My abuse on her is given back with a big-scary-bow on top.
....That’s the gift I received.

My curse is to feel death, and I can’t stop it.
The Eye of the Hurricane, only its inside out.
The people die without pain away from me, while I feel their deaths on the inside.
The cruelest curse to get and have.
I once tried to change my name, but it followed me with the new names.
Like the mark on Cain, I am a walking curse.
And the changing times didn’t help either.
The World grew up too fast and too smart, leaving me wishing to join the cemeteries.

Its just that..everywhere I go, I have to Greet and say Goodbye.
I don’t want them to find or ask for my name.
I’m the wrong stranger to have a conversation with after my first round of beers.
My soul is chained to the mortal-lives who called my name.
I have no chance for peace and it gets no better.
Its mine alone with no bleeding, a felt pain in the body.
Tormented forever and ever, my version of the RIVER-of-FIRE.
Where in the World can I find my peace?

“I can’t Die, my name holds a Curse: The World is far too Crowded with Curiosity.”

Where in the World can I go?
The places are full of Human Services and Customs.
Changing Times and Passing the Future with each Passing Day.
Is a long time to be Alive without ending, that seems to be my curse.
The Curse hurts more when I feel another person pass-away.
I know how many lives were taken in my past 232 years.
History and Inventions support each other, only they get old, too.
My curse is new after every Death, the pain remains the same.

I just heard that they sent two robots to Mars with a few months to live and explore.
I traveled about the same miles to see new lands; circled the world at least 55 times.
Only I didn’t Die in a few Months, suffered so many Death-Aches along the way.
My Mental thoughts about me Dying is like a Dreamy-Prayer.
The thoughts of Death is sooting like the chimes of church bells.
A strange phrase for the normal people to say, the normal souls always say that.

As for the Souls who Die through me, they Suffer no Pain.
Those Deaths have no purpose or value to me, why stay and suffer hell?
When its simple to get away from these people who use me, and abuse me all the time?
What do I stay around for? My body should be dirt right now.
I have to leave like my Wife and get away from the Strain!!
Away and far from people, not the mountains of Mt. Everest.
Not the Deserts or the depths of space...
...But,... What about a Boat?

The Waters are never still, while everything around it stays the same.
A Mariner can never see another human for months, no names to mention.
A place where I don’t have to hurt as much. My prayer, I’ll answer myself.
Our global mirror with no human reflection seen from space.
My soul deserves a rest, as long as I live, my curse returns when I see land.
So sad, too old, and very tired of liven, too many years of feeling the same feelings.
My day of death will never come, my wife will never live to lift the curse,
This is her spell, her dying words was my name.

“ I can’t Die, my Name holds a Curse: The World is far too Crowded with Curiosity...it is my mine alone, alone in this world, my own Death pain will never come.”

.

Those are some interesting writings, Double W.

Your signature reminds me of Slybaghouse...

thank you Cap' N Rex...

another accomplishment i have to overcome. i have my problems, but i'm working on them...so don't worry about me...what you need to do is help the people around yourselves.
.........................................................................................................

My Day.

One day there is going to be reality.
One day there is going to be no more animosity.
There’s going to be a day without sleepless nights.
My life and soul will be where it should.
The things of fairy-tale, and peaceful surroundings,
My place without the city noise, or the constant yelling next door.
Like the melody of “Stand By Me.”
Just the humble beats and sooting voices.
A young man who feels like a 55 year old grandpa.
Snap back to reality, I ain’t dumb, I know what I want.

As far and unknown as I sound,
I have the obligation to compete.
With so many in this world,
I have to Learn from the bottom up.
Keep learning and improving simple skills.
So many things I was never born with, my kids will get them like royalty.
So happy to be free and away from the drugs,
MY DAY WITH A BOWL OF GREEN-CRUMMY-DUMMY is about to expire...
FREE AT LAST! THANK YOU SONNY JESUS!

Flip Side? Yeah, there is one, my dreams can be crushed...
My mind is stormy, because of the views I wish to achieve.
Knowing that dreamers dream dreams every night,
seems to put me back in place.
Its hard to walk the Right way under Raindrops,
the pressure has its downfalls.
Never know what a day can bring, like when people ask you,
“ What you doing tomorrow?”
I have no idea, man...It’s a matter of hours.
My short life has seen souls disappear into a cemeteries,
A few of them I knew, fell without a guide.
Worlds without GODS can be lost, something literal.

I know the outcome if I don’t accomplish the rules I set.
As near and true as this is, I m the one to who has to follow through.
My mind has the outline, I just have to fill it in.
This night is about to end, this night I forget like any other day.
My Day is Delayed for my Grand Entrance, patience and waiting.....

am i taking a risk by posting this thread? i'll post for now then PM the people in charge? if they accept, then you are reading...now..i hope. this poem came from my school, a bully. this bully pushed everybody. he was a tall fat guy with a attitude problem. i know i didn't get on his RAG LIST. thank god for small favors.

NOW, THIS IS A ODD POEM, ACUALLY ITS NOT A POEM, ITS A FORM OF LITATURE, YOU DECIDE AMONG YOURSELVES.
.........................................................................................................

CALM DOWN!!!

calm down, count your heartbeats
those jokers wanna push buttons,
but i got to stay calm
like i said to myself: "count your heart beats"
O.K....1...2...3..4..SHIT!, they won't stop!
alright! now you gone too far!
so here i am to terrorize!
gimmie that bat! i know what to do with it!
WHACK!!!
does that hurt?!
Smash 'em heads! bust 'em wide open!
bucking byatch! i told you to back off..
now look what you made me do!
oh! oh! you still wanna talk?!!
looks like my bat don't hurt enough.
..........o.k................
what about a bullet to the face?
or what about I drown you in a tub of gas then set you a blaze?
stupid mindless jerks deserve much more.
but what could i do?
i can't let them push me the wrong way
..if i gone too far..then mur-da 1 is what i m in for
locked away and housed with my criminal mind
all I asked was them to turn and walk away!
now no matter how many times i wash;
I still have the blood and smell of a corpse on me
....OH!, WHAT the hell!
what did they suffer?!...death is one door
...too bad, you can only punish them one time...
so you heard me on the loudest part.

He's getting closer, every time you close your eyes.
A childhood game of red-light-green-light...near the flames.
Open them eyes and see this illicit form of evil
Fear is the automatic conclusion, never seen before, until now.
The truth was told as you can hear Hell and its guilty cries.

Mr. Bad has finally found you, Mr. Bad has taken you.
The Adult concern after you are held for your own sins.
Responsibility they tell to young kids...a parants job..
Now you sit in unknown darkness..crying to get home.

No luck in trying..its home without parole...
A prisoner where no one is evilier than the devil himself.
No earthly Prison where you recieve pork chops and jello.
Only the Hot-nasty spit you carry..not a drop, not a cool breeze.

My friend, My life, the person who loves me more than my parents.

The woman does not know I am coming,
At the end of the road is my destination.
A friendly face she has not seen in ages
No more High School, no way to keep mornings’
I control the wheels and picking up speed.
Closer and closer I get, as night brings fear in stages.
Mixed fear and anxiety are the reason,
Just the same as the dust and exhaust mix behind me
Everything looks the same like I was never gone.
Just pasted the bridge where we first kissed,
I see that Mr. Jones has never moved his broke down car.
Closer I get, closer I get to the woman who doesn’t know.
Out on a moon light night, it should be easy to see her house.
As well as her face as she steps closer to me.
What will I expect when I get there, what will she?
Unexpected knock at the door. Unpredictable like a lightning bolt.
What to say as I see her porch light on,
The 4 years and so many other memories in between.
Seems like I have some explaining to do, start it off with a note
A special note from Al Green, the only way for her to understand my feelings.
A simple vibe and a simple beat, with meaning from me.

I'M SO TIRED OF BEING ALONE
I'M SO TIRED OF ON-MY-OWN
WON'T YOU HELP ME GIRL
JUST AS SOON AS YOU CAN

Nothing ever seems to stop as fear has worn itself away.
Nothing can be predicted:
Like the day when I told her I’d be gone for a long time.
The look in her teary eye glisten on that sunny afternoon.
As well as my own as I drove further from her.
What can I say, those were our truest feelings without make-up.
Closer and closer I get, as I pull up in her drive way,
A few yards from her door. Her eyes recognizing my face.
As she looks at me with those age-less eyes, Well it seems I found myself home.
A promise I kept and a promise I needed to keep, her trust in me.

“Baby, I’ll never leave you again, never in my life, never again.”

ow, ow, hot, hot...fresh off the press.

.........................................................................................................

Pray for me as I fall.

Out the window they flew, like a comic hero team.
Their bodies were an example of gravity and its easy job.
Let you fall and watch the dust impact as you hit.
1000 ft. in the air, 990 ft, and we are there, dude!
0.01 sec’s to realize you’re done for. Land getting bigger!
What’s to do? Whatever you want, man! Just do it!
When!
NOW!
No hope at all as you fall faster and faster, blurry images zip by.
Time is running out, friend, it’s now or never, and you can’t say NO
or :

“World, it’s been an honor to have shit on your lovely grass. Goodbye!”

Looking up at the sky and praying to every god.
A mixed mind can’t make a choice
Fumble the key and see the monster coming.
What could a man do when he is falling to earth without luck.,
There is rope of hope to appear to save you.
Satan’s red and black harp awaits you with a set of demon horns.
Sounds scary to think about the after math after death.
People around will be sadden for a few weeks or months,
then its, “ He’s in a better place.”.and forget you.
Only black words and cheap memories to bring back this day.
The newspaper is going to write: “ Waymen Dimpleberry, Shit out of Luck”
For damn sure your friends will talk about you over a 30 pack of ice cold beer.
The main ones sitting at the lake with a fire going,

“ yeah, I miss my buddy, ol’ pal was always there,
a real friend who never missed the SuperBowl.”

more sobs and finish the can with a clinched fist.

The end is closer than ever, scarier just to imagine these last thoughts.
Another casualty to add to the statics, “LONG DROP, NO HOPE”
See you on the ground and a few days later IN the ground.
Sent out to feel the abyss without a chute, I guess.
I m a tad mad at this early exit, still falling still feeling, still waiting.
Well, here comes my grand entrance, I won’t scream as they scream for me.
A celebrity at last, so see you later and I hope they recognized me,
I know that tag-toe will hang for my big toes fat ne...............

No more

I’m sick and tired, sick and tired of repeat.
Re-runs, Daja vu, whatever you want to call it.
It’s all the same to me, can’t be like this forever.

I remember being so naughty, starting fires to play with plastic army men,
Nothing like special effects for a staged epic Battle.
Or disobey mom and father when they told me to stay around.
It was always difficult to pay attention, so Dad said word for word, no shortcuts taken.
“Stay close to us, we are going to leave soon.”
Oh, yeah, I’m walking to the electronics, to look around.
Spot what I want, and use the ‘five dollar discount’
Rip the plastic off and stuff the C.D. player down my waist band.
Walk out like a roaring ‘20s gangster and head for the waiting car,
(snap back to reality) where mom and dad look mad.
Another heist well done, no accomplices to snitch on me.
It’s O.K., I have what I need to show off, tomorrow at school.
My scared goofy friends wouldn’t steal a pack of bubble gum,
It took major peer-pressure for them to lift for free,
and if they did, they would walk and be paranoid, looking for the sirens to sound.
Sometimes speaking like a 7 year old girl with a blond pig-tails.

“You know, if we get caught, than I am going to swallow them.”

Before I answered back, I though of the sentence he just said.
Damn, this guy says word for word like my dad.
Than continue my personal dislike of my friends by telling him:

“ True, true. Yup, you’d chew ‘em than swallow ‘em; than when your in jail you can shit ‘em out.

Of course they didn’t laugh, and they remained like that the rest of the way.
It was alright, the quietness is a lot better than their 7 year of voices.
Just a few more blocks and across the park, there I will ditch these Opie-wanna-bes’
Let them find there special groups while I’ll float to mine.
The fellas’ are cool: Michael, Eric, George, and Richard.
Real cool just to be seen like a President with Presidential security.
The other troublemakers around stood and looked on, like a field of Zombies.
They were my equal, same like me, only some were dumb, dumb like a dead dog.
That was my advantage, these were second class villains.
That made me brighter than their 11 year old smirks.
I always had to be there with the best of things, at any cost I’d try and be the 1st.
Just a kid who kicked backed and said School SUCKS!
Than bring out a newly-stolen C.D. player and show off.
Buck with the teacher said, learn bad words from Eazy-E.

“Don’t move! I’ll blow your Buckin’ head off!

I am a 12 year old thug, just like the ones in them rap videos.
Laid back kid, slacking in school, why learn, when math don’t even matter?
Why spend hours and hours reading books? I know some words.
Why sit and watch Mr. Robinson write with his old wrinkle hand,
When I m finishing my love letter to this girl in the front row.
Tell me, Teachers. I wanna know? What is there to prove?
Just have to know enough to move on, that simple.
So forget the day and keep writing those Referrals in red ink.
Send me home, and pick up your weekly pay-check with a smile.
And get that coffee breath scraped off your tongue,
After that, chew a wad of cinnamon floss, and kiss your $210.00 check.
Save every nickle like a squirrel saving walnuts.
Buck you! I m James Dean’s nephew and the son of Pony Boy.
Throw everyone a pair of burning birds and pop a ice cold beer.
Go on a war path when it gets dark and everyone left school.
Smashed the front door and a poured a bag of ash in the toilets
And placed porno pictures on the Christmas tree, spray-painted the carpet.
All this and smoking some pot, eating sky-blue caps from schrooms.
So high that I don’t remember how we got caught,
Just remember the powerful lights they maimed us with.
Kicked out in the middle of Christmas break, sent to juvenile that night.
Eating and smoking Property like a joint and a bag of mushrooms, or schrooms.
The first time, Jail time, not the last time, never kept in line.
The hell with this life, buck what happens, don’t you ever correct me!

Them days continued and the further I got away from the family.
More closer to trouble and really messing up, so many years of the same thing.
Until I lost a friend , predictable ending as he lost his life to prison.
Killed some 16 year old after a party in 1997, shot the kid in front of his brother.
I went to the trials and seen my friend convicted on 1st-degree Man-Slaughter.
Just 21 years as a free man, 11 of those years he was acceptable to heaven,
Now just a man in a denim prison suit with the face of time-less expression.
Just like I knew, I was smarter than them, all of them.
As I decided to correct myself, because I was not put on this earth to live the same.
A long way from Jerusalem so I guess I’ll do this on my own, escape my past.
Just had to get the hell out of dodge, and quickly too, before I found myself in line.
So many mistakes that I m glad I’ve looked to my past and corrected a lot of wrongs’
Went back to school and graduated with a idea of becoming an inner city counselor.
That happened and now I m waiting on a kid who has a 4:30 appointment,
30 minutes of asking him questions and telling him what I know.
Hopefully he will understand like I did and get himself out these slums .

........................................................................................................
i remember this counselor who used cussing words as he spoke, but not cussing in every sentence, more of the common words used for a missed appointment a visit at a jail. words the preacher uses as he smacks his thumb when nailing. those kind of bad words.

take this lost and move the hell on.
don't make it worst than what it is.
there will be another day for your return.
be a man and take the left exit, friend.

i don't wanna fight you, understand?
why fight when we play everyday?
why stop a rivalry and start a stupid one?
you and i will be here tomorrow, to play.

don't waste your time with the name-calling
and elbowing my right shoulder, its already has a bruise.
hey! i 'm tellin' the truth, i'm surprised to see you already forget.
oh, i think it would be a great decision for you to pick up practice.

get better, get smarter and definitely learn to hit a right jumper.
that is you weak spot, all those dunks and power-moves.
are far overrated, its only 1 foot away, try longer.
see you here tomorrow, same time. good game.

Just another JOE from KOKOMO!!

the ***k with these options, its all I have to say about that.
born with 'em and mama said some, too. had 'em stacked.
I m just a regular guy with feelings, too. yet I m always judged
I m just tired of this shit, shit stained world and shit polluted air.
so messed up and beyond repair, no hope with a snapped spine.
a killing pain floatin' in ecstasy, you understand?!
don't worry, my time is almost up, I m dying either way...
...tell me what?
no, pal you can keep that and stay away.
I ve been told before, you know...no need for an echo.
yes, I know I have an option, I m not dumb;
you just mentioned that and quickly switched subjects.
but ***k em anyway, I have a broken heart!
man, I told you, I m just a regular guy pissed off at the whole world
or to the people who showed up, all you around are going to burn me.
to kill a damn monster, a monster movie with a Oscar, in bed
shoot me down and flop the carcass into a black leather bag.
slow-poke my way down to the morgue you fat bastards!
don't waste the ending with the predictable ending
by giving me a option, or a second chance.
bash in here and shot me dead, or I ll met you...
...I ll say it again PAL! I m not listening to your pleas.
I m guilty dammit, lock me away in a cripple hospitilal,
where I m safe from pervert sisters in the stand-up showers.
wake up Judge Rosenberg and tell him to bring his gavel
...what no way! you must be shitten me and squeezing my balls purple.
that’s the most stupidest opportunities I heard of! GETTING BETTER?!
IT AIN' EASY DAMN, FOOL!...YOUR FAMILY NEVER TOLD YOU THAT!...
...woah, I m getting tired and sleepy, the morphine don't work
the pain is starting up again, see what I mean, officers! I can't live!
I m dead meat, a man who will have my brain taken out after I die.
going to be in some cheap coffin in a week and all the celebrations for a death.
I see that all, all of it, so vivid like a colouring book...
main colours are: red, white, black, purple, blue yellow, and pink.
all that as I m now starting to feel again, aw, damn, its wearing off!
morphine will never be my best friend,...
...NO stay Away, come closer, come closer and you'll be sorry!
my back is hurting. the painful-pressure is already killing me.
you forgot, I have a gun, I have less time, so make a move!
who makes the move? suicide or an escalated climax as I hold a pistol!
if you never seen a demon than see a human form, I m a scary one.
guess who loves danger?
*cops smashes bedroom door*
you just broke down my barrier,
DIE! COPPERS!

*bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang...bang*

Erase nothing, its always there.
as the poison has already reached the water hole.
everyone thinks they know more just to judge.
nothing like that is fair.
come out and say what you feel.
those hidden secrets suck, tell me dammit!
no running in circles.
and no more wasting my ****ing time with your suspicion!!

I am what you say Iam, a ghost who can type.

i am, what he says, what she says, and what they all think...
a anomaly with a way with danger and pressing the wrong letters.
my roots are wild, my past was wild, can't be a liar about that.
a glass monster filled with blood, so real as i see his image.
look at him as I look and see his features in the mirror.
this man who gives no **** about jail or responsibility.
my fault, or is it his fault, i wasn't born white in a suburban city.
you can see the result as I went to school. for once i wanted to die.
the other kids around took note and labeled me a troublemaker.
could hear 'em say that, even as i walked passed them.
sometimes saying:

"he's loaded with sin, and maybe a pistol..so lets leave him alone. we don't need THUGZ in this white populated school, my fellow white nizzles, and pink shnizzles..now, lets leave him be."

not a way to get away, where could i go and be at peace.
where i meet people just like me, for damn sure it wasn't school.
**** them bastards, and i m walking down to the darker streets.
meet the regulars and pick up a habit, a marijuana habit.
smoke the earth and blow out smoke, yes, these..
drink a fifth and kiss some drunk chick.
all for fun and free, join its easy and its FREE.
not ashamed to be who i am, i am who i wanna be.
when i m dead and gone, you'll have your say.
until then just keep that bullshit to a low.
i don't need to rip your heart out and show you its final beats.
just like you, and your just like me. a face with no name.
nothing dangerous about my methods.

but **** 'em anyway!

Snort a BUMP With me *****.

my aviator looks like a guy Fawkes mask. Kool