Line in a stanza and let it be

What will your line be?

What of me, what of this life of the questions recurring in our minds

Of the endless droves of the lost and the foolish

What good are these jesters of life?

Question…what am I?

Answer…You exist

In that what would you do with it?

Would you be of female and presume superiority?

Would you be right and never wrong always proving so?

Would you see yourself above all with your colors?

Be all knowing and your god powerful?

Would you be rich and therefore better?

What would you be?

Until equality reign true for all, we shall only put words to a stanza and leave it be

And again write a line in a stanza and let it be

Question…what line shall you put to the stanza and let it be?

Answer...Yours

Beyond what I do

Locked in docility and giddiness of a child

Mirrors the underestimation of my peers and reflects intelligence

Beyond the glass door in it lies colors of emotionality that can be triggered by something blue,yellow,green, or true

Beyond the pathway goes the man surrounded by books and intelligence reported well and truly of wisdom knowledge and isolation

Cynical as he may be his ideas lie worth to the page and when

You go beyond the glassy doors you will see divided and unified

One and none

All or gone

Beyond what I do I am not an ant but the giant glass turned on to a spotlight that will set you on fire with the truth

If you shall refute then my light be stronger and mightier than your taught innate obedient walk

Single file

One foot after the other

Left and then right

All through the night

While I sit still waiting to challenge the next go getter

To go or get me

Passion

Uncertainty looms in my head

As I trek this gravel road up the mountain top

Where I met those who had gone before

Bearded and forgotten

Forcing positivity via psychotropic means

Unable to lend permission to a cynical voice

All revolutionaries in speech and demeanor but silent in action

As I see snowy huts and people who call themselves activists but leave it at the page

I came over the peak and on its descent greener pastures arrive and it had been seven years since I had been here

 I made it down from complacent ascension that a rebellion of the mind began on this day

Transcendent from pragmatism

Risen to passion

Surrender

Hypothetical “Yeah I do not care’s “

Laced with hypocritical indifference

Rolled up, lit, inhaled, and exhaled is passive aggressive rejections

Of actions done and that will be done

Puffed and passed to the next cooool parent who lay claims to not caring

To protecting their own

In its smoke causes seizures of second hand trickling to my brother on my right and down the line

Packed into a tight bowl of conformity lacking substance

Only depth of things unbeknownst to themselves

Anti to themselves their crazed lunatic boy

Mad writer art child

Look at him in the corner with his paper and pen

Scribbling away speaking of freedom

What a silly made up thought

Beach

These sands

Loud laughter

Echoes to the shallowness of their blissful soul 

Bouncing back and forth and in high frequency

My own puddle ripples 188,000 times

I have written 188,000 times of my spirit

Her influence

Searching for depth of my deep puddle encompassing

Men’s entirety in a single step down

Who refract and crack into my arid shack

Dampening hindrance of my cot and folding desk

My lantern flickering and creaking

I upon my log chair where I ponder

Life’s waves crashing down upon my paradise beach

Sands where I will stay for all of time

Gentle Wrath

Folded and molded into something new possessed

Hatred burns my eyes to wet tearful anger

Unable to strike blows to crumble these hands

To stop such fury in my heart

Where he face goes instead

Her smile

Her lips

Then the night will be mine to keep back again

From my toppling metamorphosis

Where I am a butterfly turned to dragon and back once more

Unsure of that beast that lies within my chest

Pushed to endless ferocity

To kill men

Strike down gods

As her small gentle hands grab on to me

I am reminded of love’s gentle wrath

Dad

Was he me in another day

On soul looking movings

Spirit quests he to lands foreign

Me mentality psychologically enchanted by my mind’s eye

Intrigued by mirrors reflected refracted

1^st and first

Separated and jointed

Lit to simplicity

Tales of theoretically what if’s and temporary stations

Father and son similar but different

He spells a five letter word

So hard but must be done

Effort and it will be done

Material things

Compounded interest of faults that are my own

Youth impatience

Desire chase it

Filled up to the neck overflowing

Rushing everywhere into land and carpet

Green and teal

Extravagance too much

I sit frustrated

Lost burnt emasculated

Endless dreams

Endless dreams

I was dreary and mad

Delirium in my veins

Malnourished weak

Dehydrated dry

Spinning around and around

Ground beneath me shaking

In my lunacy mesmerized by her figure in the darkness

Unspeakable

Words would not express this beauty stepping to me

While I wait for the thing that should come with such stumbling

Broken and rearranged shattered on the ground In Tulsa

In my wake I would see her face once more clear and never before seen

In warm commodities a bearded mad man traveler lossed in sacrifices of liberty

Tie died walls with beaded doors  in this midnight summer dream

I would wake 50 years from that night

In the arms of her never to be lost again

Searching for Searching

Searching for searching

In my worried steps

I imagine pathways unseen by rubber and metal

Unhindered nature free in isolation hidden

I imagine I’d meet fellow mad peoples

Lost in their own way

Gather in their own way

For the books of poetry they would write on their lives

I imagine the nights would be most beautiful under the moon and the stars abundantly lost searching for searching

Where do I

Unfettered  freedom

My hands do the doing while my eyes do the seeing of life

Of lovers at midnight

Drunks on the river pier

Junkies howling at the moon down on the waterfront

As I go traveling by

I wonder where it is that I fit in

Satan and saint paul

I have returned from my long lost journey and to my old home of originality and my own version of myself reborn to the road freedom beckoning on the failures of others to be strong to be intelligent and unique and interesting yet they draw tears in their words that put me to sleep instead they are stereotypes of the same individual boring and predictable i wait for the person who is unable to be boring for her capacity only allows for individuality and he is unquenched by his desires mad upon madness laced in lunacy and we three devils dance in the night under the stars sinning and living and stirring up trouble where there is none revealing true liberty upon which this fallible nation that declares itself beautiful in the wake of her relevatory ugliness dispersed to all across the land with blissful politeness to call her beauty all knowing and powerful we three reflect the nature of freedom and in it shall rebellion lie and in democracy tyranny lies and so we three devils go down the line to come upon satan and st paul.

Corvallis desolation

There is a kind funk to this place laying the smells of morbidity in its wake young drifters and shifty game players given up by themselves or others injected arms and pills popped wondering why they do what they are doing yet they are lost watching the river go by as hours tick tick tick away in corvallis desolation they sit waiting for the day that will never come.  higher education is a frenzy fad that makes others get the notion of empowerment to memorize so much useless facts must be an achievement to many and they pop up like dandelions stealing the town gentricfication to remove the poor the restless and the bored in corvallis desolation restaurants line the streets and factories surround this place where pretty girls only come to prey on for their own independence sex craved lunatics with siren voices calling me into crash onto shore for their play in corvallis desolation i move away today and start a new along adventure way

There first day

The land was beautiful in her green coverings and tall natural skyscrapers that covered me from wet rain when mother would cry for man and we would thrive from her sadness. She would shine from the brightest light to dry us all up and love would spread through her lands respected and affectionated worshipped her lights were ours and then man came to steal here from us bought her defiled her grounds and crevices and stuffed them with rotten structures rotting already killing what once was her tall skyscrapers used for the construction of him and his ego and simplicity would die in its extravagance would place he would use her and shoot her up with his toxins until she could no longer give for what was taken down to her knees she would pray for mercy and he would laugh and take more from her bones and flesh to make monuments to this day and so now she is bitter from his takings now when he wants her for aid she does nothing but watch man and lay wait to his self destruction for the malice he committed on her body from there first day.

Rearranged again

I am lost stumbling through uncertainty where the new experiences lay inspiration for me in the center of it all overflowing with questions of doubt.   I do not know if i can keep going this way for long all alone and stupid stubborn rounding endurabiliy street at the corner of i wish this was the first time my mind has gone dark from the world. Days when I wish it would be over accidental death slipping cars into me and it be done and i would be gone and maybe this place could die without me and i wouldnt see my peers fellow sad sorrow feelers the ones who seemed to be designed to fail tired of the stress tired of missed chances bad people and it all... but i got all this stuff to do before i die i can t be gone now when my brain is in hyperdrive thriving its keeps on living pumping oxygen in feeding it to push and grow groan and moan alone wondering when this time all these people say i am going to make it or it will be alright because it might just get better and then what will i say of this place that steals our souls every day and reaches inside to take my spirit with and i say no and i know no man measures to me for i am a leo a lion a lamb from lions i become and so in this dark jungle covered in thorn i do declare life breathing on until i do what i say and say what needs saying ill be around tripping through street lights luckily missing death and falling into the arms of success one day soon she will hold me and i will be turned from stone to bone unbroken and rearranged again

Standing tall

You hear all this new stuff about bullies and how they cry when they tell their stories.  I know as someone who was bullied I should revel in their courage to tell their stories as tears fall down their faces when tell of the faces who chased them down with names calling us fag loser stupid fatty and yet i am now very chatty on these words and their power that we granted them to tower over us like tall skyscrapers that can never be torn down yet i tore mine down and they fell like apples from trees and now i see that apples are my favorite fruit i eat them all day and the words they called me do not phase me or even tempt me to feel the way many do today.  So instead of tears and fears i am stronger then the bullies who sullied me with their insecurities and wishes for attention to be seen and on this day as i stand as a phoenix from the ashes i do not cry when i think back on all the names i was called but know now that it was for a reason i was brought up by them this way teased with friendship and thrown away given phone numbers to call and then when i push each one on the telephone i would hear them laughing as they did not pick up.  It was meant to make me strong to make me to be here and and then you would not hear my cries but my voice strong and tall courageous and bravest among all.  Now it is your turn bullied and beaten cheated and weakened beautiful and different stand tall and know this will all fall and you will be left standing tall

Behind the face of a clown

Unique special different rare are felonious offenses in conformity where you ought to be like the rest who will test your very best qualities to change. Slander libel verbal deceptions and torture consequences of rebels and different peoples.  Fitting in changing him working without sin all things to be put upon you by whoever ponders your difference.  Nerdy Geeky Gay Straight Jock blocks of definitions thrust upon all first before you can do anything.  Humor Jokes croak out derogative quirks and smirks on your new label put to you and history teaches us that teachers will not put up a fight for whiners they say to us as we cry from trying so hard.  It is on us the rejected objected outsiders who choose solitude from the dumbing down of us all.  The ones who made it out alive from schools minefield where we peel back ourselves to be alone from others.  We were lucky to not be caught by belts holding us above and not to put blades deep into our veins from the hatred of others.  As survivors we shall thrive on their meanness for it teaches us not to be cruel and see them truly without a judge.

Realm of importance

In the realm of what does and does not have validity the love for your woman or man does not equate to the shake of hungry babies who are not grown the self perceived woe of your home not as sufficient as others you know this self decadence and extravagance is not proportional to the irrational amount of homeless out on the ground of cold streets we treat like garbage cans dumping where we may when we so choose  the things you do not obtain does not retain the same intensity of those that war constantly today.  In my lifetime of almost a quarter of a century i cant recall or recollect pax romana in which we did not thrust america upon a country of our economic choosing and yet we have been losing good people every day for the prices of oil that stuffs the pockets of america's owners.  The place from which you originate does not give you permission to beget the words of prejudice no matter how they are used.  just because things go a way or two does make you immune to change and let the world be static instead of dynamic of prioritized transitions necessary for growth of the day.  In the realm of importance humanity is all i ask to be spoken for today revolutionaries stand up and say... I will not bow down to you for any pay.

No women left behind

I am sitting here along the coast hearing small mexican children play giggling care free.   Joint in my hair and in my fingertips with my paola on my arm holding me so tight.  I feel the warmth of her love as we kiss under the moonlight.  When I leave her in the bright i write her some sweet love letter from mi corazon and she understands but is mad and i kiss her before he face wrinkles with a grin seeing her beauty once more.  Traveling down the mexican coast line south to be far from the mouth of the law.  In my old life i was in college with the presumption of higher learning.  Bearded outlaw in peru persuing drug infested days with this australian chick named annie lou.  She cares for me when i am lost in my mind and cries tears for me when she hears of the sadness from the former me and she sees this man and is bewildered how A got to B.  I smirk at her and see the quirk in her shoulder and smile that i kiss seeing the freckles on her cheeks that reflect her red hair that trails to her back and rests upon my arm as its pulls her to my chest and we make love in the night time.  Freedom reigns in her kisses at night under the starts hearing the ocean crash and bird chirping.  Liberty comes from her love and sadness comes when she leaves me as i come back to reality dreaming of her touch and paola's voice made up in my head.  Love is all i think and feel and need to be fed unlimited and these worried hands wait from visions of beautiful women who haunt me in lucidity under neath my closed eyes.  Sitting in this green leather i await the sands of that beach in my mind and the australian with red hair that i have never wrote of before and in reality i would never leave a good woman behind

So long

I miss your lips upon mine so small and thin soft and supple as they press and depart.  I miss your hands clasped in mine gripping me tightly.  I miss your voice so delicate and adorable precious.  I miss you swallowing my stresses with your tiny arms and small legs me a giant to you now switched as you make feel so small.  Your smile makes me smile I miss these things from the most gentle heart i knew.  I miss the bliss of being fooled by you and your weapons.  Knowing of your weapons with selfish intentions remembrances of how hard it is to date an independent 20 something year old who thinks her major is the career that is oh so important.  How hard it is to compete with her will of academic success.  How much i do not care for these things and so i no longer compete in a race i am already winning.  You so kind and sweet and me not needing your condescension only seeing me as a cute boy you do like to kiss. I do not miss your cautious intimate connection.  I do not miss your rules of no PDA in public.  I do not and will not miss you and when you leave you do not say a thing to me and I am glad so I don't have to tell you how much i don't care about what you would have said to me.

history

Rivers run dry as my poetic voice quiets.  Trees dry up with my inspiration.  Animals hibernate with my muses who wait for me without intent of being so.  I cannot think of what to say with this wall in her place surrounding the inner voice in me that has painted the walls a different color every day.  Instead in it lies stress worry anger hate not fate for now and then will go the rest to the rear lost out of sight.  In my transition of transformation my mind has lost the key out the doorway and into my car to drive to the most beautiful places and my gas never runs dry and i try and try and what is more is that for now my mind cannot be still in its thoughts although the creative creek bed is dry waiting is the reservoir with clay cracking and breaking it is only time until rivers will run wild with poetry love drunkenness and life once more and so i sit biding my time along the river bank with pen in hand writing of such woe and mystery to when this time will be only history

Refuting to rebel

Everyday I step outside the walls of my apartment I am filled up with anger so red hot it makes me want to hurt someone.  I am being poisoned by the foolishness of others who wish they had more money.  I am sickened by the illness of education.  The ailment of conformity, she stabs you in the neck and watches her toxins seep into your bloodstream but whether or not you fight her will is whether or not you conform.  Everyday I step outside I feel her influence on me as others get infected with her contagion.  The ability to be wrong is the ability to be creative and therefore if you conform then you are not creative nor are you right.  In being creative you tap into an intelligence that most choose not to indulge and then they are dumber for not doing it.  Thus conformity has reached a peak and it seems as if the people like me who are questions her hierarchy have had enough and are leaving her behind and if that makes us abnormal then so be it.  In American it is an epidemic of dropouts who see no purpose in getting a degree and i am with them on it because now everyone has one and now a bachelors has become like a high school diploma.  In that, I mean that a bachelors is the bottom academic certification you can have in order to work in this society even though those who do not have one are sometimes much smarter then those who do have it.  This is because, they are creative.  You can count the creative minds by the number of individuals who look at any system and say it is wrong where it is wrong and that it is right where it is right.  People like me and you if you read this blog, know that it is time a movement started for those of us who see the folly of a system, not just Americans but everyone worldwide needs to take a greater look at what is around them and question it even if you are refuting it just to rebel.

Defective factories

There is a revolution going around us in the way people are being educated or more likely not.  Schools have made it their goal to mold in a shape in order to re-purpose your mind to fit the needs of production and capitalism.  In such a creation the purpose goes from free will to control and command and do not question.  People who will go to college, do what they are told, memorize facts, spew them back on exams, graduate, get a good job, get married, have kids, and then die.  The ones who do question such things of why they should be doing those things struggle, starve, love, , and live.  The reason that the rebels, the artists, the writers, and the free thinkers struggle is because they say no to what is being said to the masses.  The reason they starve is because they refuse to bend to the will of a system that wants you to pay a debt off for the rest of your life and then die.  The reason they love is because among others who just do things to get along and are practical do not even like what they do or maybe who they are because they did what they were told all their lives and find themselves regretting such reservation.  The reason they love is because they things for the motions of it but for the actual doing of it.  The reason they live is because they do not let fear keep them down to sit in a box and never go outside of it or re make it.  The reason I struggle, starve, love, and live is because I am an artist, a rebel, a writer, and a human being and cannot settle for the way things are and knows the corruptions and defects of the factory that produces people day in and day out.  Instead of factories, people should be mass produced by environment and not by old factories that do not work anymore.

Lost in the darkness

I stopped writing about myself and my heartaches and concerns because it occurred to me as a writer you must not take the spotlight for yourself but shine it on the things needing illumination.  Things so darkened by blackness that they cannot even their see their hands in front of their faces to write about it and so it falls on me to shine a light for them as to give them their minds back from anger and hatred.  I am no stranger to anger.  I am mad.  I am mad at adults who stifle young minds as to mold them for their own victories as they have known.  I am mad at parents who selfishly feel guilty for events transpired outside their walls.  I am mad at selfish people because they take and want all for themselves without an altruistic thought.  I am mad that people need god to feel good about themselves and instead they judge others based on someone they may not even believe just as i.  I am mad at those who do not take responsibility and accountability for their mastery of turning their head.  I am mad at people who decide they can be racist because of a generational gap and I mad that you let them.  Out of fear no one says a damn thing worth saying except look at me because I am Gay or I am a Feminist or I am Religious or I am a Veteran or I am this and I am that but you miss the point of poetry and writing. It is not to raise your own agendas onto others, but to be a reflection of the times we are in.  A reflection of humanity within society as to point out her faults, but instead fear has caused you to be pragmatic and practical and me to be rebellious and critical of everything around me to shine a light on it while the rest of you seem to have lost yourselves to darkness.

Gravel and tar

The road makers grinds gravel and tar and lay them down on this path and stops when he stops and makes another road and this was done many many years ago and then people started walking on these roads then they could go places but in all that going in the immensity of it was where do you end up am i going in the right direction should i go back and turn around maybe i should left instead of right but how do i know if right is right or if it is wrong and then im back to fear landing on square one.  In the road traveling you will take many many turns off the path you were on but amazingly you will come back one day one night months from now years from now but if you stay the course pointed in your true north then you will never go astray even though you think you are off the beaten path.  You will stop and develop and need parents.  You will stop and educate when you need teachers.  You will either progress forward in your education or you will be lost to it forever stuck in a structure that is like shackles.  This forward progression depends on you and so called higher education institutions are no a progression forward it is step backwards in hypnosis a trance you are in with the belief that the parchment you get after 4 or 5 or 6 years is that empowerment but all you learned was to always do what your told.  You did not head the warnings of the first free thinkers who rebelled against conformity when everyone seemed to be eating it up like your mother's best dish or your father's favorite sports team. Without any personal choice you decided to eat this food and be a loyal fan of this team .  You do not know if that food is poisoned or healthy for you without denying it.  You do not know if the sports team coaches treat their players right if you do not question them.  On this road we travel we must choose and in that choice will you be like the other footsteps that came through here like you or will you step off to the dirt where no road has been made and create your own road with your own grave and tar.

Teachers are to blame

Responsibility Accountability to be the applicators of ability yet they will not be blamed for the failure of the students.  See these educators cannot be accused and be culpable because they are teachers and they are not the reason you are not doing your work or studying for exam, but the question here is not what and when and whom but why.  Why do students no longer finish college once they have started and then the schools that endorse only sciences and fields promoted like engineering and sciences they wonder why the creative do not behave and rebel for the sake of doing it.  I am a product of this mass production model defective i turn off when i am bored and unstimilated when i pay someone lots of money to stimulate me and educate and when they fail i am to blame but yet they hide behind the mask of using me as a scapegoat for their failure to teach and instead they are just teaching waiting for the work day to be finished. Just as I wait for the clock to click down until i no longer need to listen to note cards with the highlights of the book you make me pay out the ass for and the i take up the ass when i sell it back.  It is time teachers and administrators took responsibility for their flaws when i do not care to be bored into a coma and listen to them ramble on about their self decadence.

Liberty C4

These waters belong to chancellor taylor who surveys here daily although i am naked unashamed for him to see i do not care if he shall see me vulnerable and i choose to be this way.  Others come here dip their ankle in as to feel rebellious by an inch a slug may commit an hour to. Others go all the way but drape themselves in prison clothes like that is some anarchist move to the wet the uniforms taylor makes them wear.   Then their are those who go head first unaware of the spears that shear flesh resting for your face to kiss and go through. They grab a hold of anarchy and with it take with bullets and death intended to taylor only to be removed with velocity increasing frequency increasing of the governments guns and death dealers with metallic cold steel to their chest. The only way you may enter chancellor taylors waters is with ease and vulnerability with pacifist thoughts and rebellious attitude and intellect where he cannot detect the bombs you have put in place that ripple through these waters infecting imprisoned minds with liberty C4.

Exile of the wild wolf

The wild wolf who goes against the pack is most righteous among the crowd.  He is strong and intelligent so the wind will not be against him and the food be plentiful.  Shelter may be a cautionary tale with uncertainty but what is a few hours in the night to the day.  What is a little rain to dry from the sun and how wonderful is drying tears from your eyes to happiness.  He will be of morality and virtues and honor and splendid righteousness knowing the pack is wrong and they will soon feel the karmic push off the cliff for their doing as he saw them feed off of the weaker ones.  Take what they wanted because they could and then worst from them are the elders who act more like leaves the stems that i eat.  Too fearful of the ramifications of meritorious work and so it falls to the next and see where it go. The wild wolf sees irrational feelings of the elders a mystery to stand by and do nothing for those who need it.  Questioned of his treason he replies that no one else was going to do it so i must and so is the tale of the wild wolf who did what was right and now he chooses to walk alone without wrong and omissions of others.

Run wild

Oh father time spouts his enumerated wishes of elongation and contortion to his subjects with only few can call to him and bend him to the their will where passion uses sleight of hand to mesmerize the task of the hand.  When your spirit howls at the moon for more and looks to the window to see a sun instead of moon they howl relentless with no intent of termination and onward on to the breach i will go with intent for more.  If your soul seeks warmth from the cold of disinterest then you may see time under different terms in which he drags you through dirt and mud with your face red and full of tears.  In this tearful existence is where most of the populated who idle by waiting for a foot to press where you must pick your loves among those who lost theirs unable to fill their tank and move down the line.  Stuck and fucked is where father time asks you where you want to be and you shall reply with no worry of such instead just know your red hot passions that line your veins and let them run wild.

You Matter

We as children grow up loving creativity and yet when we draw something or paint something and it is brought to the judgmental eye of our parents it just doesnt cut it.  It is crude and undeveloped but then it would be the eyes of our parents whose eyes are not working to envelope on the idea of imagination and creativity. Then we go to school and hardly pay attention to anything that the teacher says and that is because she is or he is under the mask of narrowness and i do not mean they are thin or something but their minds lost the ability to the intelligence in art.  Their minds sought only by sciences and technology which makes it easier to be perceived as intelligent.  So next time you sit in class and think on the reasons why you are failing or receiving a D, its not because you are not smart but it is because your intelligence does not come with a mac book that makes it easy to be perceived as smart.  If you draw, If you write, If you paint, If you tag on street  walls, you are smarter then the ones who blindly sit and nod and say nothing for you are the changers, the movement makers and revolution keepers with one message for all to hear and that is never stop rebelling against anything that tells you are not good enough in anyway because contrary to the words of passionless adults you do matter.

Men alike

Oh so you know my gender so you have heard of me. I am untrustworthy.  I am mean.  I am shady.  I am lazy.  I am a man so I must be these things.  If you had given your bitterness to a taste test and took a little more haste before you judge me as a man of this planet something you think is like the rest.  Ask me my name.  Ask me of morality, altruistic bravery, and maybe you could know a speckle of my spirit that is 1/100000 of the figures whole.  If you has laid your cynical image of me left to your hypothetical constructions maybe you could learn to trust my gender based on me and not what has pained you most recently.

This nut

This nut is hard to crack she tells me to run and break from the way i am going but i like nuts and she says she is one and i say so what i see into her ways of deception and detection of my flaws that spell out M..E..N like the others and instead i spell it true and real and never diverge from this course and i as i lay out depth and compliments something done her wrong got her gone and i know it but i cannot say it not for i do not want to but experience has taught this nut never to crack hold strong to your guns let them run she says and does but when i do not flee from this barrage of deflection i do not fret knowing her eyes spell wet tears and sometimes fear what of my mind but where fear is my love keeps it does not jump leap or trip down to a creek it is a feat most men do choose to apply to actions of stereotypical men of cowardice who avert eyes from my attention i mention i will crack this nut even when she turns her back and ignores sounds of languages composite of symbols i will crack this nut when she has fallen too low i will crack this nut to show men like me are one of a kind.

Illuminations of beauty

I was a boy when i met a bully whose name is lost forever but his mark left on me never gone.  When my body was not developed and made to be finished mistakes were made and pants became wet when he felt that it was cool to make my face wet.  So in my rage and moist eyelids i bit him and would not apologize to this creature who likes the torture endured on his victims who were not as lucky as me.  Little lucy was in my class and she was hurt and beat so she could not be better yet instead she would be let to corners sitting flat alone disjointed from the rest.  Everyday I saw her I would share a cookie comrades in a battle we would lose and so this cookie would be our reward for the day would mostly be of punishments.  She would soon leave my school her clothes too wet from weeping that did not cease and yet when she arrived at the next school she did not change in her treatment even teacher did not stop the wetting of her chin and bleeding of her nose and the screams for help she was left alone as if she was invisible and silent.  She would move on broken and shattered in pieces married to a man that did carry the load and exterior of a male but yet his mind was of nothing he be a good for nothing soul cutting and slitting a hole in her over and over again bloody between her lips and legs her cries and screams again she was thought to be silent and one day she could not breath could deal could not yell or scream and she began to think on her time in this clink maybe i did wrong and developed an affinity for low courage and no self esteem.  For all the others who share you time in the prison jailed and frail from the slamming of his fists know this that you are the thing all men desire where mystery lay upon your eyes that are like sunshine on a cloudy day rising among the grey and know men of his defilement and excrement are monster who shall be slain to high courage and self esteem with your  quick minds and feet run from him and push him to the ground run beautiful beaten down women and shine among the clouds and grey so all can smile from your illuminations of beauty

Beautiful creatures draped in unknown colors

I woke up this morning to speak to two unique beautiful creatures lost in different times like they traveled through space and time manipulating it to their think. One of who had been thrown 200 feet through decisions and incisions as she rolled down the face the cliffs rocky protuberances she fell bleeding barely breathing alone and then like such the fall she was free.  free from hate abuse anger put downs and down from her beauty for she smiles wide as the boundaries that outline the earth and when she smiles the sun comes up and it shows her smile and she glows and glimmers from the red follicles of her hair.  She beat her captor without a fist without a twist of a knife her creativity and optimistic envy of a future in which she smiled so much it hurt and so she endure pleasure and pain as she remembered what is was like when freedom reigns.  The second creature of wonder and intrigue of a smile of eyes that drew me in like the sailors and the sirens who pull them into crash and i was thrown into the abyss of rocks and intrigue as she coldly says hi and nothing more.  I think and tinker with her think of metaphysical tangential objects in her mind how dare i not see her pain and suffering where it lay how dare i not see her intelligence how dare i not illustrate and demonstrate the individuality of me as a man who is a Leo never to be arranged in rank with others who lie in that astronomical distinction i am like no man ever to be here and as we are here in this place we speak and her wondrous maze mind done with embroidery she makes with walls and protection i weave through to see my prize which is one level of understanding of what she thinks.  On to the next level and i shall save that for another day only to know i brought smiles to two of the most beautiful creatures made of love and nature peace and humility and knowing i helped them through today lets me know that they can make it tomorrow and so i go to cause smiles world round to all of the most beautiful creatures who lie in the dirt pushed in by nothings who shall not thrust them another inch as long as my words as mind see fit to make women goddesses of beauty and unique colors draped over them.

The Pros of Guns

One day a single mom walked home from the third job she needed so she could believe in her son having a better life then his existence has made him into strife.  A shadow walks behind her in the dark of flickering street lights and when she goes beyond the alley door he takes her by knife and says he wants what she has. Yet it does not carry the faces of green dead men but the pink between her legs and when she moves through hell without a prayer of success she decides it is best for her protection to lie in the metal death of hot steel that pushes cylindrical diggers of flesh moving at velocities missed by the naked eye.  As she moved through this her son, the one she tried to protect from hostility and violence sees it everyday with each fist and derogatory insult.  Bruised and bloody he returns to home with a last straw when he sees a creature he cannot be absent from and her name was brittany and she was the most beautiful girl to him and when he got the sack to ask her to dance these young devils and tyrants saw fit to set him on path to his own desolation.  Embarrasment and hope gained and lost in one flash of the camera where he was chained to a shower pole in the dark with hopes of meeting her lips with his but instead he became their next unfortunate victim.  Weeks and days went by until this boy lost to the whims of his depressed and angry mind and when he decided what to do he goes home grabbing the metal death dealer his mom sought for his protection when he was young, she no longer around for she lost the battle from the nothings of men who defile women, he takes this digger of flesh points at brittany and her compatriots of bullying him he just stares and then points straight at them with no hesitation lost his humanity to their fun he pulls and pulls and pulls and pulls until they are gone.

Her purpose

In poetry it reads of the minds of poets saying their soul bled out on the page from the stab of their pen and forever and ever no one of poetry has figured out that poetry is not a hobby it is not something you do to lobby from artistic to creative.   When you listen to the music today you should here a echo of society and you do and you dont and when you dont it is because those musicians have sold out and are puppets of commercialism and when you write poetry you are a new member of a club that should be saying the injustice justice is that is thought of as justice.  If you call yourself a poet you do not get to be selfish nor childish or a preacher of your thoughts on religion.  God has no place in the poetry and he only muddies the water in which you see the ripples of the echo of poetry.  No you cannot write about your love of jesus. No you cannot write about your lost whims.  No you cannot write about money.  Poets write about the world and to begin the dialogue from languages composite of symbols and say this is wrong.  Once you do this change happens.  Paradigms shift and rebellions begin.  Poetry is for the people to know what is wrong with humanity and not to shed light on your pity parties reality.  Writing is the wand of magic that creates worlds and it is time to realize lady poetry's true purpose.

Spider bites

In my mind lies webs of stories and ideas and paradigms that run like unparented children screaming unknowing of what to do so they break and smash and thrash to come on through.  These webs go to places of chaos where these spider children grab onto me for as long as they wish biting me with inspiration and creativity that colors me orange and red.  Listening to intellectuals speak against the way things are causing their bite to form hallucinations of a revolution in my mind where i am the speaker in which people listen and change consciousness of subconsciousness resurrecting the fallen zombies back to life with air and words.  Then my mind has a vision of love in which I am entranced in her kisses and marks left on my arms from her screams from stimuli she never had on record leaving me marked with her wild ecstasy ridden screams and so i write of the love we made that night.  Perhaps the day comes where I must leave and take my bags boots books and mind to the road and walk where so many lost boys went supplicating for a better way.  He who I ask of does not answer nor reply but just ignores my thoughts like rain drops slipping off a window during a cloudy day.  Then I come back to and no supplications, no love, only revolution keeps her mark on me black red and mad and so it was the revolution of our minds began here and moved to disobedient thinking and rebellious collaboration to ensure the hardships we face bleed to the page of the few who decided it was okay to take ownership around my neck, but no more shall free thinkers be shackled to poverty in a capitalistic system.  Today is the beginning where you asked why and then made it so.

Stigmas of lions

In our world today lies a revolution of the mind in that it will be turned around upside down and then evolve. When you meet someone in this transcendental transformation of brain and soul and spirit you beget them to answer of autobiographical facts.  What is your major? What do you do? and that seems to be the extent of which you are what you do and not who are you.  If you were to say I dropped out or I do not have a degree I just flunked out, they will so cool...cool as to be cool for saying something so chill.  Instead they lack the uniqueness to rebel to rebel to rebel but you do and you do and I do and I am.  Education has taken from us the critical thinking that makes lions of lambs and instead men are made of lambs not lions.  They bahhh when the shepard calls to them and they bow and take it brand after brand upon burnt flesh they smell surrender upon themselves.  Such is how slaves are made obedient sheep called to flock and they do.  In this of the most virtuous revolutions of the mind, will you be branded a sheep or shall you wear the stigma of a lion?

Lady Poetry

I have made up mind to educate myself and to thrive in poverty of self pursuing my craft of creative writing.  She is my passion and love that makes me indulge in rhyme whose time i have spent enjoying her easy ways. I have her anytime I wish and she has me always.  I take her to foreign lands and see seas and lakes and mountains where lovers try to procreate.  We explore lands of injustice just for us to see revolutions evolve and not dissolve like they do here in america where they are squashed because of lack of the determination that would defame and slander the liable who deny responsibility to the people but that they should listen and go along with the master plan.  We chase through broken doors and windows to see if they would break just to notice and recognize their instability.  In our old age when i know her well body spirit and soul and we lie and die it will read upon our headstones that lovers shall we be as poets shall we be for they are one in the same.

Modern Society

The children of children of today who proclaim themselves adults and have no faults.  These children of children come from immature premature adults who declare for all to see their insecurities.  They degrade and bully the weak and the frilly.  Playing on a game that they did not choose and can never win.  Ownership of people these children are the property of America the corporation filled with lies and majority elections, except the majority is of the rich and few not the many nor those whom occupy poverty forever instilled. The children of children in the present here and now listen and follow all that they are told.  Their teachers with implied respect and malice protection, and yet they have not collected or interjected opinions or any provoking thoughts.  The children of other children lie enslaved chained to each other to reflect the same shadows they deploy.  In the employ the children of children have no where to go and they eventually go to what makes sense instead of what makes them them. They procreate and enumerate their beliefs of religion and war death and for what.....Retirement that no longer exists?

Think on this

Now educations is always a connatation of academic institutions like elementary school or middle school or junior high or high school and then you go to college...why? To get a good job and then that job pays for you death that will be subsequently handed to you on a silver platter because you forgot what you love.  Never do this or your soul will die.  Schools have created a wave of zombies that do not reject refute rebel but just sit and wait and do their job so they are good little boys and girls and they can go home to mom and dad and say i did good but why and then begets the question of love of passion of the verse you shall contribute to the great and powerful play of life. How can you say you live or that you are free without saying no to the structures that pull you back on them to propagate the poor dying off so there is no one left to fight back or to say stop.  This is the reason artists are revolutionaries it is why painters are true expressionist of social strife and then poets they are the rhetoric that will be played over and over to say to all you as citizens of the human race that the world we live in today as of this day in 2013, is going to kill us off if we continue this rule listening this yes sir attitude instead of the fuck you attitude.  If you are man with spine and you see wrong say it write paint it film it change it, and when it comes to education do you have the courage to say fuck it and commit yourself to the life of a poet or shall you be the yes sir boy and yes ma'am lady. Think on this when you kill yourself for the next exam.

shallow waters

I try and I try to find my way to fly from these ashes where men work for factories and farmers.  I scream but no one hears me.  They took all the work from this place where people go hungry if they are not of the running operational machine of university or perpetual death from the hands of their slave masters.   You go to study or die you go to work or you starve but in this place there is no escape from bars that keep me chained to sorrow and poverty.  I have to buy into the society out here alone, but i wont sell out like so many before me who speak of revolution but fail to see it in their eyes.  Scared of freedom for their is no net you can lie back and not fret of no catch in this place you must detach and manifest a test that you will pass and this test will measure your righteousness and virtuosity where so many lie down to the whims of superficiality.

Omission of choices

Fear is a scary thing to us all because we do not fear the same things.  It is a restricted area that you do not have the courage to trespass through.  Breaking down the constructs in your mind to create a world that only collapses and rebuilds a new scenario in which you die and each time you think on the different schematics in your mind where this might happen or that might happen.  Fear is not something you can medicate away as if fear was contained in a pill capsule and ingesting it would set you free only to realize that is no medication but fake and realizing this your worries role play games appear. Does he love me does she love me? Will I be alone or have too many people around who are wrong for me? Will you escape your nightmarish creations or defeat them with your mind in its power lies your freedom if you do not fear the ramifications of securing the pursuits you adore and admire. Fear the thing you make up to be 8 feet tall and 400lbs made of the things that bind you to his beckon and call.  When this beast wants you to cower and be afraid he shall call upon the one who got away as to remind you of what once was.  It is on you and you alone to know the weakness beyond the beast and finish it.  Then you can come from fear and prosper like free men like free women, but will you choose this or wither in your omission of choices.

What will you do?

In life it is hard to nail down what you want to do.  Can you tell if told the aspirations and wishes you have and crave the action to do them.  So what stops you in your pursuits of happiness? In the simplicity of these words to provoke such thought and emotions where i imagine freedom from these structures that are shackles. One day this choice becomes us all and will you fall? will you rise to the occasion and have the courage to set before you a path of fire lit by your passions.  They burn red hot and make you human.  The day came for me to ask what do you want that will make you human again, melted from metal and back to flesh and emotions covered in red orange yellow pink purple green brown all over so you may touch the ground and feel it.  So you can smell the tress and taste it.  So you may think of what is right for you and chase it.  In my answer, I knew what lay before me and what did not and my life must be something to stand to when i can no longer stand but must sit.  I cannot be a man of freedom without doing so and in my liberty i answered i want to write.  I want to write and never stop as if these words were my busted iron and nickel that holds me. I want to write not because i am lazy but because i am filled with desire. I want to write so I am human and being such I cannot settle for anything less then what i want to do and so i do it what will you do?

Shouldn't be this way

It is now the case of today that we try to discredit revolutionaries and activist instead of considering their thoughts.  It is now the case that our country is killing itself so people can have jobs.  It is now the case that our dictatorship government masquerades as a democracy.  It is now the case that politicians only keep their jobs and don't actually do them. It is now the case that the people have been taken for granted and taken.  Yet know one stands up for anything but paying their bills and getting richer.  Instead of thinking about what they can do to change it they sit around and watch it go down burning dollar bills thrown out windows as it crumbles and the corporations and banks and capitalistic fiends that leap out the windows to grab on to them.  Why? Because no one does a damn thing to stop it.  Why? Because they have accepted that this is the way the world works, instead of saying it should not be this way.

Truths are the new lies

Today truths are the new lies where the older members of this community dying and falling shortly but surely they do not agree with anti anything thought but only pro american that cannot rot because it is american.  The voices of those who say its downfall lies in its strength of the wealthy and then say they got wealthy of the deaths of the working man.  He who is a expressionist of truth is a poet and his words or her words will say things that must leave you breathless because now people have got nothing new to say.  Oh woe is me that i am a virgin and without sex or poor me i cannot live in a house appropriate to my needs of extravagance.  Pity me for I my car is not new enough.  Empathize with my qualms of some petty thought that you presumed has a place in the human race. The Kardashians are irrelevants who were put in front of those easily manipulated by shiny wealth and stupidity, and then like sleight of hand you mind is gone.  Then on the other hand real things are trembling the ground of people dying, starving, being raped, murdered, and the list goes on.  Poets must be experts in the art of pissing the authority figures off otherwise they are not doing anything right.

Freedom takers

When I look to the sea of faces in the world all i see are hyena's barking clawing for scraps and then when they receive none these hyenas never stop their whimpers that now become the new noise i hear when they had eaten all the crickets.  Help me feed me give me jobs i want better healthcare and yet your wishes and dreams fall on deaf ears who do not even pickup the frequency of a beast lower then they on the food chain. All of these self presumed higher beasts have created cowards who use mediums of character defamation in order to pump themselves up and feel good.  Insecurities character flaws or something else that they wish to do in order for you to join their pack.  So nothing gets done by hyena's but searching for prey they search in the crevices of walls and cracks of doors with the light of lions like me.  You think listening to rules makes you a superior to i when it is you the fool who has fallen quickly to the propaganda you love to hear don't ya.  Rebelling is not practical so it must be immature as they say but how does anything change when people keep clawing at the white picket fence of Sam's home when he does not have anything to say but sicks his dogs on you when you scream his name.  Instead you become powerless in a supposed free living space where freedom is out natural name, but in that lies surrender under your name when you believe the freedom takers when they have taken your home.

Strive for

Today is a day that we praise the recipients of this made up holiday, which is so rightly deserved to them.  Fathers they are men who raised us they are men who have degraded us.  Fathers they are men who teach us right and wrong.  Fathers they are men who do no good but only harm.  My father is a man who did what was right for his and his own.  A man with intelligence who settles for the pragmatic traps of the man but does it for the ones he keeps.  My father is a man who does not put his hands up for threats but roars when he needs to.  He is a man of conservation and stillness that lies in his brilliance.  He taught me to think for myself and to be a man with a spine not one that whimpers and whines.  My father taught me to know what it is to be a man he taught to know what is right and to not do wrong on those who are used to its burns and marks.  My father is a man and he taught me to be one who will be the measure all fathers will strive for but never achieve,and so to this day goes to my dad and others who are not like him and my love goes to him Jeffrey Neal Campbell today I love you dad.

As a poet

I might alienate myself by calling out people who speak in public to be doing something with merit.  Speak of justice and it shall be so.  Speak of change and it will begin to flow.  Speak of revolution and you feel the spirits of all your brothers and sisters turn and listen to you with the eyes of determination and focus on the rumblings of this loud voice.  If you speak of love do so in such a manner that denotes pleasure not fetishization of women as your cool new play thing.  If you speak of confusion and loss do so in a way that brings inspiration to others who join isolated in their own introverted mind in their secluded place in plain sight.  If you are a poet say something that matters for others as to make them feel your words with such veracity that no matter how quiet you whisper them they are shaken to their core as if they were falling into a deep dark hole and your words and my words was the light that allowed them to find a way out instead of preaching and tooting your own horn as to distract them from misery which surrounds us

Say something that matters

I search through videos and voices of poets who say the same damn thing with no substance only a dab of romance and a dab of religion a dab of feminism and a dab of themselves when is it that a poet is going to say something that matters for us all instead of that song that made them cry or your most recent heartbreak for me poetry is not something you do because it might get you laid not because chicks dig artsy dudes who can touch and feel their emotions poetry is something i do because i am human and as a part of this dying humanity in the eyes of the sheep who say they are revolutionaries but collect facts they say they are creating a flow of consciousness but instead they live in a glass bubble where water does not flow into waterfalls but crashed into walls.  Lying in their own definition of passive rebellions that do nothing but talk and with those words they sit still and mark not the history of spoken word but only to expel their own thoughts and feelings as they should be my own when i know that my thoughts and freedom are the dying hope of this country but yet no poet white black yellow brown or red says a damn thing worth listening to so i sit and write these words instead.

Memorization

Teachers and authority figures say we need them because without them where would we go? I know that my mind is free from their supposed implied respect and morality.  I do not need their so called wisdom and when i write i will call them out for their own failures as to stimulate my mind that comes in at 8 and listen and lean forward proving my body language that i care and then after the middle of this term i sit back and put my notebook away and pen away zipped up and i get up and leave.  I get more intellectual benefit from documentaries on art and love of poetry i am stimulated by voices to hear actors evoke feeling from words that will be my muse to listen and say i can use that here and then here and i black out until the page is done with the tip tap of my keyboard or scribble of my pen when i hear none i am done and then i put a period to signify the end.  I will not be told what i can be taught and who can do it and where i can teach myself because academia and higher learning is more like ground level reading with no learning just memorization.

Better days

I see how things are going....the youth who are moving in age to be adults are faced with unemployment and a degree a  job market can do nothing and for some reason who fee empowerment from holding parchment and ink put together on leather bound books that you dont get until later delivered to you in the mail....the adults and elderly are so desperately looking to find jobs without retirement plans they are lost feeding out of Uncle Sam's hand.....Yet the rich are old and young but they all have one thing in common....their skin color is not black brown or yellow for the most part all i see is white.....these white people who are supposedly my kind i detest with all i got....they have nothing good to say...do nothing good but they still get wealth and health when the rest sitting saying i have to do this on my own and not with someone else.  It is my hand that must pull me up not my friends or a collective.  The worst epidemic sweeping the nation but more like revealing itself....is that the people dont think america is bad....they dont think they would be done like this and for that they are brainwashed lost to the abysmal emptiness of their own brain that has been replaced without the ability to rebel.  They say it is not my country's occupation to care for me only that i do what she asks of me.  In such ignorant bullshit i do hear is that they have been propagated by thought to never beseech the heaven above never to rebel against the machine that has left them dazed with the illusion of better days.

a good idea

I know it is scary granting your own freedom when you are done family friends and all of the above will be like i just want you to be happy and then they will say that there are some things you have to do in this world to get where you want to be and i think to myself and say why do we have get a degree only so we get a good job and in school all these young little naive green eyed idealists think working within the system you can effect some change but why is is that you are not doing anything different today. Liberty is all i see freedom is all chase revolution is what i spout in order for you to read and talk about why you think college and getting a degree is a good idea.

The revolution began on this day!

Those of us out there who think freely who say i am not okay with this government that rules across the land who say they are against war who say police and law enforcement are corrupt and lack morality...Know that this fight we have before us is not going to be easy it is not going to be a smooth transition from what is now to what is right you will have to fight.  There will be people who argue with you and challenge your ideas and thoughts and it will sound logical and practical almost to the point where you might be like oh yeah that makes sense.  You must not listen to them you must not listen to anyone but you and not even i.  This place is full of people who are so mad and content without the ability to have a free thought they have to throw rocks and stones in order for them to sleep quietly into the good night.  Not if i have anything to say about it, these words i put on these pages are not some conspiracy theories of lunatics with no rational thought, they are the realization that this world we live in...in america is not as good as we once thought.  Kids go hungry for paper with dead faces of men i do not even know.  People are homeless by the billions because they have lost the will to live they would rather die alone in a puddle of their own sins than live in a world that has tried so hard to hide them from the eye of you and i.  We war so we can protect our business interests from people who have had our death in their wet dreams for centuries and more.  I will wait for you my brothers and sisters to realize my words are not opinion but fact, and then the revolution will begin.

Why?

I walk around campus unfortunately around these youngsters screaming help! I see banners of what they should be the things they are supposed to be....willing and able slaves to work in their factories in order to keep them in line they are subliminally told that the ugly duckling only stands out.. now do you want to be ugly?  You might as well of said that they already are any moniker that denotes a negative connotation.  Theses kids only see the surface of the table top but miss the signature of the artisan.  They see shiny gold but miss the plentiful beauty of anything less.  Now before I forget I should beget this sentence that begins with...you are beautiful all of you are unique creatures of different molds and cut from several variations of a slab you created in which you are the tallest statue placed in Rome.  But by not rebelling and sitting still and thinking of thinking for the sake of memorization and the appease of someone else who takes your unique state and upon the plaque they will take credit for your towering unreplicability.  So when you walk for the sake of your ma or pa think back to why you took steps to begin with.  was it for freedom or free will illusions or routine. Then when you receive that thing you have worked hard for you lost sleep for you missed love for you missed life for and before you open this package that in its parchment assigns you intelligence, think hard for the reason why when you shake hands with the devil man.

I should listen....

Paradigms of paradoxes in my mind tell me to think of what i want not what is best for me...best for me? No one knows the answer from that 3 worded question but me and i will not be sequestered to a court of hypocrisy and false education. Education is a funny thing as i remember when i was just oh maybe 8 years old and i said yes sir and yes ma'am to my teacher miss who gives a fuck she is not worth the spot in my hippocampus i will not remember her face nor her words that slipped from the filter in my brain that set her attempts at education in a burn pile of failure that lady academia hath protrude from her bosom as to be some watcher or protector of truth.  When i got old enough to say fuck you and kiss my ass you contradictorial piece of shit was the time when these so called teachers and only thing they are teaching is surrender to my eyes they must prove beyond a resonable doubt that i must listen and take note from their thoughts.  Yet to this day when i age to almost 24 years here on this planet mother earth and not one of them sticks in my mind with importance and all i can remember is that our schools let cowards and pretentious strangers be my guardian and more like our warden.  It is important to know your own thoughts as they are etched into bone that keeps me upright in my spine lies truths that no one can keep but me unless they kill me dead i will never ever bow down to any man or woman who says i should listen.

Blades at my back

One day when I was in college gathering poverty in order to pursue my poetry and a man i felt him on my back.. senses and  vibrations rumblings in my toes tingling.   when i turned to see in my hypothetically high stooper a blade was at my back so i grabbed his wrist, blade away from chest his arm bent at geometric degrees frankly i cannot remember that day in class as to point the blade at his chest forcing inching his blade thrust upon my back at him for his misused aggression closer to his throat.  I can see surrender in his eyes and i do not care i aim to finish this here and now and later after he had been gone from existence by my hand, they would ask me of this day and was i afraid.  I would reply, i guess i am just used to a blade at my back it is only now that i turn to face them and take what they used on me for death on them for life

living hell

living with the spirit of a rebel poet makes me mad because i see all the thoughts that tear through my consciousness in which i am saying look at all the poor they are only asking for a little more look at the rich they take and take and want some more i see other white people who are the contributors to hell to a place that i dwell they say there is only one thing i can think to watch and protect my my my and it really does not matter what the my is distributed to because there missing the message i see politicians sit and shout over their favorite toy...that is us....which demographic can they program for their own plots and schemes in which they will be thrusting forcing and making sure you are caught in poverty in debt or in death i sit and swell for i am a rebel poet with only words that tell truths of the living hell

Fucking America

This country is not a country of the people anymore this country is not a country where you can make it from nothing this country is not a country that you can do anything in but be poorer and poorer as the rich get richer off of the thinker sin the world who perpetuate the norms of society this country is going down one town at a time the youth are slaves to money and dreams of living the good life where they are just like the rest which exploit and point at the poor and when the  so called poor need help they say they are just lazy and want a hand out this country is for the rich and no one else there are no jobs for kids like there is no way out for kids like me to i am going shout for change while i sit on the corner and say are you going to go with the way things are going today.

Baaaaahhhhhhh

I thought that my loudness needed a mouses voice to soothe my angry thought. Then it came to me upon the insecurities females brought.  Yeah I am loud and I am mean mugging all the others because they cannot jostle with the perspectives of passionate menn. I thought they might fix me melt my cold ice hands to warm cool lava and it did only to show me the measures they would sought out in order to bring me down from righteous thought. They say you don't need to be so loud screaming we hear you and then i would reply and say do you though? Nothing has changed you still see me as nothing but something that your brother was or you seem to bring me down to the wooden kennel you stay in surround by walls of definition and labeling those who are not happy all the time those who do not smile around corners without thinking about the obstacles that may lie in front of thee... So what if i am loud and opinionated about bullying or what politicians do not do and maybe i say that the world is corrupt but you say he worries too much and then he and i say well all i hear is baaaaaahhhhhh baaaaahhhh baaahhhhh while your wearing wool.

Gold

I am that kid without a plan i can't even find a job.  I am that kid without money who has to find a way to pay his debts, but why should i? the government aint give me nothing not even their hand to help me off the ground.  He puts his heel to thrust aggression to my kidney section.  I am supposed to be paying the things that i don't have anything to show for what good is that piece of paper when the only people using them are doctors or lawyers.  Their kind aint mine because they see the gold in everything, looking for their next money hungry fix these fiends want to take from your hand so theirs glows better.

College

Your a joke man you supposed to be my teacher with upper hand man.  I mean aint we in college or university or prison where thought is shuned out to what it actually taught.  My creativity lost and regressed pressed lost.  This is  not a class for me to just be like oh that is neat i will keep coming dont you concern yourself with competence or intelligence just expect to hear the cling clang of my shuffling feat dressed in black while they sewed a number across my chest.  No i am not just going to show up because you are a teacher with some kind of implied respect or perfection.  You must challenge me to get that check mark on that call sheet if you call my name and you do not see me there it is because you have failed.  So yeah I smoke pot and most of my classes I am baked beyond any kind recognition but that does not mean i do not have thought it does not mean i am absent of brain cells.  It is the opposite my mind soars high above the clouds so i can see all the others i can read of franz boaz and think man that cat is quite sharp.    Or read of pre socratic philosophers who were free thinkers and revolutionaries and then you go and take that stimulation in each of my synapses and opens a book of snores and bores because i do not need to be taught on what goes into research or brought to the idea of a theory.  You did not see me for most of the term because you did nothing but thought you were great intellectual informers that were absent of objection or detestment of your lack of anything but conformity because in my reality i need to be challenged with provoking thought and such is the end of my time here where you failed me so fuck off

white people

I didn't grow up that hard but it was different from the white people who are my supposed kind.  I did not have luxuries like stress free wealth.  I did not have friends who i trusted or thought ya know what they wont steal from me or pick or make fun of me oh right i forgot because when your white you think other people's plight is the funniest form of pleasure they would ever get.  They say he is my friend so it is okay for me to berate him. It is okay for me to say i am better than him because i am white.  Its funny in fact to say that skin color or race is a measure of better or worse because our color of skin is only a fact of evolutionary.  We are white because we were first born into cold climates where as those with a tint to their skin were born in the light of the sun.  In any matter white people say i am better because i am lighter then him or i have found god today so i am better then him.  If it makes you better than other because you exploit or point hey this look like a good gentrification point.  Than someone with more of a brain then whites says what about the people they live here they eat here they grow poorer here and so you thought the best way to aid them is to make them pay more or get out.  If that makes that makes you white then i am no race no color because i am great not because of my lack of tint but because i will not go out quietly in the night i will go out loudly on every medium i can say and what will i say you ask well that is for you to listen

What is right

I was writing and writing and speaking of the things that lie in my head when my ma called me and said all i wanted was to say we made it.  We made it ... we made it if this place is where made it then we have a lot to do and lot a place to go and instead of being white and polite i will not be silent for those who do not speak because they teach.  I will speak for those who are here to be used and likely shooed by their ma or pa who say that they are doing too much of nothing. While their boy or daughter tried to illuminate they were pushed away and so they go to their teacher pleading and pleading but he says i dont get paid to listen to you cry and thusly this boy just leaves.  He steps outside of his home only to be a target for the audience of his peers who choose to draw tears and so they kick him and make him die so they laugh at him for his comportment is the measure on which all men would be eventually be measure. They poke and prod this boys spirit and says he is a fag even if he isn't they gather halls of fools who decide to use their insecurities to prey on him today and fake listen to his cries for them to stop what they are doing, but they don't stop they don't stop.  So this boy would go home and sit in his anger for he is alone and no one wants to hear him and when he returns to school the very next day he finds his accuser and points his soon coming death cock and loaded and the boy says to him you have hurt me beat me abused me and enraged me this gun here in my hands is what i am supposed to be the next one who should be on the news for all you to be like i didn't even see it coming... you didn't see it coming.... you didn't see it coming because you were not looking then they blame the parents for something they did not do when it is the job of his teachers to be his adult protector and guardian while he sits in their care yet this teacher who is their supposed security guard who is armed with power over these young ones employs none of it he bitches and moans that these boys and girls are too loud stupid or frankly they just dont fucking listen and so i write these words and speak out loudly with passion that rivals that of any god and say it was never about not getting paid with what you might think is your birth right but i say no no nay nay you are human and as humans you should do what is right... what is right is that you must never let injustice or prejudice exist and if you shan't be righteous like i am then i will be there to thrust you back or use my words like a weapon to make sure you never forget what is right.

Only one

Hey baby come out to play i want to sing with you today with my words and thought will they evoke that taught you to be here for today and not yesterday.  I think you are the most wonderful thing around to make me not act like a clown.  I should eat better and be clean and not be so stoned and groan of what is not. I should not step in the street starring down drivers in this naive little town. these folks here are too worried about stupid things like college students or whatever bull shit they got. The main streets of this place like with superficiality instead of reality.  Flashy stores and tanning salons for orange people to match the colors of the university.  You baby you make me want to be better and happy once more like i did when i was a kid.  I am giddy like a school girl when i am baked and smile.  I still remember last night from the scratches on my arms where you moaned and painted the walls with yours words and supplications to god and on these walls said love sex and orgasms.  I still remember you scent upon my pillow top when i found that spot.  I remember kissing you after long hours of our bodies moved together through unity of one for this moment you and i were undone from time and chimes from outside audible signs that whistle in my mind.  I remember a time when it was fun but now that time is done because i want someone who will trust and love only one.

Zombies

Zombies are out there every day where of those that are pros for technological detachment because it is efficient and cool.  Cool cool go along for the ride get along to go along YOLO one abbreviation i do not adore.  You are too emotional they say to feel so much pain and misery and then jump to happiness and joy you must be of lunacy and madness in order to be this.  I feel all of it at once and i am not afraid of the consequences coming for me.  They say don't think too much and you will be okay from the dismay of the worries from today but then if i do not concern myself with thought then i would be a zombie like those cold blue bodies right here in the dirt  They were put to rest upon the lock at their door and when they were chained to their desk is when they would rest in peace from all their slaveerry.  Zombies exist today where people have reverted and converted from feeling emotions to a numbness that dumbs them without thought

Intelligence

Me I had always seen the truth in the mother earth she would send me signs in all that i had realized was that here this is for the youth.  I know that my days do not equate to old age but more like a phase that i was in until only recently.  see i was mad and planned to kill all those who had spit and kicked punched and hit.  I was too mad and hateful to recognize that in other kids eyes i was just someone they could loot and shoot and say you scoot.  I had been lifted and gifted with peace and could not hate. Jane had come to me and said do not be so stubborn and stupid you are not right for the gun but who would question  You do not need that anger or rage for they will dig you an early grave.  Thus releasing my ignorance and unknown to me was something lurking inside that would soon set me free...instead intelligence would be my gun loaded and pointed at thee who sits in front of me with words that may turn these lambs into lions and then teach the young without the gun

Puppet in the man's hands

I read them confessionals of this time and read of sex drugs and petty complaints what does that paint for the future of this worlds torture to come from the lines people choose to use in order to manipulate.  These are the young ones who say they are the best at academia's test yet they are brainwashed with the hopes and dreams of things in the sheets or to have the most shiny things.  A generation of graduations filled with minds that do not detest anything but smile at everything.  who who who do not question a damn thing but just sit smile and laugh so they wont be sad.  They will be like look guys i got this cool ass ride and this nice trick to sit beside me and blow me this is what is like to be a real man.  Naw kid you aint got what it takes to be a man who does not race but does chase the poor away because they aint doing what daddy said.  That car you ride keeps you a slave to their kind and that woman you degrade has become objectified like those things you desperately buy. Men do not have to prove a GOD damn, because they take the world in their hands and bow down to no other man.  A man does not do what he is told do but what is right and says that boy aint nothing but puppet in THE MAN'S hands

slam baby slam

Look at this damn nation all these young children who declare their own maturity. Or that age does not mean anything but a number but then they say that would have done the same as I  what the fuck is going on  in these zombies' proclamation.  There isn't enough time so I I I go to the weather station to see when that storm is going to hit.  When these young guys and young gals come to be in the real world where it is like bending steel to make a dime off the governments gifts that have shifted the wealth disparity to cause tears to come from eyes.  This damn nation ain't got no time for relapse when it has so long abused and used the people like drugs throwing them out like bugs or a bump to jump up into the bloodstream and cause a myriad of devastation in your mind.  So i turned to the slam nation to tell all of you their crimes against all that you and i as poets of intellect to expand and transcend everyone else's mind

say what i mean and mean what i say

I woke up on this today filled with the knowledge of what i want.  In everyone going to get a job that they must settle and rest their feet for.  I have known a while in order for me to be going through with this dream of being a writer that would get paid and tell tales of love and passion.  There are risks that come with such a revelation especially when there is no job in sight for me to hone and put my talents to light. I had started this long ago it feels even though it only dates to about a couple years ago where i was the one and only listener to my never ending plight.  Then i showed and flowed through people's opinion of the writing i had never revealed to anyone.  They liked it and unbenounced to me i was good at this thing where my heart ache spelled correlation to other peoples folly from love and heartache or happiness and sadness in which they had experienced.  So then i had decided i would pursue this foolish request that laid in my heart or i would die.  Not doing or saying what i felt was like giving up and selling out.  At first I thought fuck this place it cannot be helped.  The people only want for themselves and your family only wants to put you down.  Government officials have taken and taken with no regard for the people here and in so I would leave it all behind as my town turn to dust.  Now I sit here writing for hours in the day writing and typing knowing i cannot be afraid to say what i mean and mean what i say.

This is how it starts

In the news clippings that i have at my fingertips i scroll and i scroll and then i see it and not just it by them in which they all spell disaster.  This is how governments fall apart high unemployment of the upcoming youth.  The the social media sharing is being used by the government for its original purpose to exploit the blind and deaf who write and write about the path they have taken to drunk nights and bar fights.  As we become more autonominized we use a interface to face the mistakes and choice we have made.  Where corporations decide to go with the trend of this dehumanization existing among us right here and now.  While all of this has spelled a coming of the tide those who are the supposed protectors of you and i for national security seem to be spying and gathering all the materials to control us and mold us into a frame in which they can manipulate.

Get up off that couch!

I see all these websites and underground movements who are doing humanities work but what has been done by the people who must head their warnings of death and youthful righteousness.  They collect stories of misfortune of the worst failures upon the heads of the politicians of domestic and foreign diplomats.  So you read their stories and maybe you write them too as well but what are doing to protect the people of today.  Where are the underground heroes whose job it is to seize those who tease people with the American dream.  What are they doing in order to save the innocent citizens who have nothing to say and only pray and pray for a break today.  How can you say you have done something good if you do nothing but scream and shout you mustn't just sit there get up off that couch!

This has to stop!

We see all these movies coming out that are about the end of the world as we know it today and then how it could be in this universe if this would happen or that would and a thousand different possibilities are one in the same.  Then they are school shootings that are occurring with an influx with parents burying their little ones and our leaders cannot hear us who are yelling help us out! Our politicians do not do anything of worth that could do anything but hurt those who you all care about.  The economies in lands near and far are falling down all around us and what can we do? The world has been hurt and hurt to the point where children are doing the jobs of the adults and vice versa and now I say that this has to stop!

Bullies

In this nation of labels of what you do makes you who are or what music makes who you are or what clothes you decide to wear that will put you in boxes that you will never leave marked cool or uncool and such ratings of cool or uncool by what you wear listen to or do creates monsters who had no choice in their dramatic and their over average transformation to beast from man.  The ones who never had a chance with their parents who do not give two shits if they eat or sleep with a roof over their heads at only age 11.  This boy was named harry and he went to school day in and day out with abnormal barrier he must defeat.  walking through walls and on egg shells he would creep around corners only to see his old reliable bullies staring straight at him and when he would come to class late the teacher would degrade him and pull him out in front of the class as the perfect example of what disobedience creates.  So for the most of his days in school and out he would never have a place to be safe not even a gang to affiliate and one day he just had enough so he went to the outside and with him came a couple of pieces of destruction with 12 truths for his bullies to swallow in each revolver he pointed and jointed the trigger back back back back back back back back back back back back and at the end he no longer would be afraid of those bullies that nor teachers nor parents would rescue him and such is the story of monster boys that were once young and sweet now sit on death row waiting and waiting for it all to end

who knows

It is all about the perception of our senses that we would believe we feel one thing or more if we did not hear people sing could we know the tremble of goosebumps from voices of the loquacious types.  if we did not smell could we know the aroma of a perfectly cook steak or the pheromones of the opposite sex.  would we  not know which memories might be locked up in our minds with a lover that once here now that is not.  if we could not see would we reveal the most beautiful world in our mind that only we could visualize.  a world where people did no wrong and everyone was not in a constant state of aggression.  where you could be anything you wanted to be.  if we could not taste a thing would we know how alluring lips would be and if we did not feel could men and women still love the way they do? On the other hand all of these words come from my perceptions of how i feel and then who knows where i would be.

false truth

I heard about the NSA listening to what everyone had to say, regardless of what people may think or say this illustrates the mass illusions of the day to day.  Now some of it might be just a little petty and not worthy of scat what all these people keeping bitching about but it is fun to know they are listening and when they come to my door and take me away i will know what i have said is true and not a false truth.

She or he

How can it be that those like me with college gone and now we are free are given the option of death or homelessness.  Debt like that of nations with the possibility of its own defeat from my hand and a menial job that will grant me some breath among all this smog and bullshit.  Not only do jobs seem non existent the ones who get them go to doctors, engineers, and the like of young go men and women.  These creatures created in the image of a man and woman who are not free they exist only to perpetuate other things of god money and the like.  Can i find a way out to a paradise where i will not be bothered by she or he.

Me who is free

Hey that man standing there who says to you he is your boss and you know what to do.  Bow down to me and only listen to what i speak.  Most of the people who get down between your knees are not free so listen as i speak calmly and not send you withering to your savior.  I am free in my heart and will not cannot be stopped I write because there are those who tell me to not.  I will not bow before thee who says only me can be true and right i do say you are wrong in the worst of ways.  I strip you of that power and what will you be but a man cowering before me who is free