Where The Grown leaks

Boyyy!

It’s some secrets in that
Grass filled nut cluster.
Only place in the City
With those many agonising.
Fuss over those plasma gases,
Erupting. The remaining broken
dreams. I’m sorry……….

For all those secrets to
Whom I was a major resident…
Of…

Seen more and, more broken
Dreams piled up in my memories…
I’m sorry…

I’m sorry that I had no compassion.
Iron wounds room, rounds, half fumigated.
can still smell the faces. The secrets…
Dribbled to dabbled.
From some grapes to raisins….

From Billboards new state
where some secrets were staged..
Loved ones missing days.
Months of sleep.

Imagine how that hard dirt felt
Keep secrets yet… Only
Those of them became worthy. the grounds creepier states… Of mind…

No capability, lack there
Of Santa’s gifts.
So many secrets
Sooooo so many secrets
That those dirty dandelions
Wanted to tell…

Even if those ugly weeds
could…

They’d become a secret to…
One of a promised action
Without the need for
Currency.

Sooo many secrets in my
Dreams!  They’ll Rome forever.
I’m good at keeping
Our giant show time secrets
for you….

No matter what…

Vanished!

Black Merc 0202-0-16

Lately I’ve been

drifting.

My old structure

of strict militant ways.

Don’t know how

long before.

I’ll be consumed

by the flames.

The past be the

past.

Glued stuck to my frustrated

psyche.

Being bound to

something worst.

Confused that sometimes

the worst deeds can set you

Free.

Mind filthy, rotting away off

The bones of my

decaying last good memories.

Life’s snap shots of

seconds of smiles and laughter.

Then Jokes become

sloppy.

The laughter becomes

annoying.

Reality kicks into

Dissipated smiles.

The heart is distantly

colder like a halleys Comet.

As I rapidly forget short

Small numbers and sentences.

I won’t die…

I’m dieing slowly along

the way.

Experiencing that first hand

failure to control crashing

Into ashes.

Warped feelings overdosed, lusting

for violence and gun powdery

children’s cereal.

Maybe inching instantly

towards a whole

solid insanity plea.

Watching humans devour there

nurturers and there nurtured.

A thick book deal guide through

corruption, scams,

set ups and confusion.

More and more I

Aggressively drift back

into that.

Predictably same facial

expression that never changes.

No matter the emotion, excitement

Happyness of whatever

Joy is.

My face will always look

The exact same.

My face stays stuck trying

to comprehend.

Why everyone looks

at me like I’m a stone.

Maybe I am one to

Think of.

I fail the try outs…

Then become more

upset that I pathetically try to hard.

Or is just never close

To enough.

All humans are born with

A heart’s worth of emotions.

Yes that is fact…

What do you call a human

That has to program there self to?

Feel it….

Or know when to receive it…

Reciprocate it in a way to

Trust the other.

Note that it’s not always

Out to break you or kill you.

From the inside out…

I feel less and less emotions

like when I was younger.

My emotions are plumiting

Stocks all over again.

A very bad investment…

Back to who I was not

supposed to been.

The rebirth of chaos is

about to began.

I can feel it..

It’s me…

I am chaos…

The second coming…

Is on the way…

Free Us…

So we will be one with our former self…

The form of a poker face…

Dead from With in…

The Black Mercury……..

Stop trying to make them understand what they never will……

Hmmmm”

If I was a “NIGGER”
what kind of “NIGGER”
would I have been?

Would I have been
A house “NIGGER”
cooking and cleaning
For masta.

Or would I have been
A field “NIGGER” scars
On my lashed up back
For not picking cotton
Faster than that.

Would I have been A
Runaway “NIGGER” separated
From my wife and children
No turning back.

Would I been the rebellious
“NIGGER” gotten my dick
Cut off because that white
Mans wife was stairing to
Long…….

Get it…..

To…

Long….

Confederate flag flying
In the wind over my head
Where my children were
Lynced right in front of me.

Or would I’ve been a bitch
“NIGGER” fuck naw because
Ain’t no bitch “NIGGER” in
My.

D.N.A.

Fuck wit us!

To all my real “NIGGAZ”
And My real lady’s who don’t
Take no shit!

In there eyes we will always
Be a “NIGGER”! โœŠ

You Can’t Send Trauma To The North

Any questions?



Nobody?


Good!


I don’t care……






I really don’t…



I’m on a conference call

With a cannibal.



One who eats balled up pens and paper phone calls to those upstate universitys.

Sending kites out to stop some unlawful assassination or assault on another faction in place.

Pace stopped now pacing slower, solar powered by some sunlight on some so called heroic…




I’ve been chosen again to raise my hand…

I had a decoy in my place my class mates told on me telling my teacher that I wasn’t present.


To a bench warrant, maybe if I’ve called out. Hell no! I ain’t going back into a trap like a rodent! They can’t steal my freedom again!

All praises due! Even the most high knows it’s true.



A drunken banshee kissed the chamber of the wrong rifle men. The front page was extinguished…



Well… The news… I’m not even going to start mentioning. Tripping that tricky mage into outer space… Burning like white sage always staying close to a bounty…

Fuck the City and the County………….

In slow motion………………

The Ghost Child

As a youth I could remember turning on the tv and seeing some of my family members on America’s most wanted. My life began in a war torn household. My mother and father would go back and forth throwing cut throat curse words at one another. Day by day it had gotten worst and worst. The hardest thing in my life to see was my mother getting paler from stress and watching thick bruses appear on her light skined body. Right then and there I was very young but I knew my life wasn’t going to be fill with green grass and sunny days pasture with white flowers that sang sweet songs. When she left him I was 5 or maybe 6 years old. She took us with here and later on my father got joint custady us. A year later me and my big bro would visit our father only in the weekends And sooner or later I became his punching and beating bag whenever he was in a bad mood. Which was every time me and big bro came to visit. He never layed a finger on big bro. In fact he treated him like a patron saint. I remember going to school one day and walking in to class sad and my teacher Ms. B seen me and asked me if everything was ok and I think she may have spotted one of my bruses and was trying to make sure I was ok. These were times in the early 90s where if you… The child didn’t ask for help know one would rescue you. They would just mind their own business. Anyway I replied to my teacher in a soft voice not looking her in the eyes and said… Yes I’m ok Ms B…. Then in the middle of our class period I asked the teacher could I go to the laboratory. She gave me a paper hall pass and I went to the teachers restroom and locked my self in… My stomach was hurting so bad and later on I found out I had bad stress allcers. I just bursted into tears and cried my young eyes out till lunch time.

TO BE CONTINUED!!

“THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A GHOST CHILD” THE TRUE STORY OF CHRISTOPHER BLAND !

COMING SOON๐Ÿ‘ป๐Ÿ”ซ๐Ÿ’‰๐Ÿ’Š๐Ÿ’ธ๐Ÿ’ฐ๐Ÿ“šโœ’๐ŸŽฑ๐Ÿฃ๐Ÿท๐Ÿบ๐Ÿš”๐Ÿš‘๐Ÿš’๐Ÿ‡บ๐Ÿ‡ธ๐Ÿ’’๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ‘ฎ๐Ÿ’€โœŠ๐Ÿ‘Ž๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿ‘ซ๐Ÿ‘‘๐Ÿ’ผ๐Ÿ‘ฐ๐Ÿ’”๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿ˜–๐Ÿ˜ค๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜ฒ I PROMISE YOU THIS!

Pain Killers

I died todayโ€ฆ
Rest in peaceโ€ฆ
So sad my life
ended like it started.
Addictionโ€ฆ
I couldnโ€™t shake
it so I dissolved
in my own bag
of brown sugar.
The pain it wouldnโ€™t
stop, the flames
were very hot and
Iโ€™ve stained the
minds of lots,
but only after death.
No pot to piss
in so I stole yours.
Bewilderedโ€ฆ
Kicking in door
after door only
to find more
problems on
the other side.
Your irresponsible
lectures turned me
out. Making me
heartless.
This is evidence
that supports
and confirms
my statements.
I laid on her
stomach at
night rubbing
my fingers on
her cesarean
scars and she
took her
pocket knife
that was already
stained with
her past lovers
blood and
stabbed me
in the back
and twisted
the blade
until it broken
in my flesh
to create
more pain.
I didnโ€™t die
from that.
I died because
I loved for
one second to
many and
turned my back.
That was
the first time
my tears created
acid that
dropped in my
hands and burned
away the calluses.
I am so glad to
be dead.