9/29/2005

Pokey joe and his weed smokin ho

Bluegrass boy and the jazz man


In elementary he was cool. His bluegrass type of personality made him one of the popular. His flannel shirt and his crotch tight blue jeans. He walked like he was always wearing a banjo on his back. His talk had the drawl of the south. He always chewed long grass. His boots were the snake skin boots you buy in cowboy stores. He wore a straw hat that was beat up like a rodeo clown.

His friends got older and they started listening to rap. They too, once looked like him. It was junior high and he was still popular but not as popular as he was before. He listened to his bluegrass and plucked away at his guitar. To him life was good and full of promise. Like the tunes his favorite bluegrass artist played.

He grew older and moved up in life. High school was the step that hurt him most. His friends turned to the gangsters and the wannabes. They turned to artists who had it rough, when they on the other did not. He became the outcast. More unpopular then the geeks or the mentally challenged. He hoped college would be better.

He went to some fancy school down south where country music was thick in the blood of the students and the drawl was as thick as playdoh. No one there liked bluegrass, they were into the ghetto cowboy style of music. They too were wannabes and "down with it" kids. He graduated with his fancy music degree.

He moved to New Orleans with his guitar on his back and his bluegrass style. He brought nothing else, just what was on his back. He found a run down place under an old music store. To make ends meet he worked at the store above him and played on the corner. Everyday and every night he worked on his bluegrass music. He was writing one song, one song that meant so much to him. While he was working the store he had meet a jazz artist who lived the same way as he except in the jazz style of way. Everynight the played together at different corners to spread their beautiful music.

The jazz artist, was a African American with a jolly laugh that filled a room. He had a heart that was pure of jazz and smooth like a soft babies bottom. He would put his soul in every part of his music and the people would know. He always had his trumpet that looked full of character.

They would play till the night would become day. The few that came to listen would never want to leave. The artists decided they would combine the masterpieces of the works they had worked on by themselves. They went to the baren coastline after the whole city was evacuated before the storm. They set up towards the waves of the ocean and there they played. A few people who stayed back came out to listen. The music stole their souls and calmy put them in the mood. It didnt matter what would happen, they were ready to die after hearing the song go. Each part of the song related to everyone there. The sorows of life, the joys and everything in between. Their music brought tears of pain, sorrow, happiness, love and everything you can imagine. While it may have seemed awkward, there was a slight opening in the clouds bringing in a bright beam of light that shined on the musicians. The storm worsened and the people listening ran to there homes and watched and listened to the artists. Their music made them smile. You could see their souls pour out of every notes and breathe they made. Then the wave came, and the music stopped. People who survived the hurricane that hit the coastline there, went to search for these great musicians that brought them hope and life beyond what they thought. They claim to this day that music never stopped. There was no remains of them. The store owner had no name of the two. He just payed them for their great work. The store honored them by placing a banjo and a trumpet as its logo.

The people who saw them last and lived to tell about it, now wear crosses of a trumpet going horizontal over a vertical banjo. They came after the storm and prayed where the atrists had played. They all believed that they were people sent by God to send a message of hope and all that is good after death by what came out from their music.

The bluegrass boy lived as bluegrass music had lived. The music once was popular then it slowly died out. You may catch it here and there but its only because of a small group of people who remember the music. Just like the bluegrass boy, the jazz man lived like his music too. Jazz once being popular slowly died, only to become what people "remember".

9/27/2005

Advice for all to use

Do not fake a heartattack in a hospital.
Dont touch a horses ass while its pooping.
If it smells like shit, it is shit.
Dont ask why you got slapped by a pregnant chick.
Poking things on the ground with a stick is only okay if its an animal.
Dont pet a pissed off dog.
Drinking beer everytime you curse will not solve your cursing problem.
If someone you know has a name that starts with "r" and is short and annoying, you ARE in hell.
If your stick man is your best drawing, you are not an artist.
When your girlfriend covers her face when you sing her songs, usually that means she is embarrassed and you suck.
You are not the money in your bank account.
Dogs are animals and not people.
If you think your black, chances are your white.
Acting like 50 cent does not make you look cool.
Just because your dad is rich doesnt mean you are the best kid in the world.
Wannabes should be shot, God's orders.
Fat chicks are easy.
Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.
Telling a pregnant woman that her child is really a tumor is not funny.
Dumb kids admit they are dumb, retards dont even know what that means.
Your conscious is not the voice in your head telling you to kill people.

9/26/2005

The teasing angel

She walked by with her beautiful light brown hair flowing in the cool breeze. Her beauty was stunning in every way that others would imagine. Her smile stretched from eye to eye. Her lips a red beyond fiery. She walked with the swagger of confidence most could only proclaim. Her hips would dot side to side like a tennis match.

He was just a bystander. His black shirt and long hair. His tight pants and skinny body were nothing compared to the pretty boys who worked out and went to prep parties. He watched as the golden gem danced by him. His eyes locked into her like a solid bridge.

She took her hand and flipped her hair back, while looking at him and smiling that ever so beautiful smile. His eyes told his mind of beautiful things he saw and his mind told him of the lies of his eyes.

She stopped to by a pop right before him. A cold refreshing drink, that brought him closer to her. She looked at him with her everlasting smile and charm that beemed off her like the rays off the sun, and she said "Hi". His response was quick and yet well tamed. "Hey" he said. She smiled more and walked away like the ending to a great story.

He watched as she walked over to her friends, they looked at him and smiled. He returned the favor.

He spent the rest of his day of his pointless life contemplating whether or not he should talk to the girl or if it was really a dream. He always thought of himself as the kid that no one cared for. Today though was different, someone finally made eye contact with him and they smiled at him. He cried with the thought of her looking at him.

She walked her walk all the time. For the next few days, he would sit next to the machine and the same encounter would happen. It was a deja vu' he loved to see happen again and again. It wasnt until a few days ago that he said more then the "hey" he could usually squeak out. "Hey, can I buy you a pop?" he said? "Sure, that would be real sweet of you." Her voice to him was like angels singing. He, without question, whipped open his teenage mutant ninja turtle wallet and pulled out a wrinkled dollar and a quarter. He shoved the dollar in and slid the quarter in the hole.

As he put the money in he realized he was as close to her as ever. His nostrils flared, taking in the every scent that she could possibly put out. The smell of heaven with peaches and apples with a little spice clogged his nose and disconnected his mind from reality. He stood intoxicated by her as she selected the beverage of her choice. It was a bottle of the name brand water. She open the carbonated bottled water with her silky smooth hands. PSss, was ringing in his heart and his mind.

"Thank you." floated out of her delicate lips and softly blew over to his ears. "Your, Your welcome(a quick thought arises in his mind) Wait!..when your done with the bottle, I..I would like to recycle it." "Sure hold on a second." She unscrewed the bottle and chugged it like a man. She bealched so loud people in the other wings of the building heard. Her beautifully smooth cheeks turned a pretty flower red. He smiled holding back a laugh, then when she laughed he went with her. As soon as she was done chuckling, she tossed the bottle over to him. "Thanks!" said the preppy angel girl that she was. He stuck the bottle in his backpack for later.

He walked home with the bottle in his pack. His house was what a house would look like if you dropped an atomic bomb in every room then pissed on the remains. His room, looked as if light and the life he had, escaped many years ago. By his single spring loaded barely there mattress was a small table covered in stains and old alcohol containers. He placed the bottle on the table.

The next day he was in his usual spot looking for the angel girl. He bought this backpack from a thrift store that was torn in all areas imaginable. It was about as useful as a plastic bag from the trash. It was just strong enough to carry notebook, even though it was half out. He pulled his notebook out and started writing random thoughts. All that he could write was about her and her beauty. So instead he closed his eyes and thought. He kept his eyes closed and left the pen in his hand and on the paper. The pen would move outlining her figure.

Everyday this would happen. He dedicated the notebook entirely to her. Drawings, poems, short stories and even her name and his last name combined. When the day was done, he would go home and tape the picture to his table. The table had become a shrine of his love to her. The bottle was surronded by candles with engravings of her face.

She was one of the girls who hung out with the popular guys but wasnt afraid to be nice to the boys she really could care less for. She knew not of the guy by the pop machine. For all she knew, he could be this loser who she said the occasional hi to. She was the girl that was nice to every one. The girls would love to hate her but they couldn't because of how nice she was. The guys would hate to love her, knowing that other guys would stare at her.

She went to the partys and dated the older guys. She did it because in her book they were more "mature" and we all know they had more money. She was loved by anyone who was anyone and anyone who carried eyes in their eyesockets. If you were blind her voice would make your heart pump twice as fast. If you were blind and deaf, her smell would make you believe you were in heaven. If your nose was clogged and you were blind and deaf, you better hope her soft, delicate flower like hands touched you. Otherwise it would be tough luck. She was the girl that broke the hearts of many castouts so much that it was like Achilles in Troy. Guys who thought they had nothing to lose would throw themselves to her feet, only to be turned down. They would go home and cry, knowing they lost even more. Their lives would change by the answer she gave to the heartless souls.

His room now became her shrine. The walls covered in pictures he toke a cheap camera. They were blown up to be like wallpaper. He even changed his look and style to the more prep style and started talking to the other preps to try to get closer to her. The reasons he breathed he thanked her for.

He needed information on her. He felt as if he knew nothing about her. So he got in his car and followed her home. She had this red convertible that her rich dad bought her. He positioned himself just far enough where he could could see the numbers she pushed to get into her house. The numbers 5, 14, 23 were etched in his mind. He watched as she went up stairs and closed her window in her room. He slowly drove off in his beat up car and roared away.

He was feeling confident. His gramma ironed his lucky socks and he filled the bottle from his angel goddess with water. He had saved the bottle for this long awaited process. He prayed to his angel goddess that his plan would work out. He went to his usual position by the machine. To await her. "Hi" she softly said. "Hey, I think your beautiful, I would like to take you out to a nice restaurant. would you be willing?" His voice was as confident as could be, his mind was set and everything to him seemed to be going his way. Her response was "I am sorry, but I dont date young losers like you. I dont even know your name!" She walked off to her friends. She whispered to them and they turned to him and smiled. He didnt return the favor.

She went home her usual way. A note on her pretty kitchen table told her that she was to order pizza, the parents were not gonna be home till the end of the week.It was a friday. She went upstairs and started talking to her "pretend" friends on the phone and the computer. It was getting late, so she called the pizza delivery man. She went back to her normal activities. It started raining and things were getting foggy. *Thud* She assumes she hears the pizza man knocking so she runs down with glee to eat the one piece of pizza.

He stand there with a pizza in his one hand and an umbrella in his other. He looks at her angel frozen body. The shocked has almost paralized her. He walks in slowly and shuts the door behind him. He watched as she ran to the phone. No dial tone. He watches as she runs to the doors , then to the windows. All blocked.

She looks at him as he walks closer to him, his boots leaving no wet marks behind. She ran around the house, looking for sharp objects, they were all gone. She watched as he inched closer and closer. She awaited for just the right time to do what seems to be her last hope. She faces to face with him. *Whap* Her kick to his crouch only hurts her foot as found out that he wore a cup. She ran to the upstairs.

"My love, my angel, quit running. I only want you!" He watches her yell and scream as he gets closer. He oogles her as she runs into her room only noticing that the door knob has been taken off. He walked into her room and watched as she cried and scratched at the window. He went right next to her and said "Can my angel not fly? The goddess of my love, not free her self? I am going to do what all the other guys have wanted to do all their lives of knowing you. All the things you knew they thought about because you teased them. This is for us all."

He grabbed her and thust her to her bed. He pulled out from under her bed, hand cuffs and chains. He cuffed her to the bed and chained the bed down.

Her thoughts were veering off as she tried to think of other things while resisting him. She couldnt help but think of the what he said, "I am going to do what all the others guys have wanted to do all their lives of knowing you." Rip goes the shirt shes wearing. All the times that she flirted with boys who she knew had no chance in hell with her. All the hearts she broke, and all the pain she caused. She thought at first of all the smiles she brought, but she knew deep in her soul that of the real answer.

He ripped her pants off by taking a knife and spliting the pant legs. She was there in her red thong and red bra. He took his knife and cut them both bearing her breasts and her vagina. He got what all others had wanted. He did it for the sake of the rest of guys turned down and harshly punished. Their lives crushed, and as he thought, where now better. Her screams and tears sounded to him like the victory cries of sports teams.

He couldn't leave that angel there tainted with the horrors he believed that she rightly deserved. A loud scream muffeled by a hand in the mouth filled the air. Then the silence crept in. It wasn't till that monday when the girl was found. The angel beauty covered in her devil red blood. Cuts and rips all over her body. Blood covered everything in the room like an atom bomb blew up on her in her room.

Her hair had turned from a light brown to a dark red. Parts of her hair were ripped out. Her head was bashed on the bedroom headpost so many times that it left a dent and lots of blood on the wall behind it. Her wrists were covered in cuts and bruises caused by her constant struggling. Her eyes had changed to a deathly black look. Dark blue encircled her once beautiful eyes. Her mouth had dried up blood running all the way down to her nipple. Her perfectly scupltured jaw had been shattered in two. Her left breast was cut open and the insides were squeezed out. Her other breast was left of the mark of his bloody hand that grabbed it ever so tightly. Her stomach was cut open like a surgery. Her intestines was cut off and thrown on her toliet. Her spleen was punctured with a straw several times leaving disturbing marks. Her right kidney was tucked under her dad's pillow while the left was stuffed in an envelope that was addressed to the building. Her vagina was sliced open with a knfe, leaving dired up blood on her little amount of pubic hair. Her vagina was soaked in his ejaculation of jizsm. White globs were all over body.

The once beautiful angel was sliced and diced in everyway he knew possible. Her bed was a new dark red. He believed in what he did as being the right thing. No voice in his head told him to do it. His heart spoke for the one time it felt it needed too.

He went back to his usual routine. This angel like woman walked by him with her beautiful dark blonde hair springing off her back. Her beauty took his eyes and his mind and stunned them. He was intoxicated by her beauty.

She was a devil masked by the angel she pretended to be. He was an devil with an angel to kill. Or maybe he was masked by angel to cover up the devil that he seems to be.

burn

The fire burns the forest. The forest burns like a raging devil who lost on poker night. The ashes float into the innocent air, mocking the breathes humans take. The once green as money forest has turned into the paper colored on by a black marker look. Then out of the ashes of the old forest, a new forest starts to sprot. The ways of nature are in full swing. Yet we prevent it at all cost. The old forests get older, and new forests cant grow.

A person gets old and we stick'em in a nursing home to rot like the forests we have put under fire suppresion. We take meds to make us last longer. We dont care if our eyesights gone, we cant hear worth shit and we have some heart problems. As long as we prevent death everythings better. People were meant to die. We were supposed to live our natural lives then die.

Look at nature for example. When forests get burned naturally, they burn everything. This opens up everything for what needs to come up. It refreshes itself and cleans up its mess. We want the trees to look green and not black. We want, we want, we want.

Let us die like we were supposed to. Let nature do what it is always doing and refresh us. Let the new genereations come and go.

9/22/2005

Shadows

The smoke poured out from his mouth. "What’s in it for me?" said the man to the man shadow figure before him. A long pause with a few drags on the cig. "Well?". Another long pause. A drizzle of smoke fills the toxic air. "Are you going to answer me!? Oh right when I need you most, you can’t help me!" the man throws the butt of his cig to the ground in front of him. "Fine, I don't need you." The man walks away. The shadow remained motionless.

The alley was a dark place to meet. Especially someone you never can identify. They had always met there about once a month. The man would go into the dark alley at the wee hours of night and come back out mad. He was told of assignments and things he had to do. He used to meet once a month, but now he was told to meet 2 a week. It started out as running errands, now it became more. Meeting other people, and doing tasks he couldn't imagine.

"I need a cig" he muttered to himself. He pulled out from his pocket, a beat up, smashed box of Marb Reds. He put the cig in his mouth, and dug around for his light. He gave himself the old pat down search until he found it. It was matches that came free from the gas stations and small stores that sell smokes and a small abundance of groceries. He lit the the cig and took a long awaited drag. " I can't believe he wants me to do this, of all the things he want me to do, it's this" he mutters to himself. Another drag of the cig.

He lets the cig intoxicate him while he searches his pocket for a piece of paper. "Damn big pants pockets." Smoke gushes from his nostrils like rapids on a river. He pulled from his pocket a wrinkled receipt type piece of paper. He carefully examines it, as if to memorize the every words and the style of the what was written. He stuffed the paper back into his pocket and took another puff. He took the cig and smoked its last smoke. A tiny red light flies through the air. His cig lands on the curb before him. "Fuck cancer." he mutters as he pulls out another smoke and places on his chapped lips. He lights it then moves on.

His apartment is right above this run down church turned funeral home. The smell of the burned bodies still lingers like its a thousand scent candles just starting to burn. He plops down into his recline-less reclining chair. A torn up cloth covered Lay-Z-Boy he found years ago on the road side. It’s covered with cig burns and marks of its past owners. Tonight it gets a new mark. The clock says ten but it’s been saying that since he found it. His cig fell from his hand and landed on the arm rest of the chair. He slipped into a light sleep.

His dream was mysterious and nightmarish like. He was wearing a fancy black leather trench coat and his regular clothes. The right pocket contained his smokes. The left held his matches. His right hand was carrying a gun and his left had some sort of round object intensely gripped. He had a cig lit and in his mouth. He walked into this house. The house was the typical suburb house. Generic yet filled with expensive things the family who lived in it couldn't afford. A mans voice came from his right side. "Hello, whos in my house!?" The voice had oddly seemed familiar. The man peered to his right to see a man with his family behind him. They were standing next to a table with a meal partially finished. The clock next to it was blaring 7:00pm. The family man had a tremble in his voice when he spoke, and they were all jumpy. "What ddddo yooou waannt? Money? Here take my money, take what you want just, please dont hurt my us!" The family man trembled. He asked the man a question "Whos house am I in? Who are you?". The family mans wife and two kids already had tears dripping down there face. The kinds of tears were they know they are going to die. The family man spoke in his scared shitless voice "I am DDDDan, this is the Nathens" The man shadow figure appeared from behind him. "Kill" the shadow said. The man looked over his shoulder and yelled "Kill who!?" Dan and the family looked at him in a confused looked. "Who who are you talking to sir sir?" said Dan. The man quickly looked at him and pointed the gun at him. "SHUT UP!" the man yelled. He looked back over his shoulder with his gun pointed at Dan. "KILL WHO?"

The voice muttered "Dan, ask Dan what he’s doing here first?" "Alright" the man says. He looks back over at Dan. "You heard him, what are you doing here Dan?" Dan looked puzzled. "Heard who?" "Just answer the fucking question, DAN!" the man said. "I am am here with my family. Can’t you see that!" The voice whispers into the man’s ear. "Hey you woman! Where is your Mark?" The woman cries out. "He went to the bar, right Dan?" Dan’s face turned colors. "Dan, why did you kill Mark? Why did you lie to the rest Dan? Dan!?" Dan didn’t respond.

"I am here for you Dan! I am here to collect for him(motions behind him)! Why did you do this!?" Dan stepped forward, and tried to reason with the man. The gun lifted to Dans head and the finger inched back the trigger. He threw the round object before him saying "Your time is up Dan."

Wake up to the smell of burning bodies and you know you didnt dream right. The clock was still at ten. The man turned on his TV. "Breaking new: The famous lawyer Daniel McGongal, whose was known by the public to “help murders get out of jai” was found dead today in his friend’s home. There were no witness other then the family, who suffered a tragedy years before with the death of the husband, who owned the house. The family is not speaking at the moment. Further updates as they come". The broadcaster was standing in front of the house from the man’s dreams. "This cant be, I need a smoke." He walked out of his apartment. "Shit I need a light! He ran back into his room to find his matches. First he searched himself. Then as he searched the whole place. He almost gave up, but before he did he say something. On his door was the black trench coat from his dreams. "What the fuck!" He grabbed the coat and headed outside.

It was light out. The man ran until his heat pumped flaming fluids through his body. Before him lay a bank, the time read 7:30 pm. Oh man, the man thought. He searched his pockets looking for the gun hoping he wouldn't find it but secretly wishing in a way that he would. To his luck the gun was gone. The man ran again, this time to the house from his dream, the house where Dan died. He walked to the house. He knocked on the door, but no one answered. He looked around then finally he broke open the door with his foot. A voice came from upstairs. He ran upstairs hoping to find the voice. No one was there. He started backing down the stairs until he heard a voice. "You did your as I asked, now go back home. You have nothing you need here." He noticed the shadow figure was there behind him. He turned around hoping to see the thing that caused the figure. Nothing was there. He searched the house, looking for anything that could help him figure this out. Nothing. He was about to leave when he remembered the family. He ran outside and knocked on the neighbors. An older lady came out from her house. He asked her "Do you know where I can find a Mrs. Nathens?" The woman looked puzzled. "Mrs. Nathens? She moved along time ago. About seventeen years ago, no one has seen here since." "What happened to the two kids?" he asked in a confused voice. "They never had two kids, the only kids that came there was the old family friends kids, Dan McGongals I think. Why do you ask, are you the police?" "So who lives in their house then!?" the man confidently said. "Their house? It was bulldozed seventeen years ago after Dan was murdered in that house! Who are you?"

The man looked at the house he broke into. Nothing was there. It was a blank lot; the foundation though was still there. How could this happen? He went back to the woman. "Can I talk to you, I am Detective Johnson." His lie was thick. The woman opened the door to the fucking liar.

The coffee she started to brew smelled like decaying coffee beans. The house was a fifties styled suburb designed home. The woman was old. She had pictures of her husband and the family that hardly speaks to her, except on christmas. "Ma'am who was Mark?" "Mark was a good man. Handome, smart and wonderful. He came to my house all the time to invite me to dinner. He was a good man. He died nineteen years ago. A mysterious man murdered him. The suspect oddly enough had everything going against him. 'Everything' the TV man said. Then he hired a lawyer, by the name of Daniel McGongal. The odd part was that Dan and Mark were good friends. Dan would always bring his kids to Mark's house to play. Then Dan was murdered seventeen years ago. Marks wife and Dan’s kids claimed it was Mark wearing a trench coat. A dark one, I guess, like the one you are wearing. They believed they saw Mark kill Dan. They claim, according to the TV man. But Mark died two years before. Then Mark's wife and kids, as rumor says, were shipped to the mental house. Is that true?" The man looked baffled. "Ma'am do you know where I...I don’t know what I can say, listen to me. Did you see it happen?" The lady looked at him in confusion. "I never saw a thing, that night. I remember too what happened that evening. I was outside gardening with my husband. God rest his soul. It was the day of the eclipse. We went in the house to get some dinner, when it went dark. Then next thing you know, poor man is found dead. We tried to see when we heard the screaming and we tried to look. But it was too damn dark, ya know."

Wake up to the smell of burning bodies and you know you didn’t dream right. The clock was still at ten. "What the fuck?" the man said as he rubbed his beat up face. He grabbed a smoke that was in his pants pocket. He lit it and took one hell of a long drag. The smoke filled his frontal view. "I must have been dreaming." The man walked into his bathroom. His bathroom had a toilet next to the sink and the shower was across from it. The bathroom was falling apart like this mans life. The toilet flusher was broke, just like his heart after his wife left him. The shower bottom was covered in that yellow film like his smiles when he’s asked if he’s doing well.
The sink had the stains of toothpaste and blood colored spit from drinking too much. The floor had smoke coming up from it. Someone is getting cremated. "Ahh, the benefits of my home" he muttered to himself in his sick twisted way.

He went back to his chair to sleep. He never slept in his room. Not after his wife left him years ago. He left it just like she did. The bed untucked and the drawers slightly opened. Since she left it, he did too. He hoped one day his wife would come back. They could be happy again. That was years ago. He grabbed a picture of him and her from next to the chair. They were happy together, before she left and before this nice apartment became a shit hole. He cried, and he cried. He cried till the world around him was a blur till sleep had engulfed him. He started dreaming again.

He was by the alley where he meets the shadow figure twice a week. He was smoking. The smoke poured out from his mouth. "What’s in it for me?" said the man to the man shadow figure before him. A long pause with a few drags on the cig. "Well?". Another long pause. A drizzle of smoke fills the toxic air. "Are you going to answer me!? Oh right when I need you most, you can’t help me!" the man throws his butt of his cig to the ground in front of him. "Fine, I don't need you." The man walks away. The shadow remained motionless.

Wake up to the smell of burning bodies and you know you didn’t dream right. The clock was still at ten. His wife was before him in a sweater. "Honey, look at you! You fucking drunk! You were smoking on the chair and fell asleep! I can’t take it! This apartment, you drinking and coming home to you burning a hole in the chair! We never talk anymore. I am going to go! I hate this place, I hate you! You fucking drunk!" He was in pure shock. "What are you doing here!? Where am I? Honey, is that you? Darling I missed y-" Before he could finish she was gone out the door. The room had the drawers open and the bed was untucked.

How could this be? He stumbled to the door like drunks thinking they aren’t drunk. He was a mess. Why would someone like him deserve this woman to begin with? He fell to the floor before his apartment. Tears drenching his shirt. Tears gushing out like the wife had just done. He regained his self and rose from the floor. He stumbled back into the room and fell to the couch. He closed his eyes and acceptingly passed out.

He arose from the chair with the picture of his wife lying on his stomach. The picture fell to the floor and broke. He ignored it. He looked in the fridge for some whiskey to kill the time. He found nothing but a bottle of hard liquor. He grabbed some cups and a bottle of what he called "my meds" and plopped himself in his old beat up recline-less reclining chair. He pours himself a drink. "A toast to the good times" he murmured. One cup down, two cups down, three cups, and four. "Isss tttttthhhhhhe bbbbbbbeeeeessstttt ttttiiimmee ooooffffffff mmmmmmmyyyyyyyy lllllliiiiiiiffffffffeeeeeeee" The alcohol had done its damage. He looks down at the picture and cries an angry cry.

Wake up to the smell of burning bodies and you know you didn’t dream right. The clock was still at ten. He was in his chair but there were no bottles or cups of any kind next to him like he thought there would be. He grabbed a smoke from his pocket and did his only ritual. The long drags were the only moments where he was away from the pains of his toilet shit life. He got out of the chair grabbed his smokes and headed outside. He decided that he was going to just take care of it all know. He looked up and said "God, just kill me now!!" He went to the bathroom, with a porno. He turned to the page of the woman who looked similar to his wife. She had the figure of a Barbie. Her hair was as red as a hot fire and her breasts were perfect in his eyes. He unzipped his pants and started to masturbate. The picture reminded him of his wife. He didn’t masturbate over the woman in the porno, but over the woman he married and the good times they had together. He went so hard, that when he shot his load off he almost collapsed to the floor. He was teary eyed and weak in the knees. He opened his medicine cabinet and grabbed as many pills as his hands could hold. He poured the pills down like a little kid drinking a coke. One bottle after the other.

He arose from a strange bed, there he was lying next to a woman he swore he knew. She laid there asleep. Her body motionless except for the small breathes she took. He watched as her chest expanded and collapsed. It was beauty in motion to him. He awoke to a ringing of the phone. He ran down the stairs noticing kid’s art throughout the house and pictures of kids he’s seen before someplace, he just can’t put a finger on it. He picked up the phone and a voice that he’s heard before comes on. "Hey Mark, You wanted to have a drink with me so I am just calling to confirm it. I’ll pick you up at seven alright? Bye." *click* before he could say hello. "Mark? Who the fuck is Mark?" the man muttered to himself. He served himself some breakfast. His vision blurred and his memory slurred. He came to, sitting next to a psycho looking guy with a gun and a knife. The weapon man said to him, "Dan needs something that you’ve refused. He needs the bitch you fuck. He wants her and he can no longer wait. No more says Dan. (points to a man behind him in a brown leather coat and a terrible comb over. A cigar was dangling from his mouth.) He free me, and I do the same for you sorta speak." He chuckled a sick "haha". The man with the gun held it up. *Bang*Bang*Bang* the man grabbed his chest in severe pain. His hands were covering in blood. "Now for my pleasure, while you are still alive." the psycho man said while unzipping his pants and the mans pants. The man behind him turned away.

Wake up to the smell of burning bodies and you know you didn’t dream right. The clock was still at ten. The man covered his chest with his hands trying to stop a wound that was not there. "I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE!" A knock on the door. He leaves whoever to keep knocking. Suddenly a man bursts in wearing a dark trench coat and carrying a gun in his right hand and some sort of round object intensely gripped. The trench coat man looks over shoulder and yells. "Kill who!?" He turns back to the man and points the gun at his head. The trench coat man asks, "Are you-" "Yes I am who you are looking for" the man abruptly interrupts. "I am the one who you are supposed to kill." The trench coat man inches the trigger back. He threw the round object before him saying "Your time is up."

Wake up to the smell of burning bodies and you know you didn’t dream right. The clock showed it's eleven.

9/21/2005

God is all knowing

In the old testament, God is burning down villages and shunning people into Hell.The old testament portrays God as an angry God. In the new testament, God is forgiving and pushing for peace, showing that he is merciful and loving.

God is all knowing. All knowing and he has two sides to him. That can not be. God is all knowing, he cant be happy and sad. He is either one or the other throughout. He should not even be both. Why? If God is all knowing, then he knows what happens before it does. He knows what will happen and who or what and all that. He cant one day smite a town in complete rage, then rebuild it out of his forgiveness.

Church has always said that God has a plan for us, true? What if I told you that if this is true than God already knows how you will die. Even the small things like picking up a cup. Why does this matter? Why would God care about small things? Because the small things add up, and if all the dominoes dont fall then the plan for life doesnt either. You can try to avoid this, but no matter what you do God planned it. You cant deny it if you believe that God is all knowing.

This may seem radical, but God created everything. Heaven, Hell and Earth was created by God supposedly. God is all knowing, so God knew that Lucifer, was going to be the fallen angel that disobyed God. God knew exactly what would happen before it did. God knew that humans would sin before they did.

God created life. God created peace. God created pain. God created Heaven. God created Hell. God created happiness. God created Evil. Are we not the actors and actresses on God's stage?

Dancing Deathboy

He danced til the acid burned the veins in his puny legs. He danced with his arms flying over his head and his legs kicking everywhere. The people cheered louder, and he danced harder. He would keep dancing longer and longer with every clap and scream. The music became louder and louder. His heart pumped like it wanted to rip out of his chest. He was popular. For this one moment, people liked him. Then his heart, his acid filled veins, and his puny human frame just stopped. They were tired of it all, they were tired of keeping his soul locked up in his body. Just like that he fell, and was gone.

9/20/2005

the kill

was tasty
brought him to jail
fed the family
got him a charge
looked nice on the wall
looked like shit on his record
Gave him untinsels
Gave him 30 to life
Made him feel proud
brought shame to himself
Made his dad proud of him
got his dad to shun him
gave him lifetime memories
let him met a new friend "bubba"
taught him to be patient
showed him to never drop the soap
got him a promotion
got him a new home
brought out the man in him
brought the man in him

Road kill

I am the head.I am the head
I am the beak.I am the head
I am the beak.I am the bird
I am the head.That is dead
I am the wings that make it fly. I am the chest that shows no lies. I am the wings that make it fly
I am the wings that make it fly. I am the chest. That knows best.I am the wings that make it fly
I am the wings that make it fly.I am the lungs it needs to live. I am the wings that make it fly
I am the wings that make it fly.I am the air it breathes.I am the wings that make it fly
I am the wings that make it fly.I am the chest hole. I am the wings that make it fly
I am the spot that missed the shot
I am the spot that missed the shot
I am the spot that missed the shot
I am the tail that no longer wails I am the tail that no longer wails
I am the tail that no longer wails I am the tail that no longer wails
I am the tail that no longer wails. I am the tail that no longer wails
I am the remains of once a life. Based on survival that ended in strife

War is in our faith

Religion has always said to avoid warfae and conflicts. That peace was the best answer. How many atheists do we know have started a war? I know of none. Lets trek back in time. Iraq war, radical muslims call a "holy war" on the US and its allies. Vietnam and Korean War may seem like the ones not in the loop here but you were wrong. The wars main cause was to fight the spread of communism. The ideals behind are that of faith. People here wanted communism to end so that they sould spread christianity and the same for the other side. World War II, Hitler and his mass slaying of the Jews(holocaust) and World War I, was once again, forcing another to be like the other.Beliefs included. We will even go back farther in time. A war broke out between Protestants and Catholics and modern day Lutherans. The Crusades was war of Christianity vs. Muslims. What am I getting at? People have always had a conflict of interest. We dont have to like everyone. The churches and faiths we believe, on the otherhand, say they have too. Hypocrites. The faiths and churches have claimed that will bring peace. Instead, they have brought war and conflict. Think of this:If we didn't have religions would we be war free? I think we might. It seems history has shown, that religion is the root of all evil, or rather all war.

My dear friends gun in the car carried by the train.

Pull the trigger, end the pain my dear friend. Push me in front of the train, and I'll die not in vain my dear friend. Hit me with your car, and watch as my soul goes far dear friend. Do this for me, I beg you please. I'm on my knees, dear friend. Oh can this be? The one who caused the pain,my dear friend, let me die by train and I wont die in vain. Let me die in your hands, the hands that will pull the trigger. You have killed me already, why not finish the job? The car hood couldn't feel better. I'll be closer to you my dear friend God.

9/19/2005

Who she is

Her purse was loaded with the chemicals of facial enhancements and daily cleansers. She looked in the mirror moments before she left. She stared at her chemically painted face looking at every detail like the perfectionist she is. She pulled from her purse a big stick of lipstick. It's the fierce pink color that comes in three thickness sizes. She twisted the bottom and the stick slowly emerged. She puckers her lips and applies the toxics. She looks at the picture stuck in the mirror. Her late boyfriend, who ran way. She still loved him. The depression of her life is filled with toxins she smears on her face each day and night. The more she thinks of her boyfriend, the more makeup she later has to apply to cover up her life.

She leaves her shit hole apartment building and walks to her friends car with the clear night behind her. The car drives away as she stares outside. A deep stare, one that could rip souls from the body of helpless victims. Her friend looks at her with worries, "Are you ok?" She slowly peals her eyes from the window and flops them on her friend. She smiles and gives her a worthless response "Yeah I am fine, where is this party at!? I cant wait to meet some hott guys!"

The car pulls up to a house where guys are guzzling beer bongs and women are sipping the beer cups in their hand. Her friend says to her "Listen I have to pick up some things, so you can go ahead." She gets out of the car, turns around and waves to her friend goodbye. She turns around and looks at the house.

The house smells of over used condoms and recently realeased puke. The music playing is blasting so loud that even she couldnt hear the "music". She looked around at the people inside. Theres people all over spilling drinks and stumbling around. A man catches her eye. He was a man sitting at a round table by himself. His eyes piercing the table and a drink sitting in his hand. She looks at him like his she knew the hair, the way it moved. She walked over to the man and sat next to him. She looked closer at his face and unraveled the puzzel within his eyes. It was the boy that left her heart and took her with, the boy who made her dreams a nightmare. He looked at her and asked "Do I know you?" She looked at him in dismay. How could he say that to her, the girl who told him how much she loved him, and shared their deep love with.

"Its me, your girlfriend before you left. The girl whose heart you broke bastard." A tear flowed down her cheek. She wanted to punch him in the face. She wanted to beat the fucking shit out of him. The man she gave her virginity to, the man whom she loved. Tears started gushing from her eyes. He looked her in the eyes. He stared deep into her fake eyes. It was almost a calming stare. "I never left you, I never broke your heart. You left me. I once knew a girl who didnt need to wear makeup. A beautiful girl who wore the love of life on her face, not the chemicals to cover it. I never left you, you left me. Everyday you changed to be what everyone else wanted you to be. Everyday you become less and less of you and became them, the people who you once despised. I never ran away from you, you ran from me and yourself."

His hand slowly emerged from his cup to her face. His finger slowly drug across her face, wiping up the tears, the powders and chemicals that eroided from her face. He looked in her eyes. "What happened to the girl beneath this blanket of toxic waste? Who is this girl that now I do see?" He got up and walked away with tears in his eyes. He reached for the door knob to leave, and turned around "Maybe someday I will meet the sweetheart I once knew, but sorry stranger, I just dont know you." His hand grasped the door open and he walked away.

She found her friend, and told her she needed to go home. The friend, without question, did just that. She got to her apartment building and ran to her room. Her face looked as if a plastic cup had melted slowly, like a great painting sitting in the rain. She was still crying. She went straight to the mirror. She grabbed the picture and with rage from a godly degree ripped the picture and she screamed "YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" She suddenly felt weak in the knees and fell to the ground crying. Suddenly the tears stopped. She started to think. Her pains, slowly, had gone away. She felt like nothing she had ever felt before. She stood from the ground and looked in the mirror at herself. Her makeup had almost washed away from her face. She looked at herself and said "I missed you beautiful" and smiles.

pee on me i so do glee

Pee on me I so do glee. For I am the scum that smells like bum.
You are the flower that just went sour,
The candy that fell into the pits of hell.
So pee on me and you will see, that this piss that hit my face is truly drenching you.

homosexual homphobic

He is the queer that he says he fears. He walks around and wrestles guys. He who slaps the butts of many, but loudly denies that he is gay. He wears the Polo shirts and Ralph Lauren underwear. He who shouts out that he is not gay. He who fears the homosexuals who he thinks lurks beneath him. He who is the homosexual homphobic. We all know the truth, inside hes queer, the people he so does fear.

Fear

Fear is the tear that flows like rapids down the manly man's face.

9/15/2005

Losers On Line

LOL, hahaha. Its all instant message bull shit. LMAO. Who the hell is stupid to right this bullshit . I'll tell you who. Its the preppy, people that others think they want to be, idiots. They have created a disease. How many times have you gotten an email, a instant message, where someone writes LOL or haha. So you really think they are Laughing Out Loud or laughing "ha ha ha". Its bullshit. I have seen people I know who get a joke, but they dont laugh. So what do they do? They write lol. Fucking hypocrites. Why not write what is truly going on. For Example:

This is what usually happens

Blingy Thingy: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Dummass: I dont know, why?
Blingy Thingy: To get to the otherside!
Dummass: lol!

This is what really should happen

Blingy Thingy: Why did the chicken cross the road?
Dummass: I dont know, why?
Blingy Thingy: To get to the otherside!
Dummass: I know my name on here is Dummass, but that joke is one where you dont say it out loud dumbass. Go shot yourself.

Get the drift? No one ever writes lol and actually is doing what they write. Its a disease, fucking hypocrites.

I will die. I accept that. Do you?

You were born to die. The moment your become a living organism, you were starting to die. When the sperm fertilized the egg, your fate was met. How ever you may take this is up to you. You may deny that this is a way to look at things. But ask yourself, do I accept that one day I will die?

9/14/2005

Rope

Its true, if you let it all go you will fall. I wont lie to you. Hitting bottom to most may seem like a painful process. For some it is. For some its hard to realize the truths of everything they actually stand for. It's like taking the ground from beneath them. I refer to life as you know it as a rope. Let it go. Most people wanna keep climbing on the wall to get to what they believe is a better place. Then when they get there, they are disappointed. The fancy cars, the money, the social life, it seems great. You have to let the rope go and fall. Lose all your possesions, who think are friends, your beliefs, etc. When you hit bottom, the only thing you have it up, for some thats the beauty. For others it is not. Let it go. Let the rope go and fall.

Sure Is

Shes rebellious, but the sort of rebellious that just might rebel against rebelling... in a rebellious way of course.

9/13/2005

Go and try to die

Go an try to die.
Do what Tyler Durden called it and have "...a near-life experience"
Go ride a horse
and get bucked off
Run into a car
Jump off a building
Do whatever it takes to have as we know it a "near death experience"
Because you will realize that you just had, in Tyler's words "...a near-life experience"

9/12/2005

The insecurities of being secure

Pray for God
Pray for your people
Pray for your mother
Pray for your father

Cry when they die
Oh Cry, when they die
Dont matter what you do
They all have told it to you

Pray for God because you feel insecure
Pray for your people because you feel insecure
Pray for your mother because you feel insecure
Pray for father because you feel insecure

Cry when they die,
Oh Cry, when they die
They have told it to you
Cry, because your people made you feelmore secure when you prayed for them
Cry because your mother and father made told you to make you feel more secure
And CRY When you realize that praying to God was just for security
Oh wait isnt that what he was for?

9/09/2005

music to my ears

la la, blah blah

9/08/2005

Question to ask yourself

Questions for you. Put Your name in the blank: My name is _________ __________ _________, born on ____ _____ ____ into the family of the __________.
Who cooks your meals?
Who taught you to behave?
Who taught you what to believe?
Who taught you what you know?
Who educated you?
Who told you how to play sports?
Who taught you how to speak?
Who taught you to run?
Who taught you to cook?
Who taught the values of life?
Who talks to you in school?
Who taught you to wear the clothes you wear?
Who showed you how to do your job?
Now ask yourself, am I _________ __________ _________, born on ____ _____ ____ into the family of the __________. Who went to/currently is attending_____________________________ ?
Ask yourself the above question. Are you who you think you are? If you havent realized this by now, you are not who you think you are. You are what a combination of other people taught and told you to be. You are not you, you are them. You are far from you than you can imagine. You are what is not you.

9/07/2005

Tears running


Will you tell me that I am pretty?
That everything will be okay?
My life is just hitting the bumps?
Do you really give a shit?
Is that tears running from my eyes?
Is this the pain I compromise?
Will you take my life for me?
Will pills make me see?
Is this how I should be?
Why are my tears running from my eyes?

9/06/2005

You

Go eat shit you fuck face.
I mean it you.
Thats right I am talking to You
You think your so high and mighty
Go fuck yourself
You think that you are cool
Fuck off
You, the athletic piece of shit
You, the acting fucker
You, thats right you
You, the one in the mirror

Enlightened

Images like this should be shown throughout. Its an "enlightened" person. Once you have hit bottom--you can become one.

9/04/2005

Tears, light and no hope



I bury my face in my hands
The tears seap through my fingers
The pain hurts more than a knife
Its the wound that wont heal
The gash you cant see
The hole inside me gets larger
Is there no help for me?
My eyes flood my hands like New Orleans
"It couldn't happen to me" I said
"Why,God, why me!?" Now I sob
I smile my fake smile
I laugh my fake laugh
I tell myself things will get better, like I've told myself before
Maybe I'll see the light tomorrow, but today the bulbs burnt out

9/02/2005

RISK

What it means to others:
R eally
I nsanly
S tupid
K ids

What it should mean to others:
R ebelious
I ntelligent
S mart ass
K ids

Ticket.Check.Wallet.Check.Most important thing needed on the whole trip. Check.

Most people are told when to travel, bring this and that. They dont tell you the one thing you need to carry. It's more important than your wallet or your ticket to wherever. It's a pack of smokes, cancer sticks, tobbaco, cigs or whaterver you want to call it. Most people dont realize this, but without smokes you become alone. For example: You go to Colorado on bus. You arrive at Omaha and stop at the bus depot. Those who dont smoke carry their luggage into the building and tend to themselves. Everyone in their eyes is some little shit riding the bus. They dont want to talk to you, so you dont talk to them. Now, the smokers on the other have to find a place where they are as close to depot as possible yet a place where they can smoke. They all congragate together because they need to be as close to the place as possible. Smokers all have one thing they need. Smokes. If you dont have a smoke, you 'bum' a cig from another. Without a doubt mostly anyone who smokes will bum you cig. You already have started the conversation from there. They will also like to talk to you, because they need to have someone listen. You listen to them, they listen to you. Pretty soon you will have become part of (what we call it) the brotherhood. You make think this is bogus, but look around you. Smokers dont usually care who you are or where you came from. They too need someone to communicate. Non smokers have nothing to start a conversation with, nor do they want to. You dont need to smoke to be part of the brotherhood. If you buy a pack of cigs, you can just bum to other people. Through the brotherhood you'll meet people going to Massachusets from California because his wife left him days before they were to get married(not that he cared) and he cant afford to live in his single bedroom $1000/a montha apartment and is sick of living at a homeless shelter. You might even meet a guy who works at gas station and grows shrooms. Or maybe you'll run into a person who went to SD to see sturgis on a three day trip with a friend where he ends up working at Sturgis for a few weeks to get enough money to get a ride back to Minnesota because his buddies car broke down on him. Those might be people you could meet by just having one thing. Smokes. Smokes should be an essential item for each traveler. Not having one, means not having a more potential kick ass trip. Do yourself a favor, buy cigs and bum to others.

9/01/2005

Do as I mean not what I say

A man reads the passage "Save your work"
The person nexts to you puts his notes in a folder
Another, puts her newspaper under her arm
A taller fellow puts his money in his wallet
A short little girl puts her art in her moms purse
A man incases his new pot
The older man next to you saves a file on the computer.
You put gold watch in your bag
A man reads a bible passage
We all are told
We all hear different
Yet, the church thinks we know what the man said and what was meant.
Everyone assumes you do the same as them.
When you can not.

Grab and run

Grab your backpack
Grab a meal
Grab a coat
Grab some shades
Grab your money
Take it and go. Run from it all.
One might ask what to run from.
Run from church
Run from mom
Run from dad
Run from school
Run from work
Run from friends
Run. Run till your legs burn. Run till your lungs fill with acid. Run till you cant run no more. Run till your heart bursts from your chest.
Don't look back.
One might ask why not look back.
Because the thing you run from is right there. It's right behind you.
It's the monster under the bed
It's the monster in the church
It's the monster your mom told you was gone
It's the monster in the movies
It's the monster in your nightmares
It's the monster that creeps when you sleep
It's the monster that tries to eat you while you sleep.
It's the monster-------who is you.