she’s common
just another teenage jerk

she’s cold and empty
and so is her belly
the pill couldn’t fix it
but the coat hanger did the trick

high school hierarchy
the punchline of life
honestly, after high school what do you have?
they won’t take you seriously anyways…

but don’t fret
it’s a ghost world
full of blank minds and lost causes
generic people
too consumed in their own doom…

unfortunately, this could have all been avoided
if she didn’t spend so much time on her back
but yet again, if she didn’t you wouldn’t know her name
because boning captain football
always leads to instant fame.

dumb people suck.
dumb people suck bcos they make you dumb
dumb people suck bcos they make you dumb bcos they dont understand simple things
dumb people suck bcos they force you repeat yourself
i hate repeating my self
repeating my self sucks
so, in conclusion
dumb ppl suck bcos they make you dumb
you always have to repeat yourself
and that’s why dumb people suck so much.

There once was someone who didn’t know.
He didn’t even know if he didn’t know.
Or if he didn’t know if he didn’t know.
But it was alright.
Because he was happy even if he didn’t know it.

He asked some people, family and friends
And they said they knew
they couldn’t say exactly how or what it was
but they didn’t mind
they wanted to believe and they didn’t want it any other way

The problem was
that each person who knew, knew something different from the next.
And over this they fought
and many of them were wounded
and many of them were hurt
even the one who didn’t know

jj

As silence slips into the vastness of

the night—-

A shallow breath of a resounding sigh

A light of the cigar brings a glow of welcome warmness

approaching footsteps muffled by the eerie winds—-

brings news of a ship that has quietly slipped into the docks—

wonder of treasures abound, even the rats sense the excitement

the grimy faces are stained with living, waiting upon the call to plunder

It is survival of the fittest, the fast, the sly—— the knowledge of where

and when to hide

The watchman on patrol sees the toll, smells the stench

rotting, decaying—- cast away

It’s just another day for the pick pocket

of the London Stews.

A stillness of silence

a precursor—

summoning violence.

A young child’s cry

bombs blasting–

everyone waiting to die, not asking

the question why?

A solitary soldier presses on, marches on

so much pain – he lingers

As people watch, hands outstretched – a silent

shout for joy — open fingers

And he keeps marching on, until his path comes

to an end and with gentle grace

He crouches, he bends

The child is held in the comfort of his arms–

for a moment in time

feeling safe, feeling warm

For out of such destruction, such pain

A kernel of hope can reign again

lifting the mantle of despair –a falling of  new rain.