” this thing you call the game ” – everyday poetry 201

this thing you call the game

I was taken out of the game

for over 19 years

The only one who was not playing

was me


but with what was supposed to be my life

they were playing


this game is not a game

It is life

precious life


they, down there, those ones – they’re over there, they’re over here

& here every freaking where


they run deep into the open

they run deep into the obvious

they run deep in the camouflage of lies

they run deep in the sanctioned crimes that they commit

they run deep into your minds with all of it

They run deep into the plane of day


Billy Bob, he isn’t real

he was forgotten

like the burnt crust on the bottom of a biscuit pan

except for he was never burnt

not in that way


but yes

he got high A few times,

OK, quite a few times –

he got wasted.


But not in that way

But by people, not in those cases of a shotgun blast to the head

But a shotgun blast to the head in that metaphoric way


And in the middle of false allegations

they were baseless

like no boards on the bottom of the walls to meet the floor

but just cockroaches galore

and the other related pests of the plague that run rampant

vamped in the streets with the meanness of survival skills running wild


and not knowing that there is any other way to address the disparagement of a birthright that was never right

he did get wasted by people

the players with his life

fucking up his strings

because they refused to untangle their own

to get with the realities of what their lies hide

October 31,2015 14:12:37 – 141031 still not back

1696 58

hidden in the pitch where there is no warnings of ditches dug with filth hidden beneath the rug that was carefully picked up and swept away

so much carpet bagged up by supposed thugs

multiplying by the disease of stupidity

which typically may be fed by poverty of education stations to reach the brainium for the intellect to stain the rhetoric of text book poop scooped like ice-cream streams of this American dream beamed from medias players of this world economy which has none of us to get a bit richer

but to have a bit of comfort before passing is any of our wishes


but for the hard work of not having that piece of the pie

brings the question that was begged in the headway

that will become the entrenching tool of the poor

and the middle classed should there be a class in the first place

other than people with or without according to their own standards journeyed


and it is to me to be satisfied with the devastation exposed

to the air

that there be a clearing in the fields

to that



say it is freshly breathed and believed not to have been had for close to 2 decades

2 decades of being declared dead

decades of the hunt for food for the head

decades of dread

to never thinking twice of how i bled truth just for U

without an ounce of integrity to get to know this quality of veraciousness


decades for U to use criminally

TRUTH exchanged for lies

to destroy this saint stumbling in the therapeutic approach of fuck

and the like words

without so much the actions of others for the approach that a fuck could get some of the tensions unstuck,


unlike the hour or more of therapy

each session

three or four a week

and now one or two plus many more hours of the maintenance therapy

growing the strength for me to write these abstractions

that one day

shall be fodder for the book

that will then be the overturning of your worming of my limbs and guts and all of the skin and thinned out heart tissue for the issues you never had the strength to deal with in the first pace.


in the first place

it should not have to be a catapulted step to a righteous approach that lends the rhythm of civility within the realm where honesty should have been protocol

in the first place

you are no saint of any kind

but a fraud of the church U religiously attend in pretend for the hope that others will see U as clean

in the first place

when even a judge renders you faultless means nothing when a world of his minion are ordered to call him honorable in the evidence of dishonorable deeds

in the first place

when no consideration to realities of a situation so contrary to the utterances spewed from your suck is what U use in…

this thing you call the game

word count 793

Love Breaking in the hands of corruption

Love Breaking in the hands of corruption

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s