Through The Alphabet--The Letter "U"

Here I go again ,
Tumbling down the rabbit hole like a rabid mole,
With a whole other ulterior motive in my scheme,
My poem is an uprising that you might find surprising,
To usher in a new era and topple this useless regime.
My dream?
To transgress with success and stress the current system,
This urban kid is tired of this downward skid and schism,
Don’t get mad because I can speak another language bro!
Here’s a tissue if you have an issue but this is just my intro.

TU y yo means you and me it’s just simple Spanglish yo!
I have every right to speak you weak freak if you didn’t know,
It’s called free speech you old leech as you may be unaware,
Glare at me all you want as you blare in your underwear.
Listen to what I’m about to say, it’s of the utmost importance,
Every utterance from now on is like a little performance,
See the twinkle in my eye? I’ve been near death and survived,
Wanna point your gun at me because your life is deprived?
You want beef with me? Oh believe me I’m a great cook,
It’ll be a burn when I serve you then you’ll get hooked,
While I’m vile like course textile I don’t go by the book,
But I bet this typeset is a threat of defeat to you underfoot.
You look like a maniac in your undies and t-shirt of a Umiak,
Stop doing crack or smack or whatever’s causing this attack,
You think you’re the shit? Quit trying to be so ubiquitous,
Let me put it in simple terms, you’re crazy and ridiculous!
My dual language lets me duel with fuel against any fool,
My tongue is my talisman, it’s like a splendid jewel,
Yo puedo hablar lo que yo quiera en cualquier idioma,
Idiota, toma este insulto porque la venganza es cabrona.
So leave this tavern in a quiet manner because you’re smashed,
Go back to your thatch house you rash louse before you crash,
Spewing hatred and racism only shows you’re uneducated,
Maybe you’re too stupid to realize you’ve been berated.
Goofy fuck, you’re a looney schmuck, an angry drunk,
Acting like a little bitch ass bitch you hate filled punk,
Why don’t you and me go outside and tell me why you’re upset,
By the way, tonight I’m celebrating because I got my black belt.

In the cold grey streets of urban sprawl around    
Freehand the graffiti and the catcall
Ubiquitous that free for all  
Just the dirty underwear unwashed and brown  
 Useless flotsam without a care today  
Uprising like the fire  hydrants spray    
Laughing dross a finger sticking up for ass  
All that water cannot usher  
Human dirt out of the gutter  
The "utmost" bad not a pIssing fad  
Contempt for all c'ept that street corner life  
Gang warfare fry or you be fried  
In that boat like a umiak coming under fire  
primitives that trade and barter to survive  
 Do what it takes in bitter climes  
Tough skin to float in the ghettoes confines  
It the battle unaware of who will cede  
"Fuck you" the utterance of your defeat?  
In a parallel world like a mirage cast  
Ulterior  message sent to challenge  
Society so forgotten like the clockwork orange

( prose poetry )
  
   
There’s a ubiquitous stain throughout the house, in every room.  A brown sepia that comes from the fires blazing over the low summits of hills from the coastline on a regular basis. The windows are perpetually shut tight but still the stench of burnoff seeps in. The ocean’s sea breeze has long become a wet-dream memory.  
   
Supper has long gone cold and sits abandoned in the small gas stove. It’s been an hour since she drew herself a bath only to lay her bareness across the double bed; its sheets disheveled and matted from the morning’s ulterior uprising.  
   
Where he’d be the first to get up, to throw on blue and yellow flannel no matter how hot it was going to get, along with faded denim, and boots. He’d throw open the curtains, knowing it would make her squint and leer at him.  
   
“You see?!!”, he’d growl and jeer, “This is where you wanted to live, not me!” But she’d refuse to join in the same old urban based shouting matches, knowing the useless, tiresome rant by heart.  
   
Back in a time in his youth when he dropped out of University and invested his inheritance to spend several years up in Alaska with the Inuit. Learning how they built their kayaks and umiak for hunting, traveling and  transporting. To even sire a child or two; he had never been clear. He was not allowed to keep them when he left the tribe to return to the states.    
   
She felt he was an utter fool not to have considered the possibility of this utmost denial. But it didn’t matter to her anymore, although it had made him a constantly bitter man, and older, piling on the grief.    
   
It became a daily commiserate as she’d lie across their bed before an evening bath, as she’d close her eyes and think ‘If only the soil would perform its reclamation on all of this.’  On them.
   
Suddenly on schedule: the front door, the stomping and banging into and out of the kitchen, and there he is standing at the foot of the bed, shouting.  
   
“It’s evening and here you are just lying there!  The winds are blowing again, flaring the fires back to the summit, and it looks like they’re gonna come straight for us tonight!!”  
   
She doesn’t react as in exasperation he reaches and lifts her bodily in his arms, to hoist and brusquely land her in the brimming bathtub.  
   
Her dry, dead utterance cracks, catching him unaware. “Haven’t you heard the news, sweetheart?” With glazed eyes, she gives a sly smirk in the faux candlelight. “It’s the new NORM.”  
   
Then she sinks under the water to help usher it in.