Prisoner of the Road

Any style. new or old. Competition will be judged on the emotional merit conveyed.

http://youtu.be/c-0jy3iCB8U

ill be back for this one!!

    church of canonized tears


the old women sit, with veiled faces,
waiting for Father Tom-of-the-Beautiful-Eyes
to begin mass. they sit and pray the rosary,
fingertips pushing across each wooden bead,
feeling the splinters as surely as Christ felt
the spikes driven into his palms.

they pray for husbands long since dead.
they pray for sons killed in battles
in merciless foreign lands
or here on their own streets,
blood that the rain won’t wash away.

they pray for daughters gone away
to violent beds for a handful of scarlet dollars.
for brass trinkets. scribbled promises vanishing in firelight.
or the hunger for someone’s certified, pre-owned heart.

they pray for strangers trembling in rooms with broken
windows and battered doors, immersed in dope and booze,
and a unique misery tailored especially for them.

and before mass begins, not wanting to omit anyone,
not even those who have steadfastly shunned
the proposition of faith, hope, and charity,
they pray for me.

scrapbook


there is an enemy that hides in plain site
not that i know much of it
but i don't think guys with greasy hair
who don't shave much
make it to heaven often
we get our own version
you want anything else
it's a fucking fire sale
i know a guy who knows a guy
one that floods your fuckin cellphone
with online university sales calls
every time you try to find a new job on the internet
i could fix that for you
if you act right

tragedies happen
boy scouts die bloody
become real madmen
or at least turn half a fag
but hey at least they can tie a hell of a rape knot
start a fire without a pack of matches
and hopefully swim their way out
of a 13 sequel killing spree in sporting goods

people read things differently
actually had a shadow follow me lately
this information is way above your paygrade
i'm aight with bein an outlaw
you wanna be a pillar of justice
fine
we both hate lookin at ourselves in the mirror

a homeless guy gave me a quarter
i know i've said it before
but for some reason
some way
some how
we all die behind some pussy

if i did'nt say it again
i would so be denying the hypocratic oath
which that and one in front of a flag
should be what it should be
unless you wanna spend the rest of your life in a gulag
for smokin a lil reefer and cuttin down a cross

be careful
even if i call you friend
my offspring
may kill you or even worse
someone you love
and leave you alone to deal with it

hoping you come back
to give him a try


i wanna quit drinking
i wanna get to know god a bit better
still eat fight and fuck
but god damn you for damning me god
you ever even think
how you gave dogs a bad rep
to dyslexics?
i just worship luficer
you just want it all to yourself
acknowledgement of others
is'nt hero worship

it must be a brooklyn thing
but i have'nt found a decent pie since i left
i'm a harley jackknifing
heluva good 18 wheeler
right in front of your mom's mini van
cuz somebody did my brakes bad

sorry soccer mom

i know my mother was and still is a liar
just like you
you know who
around the spiral staircase headed upstairs
that you really
have to be able to deal with gettin dizzy to get to

next time you analyze a school shooting
check to see if jesus was playing checkers
somewhere in the corner
don't blame him though
he was just trying to get a game
and do a little spin control
dad is a dick
he loves to draw blood
if she loves me that much
she should'nt fuck my friends

i guess i just don't understand certain things
like the designated hitter
wedding rings
i see things i love a lot
in some bad places
i just hope this makes sense one day
to a son i never see
don't really know
but hope he can do better then me
wish you the best of luck kid

V for VIctoria


She, a tiny figure in the corner of my eye
talks to me about how her head felt
After the last time she listened to it

She, a rocking chair, hallucinating
Her head twirling like autumn rain
Swastik symbols bore her over

Knelt to the floor, in omniscient point of view
Brought to slavery selling more then just her soul
deprived of the once was, deprived of what was to be

The road in the distance was narrow and far
She was like the fire that rose, the water rose to her feet
Fleet swiftly, in the womb of the whale

One day she will awake
Finally life
She will exhale


For Victoria, whom I met working in an asylum seeker center
*Victoria was from Liberia, sold as a slave by her own father, a mature woman who hardly knew anything about the modern worlds, she had half an ear, half a mouth, but she was one of the most positive and inspiring people I ever met in my life, Victoria, may your gods bless you, where ever you may be now***

Amazing work so far, humbling and inspiring

SOCIAL OUTCAST

http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/312/d/d/the_social_outcast_by_engrvv-d6th4rn.jpg


Ostracized by society, untouched by many
the homeless wanderer starts his day
putting his tent – his nightly sojourn
into a shopping cart that wobbles,
as he begins his daily ritual
of combing the expanse of the city
in search for food, short of self-pity.

How long can he endure so much discrimination
from the same people causing such persecution?
They used to respect and call him Sir
and relied their daily graces
from his merciful and loving hands
before the market collapsed.
Blessed are they
who share their caring hearts,
and woeful curse
to those ungrateful ones.

Now a vagabond—a pitiful sight
considered trash in society,
His so called friends now gone
won’t even come close,
as if he has leprosy;
how quickly can they forget
they used to cling like leeches
just to kiss his fat, rich ass!

Just remember the wheels of life,
they never stop spinning…
until the day is done, and your life is over.
Now you’re up, the next day you’re down—
don’t forget it’s the cycle of life;
make the best of it,
whatever cycle you’re in.

Today it might belong to someone,
whose heart shares the sacred love
of those who will inherit the earth
when the Day of Judgment is upon us.
Who knows what tomorrow may bring,
only I’m sure, what goes down
will come back up, and better than before!

a nomad

we didn't really have a home
but the land was our mother
we took from her and gave back
she provided for us like a mother
the buffalo a brother to all
they gave us their life to live
we only took what we needed
giving back enough to equal
what we had taken from her


that was all taken one day
gone and all that was left
was a barren waste land
brown dead grass
where it used to be lush and green
trees that were once big and tall
now are dead and lying flat
we never took more than
what we could replace

we no longer have a home
it was taken in cold blood
relocated to where we
were forced to live

"The Nomad"

The past decade and a half
has seen me move over sixty times
a new place every three months
yet never staying long enough
to get a sense of home.

They’re just stop off points
in my ongoing journey through life.
I crave the comfort and security
yet my nomadic lifestyle
always seems to reign supreme.

In the night


Come here my son,
come to your old man.
I will hold you warm.

We sit by the fire,
warm our cold hands.
What about our hearts?

You've lost the glow in your eyes
even before you got to know the world.

I tell you stories of better times,
when we still had a home,
where we could return to.

The night falls so dark,
we can't see the stars
as the lights of the city shine too bright.

You've lost your innocence,
even before you got to know the world.

I sing you a song,
as you slowly fall asleep in my arms.
You look so frail.

Long was the war,
long was the way,
now we are here. But where do we go?

You got to know the world, my son.
I'm so sorry…