Witness Protection Program

Why are you in the program? What did you see that put a pricetag on your head? Who are you now and where are you living? Who wants to find you to make sure you don't talk? Some things to think about as you write about this major life change.

Write a poem or prose, any style , length, as many entries as you want, no collabs.

Have fun!

I'm coming back for this ML ...
my writer's block just melted over, so I'm back in the game.

PsychicApocalypse said:I'm coming back for this ML ...
my writer's block just melted over, so I'm back in the game.

Sound great!  I've no doubt you'll come up with something awesome, as you always do.  

Originality.. Madame of Lavender; you'll have my entry soon.

I was just walking down the street
When I saw a guy put a bullet through some ones head
I fled in terror I wanted to continue to breath I wanted to live
I remember the blood splatter on the walls as the body falls
I remember his face so clear, every detail from his beard,
to his gear. My testimony was the key to putting him behind bars
I was told I would get protection and I had nothing to fear
But as fate would have it, it was clear I am a dead man walking
I didn't realize he was the leader of the most dangerous drug cartel.

I was just trying to sleep in a hotel
then bullets start flying, I'm prying the door open
My car's battery broken
Only able to run as shots keeps being fired
I hear the sirens roaring coming in this direction
Receiving protection by the police as the battle ends with the shooters death.

I'm put in the witness protection program
I get surgery done on my face I look nothing like before
A whole new identity is born,
I feel like this thorn that was known as fear finally leaves my body. I think I can now live in harmony
But weeks later the man who did my surgery is found dead
All his patient recorders are taken, soon they will be lead to me
I wake up with a gun pressed against my head
They pull the trigger now I am dead
I brought justice to the sinner yet I am the one who gets killed
what a fucked up way to die, I pray that no one has to go through what I went through or they will end up being killed just like me even though the did a good deed

Tytle of my entry- I'm serious

My namez liam neeson

I spilled 'da fucking beanz.  Here I fukkin sit. I'm in union jacks. It's near a rainy coast. Fact. My namez now unknown. They took it. They told me to call you. Answer your fukking phone. It's not me. I'm Avon calling undercover.  Avon has a transistor radio. The radio has a button. Soon it will be a special day for youse. Boom boom. The lights are out. I've done this before. That's how it's done in the movies.

.:Canary:.


http://8020.photos.jpgmag.com/2156352_179883_323e947b4e_l.jpg


You in a cage
It’s where they let you sing
A winged rat doing “your wit-less thing”
But, snitches? They do get stiches

And you’re one of them overly talkative “givin-it-all-up- bitches”
Living fearful by way of Judas-type riches
Aughta throw all y’all in some deserted ditches

Got that Fed deal, the takeout meal
Yet your life… Will never ever be onna even keel
Now? How do you feel?

Protected?

Guess what?
Your whereabouts
They’ve been detected

Hitter sent…No, you ain’t neglected
All ‘cause you disrespected
You nixed The Code, now you’re all infected

Thinking flatfoots had you stashed out of reach
Security? No.. There’s been a breach
Now it’s you and Big Tone with his lesson to teach
BT up on you about the way you preached

Seems your singing has just totally ceased
with Teflon slugs and an awful….SCREECH!!

Appears you played it a bit too close
Wherein wit-less protection
got youse a Snitch’s Dose



photo: Parfati

a beaeautiful 1 BR somewhere in nebraska!


i fell in love once
got a girl pregnant with a baron womb
back when they still
beat the shit out of you for train hopping
i was sober then
but better at bad decisions
than asians are at math
more than black people sell crack
or indians{dots not feathers} are doctors
or white people think they are better than everybody else

it was a bad day back in brooklyn
jimmy two times
said he was gonna kill me twice
my hands and fingers
too dry
and cracked to smile
or slide
that six string
until a calloused phalange pierced a single cc
of saline
out of the medicine dropper
usually used
for the meth lab in her eyes
always believed in karma being a bitch
but she hasn't
said a salty thing yet

big bag of bloody money
that squint that says
you ain't ok with how you had to get it
can't be fresh as hell
if the feds is watching
time to change your clothes
cut your hair
shave
never even tell a new prospective
decade of decadence your real name
shed your skin
swim across the mississippi river
and try again

it may be a lil difficult finding a ny strip
or some arugala
but i bet you usually
still run into a gangsta or two
in a mid western hardware store
to really be hardcore
if you on the lamb
and he ain't shit but a rat
you gotta put 2 in his back
maybe the captain will cut you some slack
let you pay that loot back
and not jus put the gauge to you and your new snatch

but wit pro
you gotta be a skitzo
lower than limbo
stupider than givin your money to a bimbo
always carry a pistol
get your ol lady a rape whistle
cuz your gonna get put in a crypt cold
and that new love gets it right in the shit hole

Great entries everyone and thanks! I extended the deadline since it's the holidays and everyone's busy I'm sure! :)

.:Club Fed:.


http://8020.photos.jpgmag.com/3627186_157297_be1f81f203_l.jpg


too many outlaws running ‘round his head
too many gangsters pissed by what he said
too many murderers wanna see ‘em dead
too many criminals, it’s time for Club Fed

Shorty, was a made-member with too much to remember and so much to share. When Shorty started talking you’d think you were there. Every scene, it was vividly explained. He made golden recordings spilling everything.

Shorty had dates and places; times and faces; tied up loose ends where there had only been traces. He told of incidental asides that had the Feds give a chuckle. He offered gruesome tales about the overt use of muscle. Shorty knew a lot, this everyone agreed. They’d now roast Old Sal; they had just what they need                                              

Shorty made his decision, his selection. He’d head out to point B, witness protection. Pack up everyone, everything worth keeping. He knew at first, he’d miss night creeping; not alotta sleeping
He’d be that Nervous Purvis “is that the keyhole peeping?” These were distractions running through his mind. Yet still thinking the best way to do his time. Place his family together in a fresh locale. Play it smart with a fresh start and a long way from Sal.

too many outlaws running ‘round his head
too many gangsters pissed by what he said
too many murderers wanna see ‘em dead
too many criminals, it’s time for Club Fed




photo: jean-francois dupuis

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for me its not what i did or saw but rather what i felt....and so here is my entry.

THE CRIME OF PASSION.

One Sunday afternoon in spring,
i was tending my garden,
trimming and watering the roses,
when he first passed by.
I remember standing up to break the ache,
and as i ran my hand across the face,
to wipe the sweat off,
there he was this breathtaking scenery!
He had the most fair face i had ever seen,
better than the men haunting my dreams from the Men Magazine!
His bone structure was well highlighted by the brown tinted aviators covering his eyes,
and the red Porsche reflected his perfect skin!

I don't remember much what happened next,
but with pure clarity i remember dropping my shears,
as he leveled the sun glasses fifty degree,
and cast a shameless stare to my long naked legs,
with passion so wild;
his eyes were like flames of fire!
Then with an evil smile that clearly said;
'i will be back for more sugar honey',
he fired his auto box and disappeared.

The second encounter found me sipping sweet tea,
reading 'red leaves' by Paulina Simons at the Porch.
He was in a tight green sweat tshirt that emphasized his muscles,
and long baggy shorts that revealed his manly hairy legs.
He dropped the paper pack which contained seedlings of,
every flower i could think think of from his hands,
gave another evil wink,
made a bow,
and left without a word wearing a mysterious smile.  

And when he rang my door that Friday evening,
there was no need for more formalities,
our eyes told all the undeniable emotions we felt,
within seconds,
his hands were roughing up my clothes,
his long nose teasing mine as our mouths locked in deep search.
And when he started to nibble my ears,
and taste my skin,
i knew this adventure would forever change my life.
But when the cold metal on the ring finger touched my flesh,
as he tenderly caressed every spot his tongue baptized on my body,
i realized i had not only witnessed a crime of passion;
but had blood on my hands too.
But that did not stop the want,
it did not make him less desirable,
nor quench the fire!
And when his long John finally splashed my inner with his malt,
and both simultaneously hit the paradise and bounced back,
on my bed sweating and panting like teenagers,
i knew this lust will not end without me getting hurt.

And so the call came in this Sunday afternoon!
Her worked up voice playing on my machine,
rudely interrupted our third round of explosion.
She said she knew!
"The wife always knows" she exclaimed!
She told me i need to stop fucking her husband,
and the father of her three kids,
or else the last thing i would remember,
"will be the Sheriff asking if you okey as you draw the last breath on this earth!"

And so i plead with you,your Honor,
the Jury and this Respectable Court,
to take me under the wings of the Witness Protection Program,
where i will be well protected and preserved from the risk of our encounters.
Kindly take me far north;
to a jurisdiction where his love cannot preside over.
Where my eyes will never again sparkle at the sight of his perfect body,
Where his fingers will never bruise my soft skin with a gentle caress.
Take me to a safe house where my heart can never be made by his love,
nor can my body die in his arms ever again.

Issue me a new identity that has no clue;
how good he is at this art.
Far from this soul that adores his being.

And in turn,
i will take the stand against him,
my palm on the Holy Book i will make the Oath;
to tell the the truth and nothing but the truth,
on the case of this organized crime,
committed by my man who should have never been mine,
against the one to whom he made vows of fidelity and stability.
Whom he promised to cherish,protect and forever adore,
through the fires of hell and pleasures of life,
till death do them part,
Amen.

   

Winner to be announced later today--need to read these again. Stay tuned!

Ok--winner is Penninah!  Great job and congrats on your first trophy.  Everyone else gets runner up, as all the entries were very good, and too hard to choose between!

whhhhhhhhaaaaaaaatttttttttttttttttt!!!!!i wooooooonnnnnnnn????!!!!!damn!!!haha!thank you!haha!
woooohhhh!representing my beautiful country Kenya to fullest!!!
Thank you MadameLavender!!!

Lies, deception and time spiral out of control
Contemplations see-sawing as each corner is approached
Can you see where my eyebrows used to reside?
For an arched brow is now forever present
Was my hair blonde or red, I cannot remember
Life circles come back to haunt but are forgeries
A barking dog triggers this moment while walking
And suddenly this whole new world whizzes by
And my shaved head feels each breath of poisoned futures
Tomorrow's will be dark but I can never return