To end your life. How ever will know what’s over that hill you couldn’t clime, But instead out. It’s like leaving the theater on a good movie because of bad popcorn. Get over the, Then be richer for it.
Category Archives: Prose
A trapped rat
I admit that I’m not the most intelligent of rats. I’m trapped in this trap. Though it didn’t kill me, My nightmare is that I will never escape.
Death on 9th Street
“San Diego, CA., Most Beautiful City In America.” Grieving, candles burning the streets. Someone died here. Two days ago, A tent neighborhood was here, ‘luxuary’ apartments towering above. And the neighborhood is gone.
I shouldn’t have have had that cigarette….
It was OK Before that hill. My walking slowed to a crawl And breathing became labored. But you can’t put coins in a ATM, So now I have to have another one….
Airport 992
I ride buses to get to work, to visit friends. I ride the 992 to get to work, But more often I desire to jump on a plane and fly home. Here, black are seemingly always poor and of lower class. I’m only here to make money, Only be abused.
I don’t….
I don’t believe in Jesus, even he were real I will not follow him, Or his sisters and brothers. They’re just evil, even when wearing a dress. Ditto for heaven and hell. But I do have faith In myself, And the goodness found in humanity and a mystery called the afterlife.
Laundry blues
This morning mylaundry bag developeda large hole,spilling myclean laundryas I crosseda busy street. After I driedI discovered threesocks missing…. But life ain’t hard….. it’s the living thatwill kill yah’!
Crappy movies
I have noticed in the movies that humanity has less humanity. Humans still die very well. Lacking character and creativity….
I don’t like pink.
Yes, that’s right; I don’t like the color pink. I hate pink. It Clashes with my sense of empowerment. I don’t like pink, especially when it comes to the feminine. It says ‘weak’, ‘lesser sex’, ‘gays and lesbians belong in concentration camps’. And that the wearer can be abused as and Short changed. Why peopleContinue reading “I don’t like pink.”
My first memory of Elizabeth II, a poem
She driven in an old convertable In a black and white film. How pretty, So sad.
Liferaft in the Abyss 