said the man who is not young to those who are
surrounding the Ferguson PD cruiser
beating it with rocks
dressing it for the funeral pyre
and while I’m fine being the honkey-ass-cracker
lined up to take the bullet
and while I got pork with the pigs born
from my own scars and broken bones
and while I just lit that mother fucker
up like a rag doll
still I wonder: what fire I stole
out the eyes of those kids
by grabbing the molly from their hands
and letting it fly from mine.
This is: I am not willing to do anything to survive,
but I am willing to do too much.
When I am hungry and tired of eating crickets and a can of beans I’ll go into a Whole Foods and take the good shit. The five-dollar bags of natural-cut potato chips. The biggest container of Naked Juice they sell in the produce aisle. The fresh fucking cherries right from the bin. Without guilt. Without remorse. Because no one deserves to be treated like waste. Fed scraps. Left to do anything but live. Under the underpass or in an alley that only fools with a death-wish explore on their own. No one deserves to drop a deuce on crumpled newspapers in a plastic bag. Worrying about getting arrested every time they gotta take a piss. No one needs to be sitting in the cold by themselves coughing up phlegm/blood begging for the chance to get stoned. Out of their minds. Until thrown away feels like getting left alone.
Yes, my skin has been a net that has dragged me back from the river’s bottom. And yes, class is deeper than a pocketbook printed in black or red. And yes, my size and scruff and dick have saved me from fates I dare not fathom. And yes, I would be a liar if I said my years of dumpster dining and broken glass-bedding have meant that I lived the hard life. But maybe it won’t take you tripping this low to see: that it takes its own kind of courage to stand with a cup in yr hand and pray for compassion in a world with no fucks to give for gods or men not making it money.
This is a Black Girl Dangerous. A Found Sonnet
The Race and Sex of Persons Arrested
Arkansas state two-thousand-and-fifteen
Theft – Purse Snatching: female, white, adult, one,
black, adult, two. Theft – Shoplifting: female,
white, adult, three-thousand-and-ninety-two,
black, adult, one-thousand-and-eighty-one.
Juvenile, white, two-hundred-ninety-eight,
black, juvenile, two-hundred-seventeen.
Group B Arrests1: Disorderly Conduct:
female, adult, white, three-hundred-sixty-
one, black, adult, female, two-hundred-and
fifty-seven. Female, white, juvenile,
thirty-nine girls. Black, female, juvenile,
one-hundred-and-twenty-seven. Girls.
- Group A and Group B offense categorization is a measure adopted by the Criminal Justice Information Services (CJIS) Division Uniform Crime Reporting Program (UCR) of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) to facilitate regional crime reporting between State and Federal law enforcement agencies.
02.05.01.01 – You can’t control your Dreams #1
Author: Jimmy “the Perv” Rev History Rev .00 - 10/29/2005 Rev .01 - 12/17/2014 Rev .02 - 03/10/2022
You can’t control your Dreams #1
I’m wet
all over
swimming
indoors
The pool is luke
warm, womb-like
silent
I’ve got a stiffy
and no trunks to hide my shame
But I’m alone
Fuck it
leave a dog his bone
RiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiNNNNG!
A bell
A door flies open
Hello third grade swim-class
Good bye James
I plunge under
stroking hard for the deep end
Children and erections
ain’t my thang (I promise)
but my wang
just don’t get it
I surface
head first.
No you sick fuck
I said head first
So far so good
The kiddies have their corner
and I’ve got mine
THINK
baseball
liposuction
Bean Haufmann’s frontbutt
vultures picking clean the bowls of a bloating dog…
Hot Dogs
butter
buns
Adventurous eight year olds
are making their way
along concrete lips
to my own privates’ Idaho
My stomach
works its way into my throat
Sometimes
the only gate outta hell
is through the other side
A deep breath
a dive
a frantic jerking prayer
Sh’ma,YMCA,Adonai Elohaynu,Hear, O’Building of Pederastic sin,the Lord is God.Let loose these loins,or drown them in damnation,let this nightmare,come
quickly
to its end
Amen.
02.09.01.01-To-The-Last-Woman.txt
Author: Benjamin C. Roy Cory Garrett Rev History Rev .00 - 12/24/2007 Rev .01 - 03/10/2022
To the Last woman I slept with…
Talking to you on the phone last night
was the first time I ever listened to someone kill themself
Not just talk the talk about suicide
or subconsciously drink themselves to death
or pass out under a train bridge in the middle of February
praying for death
but take the knife in their hands
and do it
Really do it.
Before you were dead
and we were still talking
I was angry
because I thought
you were being both unfair and unreasonable
Because I said that life was worth living
And you said
“prove it.”
And I said nothing
So you said
“Don’t give me this bull shit, Ben
I need you
I need you
to help me right now
Because the only thing worth living for is my daughter
and you said yourself
that my depression
and obsessions
and anxiety
drain her as much as they drain me
and you ask me
What do I want?
When I’ve already told you a thousand times
But I’ll tell you again
And this time you better listen
Because there won’t be a next time:
Right now, I need you to save me.”
And I said
“I can’t
be a knight in shining armor
I can’t
make fairy tale endings”
And you said nothing.
For a minute
So I started talking and talking and talking
about nothing that was going to make a difference
Because I had already given you my answer.
So when you finally got bored of my voice
You interrupted me mid sentence with
“I’m sorry”
and then there was silence
and you were gone.