throw yah shoes away Nobody’s gona walk in them


don’t throw your life in front of life

there will be no kiss of death

there will be nothing

just the living death of life

born from babe to adult

you will be dragged from pillar to post

taught things that not even a non life should fucking see

institutionalised with understandings that should not be

called education

given cosmetics to manipulate the scene

trained to be empathetic but really its just a hedge for more sinister purposes


tough love

cause while we all can see what its like to walk in the others shoes


how many of us really do

or even Do something about the empathetic state of being

They all live on an island

called a state of mind and choice

but see the choice can at times be what is thought of as lost at see

the Blind state of being

blinkers come in handy for such things

especially when they upset ones own state of being

I wish i was a volcano

at least I could erupt naturally

if I could spill my words out


if I could spew up a vomit of my life to you

if would be the hottest shit in town

written on the front page of your frown

but instead I’m living in a life of unnatural habits

my naturally is no more natural than fucking kids starving

or the kidney being ripped out of the starving for a buck

to fill another with life, fell of the truck luck

and wars and drugs and chemicals and cancers and cigarettes

yeah all that shit

getting in our lungs in our air

and everyday I look at You and You and ME

and I see sadness and shit and fucking unnatural habitat

I don’t even recognise myself

cause i really thought I was somebody with a care

but I’m just the same as you who I detest so fucking much

I sit and write my words tonight with the full knowledge that

as I write a child is born and one does die a senseless death

and all I do is write this crap

surely we are worth even more than thatIMAG2269


4 thoughts on “throw yah shoes away Nobody’s gona walk in them

  1. O I guess, I don’t know. The Shop has kept me on ice for so long.
    I can’t say what I want, all gets disappeared, poisoned. I would never
    want to be a trophy wife, watched, guarded. Fuck. I finally picked
    up a lure that informed who/what I was and so they know. I felt
    relief talking with another agent. They’re gonna hit me, looking
    forward to some action, not really worried, I’m faster and smarter
    but the suspense . . . bought a bullet resistant coat, waiting . . .
    Going thru my 8,000 poems n publishing them so I can work
    on novels. Slog, slog. You certainly are productive! Gots ta
    read your stuff! I’m weak, gotta get used to new physique, hate
    it. o well . . .I still wear bee pin!


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