poetry and prose
Bemor Boxcutta turned Billy Bad Ass into Henry Scutter, making your heartbeat flutter, stutter, skip a beat. Little miss unique petite, I wanna freak your physique, to me your more then just a flavor of the week. Cause girl you so fine. Its thoughts of you thats on my mind. Run my finger down your side avoid the world with you I hide. Minutes to hours, as hours turn to days lets get lost together cause our love is a maze. And you amaze me baby every single time with them things that you do with your body and mind. And I find myself daydreaming you screaming my name. Compared to the real thing nothings the same.
Things ive seen!
Ive written my name on the walls in my best friends fathers blood.
When it dried on my shoes it looked much darker than mud.
Seen the white blood cells when they separate from the red.
Ive seen what a shotgun can do to your head.
An old sad man with his head in a bag
Shotgun in his mouth now I stand with a bloody rag.
Smearing the ground red with a blood soaked mop,
From entering my mind these mental images wont stop.
So for hours and hours I try dealing,
Deep down in my stomach grows a queasy feeling,
As I looked up at ceiling
To see a sight I will never forget.
Another mans blood diluted by my sweat
Smeared across face and later dried in my hair,
And my boy kept mopping wearing that empty stare.
You know I felt the rush of nausea
I hope this will cause ya
To think about the people around you before you let your problems off ya.
Why you wanna kill yourself with a gun,
you gave your son
for Christmas,
Ahh he wont miss this
Or me either for that matter,
If I put this sleeping bag on my head it shouldnt splatter.
You stupid fuck, thanks for being so fucking considerate.
Who did he really think was going to clean this shit,
But just know that when you die the cops aint cleaning up the mess,
It will be your fatherless son who with this sick memory is left.
And hope you can remember how bad your problem really is,
Or maybe the fact that you just ruined the life your 3 kids.
*******
Mopping up what used to be the life of another.
Milling over the image I have of my friends mother,
Hiding my terror and the gore from his younger brothers.
Infected me it has and like no others
*******
if youve never been in this position
I hope you listen
Cause the lesson I am giving
could probably keep you living.
You could have no idea how this could feel
And yes this story real,
even though I wish it wasnt,
Leave my mind for a second this thought doesnt.
Cause you cant clean blood with water it just spreads
I have seen the results of when sad men lose they heads.
Seen blood curdle and all variety of reds.
Witnessed blood splatter on a young girls white keds.
*******
I told you the first story and I'm gonna tell you 2 more.
It started as the year of the sonnies and became the year sonnies where no more.
Now 2 sonnys died in one year and I saw it all.
One went down in the summer the other fall.
Now the 1st sonny died locked up in his room, he was huffing,
And the other sonny lost his head like it was nothing.
Both sonnys died from a disease I call stupidity,
You could smell the first sonny dead cause of humidity.
Blue in the face skin slipping when his father found him.
It had been three days so you know that the flies surround him.
I remember the cry of his father as he fell to his knees,
Gasping for air between screams but he couldnt breathe.
He couldnt take a breath,
All I remember is sonnys face and his stench of death.
Now with one sonny in the ground, soon the next would follow.
This next story just may seem a little hard to swallow.
But it was my first week of high school, and everyone seemed fine.
But here comes sonny at the keg party with a nine.
Now I been around guns my whole life, they never faze me,
But as I witnessed this event, it would amaze me.
Opened my eyes to how fragile life truly is.
Cause once that gun goes pop your life starts to fizz.
Now back to the story at hand.
This little party didnt really go as it was planned,
Now I have to admit that I never liked this particular sonny,
He was a loose cannon, He used to beat fools up for their lunch money
And his dumbass he thought he was way too funny.
He stuck that pistol to my face when i was fourteen,
Trying to act tough and look mean.
When everyone else cried
Inside
i laughed when he died.
Stupid mother fucker used to like to play with his gun,
Laughing as he did it, thinking that it was fun,
But not in this particular story,
cause this story
kinda ended up gory.
So Sonny came out his room,
Stuck his gun in his boys face and said boom.
But now his boy wasnt one to joke,
I had actually seen him choke out some young kid over a coke.
And sonny swearing the gun aint loaded
See no clip as his boy exploded
Snatching it away and slinging it like a toy
And turning on his boy.
One squeeze on the trigger dropped the hammer,
Now here's the slammer
Even though he took out the clip their was one still up in the chamber.
Opened up his head spreading it on the walls.
Everyone up and running before the shell even falls.
One pour girl really knew what was going through his mind.
Brain matter spattered in her face from the nine.
I cant even tell you all the things Ive seen.
Ive grown up my whole life wondering what did it mean,
And can you believe I saw this before the age of 16.
*********
Bemor Boxcutta turned Billy Bad Ass into Henry Scutter, making your heartbeat flutter, stutter, skip a beat. Little miss unique petite, I wanna freak your physique, to me your more then just a flavor of the week. Cause girl you so fine. Its thoughts of you thats on my mind. Run my finger down your side avoid the world with you I hide. Minutes to hours, as hours turn to days lets get lost together cause our love is a maze. And you amaze me baby every single time with them things that you do with your body and mind. And I find myself daydreaming you screaming my name. Compared to the real thing nothings the same.
Things ive seen!
Ive written my name on the walls in my best friends fathers blood.
When it dried on my shoes it looked much darker than mud.
Seen the white blood cells when they separate from the red.
Ive seen what a shotgun can do to your head.
An old sad man with his head in a bag
Shotgun in his mouth now I stand with a bloody rag.
Smearing the ground red with a blood soaked mop,
From entering my mind these mental images wont stop.
So for hours and hours I try dealing,
Deep down in my stomach grows a queasy feeling,
As I looked up at ceiling
To see a sight I will never forget.
Another mans blood diluted by my sweat
Smeared across face and later dried in my hair,
And my boy kept mopping wearing that empty stare.
You know I felt the rush of nausea
I hope this will cause ya
To think about the people around you before you let your problems off ya.
Why you wanna kill yourself with a gun,
you gave your son
for Christmas,
Ahh he wont miss this
Or me either for that matter,
If I put this sleeping bag on my head it shouldnt splatter.
You stupid fuck, thanks for being so fucking considerate.
Who did he really think was going to clean this shit,
But just know that when you die the cops aint cleaning up the mess,
It will be your fatherless son who with this sick memory is left.
And hope you can remember how bad your problem really is,
Or maybe the fact that you just ruined the life your 3 kids.
*******
Mopping up what used to be the life of another.
Milling over the image I have of my friends mother,
Hiding my terror and the gore from his younger brothers.
Infected me it has and like no others
*******
if youve never been in this position
I hope you listen
Cause the lesson I am giving
could probably keep you living.
You could have no idea how this could feel
And yes this story real,
even though I wish it wasnt,
Leave my mind for a second this thought doesnt.
Cause you cant clean blood with water it just spreads
I have seen the results of when sad men lose they heads.
Seen blood curdle and all variety of reds.
Witnessed blood splatter on a young girls white keds.
*******
I told you the first story and I'm gonna tell you 2 more.
It started as the year of the sonnies and became the year sonnies where no more.
Now 2 sonnys died in one year and I saw it all.
One went down in the summer the other fall.
Now the 1st sonny died locked up in his room, he was huffing,
And the other sonny lost his head like it was nothing.
Both sonnys died from a disease I call stupidity,
You could smell the first sonny dead cause of humidity.
Blue in the face skin slipping when his father found him.
It had been three days so you know that the flies surround him.
I remember the cry of his father as he fell to his knees,
Gasping for air between screams but he couldnt breathe.
He couldnt take a breath,
All I remember is sonnys face and his stench of death.
Now with one sonny in the ground, soon the next would follow.
This next story just may seem a little hard to swallow.
But it was my first week of high school, and everyone seemed fine.
But here comes sonny at the keg party with a nine.
Now I been around guns my whole life, they never faze me,
But as I witnessed this event, it would amaze me.
Opened my eyes to how fragile life truly is.
Cause once that gun goes pop your life starts to fizz.
Now back to the story at hand.
This little party didnt really go as it was planned,
Now I have to admit that I never liked this particular sonny,
He was a loose cannon, He used to beat fools up for their lunch money
And his dumbass he thought he was way too funny.
He stuck that pistol to my face when i was fourteen,
Trying to act tough and look mean.
When everyone else cried
Inside
i laughed when he died.
Stupid mother fucker used to like to play with his gun,
Laughing as he did it, thinking that it was fun,
But not in this particular story,
cause this story
kinda ended up gory.
So Sonny came out his room,
Stuck his gun in his boys face and said boom.
But now his boy wasnt one to joke,
I had actually seen him choke out some young kid over a coke.
And sonny swearing the gun aint loaded
See no clip as his boy exploded
Snatching it away and slinging it like a toy
And turning on his boy.
One squeeze on the trigger dropped the hammer,
Now here's the slammer
Even though he took out the clip their was one still up in the chamber.
Opened up his head spreading it on the walls.
Everyone up and running before the shell even falls.
One pour girl really knew what was going through his mind.
Brain matter spattered in her face from the nine.
I cant even tell you all the things Ive seen.
Ive grown up my whole life wondering what did it mean,
And can you believe I saw this before the age of 16.
*********