Pheonix129

Hardships forced on mulatto children They bear the lash, the cruel severity The harsh barbarity As their parents look on in horror “Mama!” “Papa!” comes their cries As the blood runs down their once perfect backs The large hickory stick makes contact Again        And Again        And   Again Deep gorges form in the skin these all the fruits Of the master’s inhumanity With frequency the master shows off irresponsible power He shows no emotion, has no virtue A child yelps “Shut yer mouth, brute!’ In the gloom a silence looms, broods, the livestock are quiet And this poison: freedom’

don't kill me now. kill me next week, but not right now. no, not now. ---------------> ---------------> ---------------> i am like three parallel arrows: one marked: DON'T TOUCH ME another marked: DON'T TOUCH and a third one marked: DON'T don't kill me now. kill me tomorrow, please, not now. no, not now. +++ +++ +++ i'm like a KEEP OF THE GRASS sign in a park. a BEWARE DOG sign in a yard. a KEEP OUT OF REACH FROM CHILDREN bottle [brandnamedrug] &stop signs &go signs &i don't know signs DONOT OPERATE MACHINERY all loud and clear with maybe exclamation points!factorials! !!! !!! !!! !!! !!! !!! !!! !!! !!!

sometimes, i write poems in my head, change the storyline, kill the protagonist, then delete the whole tragedy sometimes, i wish i could narrate someone else's life, but nobody would hire me to write their autobiography, so i compensate by invading their nightmares, signed the Script-burning Storyteller or the Freddy Krueger of Tales They call me the Dream Bandit. The Reverie Thief.  Or Crooked Raconteur, to my close friends. I rewrite History.  Trespassing into Father Time's laboratory& reading his transcripts& hiding his documents& spraypainting fuck you fate in black cursive as if to say in your f