the hustler

a man sits alone
on a corner
his clothes once nice
have been beaten and battered
his face once young and bright
has become down cast
and full of anger
the look of a man punished
by the world
his jacket is unzipped
and his hands in his pockets
pull it open and closed
a sign of the nervousness
and paranoia
that reals within his mind
his shoes are scuffed from walking
and running
hiding and jumping
and when he takes his hand out
a small gold ring
wraps around his left ring finger
his hat is pulled low to cover his eyes
and his face though well groomed
is not quite clean shaven
his wife is at home
watching their child
waiting nervously for his safe return
the man rarely smiles untill a stranger approaches
and with them the prospect
of food on the table
then his smile lights up their world
as he does what he does
the only thing he knows how to do

tookie

as hes led to the chair
his head is held high
an air of difiance filled the audience
as he was led to his chair
the last time his legs would fold
and gently lower his body
to sit
so many years hed lived
scared with memorys
of past sins
and lost chances
he did not smile
but stared coldly at those gathered
to watch his final moments
no family no friends
just witness to this crime
this murder
of a man no matter how guilty
how innocent
this murder of a man
the needle did not slide smoothly into his skin
but was wresteled into him
slowly and aganozingly over 15 minutes
till it was in and slowly
the toxic fluid filled his viens
he died proud
sad
and incomplete
not the man he used to be
but slowly becoming
the man he could have been

breathe

i breathe me breath against the mirror
and as i watch intently it slowly dissapears
and with the reatreat of my moist breath
the face i see is all thats left
a sad depressed dejected grin
hiding joyously something within
and in a second the grin dissappears
and i see a mirror covered in tears
i wipe them clean and breath again
when i look back i see a friend
a friend of fog that shrouds my face
that my face will soon replace
and when my face comes back again
its slowly become a mix of sin
lust and desire mixed in my eyes
while i eye my lips uttering lies
i breath a gain to hide my lips
but draw a line with my finger tips
through the moisture i see a gaze
and i become enamoured as if for days
a gaze that tells me what im missing
and every time ive lied theyve been listening
watching my eyes for signs of deception
and seeing in them lost introspection
i breathe on the mirror once more and walk away
quite a start to another day

why i write

to place my words
in immortal time
to change someones world
with a lonely line
the place my thoughts
where i can see em
so when im lost
i can breathe in
for the echoing sound
of words in my mind
cause im looking around
for what i can find
to understand better
one lonely soul
for though theres many letters
its the one i need to know
cause the words i write
demand do be writtin
cause if you knew my plight
youd also be a victim
for people that read them
to understand another
and those that believe them
and let theyre minds go aflutter
i write cause i have to
im left with no choice
my minds in a vacuum
so this becomes my voice

my own stan(d)

i read your poems
i think they're really good
but i think as an author
your slightly misunderstood
i dont know what it is
i cant quite place my finger
some arnt so memorable
but some tend to linger
i really like the ones
about the girl and they guy
its to bad for you it went sour
the relationship didnt survive
some that i read though
make no sense at all
i suppose in the end
thats what youd call
abstract imagry
the escape of the mind
but you should stay focused
and youll be doin just fine
some of the new ones though man
are really sad and depressed
though i still love to read em
a man and his misery left me very impressed
but still maybe you
should take some time to explain
where all these poems come from
why they're in your brain
i think people become alienated
when they dont understand
the words that your writing
and how they are planned
why they are penned
the way that they are
and what is the purpose
behind the bizarre
but anyways i just wrote this
to say ill keep reading
it seems like your writing
may be the reason your breating