You’re Never Too Young To Have Enemies

At the tender age of 12

I saw your freckled face

Your soft, brown eyes

Your intense gaze

You’re too young to have enemies

I wanted to run my fingers

Through your short, spiked hair

“Really, I had a mom who abandoned me

My dad was never there

My classmates stared at me like

I had two heads”

I look back at that man

“Sensei, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead! oladimeji-odunsi-558609-unsplash


The Unpopular Voice

I am not liked, because I speak up

Indeed we’re afraid to “rock the boat”

Do you know when enough is enough?

Obsessive resentment sure gets old

Eventually it gets worse, how long will you be stuck?

You can’t always do what you’re told

Ugly as it is, take a stand, be tough

Your enemies will keep you down if you don’t

Resist the urge to be silent, speak up!

Taste your enemies fear as they gloat

Evil will desist with some luck

Lean on me as I stand on my own women-in-black


Playing With Fire

It’s a joke to scare me

Shout out the window, and make me jump

Today, you’ll learn it’s not funny

You must be really dumb

Understand I have PTSD

Destruction, and violence is your idea of fun?

Now you know why I cussed you down the street

Would you like to see me attack, or give up?

Decide, for your safety, my sanity you’ll want me to keep

Eventually my sailor’s mouth got you stunned

Young punk who cares nothing about my feelings

Going to trigger PTSD’s loaded gun! mad-man

Family Curse

She was born cold, and dead

Evil comes in many forms

Love she’d never receive, nor comprehend

Enraged, and in fear she’d gone through many storms

Dark clouds are her only friends

Knowing not why gnats follow her in swarms

Going forth, there’s nobody she can connect

Grudge-holding, bitter, and war-torn

Even her sanity she doubts, it’s a safe bet

Never willing to conform

Rejection has a profound affect

Reclusive is her norm



Duer Court Part 4: The Mayor

“Hello handsome!” a heavy-set man on a walker, with an obnoxious little mustache, said. “I’m Steve Stanley. I’m your upstairs neighbor. Want to come over?

Gary rolled his eyes. He glanced at the pile of paperwork on his desk. “Sure, why not.”

His neighbor was a packrat. His apartment was piled up with junk from floor to ceiling.

Gary found himself wedged between the kitchen wall, and a pile of trash. His bald head glistened with sweat. “Shit!” Before he could call out for help, Steve approached him.

“There you are,” Steve said, “I’ve got you!”

Gary felt himself lurch forward as Steve grabbed his ass.

“Howdy! Are you in the mood to do some shopping?” Steve winked at Gary.

“Not today.

“Sir, might I recommend that you go to the store with your neighbor. It would be good publicity for you.

Gary felt his blood pressure rise. “Fine! Then you’re coming with me butler!”

Gary’s face turned red as he followed Steve into the porn store. He tried to duck in between the aisles as the butler approached.

“Sir, might I recommend this one?” the butler said, as he held up a gigantic, misshapen, green dildo.

A couple weeks later, Duer Court burst into flames, as the water heater exploded, and shot through the ceiling.

“Guess I should have fixed that,” Mr. Studman, the slummy landlord said as he drove by. ramy-kabalan-467883-unsplash




Duer Court Part 3: The Senator

“Sir,” the butler said, as he handed the senator a towel, “Your meeting is in an hour.”

“You think I don’t know that!” Butch Holloway shouted, as he kicked the porcelain tub. He yanked the knobs on the faucet. He slammed his fist into the mirror, as he watched the water drip from the faucet. “I’ve been waiting 45 minutes for the tub to fill up, and I’ve barely got two inches of water! What the fuck?!”

“Sir, I suggest you hurry up,” the butler handed Butch a charcoal grey suit, and a red tie. “Might I suggest you wear this.”

“I don’t give a fuck what I wear!” Butch shouted, as he wiped his bloody hands on the suit. He hurled it back at the butler. “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? Jerking off? The plumbing doesn’t work for shit around here!”

He slicked his hair back with hair gel, and combed his tiny mustache, that he grew to divert attention from his double-chin. Then he sprayed himself with cologne several times.

As he marched across the living room, the downstairs neighbor shouted through the vent. “Don’t walk so heavy you fat fuck! It sounds like you’re dropping bowling balls!”

Butch stormed out the door, and stomped down the steps as loudly as he could.

“Sir, I hardly think I’m qualified to fix the plumbing,” the butler said.

Butch threw the toolbox into the butler’s lap. “Just fix it! I’m not paying some fat guy with a grinning asscrack to fix my plumbing.”

The butler swung the sledgehammer into the bathroom wall, and a sandwich bag full of cocaine fell out.

Butch grabbed the sledgehammer, and busted holes in the kitchen, living room, and bedroom. He found more bags of cocaine, and even some weed. “Maybe this place isn’t so bad!”

The smell of urine drifted through the vents. The downstairs neighbor was a one-legged drug addict, who only bathed when he had enough money to hire a prostitute. The upstairs apartment smelled like a nursing home, but Mr. Holloway was too stoned to notice. ramy-kabalan-467883-unsplash

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