mylethia70's profile

Sunday, August 03, 2008 coffee Category: Writing and Poetry so i laid down my pistols and sold the last of my personal stash. taking my last hit i smashed my stem on the hallway floor, ringing the bell desperately to the lockdown ward of a six month rehab, i took the first step back to the world of the living...... my mother had died and son was in the hands of strangers. i lit a cigarette with trembling hands and someone handed me my first cup of COFFEE! the rush was fantastic. syrup sweet a...

they call him Prophet! Category: Writing and Poetry he's got looks. words on the books. more talent than a room full of crooks. and now watch him spread his wings. the man has a voice with which to sing. it's too much, it's not fair. notes are swimming in the air. i can't watch i'm all thru, guess i'll leave the rest to you. {pick up the rap and pass it} Currently listening : Ascenseur Pour L'Echafaud (Lift To The Scaffold): Original Soundtrack By Miles Davis Release date: 1990-10-25

in the room next to mine was lady who peeled her skin with her finger nail until she bled. those were her bad days. you never saw them coming. not like me scribbling and painting thru half a ream of paper in one sleepless night. she was quiet almost serene as she lay there slowly coloring the sheets beneath her. i always promised not to tell so she would not get sent to restraints. instead i paced the hall, chainlighting Kools and chewing on my hair. they never had to ask. all they had to do...

I was given the best life money could buy as a child, always with the added “you gonna amount to nothing, none of them have and you ain’t no different.’’ I left home early with a vengeance to prove them right on all counts. My constant companion was my growing collection of black and white scholastic notebooks. Written in purple ink, pencil and crayon, scribbled on any scrap available and taped into it were the cries and smiles of my life. Then I had a son and suddenly I had to use all these ...

Mood: irate Music: last dance for mary jane/ tom petty welcome to the Whore of Babylon. what you are smelling is fire and brimstone. that crackalation is the disintegration of our souls and the lives of those around us. Come feed from the teat of the sow. Come suckle at our own destruction. What will not crack will surely 'tweak' for the Bitch is cunning while satan only sulked and lied. You will work hard to feed the big machine, placating those blind and misused. And when the asters are gon...