Welcome to tonight’s show

Allow me to introduce myself.

I go by many names


Some of which, you may know
But those do not need to be mentioned
a howl, a moan, a scream, a summoning
Let’s keep this interesting.


This is the midnight calling
This is the raven cawing

This is the shadow lurking
And the jackals slurping

The demons wailing
While Charon is sailing,

The Acheron
The river
The first

The Eternal song
Of dripping livers
and Thirst

Stop

This is all confusing
And amusing
To some
And many
But to me it is painful

Demeaning
Putrid
Repugnant
Detrimental
Disturbing

And

­A subjective simmer of passivity
A pious dose of sheer calamity

Once upon a time

In a land past the desert
Was a neon capped city
Devoid of hope

And shaped by
Casual nihilism

And too much money

A powerful portrait in all its brevity
The display of sweltering people melting against the asphalt
The mucous sunscreen and coarse sand between the toes

And crooked nails
And bleached hair
And coffee stained teeth
And pink nails
And Gucci purses
And Versace dresses
Shutter Shades
Corvettes
$5 lap dances

And promiscuous preteen slaves
To MTV
VH1
Pop sensations
Internet ****
Social networks
Smart phones
Model rock stars
Models
Interviews
Auditions
Mundane seductively
For him
Or she
The nepotistic aficionado

of  

Delicious, robust, superb, disdain  
*******: Nose Candy
******: Snake venom
After Parties: ******* adrenaline
***** Film tryouts: Garage studio
LSD: Acid
Plastic: Lips, skins, *******.
24/7
Hits of E
X-T-C

and

Do you have change for a hundred?
Or a change for a life?

Cites in Dust
Thank Siouxsie and the Banshees; A carnival.

Shout
Tears for Fears, they’re Head over Heels

Love will Tear Us apart
From Joy Division, who claims she’s lost control

Los Angeles
“X”
Exene and Billy Zoom’s Wild Gift.

The perpetual rise of sunset rockers and Neon knights.
Teens crawling through the muck of socialites and incubator nightmares
Civil borders wired by racial slurs and salivating bigotry
Water replaced by blood
Spit interchanged for souls
And fire traded for icy methamphetamine

Warriors and survivors

Poets and dreamers

Shooters and inhalers

Geeks and groupies

Burnouts and Dropouts

Sweet dreams are made of this



Such a show, such a show! Bravo Bravo! Thank you, thanks to all I have time to thank: Martin Sheen, Julius Ceasar, Fender Guitars, Randy Marsh, elbow pads, Chuck Berry, Al Green, X, Joy Division, Tears for Fears, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Less than Zero, Alucard, Humphrey Bogart, Grace Kelly, Daryl Dixon, George Harrison, Brad Pitt, Rooney Mara (Love you), Belstaff, Emma Watson (Love you too), Laure Heriard Dubreuil, Manolo Blahnik, Hannah Murray and Michele Abeles.

So many to mention, so little time. We’ll be back.

I never been on

Verses & Flow or Poetry Slam

don't get me wrong

I'd love to be

but me sharing like that on "mic"

scares the ******* life outta me

yet I admit

I want to in fact would love it

But right now-

I can only tell you how I feel
&
this is how I let **** out

express me&sometimes; let you in

so this is a poem I've made about this dude.

A dude whose comforting and new

a dude whose lenient

and beautiful inward & outward.

He talks to me of so many thing

and he has a mind that speak more

volume then money....

I've been know to deal with them  baller's

those who'd spend on me-

the moment I call em.

He's gentle and kind,

mindful of me & my needs

even

funny even at times

when he's joking round with me.

He lights my way and makes me see

not of everything physical,or ****** either

but of inspiring dreams

for me to do better

than what I've been told I could barely achieve

from listening to past assaults

and dead weighted-ended relationships...

To opening the ******* door

& letting me just be ME....

My hair weaves

he complimented

and my braiding techniques too

from my beautiful big lips

plus this luscious **** hours glass phat *** shape

he says baby your amazing

then kisses my forehead

like Taye Diggs did in both The Best Man movies.

When he touched my breast- not in a ****** way

I felt finally safe-

cuz I asked did you feel the lump there

he kisses me on my cheek

tells me it's ok even if my hair falls out

and all my weaves went away,

he's seen me without em,

seen me with out makeup too.

No need to worry since there isn't even a lump,

so he says & I smile widely.

but if it was I'd still be the most beautiful

this he promises me

and looks me right in my eyes.

This dude says he watched me sleep

sometimes until the early morn

and looked at me like I've never

looked at myself.

Mind you I know I'm fine

but barely was I ever able to know my wealth,

to even ******* know myself worth

or who I really was.

Sadly so beautiful but yet I'm so tainted & insecure

He's seen this about me long ago

yet I thought before him-

that love had to hurt

that the pain I've caused me-

from dealing with other types of "love"

from dudes due their share was somehow real

Other dude's who'd spend

and who'd **** me deep & put my *** to sleep

was what love meant

this "love" I was so used to-

was pose to be fist knocking back my head

eyes black in their sockets,

clothes ripped off

and me being slammed to the ground ******

and left bleeding

Left, deserted, abandon

and me sore bruised-

from ever part of me

cops coming once a month

or when he ****** his boss & I went the *******.

Or love was him- telling ole girl in Chi Town

how much he couldn't live with out her

while sitting on the toilet in my house-

in my bathroom after ******* me

and calling it making love.

Or love was pose to be in my head

when he let his cousin get away with ****** me-

yet I was the who got her *** beat.

I thought from

the age of 6

that I was pose to lay there

just spread wide for you

and let you use me

pinch

poke and rule me!

I didn't know this kind of man

so every time dude came around-

I'd chase him away.

telling him

NAW man I don't date white boi

(that's slang for boy)

but
I've dated the Italian and he liked them easy women

the ones he could change and manipulate

I've dated the Natives born of this "America" land

he showed me what my mother tried to hide-

like a drunkard father beating her at night

this was the Native

who wasn't taught how to eve3r be a man

Then there was Paul-

a mixed up race/breed Native too-

Apache yet Mexican and yet American

in New Mexico they're called Chicano's

so guess that what the **** he was

he had the short man complex

and couldn't bother to talk

he thought *** would be pleasurable

but sadly for me & him

his baby toddler *****

just didn't do the trick.

So hurting worded voices loudly spoke

caused me abuse,

I guess it's still my fault-

I allowed them to hurt me.

The smooth talker,

Casanova,

The Ballers,

The players with the nice whips

(That means cars y'all)

The man who could **** out my mind & my brains

get my ***** wet before he even got to my house

The Mr. Fix it-

whose good at fixing ****

but not for being committed

cuz his check wasn't enough to even put a dent in my rent

and his habit of scathing his *****

and calling me ***** just didn't work.

So these are them type motha fuckas

I'm used to-

like ole boy

who'd carry my books

and help me with all my assignments in college

for a peek yet talk and brag about the *** he hadn't ever hit

not me but that's the story he told

lying since his reputation depended on it.

Sorry but this was my thinking this was how it went

& how it was meant or pose to be

yet
the Egyptian had it best

on top of all these dudes.

His was the ultimate

because his lies where centered

by half truths

which I know

know were more lies

than his word sworn on a Qur'an,

he'd **** his best friends wife

then beat me into submission,

**** me- buy me....

BUY Me,

Bought me

like a slave from way back when

buy me

love me

then buy me some mo

He'd buy all kinds of **** to keep me claiming for me

houses, cars, jewelry,

and name brand items- I'd have a black eye,

ribs smashed to pieces,

but **** I looked real cute

limping round  in my new **** from

Sax 5th Avenue, Dolce & Gabbana, Prada & Versace.

**** name it & I maybe already had it

this is the same man who saved me from

being ***** by my foster father,

yet he became like the foster father

he saved me from

seemingly

after we've became husband & wife...

So when dude comes calling

I hold back built higher walls,

push him away,

fight and get in his face,

waiting for the monster to come out

waiting for him

to slam me to the floor or ground

I never believe a word he says

always looking for a reason or excuse

calling him lair and fake

telling him to ******* & go away

never really given him a

chance for him to be my man.

I be mean and I make him wait

but he says I know your pain

and together we can make it

just let's take it day by day.

He kisses me lightly,

caresses me tenderly

massages me to sleep

listen to my every word

and gives great advise,

has been a friend and part of the family

he has opened me

to expressing his own

pains trails & tribulations

never judgmental or abrasive

not even abusive

not even a little bit.

But
my ****** up mind is so scared

so afraid and ****** I'm worried

.

Honestly my hearts succumbed to his un-willful ways

but I can't fathom

once more being hurt

and I don't know if I even want to

yet I think I do.

So tell me help me please

explain

give advise and tell me

how do I say no when for many months now

he's been making me the center of

His Universe?!

Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright ©
Ayeshah
K.C.L.N 1977 - Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved ®

NoMakeUp

Chic lookin' like death,
with her dyed platinum blond hair,
her fake silicone **** and all that make up,
over dressed like Halloween **** girl I'm scared,

the less you wear,
the less impressed I am,
you get dressed up just to get messed up,
smoke a cigarette then get your teeth whitened,

you get done up glam,
just to get run up in,

when,
in the world was it ever okay,
to,
disrespect yourself that way?

Getting fckt by strangers,
without getting money or commitments,
that means you're like a *******,
a ******* that's not even good at business,

you're a despicable disgrace,
to the entire female race,
you wear all that cover-up,
because you've got Krocodil face,
that's Krocodil with a 'K',
better get it straight,
the kind from Russia,
that will eat your face,

eat your whole face off,
face it,
the facts are basic,
real women look way better without any fake make-up.

The only reason you need it,
is because you don't see this,

plus you fill your stomach,
with fast food *****,
you're going down in flames,
what was your name Halley Comet?

Saving money on food,
so you can buy cosmetics,
maybe if you changed your diet,
you wouldn't need cosmetics,

there's nothing romantic,
about cosmetics,
cosmetics cause cancer,
don't you get it?

More vegetables,
less processed cheese,
and your face won't look,
like it's got a disease,

please,

remember these words,

real women look better without any make-up,

without all those name brands we're all naked,

believe whatever  you want to,
but these words will still be true...

So stop dying,
your hair to death,
and trying,
to get the guys to stare at your breast,

you are,
so much more beautiful naturally,
and if you,
go natural well actually,
you might find,
a man who loves your mind,
a man that truly loves you,
for who you are inside.

and I promise this,
in all honestness,

no man will ever fall in love,
with a woman because of the size of her breast,
or the color of her hair,
or the brand of her dress,
no real man will ever really care,
whether your outfit is Versace or Guess,

because good men care about the real you,
not fake fashion brand names,
you are not a cow nor are you cattle,
so why would you want a label branding?

And I promise this,
in all honestness,
that this is,
honest honestness.

Real men fall in love with real women,
because of who they really are,
not who they pretend to be,
real men fall in love with real women,
because they love her soul's avatar,
and her divine femininity…

So let your hair grow,
back out to it's natural color,
if you honestly want,
to find a natural lover,

and save your self,
for those special lovers,
that are truly deserving,
of all of your natural wonders,

leave the fake hair,
for the fakers,
leave the toners,
for the loners,
leave the make up and fake dyes,
for the hookers and transvestites,

you,
are beautiful,
without,
the manicured cuticles,

you are beautiful,
just the way you naturally are,
there's no need to alter yourself,
with some silicone and scars.

Just be beautiful Beautiful,
there is no need to pretend,
and leave the makeup and fake body parts,
for the trannies and mannequins... ∆

Facebook makes me want to *****
Spew chunks of fake houses
perfect spouses
So many poses
perfect smiles and staircases
tout it.
Adorn rose-colored glasses
as you watch the egregious *****
boast champagne in their glasses
as they fool masses.
What does it matter the square footage
if you can’t teach your children how to solve problems?
Or start movements?
Or have values?
I’d rather wear hand-me-downs and have roots
than don Versace and walk in rich boots.
When the day ends, as you are lounging in your satin linens
do you ask yourself how you grew today?
How you moved today?
How you flew today?
Well I am…

So get out of my way.

I'm an open book with the tendency to get mistook and overlooked now more than ever cause the binding and the cover are extraordinarily ordinary
The frail, mousey lead character labeled fragilé and plagued with insecurity lacks any measurable or substantial substance, no originality, even the unremarkably troubled back story is unapologetically void of creativity
Absolutely zero structure to the flimsy plot lines leaving the majority unfinished and frustratingly empty, holes in the Swiss cheese history are aplenty, no matter the number it's always one too many, never held any water to begin with but regardless they surface constantly, scattered with no purpose throughout condemned property
The gaps in the sketchy timeline and the untimely flashbacks make it extremely difficult to follow, subsequently leaving the reader feeling uneasy, maybe even queasy
Couple that with the fact that the blood, sweat and tears that poor from me onto every page render every letter a blurry mystery
Ink rapidly bleeding beyond any point of legibility so I scurry into obscurity like the first bit of graffiti to hit the walls of a lost city
Or unlit cave dwelling residency that sheltered the beginnings of humanity, I don't say that metaphorically, this is all factually documented as actually happenin' to me
Completely being brushed over, over and over, leaves little to no room for closure, how could it be there is no retail value either even though I'm the soul owner of the one and only lonely copy
I must confess that honestly it's in rough shape visually, no secrecy, anyone and everyone can easily see, so it's insincerely looked over briefly with contempt and downgraded accordingly but unfairly
While momentarily left in dormancy to see if the monetary value to society rises any or will it be one to continually trend downwardly, accepting mortality
At this point breathing is just a formality, I know tomorrows not a guarantee so I scribble away feverishly, going at it tirelessly, throwing words around recklessly
Pointless? Quite possibly. Meaningless? Most definitely. Worthless? Well, how could it not be? I'd quickly place a bet on all three being casually mentioned in the book review, or what some of you might call my obituary
It could be and seems most likely to me to be revealed that it belongs in it's own category or at the very least a separate offshoot subcategory
OR, or, it could be disrespectfully decided to never even ever let it be represented digitally or physically in any online or city library across the entirety of this comically hypersensitive and ridiculously touchy country
They be watching over me shoulder every day as I dot every i perfectly and diligently cross every t, proofreading religiously so they take me seriously and can't use it against me
It's limited edition but surely nothin' special, hopefully still worthy of somethin', but here in reality it's realistically nothin' more than knockoff Gucci or black market Versace
Sounds fishy, I know, but what else could it possibly be when I have the answer key, it's literally my story, I not only wrote but lived every word you see and it still doesn't even hold any significance or importance to me
Every chapter awkwardly forced upon me, it'll clearly end horribly but I'm no visionary, not even close actually, would never catch me even trying or claiming to be
I just precisely record the facts on the spot as they happened to me no matter how bizarrely scary some happen to be, it's important to me that you see what I see
See, you'll see the cruelty in the issue that taunts me as it haunts me. The hot seat question then becomes can you possibly understand the conundrum that is me or even slightly comprehend my cursed duality?
A comedy turned tragedy then unfortunately forced to take the back seat immediately as people barbaricly laugh mockingly at said tragedy, the jokes on me apparently and I've never found it to be very funny
Notice that it both plagues my future and tarnished my history and I'm presently left with presumably only a falsely and improperly placed memory of happy
Remembered as nothing but the worst of me, my eulogy will most certainly read like a roast minus any dose of comedy
If you choose to take this journey and walk the path along side me you're more than likely to come to the same conclusion as me that the powers to be are stingy with the good karma while the bad energy is unnaturally loaded on all *****-nilly in spite of me with little concern for safety
OSHA be ****** apparently, all it takes is the thought of me being a presence in the vicinity of you and your family to make you question both your safety and my sanity at any given moment, occasionally I'll switch it up randomly to avoid the monotony
A painfully pitiful joke that seemingly seems to be getting worse optically, a ****** B movie parody of Steven Kings Misery, all pain, no joy, no money, I mean no interest, I mean no possibility of a remedy
A mocumentary if you will, but the pain is real still and it's going steady, a run on sentence dragged out endlessly through a raging sea of emotionally charged assault and self battery that continually thrash relentlessly all around me
The weight of my world has always been too heavy since all the way back in my infancy, flip to the first couple pages to jog your memory if need be, then take and make a mental note that today I'm pushing 40

******* that's a long time to knowingly be held in captivity,  I've already been through it and the recap still surprisingly hits me hard with a backing of PTSD

Your cross is just a fashion accessory, my cross drags in the dirt behind me and wasn't set properly, shoulders barely able support it and I couldn't transfer the load any
So I grab a penny for each eye, yet another money based payment ritual for the ferry man to finish the last chapter the best he can with mixed in commentary from the peanut gallery that'll ultimately reveal my true identity and destiny hidden in the smoke screen of my twisted personality
The one predicted by the aforementioned conflicting and confusing history, though obviously if you've been following closely at all you've seen the rate of my fall and calculated it's trajectory down to the nth degree
It has always been and will continue to be aimed directly at the fiery lake for all eternity, not much different than where I reside currently so really I'm in no hurry if its more or less going to be the same scenery
I guess if you want to be a **** about it you could probably make the argument that my life played out accordingly, regardless, I'm getting what's owed to me cause I bucked conformity and normality, spit in the face of misplaced authority
Whoa is me? Yeah no, whoa is you buddy, you should worry because the last page doesn't mean end of story necessarily, I'll live on in your thoughts as something far more scary
See, I wouldn't be able hurt you or even touch you physically but I'll guarantee to use my literacy platform to completely destroy your psyche like what was so savagely and aggressively done to me, looking back that's all I see
I've sighted every atrocity three pages from the back glossary if you ever have the need to fact check me, again, feel free but know that my story board is messy, I'm not use to entertaining company
The facts get a little bit more hazy every day and where slapped together haphazardly with no rhyme or reason to what I have too say, not a thread of continuity, and you can go on and forget about decency, that word isn't even in my dictionary
I want to take this opportunity to openly welcome anybody that can hear me to read my diary, I've made it easy and removed the lock and key, humor me and start with my autobiography
Get to know your enemy, you'll find what to use against me personally but also what I'll do to wipe you from my minds eye permanently before you grace the pages of my memory
Take this as a priority mail special delivery type promise inside a threat spread widely through a reputable distribution company
And now, since having the rare opportunity to slowly but fully get to know me just a wee better, you must know then that to doubt me is stupid risky, just facts here, no theory of relativity
May I suggest you completely drop expectations and turn each page carefully, it's not for the faint of heart obviously, don't approach this carelessly or it could consume you entirely, but that's not my responsibility
Erie from the start, so it'd be smart to get ready, it's about to get heavy, prepare yourself mentally, this is the type of gory, all guts no glory underdog revenge ****** mystery story that wouldn't even make late night cable tv
Though it'd truly be funny to slap a PG rating on the first copy just to watch them fully lose their **** and collectively scramble to get said copy pulled indefinitely
Anyway, no movie adaptation in the works, no straight to DVD release party and that's all fine by me, I ain't even angry about it really, okay, maybe I am a little grumpy but that comes with the contemporary territory
Read it, don't read it, buy it legitimately or steal a copy, it's all the same to me, everything you need to know, and some **** you wish you didn't, is right here in the typography
From living righteously to becoming a bully to getting lost in my own hypocrisy, it's all laid out lazily for every single truth seeker and neigh sayer to see
There's nothing left to say anyway so pretty please, once free from the pages, can you finally, quietly but quickly, leave and just let me be me? I'd appreciate it emencly

Alrighty, let's begin shall we.

-Chapter one-

      Our story both begins and ends in the same fashion in that neither needed to happen and the fact that they both did changed nothin', a breath of life wasted on a nobody with nothin' left to offer but what's left of the shattered dignity and pride, otherwise emptiness resides and we'll be taking a look back through pain filled eyes, recounting the rise and fall, the crippling journey and what ultimately triggered this poor man's untimely demise...

©2022