Tuesday, April 24, 2012

ˈkrɒsɪŋ




I transcend from vatican 
To a place where snow caves in 
Ain't no sunshine around my town 
Just cold souls bucking like horses 
Giving birth to the devil 
Words appear in midair 
Light as a whisper 
Women lay on their backs 
And get dirt in their hair 
Men drive their fancy cars 
And carry their diamond 
Studded bitches around 
The necks of the devils 
The necks of themselves 
Peace from the east 
Gets murdered in the west 
The slain bodies 
Cover potholes while
Water bugs lay & rest 


Maggots nest on the rotten flesh 
Giving fresh eggs of forbidden death 


Flies swarm the young 
Hardly talking 
Hardly walking 
Amongst these filthy humans 
Out came the flies
They ate on shit left 
By bitches & praise 
Well smitten 
Like vampires 
The biting 
Were once 
Never bitten 






©2012 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.  

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Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Ungodly Act I

"The death in which we believe 
is the god in which we don't..." -


The uneasy feeling 
The breaths you take 
The thoughts you think 
When no one is looking 
But always around 
Like hide n' go seek 
To a child 


The fast of 
Water/syrup/cayenne pepper
The rotting teeth 
The aesthetics of a queen 
That cost too much 
Melancholy in your pocket 
Like that face down penny 
You picked up because 
You're not superstitious
But still hoping for luck


Amiss is the mindset
That dares to relish 
In fat ass complements 
Thus drugstore laxatives 
Are the substitute for 
Anal sex



©2012 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.



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Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Hands



You brush your hair in the evenings
Humid curls with every stroke 
As if moist fingers tousled your locks 
You say it's the damp heat 
In our room 
So I turn on the AC 
And enjoy this sky blue fiddle 
She walks to the kitchen counter 
Her robe half open 
He admires a peek of her breast 
As she goes on about her business 
Yet shudders at the depths of life 
And death 
Between her legs 
If I would've surrendered 
Like a civilian told to throw 
The white flag 
In the trenches 
My reward would proudly 
Be a house 
With too many bathrooms
And a bed that's just 
For me 
To sleep




©2012 Anthony Desmond Scott. All Rights Reserved.   

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