Circa 1983

I'm your pusher

I'm your pusher.....by D.L. Williams

Hi, I’m your local neighborhood dope dealer, but before you go ahead and judge me prematurely please keep in mind that you need me. They all need me, their souls cry for me, their very souls feed me. I’m not doing anything I wasn’t taught to do. Blame my environment. I just supply to feed the demand; these idiots can’t sleep until my products tight in hand. They open that package and lick their lips as they see that leathery black goodness. Some of them picked up the habit in Vietnam, like it’s what helped them through it. They need me; I’m their best friend. I tell them I love them and well…they believe me. I can tell them what to do whenever it suits me. I can make them run into any of my rival’s homes, kill them and burn their kids without losing sleep. They couldn’t do it without me, they’re afraid to live without me. That is what I call loyalty; I own their souls after all. The zombies drudge along obediently spreading my lucrative agenda to all their friends and families. Bring me more customers, and the product just keeps getting stronger. I’m a hustler I don’t care if your drug free, your going to hear my pitch or you’ll have blood all over that white Tee! I got that connect from the Middle East that gives it to me uncut. Who cares if I “fuel” terrorism? How will they sleep without me? How can they work without me? They hit that pipe all day. On their breaks, on the train, wherever the craving hits, they simply take a few hits. They let the smoke rise slowly, pouring out of their every orifice, possessing them so people around them can get that contact high. I love it really. I’m glad their cowards and cant live without me. I’m the source of all there good fortune but never their misery. I give them a promise; I keep them in love, bravery to face the world. I fix their ills whether by injection or pills, however they need it I got it. I love when they get their kids hooked early, the sooner the better. I get in that womb. Creating more soldiers for my soulless, mindless fighting force. Call me whenever you need a hit or you just cant wait; I’ll have my goons come to you. I make house calls. I go door to door with it. Early in the AM and late in the evening, I can quench your thirst. Friday, Saturday but new product arrives every Sunday. No more need to hide in the alleys, basements and abandoned buildings; I got my own houses set up now, hidden in plain sight sometimes two to a block sometimes three to a block depending on the skin tone of the neighborhood. Seems the darker you are the more you rely on me and have no worries; I’ll be your crutch. Please just don’t stand next to liquor shops I don’t like them that much; I can’t stand the competition. It makes for a complicated situation. As long as you don’t drink any of that booze were cool. I don’t like the things drunks do. Now whenever you need me, I’ll be there to take away the pain, when you have no one to blame. Call me …by my government name. BIBLE.

I like them young

I love them youngYoung by D.L.Williams

How do they expect me to for-see my love of those supple rosy red cheeks? The freshness of their characters, and the untainted outlooks of youth. How could I not want to cut them and eat them with their peers? Perhaps lowering them into the bowels and having them smeared on cold white floors. I think they were put here to make men mad at their very desires for the fresh and young. In there bountiful harvest I can even pick and choose from the ones on the news to the ones who pay dues. The selection is well along the streets of rye but if I cant have those I don't mind the italian kind. I would love if my dreams would come true and I could lay one it a tacky 70's room, on a fresh bed of green silk with a ceiling of orange there very virginity's I'd love to tarnish. Some sick people have even boiled the poor babies alive! Thats just sick, at-least I cut the heads off the little people and remove their spine. They don't feel a thing, saver me sinking my teeth into their flesh and once in a while putting salt in the wound. Who am I to judge at the end of the day? Don't you eat tomatoes in this sinister way?

The women in our lives

My stomach grumbled as I tumbled out of bed. Eye's red, still groggy, kind of wishing I was dead. Instead I gathered myself, showered as I thought of bread-with eggs, possibly a shot of johnny walker red-to go with a slice of ham of course, to guide the liquor through its course. The night prior I would be a liar if is said I didn't perspire vodka with hints of steak dressed in whoorshire, rare like desired. "God I'm tired" I thought to myself, wondering why I did that to myself. I grabbed my bills from the top of my shelf and looked for ways to waste my wealth. "What's that sound" I asked myself, something like a puppies whelp. To my surprise there were green eyes staring from under my sheets on high. I slid the sheet, to reveal the petite, with skin that told not stories. Lips smiled at me, how wild were we, I wish I could remember. When I think back, my memory does lack, it might have been last December. She walked into my life without any strife to heal the heart left knifed by my wife, divorce had run right through me. I had a feeling that with some healing I may reclaim love not thoughts of yielding. To these green eyes I owe my life and the lives of my children, for when happy days were far too stray, memories, I thought of you and me living quite beautifully. Never has anything loved me so, so freely I sit back, freedom granted to watch you come and go, like a winged angel flying out of the window. The only woman to get me to get me. Not for romance just for substance, I'm controlled, knowing that you can't ever be controlled. No leashes involved, but all the bells and whistles. I love how you love to do what you feel, freedom, almost primal, like a lion or tiger for example. Manicured nails on my skin awake me from whatever dream I was in. How insensitive I've been. Always coming home late steady forgetting our dates. Never knew I had faith, until you. I ask myself what to do to make it up to you. You look at me forgivingly then you love me again so willingly. So I kiss and caress the crown of your head,you meow and I know I'm not dead. Life goes on.

quick write

I have a good heart in my chest, all be it not the best, but it hangs heavy, made of gold, squeezing the very air from my chest. Raining on life's parade, like sour drops of acidic lemon aid. I wish for these pains I were paid, I would make the bed of woes out of designer clothes and hoes like rap video's. Lie to myself, hang my morals on platinum hangers off pinocchio's nose. I wish it weren't like it was, but was like it were, in turn yesteryear seems so distant in the distance of my rear view mirror; object may be closer than they appear. Who are you with that single tear? What have you become, child that came up escaped from love maybe lust and all of the above to a latex glove: a puddle of cum? Where will you run when shit gets thick? Grab a nick, puff it down, grab a bic, write it down, add some sound, dumb it down, run around with some clowns, find some death and lock it down, friends drop flowers, on your grave mound? I'm stuck in a raging white water river that runs in the street through wall street over beaten rocks that leave me torn and tattered bleeding on front street useless like old meat, except if you stew it. But naturally you need pressure for that, plain heat won't do, so along with the mushroom clouds of self-doubt you get the world dropped on your shoulders too, and then get told to "do you". But how, I wasn't built for this, I was made of love from above so the hate is beneath me. No matter how you treat me. Nothing like the bleeding me, looking from rooftops at swaying trees wondering why that can't be me? Still, powerful, life giving, with shade from all directions, not thinking of new homes for these old erections, just standing tall, not caring about balling, guns, or alcohol. But since stars are born from explosions and order comes from chaos I will keep the faith faintly, that maybe fortune will smile in my favor and I can chip her off a piece of this worn golden heart. But I have to get up, cause that's where it all starts.