.letter.to.an.addict.

Letter to an addict.

you are not who you say you are. you are not who you used to be. When did it become about being a thief, living for the next high and mixing this with that? when did it become about being sneaky and constantly trying to pull the wool over somebody..anybody.. EVERYBODY's eyes? when did you stop being unique and become another sheep? living for the next high...or should i say dying? became someone who just wants to fit in and makes the wrong choices. becoming someone that no one trusts and everyone watches every move. you became someone who thinks they are one step ahead of everyone and smarter than everyone. you became someone who plays mind games. someone i've lost sleep over. you've became someone i can no longer care about because you don't care about yourself. am i judging you? no. do i still love you? yes. am i over this monster you have become? absolutely. if you choose to make drugs your life, trickery and fuckery what you are about, leave me the hell out. there are other ways to handle pain. i dont hate you. i feel sorry for you and i hope that one day you will be able to come from underneath the cloud that is addiction. i hope that one day your pains hurt you less and you can move on from your excuses. i hope that you will one day be able to reclaim the life that is rightfully yours and stop being controlled by a substance. i pray that you are given the time before it's too late and you are gone. before you slip between life's fingers. before you are six feet under and just a memory. i'll pray for you but i'm done losing sleep for you.

xx- to every addict in my life and in your life too.

peace and love.

.bare.necessities.

.Bare necessities.

Mama never had a surplus.
Was just bare necessities.

Daddy only ever took the bus.
Subpar was the best indeed.

Used to fight just to eat.
Infested mattress and dirty sheets.

Lots of yelling and daddy hit her hard..
Our lights are out but mama she sees stars.

Then we gone.
With just the clothes we had on.

Was just bare necessities.
Mama ain't have surplus.

(Not my truth but somebody's.)

butterypoetry2017

Hempy Hashmas

Hempy Hashmas

T'was the dab before Hashmas and all through the house, not a stoner was burning not even a half ounce. 

Those tokers were burned out all snug in their beds, while visions of doja nugs danced 'round with dreadheads.

 Then out near the bong, there arose such a clatter. I sprang from my bed to see a glob of clear shatter!!!

It was Dank Skunkius with his little stash of baked hash, his fatty joint that shook when he laughed droppin remainders of hash ash.

 He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work and filled all the bongs. Reloading Wacky tabacky, wax pens, dabs all the night long. 

The ganja leaves were all smoking by the bongchimney with care, in hopes that each stoner would hotbox and get lifted straight up in the air.

Then replacing dead Bics and rolling up fresh wax and kiefer dipped joints, he twisted up his fat stash sack of stoner cool points. 

And I heard him exclaim as he toked and pulled the Cannabus out of sight, "HEMPY Hashmas to all and to all a good flight!!!"

Butterypoetry2016

.this.will.be.televised.

.this.will.be.televised.

You're surprised that the media is full of deception and lies??

We been told you this revolution would NOT be televised, we been told you this revolution would NOT be televised. 

On Thanksgiving week, while you were enjoying turkeys and pies, Natives were still being shot with water cannons and grenades for protecting where something sacred resides...

You missed that though right? We been told you this revolution would NOT be televised. 

America's new 'Massa' liked his boys white, arms raised and all cloaked cept their eyes...

No big surprise there but we BEEN TOLD you this revolution would not be televised. 

Everyone's got smart phones but too dumb to see the repeated history.

Twerkin for likes, dog filters, no career but stay switchin Peruvian bundles.. it's a mystery. 

Even when we try to televised it, it's dismissed, acquitted or altered. Cost of a colored life? Depends on how much the judge was paid to faulter.

Keep your eyes on the prize. Don't believe the lies. Whatever they do.. they WON'T stop this revolution from becoming televised. 

-butterypoetry2016

.folding me.

.folding me.

 

While holding me,
You start folding me...

 

Take one long, lanky arm
And pull me close to you.

       

Fold me into you.

I'm surrounded by your warm embrace.

 You envelope me.

                  

As if I was an important letter,
Waiting for the postman to come.

       

This hold makes me feel
Extremely delicious.

     

When you kiss me here
then there and everywhere...

 

Nothing else in this world,          

 seems to compare

 

I'm rubbing your back and you are rubbing our feet together.

 

It's a very special kind of closeness
That we share with one another.

 

Nothing compares
To how I feel when I'm there.

 

Folded, sealed with a kiss and enveloped.
From head to toe.

 

Gently caressed.

The feeling is the best.

 

My head, your chest.

 I've just about released all my stress

.

When you fold me, you're the very best.

  I can attest, way better than the rest.

 

As the lights dim in this place,
Please never release me from your embrace.

 

Fold me, hold me, control me and as we embrace, let's lie here and "just be".

©Butteryevil 2014

 

.red.

.red.

.red.

hot

sexy

boiling pot

scarlet letter

sultry

spicy

fiery

saucy

tantalizing piece of...

red velvet cake 

she moves and shakes it.

shake it don't break it..

cuz ya mama and daddy made it.

shakes it like a red nose pit bull. 

red puckered lips, 

leave tender luscious lip prints

on your red hot heart. 

embrace what makes your heart race.

hot to the touch

can't get enough ..

the sex pot. 

third degree burns cuz she's hot.

red lips blow kisses to the wind,

because that's all she's got.

she leaves you in a fiery burning knot.

little miss red hot sultry fire sexpot. 

©butteryevil2014

.solitude.

Solitude

Just because someone chooses to be in solitude..

Chooses to be alone..

Chooses to be their own company...

That doesn't make them lonely.

Maybe they're meditating. 

Maybe they're praying.

Maybe they like themselves as their own company. 

Maybe they're sorting through their thoughts. 

Maybe they're choosing to have no distractions.

Maybe the company they want to keep is thousands of miles out of reach.

Maybe they're figuring out how to cure the currently incurable diseases. 

They don't necessarily NEED your pity nor attention. 

They're probably enjoying life.

They're probably just fine.

Maybe they're just sitting on the dock of the bay..

Watching life's tides roll away.

Maybe...They're actually really happy.

Maybe..just maybe.

There's nothing wrong with solitude.

©Butteryevil 2014