“Lie” is a fiend for destruction —

That indistinct in the mind —

And sings truth without the instrument of facts 

And never stops —until reality becomes illegal

-Ley Samdez-

I heard the FDNY vomiting its sound

my heart starts fast punching my chest

an earthquake flowing through my entire body

a condition of uneasiness is encircling me 

I am thinking of terror robbing self-discipline 

sweat of panic is trickling off my frighten face 

a shortness of oxygen did not avoid me 

anxiety is undeniably a wicked curse

I desperately am wishing to be deaf to all sirens

*

The baleful flashes made from siren 

are my bullies

I never handled the noisy harassment well 

the anxiety assaults weaken my pleasant mind 

infected my brain with a mental turmoil

for which there is no known healing 

crated my sociable strength 

implanted a fear on my outside world

feeling paranoid like a crystal meth user

*

I am engineering holes so anxiety’s blood 

could drip out of me 

I am big failure on hypnotizing self 

to abolish the overpowering fear that always corrupt my inner being

I am changing into self-abuser

to mend the fabric of my damaged brain

I am awake with counselor, therapist, and psychiatrist 

all struggling to edit phobia episode 

that was debuted by traumatic experience 

*

A decade has played its show 

I still have not been a non-afraid 

to step out of this shade 

The fear of siren is my recognized phobia 

since the day 

mother baptized her coat on lethal gasoline 

since the day 

mother put on coat 

since the day 

mother lit coat 

since the day 

mother adopted the shout of a desperate person to voice 

“Wanna burn in earth’s hell, I have ruined my fine lord!” 

since the day 

I heard just sirens while mother was getting eaten by fire

since the day 

mother got burnt to a dead corpse

_Ley Samdez_

I should have helped my brother dispose bodies after he had killed them.  I was suppose to take care of his world.  I knew harboring my fugitive brother was not good, tickets to various territories I should have suggested.  Past year, I treated his problems. This year, brother’s trouble-aches got too intense to heal.  I took more pity on dearest brother when abusive police fractured his freedom.  If prison is assigned as brother’s permanent home, heartaches will incessantly stomp on my health. 

I could not extirpate the species of paranoia and anger that invaded him.  He was an average human, but had real flair in genre of thrash metal.  In our neighborhood, he had reputation for moving as hyper and moving as antagonize.  Our mother always liked Jack Daniel’s more than us; father was not free from OTB.  Half of neighbors believe that our parents were the reason for his merciless behavior. 

Four years ago, brother’s wife had a drug overdose that presents her to death.  He could not avert being devastated and depressed regarding her eternal sleep.  Brother charged god for the dope poison that killed wife.  He began to vandalize churches and spent most time preaching his hatred for all religion.  Tirades and assaults from people inside train because of his anti-religion outlook, praise and salute from people inside show because of his opposing religion’s perspective.  Puts an enemy logo on people that disagree with his beliefs, puts a confidant logo on people that acknowledge his beliefs. 

Until death, his wife was pleading to the heaven for her to be an ex-junky.  Often her prayers descend into his ears, it access his weeping shame of being a drug consumer. Deceased wife was a nonsuccess in drug rehab; she had a bitter commitment to the dope poison.  She loathed admitting that drugs were her powerful ruler.  His deceased wife believed religion would help as she believed that drugs are satan’s great weapon.  She was dying for religion’s flames to bring heavy smoke, so the smoke could suffocate every addict’s tough craving.  My disturbed brother despises religion for refusing wife’s request to be an ex-junky. 

Brother endlessly voiced his night-dreams, religion were consistently marching into it. Brother’s dreams were composed of every brand of religion striking his wife’s casket with passionate dislike, composed of religion having a deep abhorrence for his marriage, composed of religion achieving the stabbing of brother, composed of religion hatefully slaying the mind of brother.  Brother habitually mentioned, “My fucking dreams will remodel me into David Berkowitz in the 70s.” Sadly, brother backward his love and replaced the small-letter “o” with the small-letter “i” to learn evil’s spirituality. 

Voices inside brother kept him from sleeping and in his deranged brain, he position voices into messages from wife that were ordering the destruction of religion.  He told, “Wife can’t rest-in-peace until religion tumbles into oblivion.”  Deadly when an excuse darkens a wrongdoing.  

When I told brother to delve into the psychiatric playground, he replied, “I don’t want to be lost in the graveyard of medication.”  Disarranges my mind that brother killed like a twelve-story building fall.  Before his unpleasant ruckus, I texted brother every morning my genuine love.  I dreamed that my texts would exhaust brother’s anger, run him back into a healthy lifestyle.  Unluckily, brother’s sanity still undiscovered. Each time a news categorize brother as lunatic; my infuriated soul takes over. 

Pain began getting enormous when brother lost reality, having abnormal delusions and fearing sounds that are not real.  No more was brother’s words understood; his speech began to sound disorganized.  Paranoia was ending his mind while hidden in my home, felt hard torture for not having anything to smash brother’s wicked-illness.  No detailed information about officers knowing that I been harboring my fugitive brother for three weeks.  While an officer was fixing metal-rings on brother’s wrists, brother shouted, “A person who doesn’t fear death, humiliation, failure, and punishment is truly free!” 

Brother and I were placed in separate lockup; mine had odd smell with filthy conditions. Anxiety and disgust were wrestling inside my bag of feelings, I fully desired for a fast freedom.  I recognized the voice of a junky that is brother’s friend, a hand gesture made junky come to me.  We seated ourselves on a ratty bench, and shared ratty bench with several lawbreakers that were struggling to remain awake.  Junky developed to say, “I witnessed your brother’s heartless-kill,” subsequent to the conversation we had about life’s unfairness.  I begged junky to spread out the terrible incident that involved my brother.  Junky leaked his known, “Your brother broke the church service ordinarily walk by releasing his feelings about religion. His words came out with an angry cord, stole everybody’s attention.  He interrupted the preacher’s words.  Your brother spoke about the wrongness of religion.  Every person who attended the church service that afternoon, their faces went blank when brother tugged out guns with cold-eyes. He two-bullet preacher’s forehead, then I hid under church’s bench.  I heard more loud shots, high-pitched help-shouts and terrifying screams.” 

I said, “Oh dear.”  Listening to junky speak about the time brother caused death, attached embarrassment, sadness, and confusion to my beating heart.  Junky nervously voiced, “I wanna set-free my low, can I set it free without you getting highly upset?”  The lockup had moment of muteness, soon afterward, an officer called junky’s full name. Then junky scratched his forearm and continued nervously, “I witnessed your brother’s wife overdosing.  Instead of giving her aid, I just crooked her leftover drugs and let her approach death.”

Ley Samdez

My time machine is thoroughly done

now it’s time to get back to twenty-five

and 

set change to my begun

What I hear and see at thirty-six

painful like a loved one decease 

Thirty-six me

threw the disgrace dust into my creators’ eyes

Thirty-six me

threw my creation and my lover into the maze of poverty

Tired of me

having insomnia and tears

Tired of me

viewing negativity

Tired of me

just being with fantasies and desiring motions

Tired of me

evacuating lies

So, yep!  I am stepping into my time machine 

and 

pushing life floor twenty-five

-Ley Samdez-

i am out here a thouSand miles from untroubled, 

pleading for a murderer not To swing its illness blade. 

i am seeing its living, frustrate families and energize death.

bathe in the poisonous lake of cannibalism,

the murderer feasted on livers, lungs, skins, spinals, balls, and brains. 

*

yo, yO, i witnessed one of its slaughters at an alcohol and tobacco lounge. 

Put an infection of machete inside mouth,

to slice five-inch-long muscular tube,

to quiet the vibration that brings rhythms to words, 

and to screw out the lids on windpipe.

*

hey, hello, I can disCern its sexually deviant behaviors,

i heard its racket of brutAl rapes,

habitually licking females’ breasts with its lumpy tongue,

the murderer’s horniness always decay women’s health,

habitually anal sex males to feel part of a prostate region,

the murderer fucks wrinkle men in their deathbed.  

*

hi, hi, compared to a Nuclear weapon because of people it killed.

emotionally Crippled most of the communities,

threw tragic stones and broke many homes. 

the leading cause of obliteration, 

survivors are grateful for every healthy day they collect. 

chemoradiation may badly bruise murderer, 

but is also hurtful for body and mind,

i occasionally panic when my thoughts frame it with monstrous plague. 

*

so long, farewell, evaporatE its horrendous liquid, 

dynamite the path it runs thRough, 

rip up its costume that was styled by execution,

cross out its torturous chemical that was launched,

overthrow its government,

overthrow its ruler, 

manipulate it to commit suicide

change to untrue, 

change to nonexistence,  

thieve its savage strength,

conclude its vicious personality, 

i wanna say last goodbye, 

i wanna holler forever imprisonment. 

_Ley Samdez_

High with love 

Drunk with hatred 

Tipsy with peace 

Sober with chaos

_Ley Samdez_

Your moans are my only wanted noise

A sound that licks me with liveliness to erect a love habitation

A sound that rockets me to an universe of gratification

It is a snare for entrapping my excitements

I, to be eternally entangle with your moans 

*

Your moans are melting my soul

Its heat is stimulating my indecency 

Its light is naughtying my feelings 

Its spark is arousing my manhood 

Its fire is kinking my personality

I am hoping for no silence or no deafness

*

Should bury me with its loudness

Submissive me with its dominatrix’s roar

Moans, poison me

Moans, intoxicate me 

Pornography acts, to have moan’s enthusiastic melody

To drive me through its tunnel of music 

To sexually inhale its high pitch 

*

Erases my ruin streets 

Blots out the nails’ of inhumane 

Rubs out the unpleasant encounters

Empties my earth that is outfitted with stress

Removes my obese anger 

Cancel negativity that overwhelms me 

Abandon friends that implant irritation

Disconnect lousy occupation that salute to unhappiness

All when I listen to her gorgeous moans

-Ley Samdez-

Men pay to treat her like a sex object, a five foot, two inches, innocent girl.  A sixteen-year-old with mature physical appearance got a complexion of coffee mixed with milk.  The girl keeps a naïve face to only attract sex buyers, she also is obligate to act and dress slutty.  Luckless girl stalkers are erections, males’ semen, and erotic sentences.  Any individual can purchase her inside a filthy brothel; she is regularly prepared to soften a stiff male organ.  

A supercilious pimp shifted her to me, while she was wrestling herself not to quiver.  The afterward of her relinquishing my sperm, so orgasm could electrify me, I did something dreadfully not myself, I conversed with a grieving her.  

To access her to scatter out emotions was a burden.  I imprisoned the sentence she said, “Some folks believe slavery was abolished, but I am a 21st-century definition of a slave.”  Here is a smuggled girl, away from her poverty Europe slot.  The scourges in her words knock me, “I am a modern slave that will be dead of AIDS by twenty.”  I gazed at each of her bruises, violently given to her for attempting to runaway from brothel.  She continued with extra passion, “This is an inferno; I can’t call out to the law, because senior law officials ceaselessly come to purchase girls!”  

Her bouncy road as a human that was trafficked, nervously described.  She can discern the females raped repeatedly and left dead.  By disseminating information on her family massive debt, I expected the reason for prostituting would be to fix the financial trouble on relatives’ bucket.  She told with sorrow slumping on her vocal, “My parents persuaded a casino manager to buy me, and then he sold me to a prostitute dealer.  Since, my self-esteem has been viciously beaten out; day-to-day a beast frowning appears as my image.”  She then nabs a brown cigarette, “Always, nervousness about one-day the strangling of myself with own hands will arise.  Starvation ruins me some nights, and I whistle a rescue prayer every night.”  She then illuminates the cigarette, to inhale and exhale smoke, “It is peculiar that I am in serious remorse for prostituting, when sure this life was installed by mother and father.  I daydream about me accomplishing school, having a normal teenage living.  You know?”  She then disqualifies cigarette with her fingertips, and looks dismally at my expression, “Am I a whorish female, wrecked by self-pity?”  Now, I am stimulated to wake her from a nightmare, to comfort her with peace.  

Two years of sexual shackles had overturned her spirit and cut her out of nonfictional love.  Wished to purchase her permanently, vowed that I would never let she report to the brothel.  Find the innocence that got thieved by devilish erections, and actualize a comfortable environment where she can become an optimistic female.  Rescuing she will be an ambition of mine, clear the painful bites that were produced by parents selling her.  Delete the memories that shine on sexual perversion, upload the mind state of an uncorrupt teenager.  As I approached her words, “I need someone to help.”  I grew anxious and excited about whether she would accept my helping hands, or deny it.  Her breakdown went between my arms, then convulsed in sob and shriek.  I kindly moved her out from between my arms, poured a couple of sentences to glue her with little joy.  When she politely smile, I questioned myself, “How can a girl be so beautiful?”  Her eyes made me a believer of love at first sight.  Parents are foul cowards but they are greatest artists for creating the prettiest girl. 

Just freeing she is not a well solution, it will help short-term but also is a risk of someone to kidnap or manipulate her.  I require myself to safeguard until beautiful her is tough-minded.  Yet, my sex urges are elusive to detain, hope it will not become a disturbance on getting her full recovery.  It is necessary to trap myself in celibacy, if she settles for my aid.  My heart is pumping great sympathy for her horror, outrage at me for paying to enroll in her abused vagina.  Upsets me that mainstream people really have not been responding to prostitution and sex-trafficking issues the aggressive way they should be.  

Lastly, unwrapped lips to tell how I want to depose her from torment.  I swore that caring will always take place, and neglecting never gets my support.  My highest duty will be to spray my honest love into the atmosphere so she can peacefully breathe it in.  Promised to provide safeness, assemble an enjoyable ground where she can choose whichever condition herself wish to own.  She hesitated but later concurred to entitle me as her savior.  Loving touch to her smooth chin, declaring my ideas to try make her gloriously proud.  Presented my scheme to decamp from filthy brothel, next scene was her face capturing confusion.  She began screaming in vicious and punching the rotting wall, imploring me to stop the lies.  Set about destructively wrecking the room while emptying her incoherent talk.  Immediately upon my attempt to hug, she carelessly punches my chest during her hysterical cry.  Tears soaked my shirt, when she gave in to comforting hug.  

She pushed me off and spoke sentences laced with morose, “I encountered many men speaking a liar’s language.   Swearing and promising to treat me nice, delightful, wonderful, lovely, and kindly, but they contain me to exist as their fucking sex slave, their fucking whore, their fucking servant, their fucking person to ill-treat.  I will never runaway, and I will never trust human beings.  If every person boycotted prostitution, stripping, and porn, you would not see me sad and gloomy on the sex-trafficking tree.  You are just a horny demon seeking for erotic pleasure.”  Then I intensely nabbed a chubby table lamp, furiously threw it to rotting wall.  

I screamed, “Shut up!” like a mother when son speaks disrespectfully.  Disclosed, “I am not lying about being the man to liberate you from brothel!”  I can spot the innocence occupying her attractive face, then our hands began to snuggle.  Suddenly, urges of having brutal sex and torturing her body, clutches me. Penis grows extremely stiff, making me flip her to a squeaky bed.  Moment she masked her face with hands, I whispered to myself not to accomplish an action that I will guarantee to regret.  I grabbed a glass shard from the broken table lamp, and then pull down underpants to stab repeatedly the devil’s horn that is between my legs. 

Sixteen is robbing to be noticed by thug nation

Sixteen is selling drugs for a muscular reputation

Sixteen is trying to make the best movie gangster imitation

Sixteen wanted to gang experience 

he did not want to be average clean

Sixteen posted the sticker

revealing him living in jail

Sixteen imagined himself exhausting a pistol

he wanted scars and wounds to be produce by thuggish behaviors

a Penthouse’s female model had a part on Sixteen’s sexual aspirations

he wanted to devise a plan on drug selling

Sixteen wanted to be a Jay-Z rapper

Sixteen evolved into thirty-one with regrets

thirty-one cannot grab the stress that’s running its brain

so alcoholism became his religion

Thirty-one realize hell was disguised as heaven. 

______________________________________________________

She asked

left ear and right ear

to harbor her family and allow goodness to bleed

for her children’s mind to be abducted by intellectual

for success to be with a broken spine.

She asked

left ear and right ear

to decapitate the sloth that’s bullying her hubby

to suicide his self-pity lane

to block him from using fugitive when commitment glares.

She asked

left ear and right ear

to shove her boy aside from bad deeds

to hang her boy’s heart on good deeds.

She asked

left ear and right ear

non-dealer son-in-law

non-fiend clubbing daughter

swimmers in the ocean of granddaughter’s needs

then she falls in a wonder

“Does the ears in truth exist?”

So atheism became her religion

She realize misery was disguised as happiness.

____________________________________________________

Blameless

liked the room where teaching attempts to eradicate ignorance

but the loathing of Walking home and Lunch period 

handcuff Blameless like a caught crook

Walking home punches Blameless daily

and knocks Blameless’s book

Lunch period invents hateful comments to spit on Blameless

Lunch period is a success on carrying hellish to Blameless

but on the present platform

Walking home and Lunch period

both stuck inside a casket

so prisonism became religion

Blameless realize ruination was disguised as kill.

-Ley Samdez-

Innocent until proven guilty

Freedom until proven slavery

Educated until proven ignorance

Religious until proven insanity

Lover until proven stranger 

Successful until proven a failure

Beautiful until proven frightful

Friends until proven enemies

Protector until proven violator

Living until proven dying!

-Ley Samdez-