A True American Revolutionary Patriot

If the World is destroyed in the Year of Our Lord

Two Thousand and Twelve

It will be NOT the Mayan Prophecy but more because

The Laws of the land are toxic to our health

The inherent buzz within the insanity of the vanity

Of materialistic humanity will be the real reason we kill ourselves

The American Dream is corrupted or maybe it already was

Since forever it has been based on Power and Wealth

They continue to feed us filth

And

Remain in the back ground, hidden in impenetrable stealth

While the average American just wants to watch television

And fuck a beautiful MILF

While the World continues to go down the drain

As the youth snort bath salts and quickly go insane

I guess I could refrain from giving all the blame

To these not so innocent folks

Who, without narcotics and stimulants, can never maintain

Who were bred within stupidity and wait

For the pleasurable reality of getting laid

Maybe it really is not their fault

Because this was exactly how they were raised

But the simple fact is that this does not explain

Why they refuse to ever allow change

And when confronted with the horrid truth

They are as uncouth as the vilest of America’s misbegotten youth

I have given up on Life more times than a few

Because try as I might, inside I no longer wanted to fight

But the Pen and Paper urges me always and forever to write

So I guess that is what I will do until this nonsense

Begins to sound annoyingly trite

This is the modus operandi of Mister Drew Kazinsky

It shatters my heart,

But even friends and family refuse steadily to forgive me

For these words that I write

It’s because they know that as they lay awake

In the dark hours of the night

Those same friends and family feel the real pain of the truth

And know in their secret heart that I am right

But in the brightness of a pretty spring day

They push their night terrors away

While I remain an asshole to them

Because I have done nothing with my Life

And I happen to have the balls to ask the important questions

Such as why

The American Government has betrayed and forsaken their own people

With a system that can never forgive them

Of the consummate tyranny and plain old evil

I believe it is dishonor against our Founding Fathers

To support and accept The Patriot Act

It has only gotten worse in the last ten years

Since illegally passed by an illegitimate President

Whose vices were sniffing cocaine and smoking grass

The Department of Homeland Security with their Saturation Teams

Have totally infiltrated local Police Departments

While The People refuse to react

There has been a rise in the number murders committed by the Police

While the Main Stream Mass Media have continued to slant

The news but all you have to do to learn how to stand

With the indubitable truth

 Is read about the tragic case of innocent Oscar Grant

An impeccant man murdered for no good reason

In East Oakland’s Fruitvale District

January 1, 2009

And while those ruthless animal cops detained him in custody

In front of hundreds, a shot rang out in the echoic BART Station

Suddenly Oscar Grant was deceased

Shot once allegedly and accidentally by Johannes Mehserle

It’s a vicious curse of a cruel creation

We are the humanity of a society which we have to live in

The Tyrants who have manipulated the Political system

Cannot and never will be forgiven

Every immoral act they commit only deepens

The self-made subterranean grave

That they have their whole life been diggin’

I know unambiguously what is my very near reality

The possibility that for my words

I will one day be put under arrest

But lest you forget

I would go to jail for writing what I believe

Because I am a True American Revolutionary Patriot

And I believe absolutely and completely

In both the U.S. Constitution and the Bill of Rights

Even if sometimes I think most of the Founding Fathers were hypocrites

But I believe they would support the Occupy Movement

Because they would understand that issues are confusin’

And when you have to take to the streets

In search of Justice

Most Occupiers’ rationality will sometimes leave them

I still believe the Founding Fathers would have seen them

Not as Enemies of the State but

As the indubitable protectors of American Rights and Freedoms

That is why I will ALWAYS support Occupy Oakland

And you can quote from me the above rhymes as a valid reason

What to do when the President of the United States of America

Behaves like a manifested Demon

After promising the American people change

If we believed that, it’d be like we were just an insane

Junkie suffering with a failing liver but

Still injecting heroin every day into our anterior jugular vein

We have all forgotten the Faces of our Mothers and Fathers

If we do not question and fight against

The World Monopoly Game

The Despots who really run things will continue

To Play with our lives every Night and Day

Of course, if the greedy Money-Men

Still refuse to hear what we say

Then we will fight for our Civil and Human Rights

Until they all tremble with a profligate frown upon their collective face

Terrified of the utter purity of our righteous rage

Believing in these things continues to leave me

Within a serene, pure State of Grace.

Which helps my words flow perfectly upon the page!!

Andrew N. Farrens

Drew Kazinsky                                                         A True American Revolutionary Patriot

West Stockton, California                                                                                              A.N.F.

March 03, 2012

The Morality of Safe Sex

This is stupid…….

I just finished reading this article about how a fourteen year old girl was shocked over the content in her school assigned book she was reading. “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian” was written by Sherman Alexie, who is a Native American author.  The book contains graphic descriptions of masturbation and other sexual acts. The book has been banned by several school districts and the parents of this girl are demanding the book be banned within their district.  I find many problems with this.  I dislike any book being banned, even if I do not agree with it, as banning books will eventually lead to burning books and that frightens me because it reminds me of Nazi Germany.  As anyone who has read Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451” can tell you, burning books is not a good idea and seems to strip a Soul of their compassionate humanity.  Even banning books can lead to violations of our inherent freedoms that young men and women have died overseas to protect.

The book should not be banned due to one family’s protest.  If the girl is fourteen, she likely already knows how to masturbate and it is also very possible she or one of her friends have given a guy a blow-job. Maybe she has had sex with more than one guy and her parents do not know. It may be a distasteful book but young girls grow up very quickly in today’s Society and Culture. Unless she is not allowed to listen to music, watch television, watch movies and her parents kept her locked away in isolation her whole life, then I am almost certain she has seen worse than what is written in this book. I reiterate that it is very possible she has done worse than what is described in this book. I remember being fourteen. I recount what my girlfriend Jennifer and I were doing back then and I can assure you that this book is completely P.G. rated when compared to our youthful transgressions. Some would likely consider our actions XXX and I thank The Gods everyday that I did not end up a teen-age father but I was blessed with a mother who taught me about sex education and protection early.  It is from her education and not from any schools Sex-Ed information that I managed to protect myself. I understand from kids I know that things have only gotten worse when it comes to the defilement of young women and sadly many of these sexual acts are instigated by the ignorant girls themselves.

Honestly, we as a society are responsible for the immature sexual situations children find themselves in because our sick culture seems to endorse that irresponsibility as a good thing. Of course parents are to blame but a parent cannot know what their children are up to twenty-four hours a day and even if they are the strictest parents in the World, even they must sleep. Children find ways to be bad and if two teenagers decide to have sex, it is almost impossible to stop them.  Instead of banning books because the content supposedly offends certain families’ morality, sexual education should be taught. I believe it best to teach children about sex as soon as they reach puberty. They are then old enough to understand the physical part of it and the consequences of their actions if they decide to have sexual intercourse. I also think condoms should be handed out in schools and other places where young people congregate. I understand the argument that by giving the youth information about sex and condoms at the same time is an open invitation to have sex with one another. While there may be a glimmer of ironic truth in that argument, the tragic fact is most teen-agers will have sex anyway and if they are going to do so, is it not better that they understand and have protection?  There are many young mothers out there that knew all about sex and how to do it but they had not an inkling how to go about it safely.

If the Mainstream Mass Media machine refuses to alter the content of their movies, television shows, and music, then they must also allow the message of sexual safety to reach the youth. Maybe a book such as this one is what is needed. I have not read it and have no idea if safe sexual practices were occurring in it but from what I have read in reviews, the author goes out of her way to portray a life that some would say is a definition of loose morality but is truly the sad consequences of living life as a poor minority. This book is about an American Indian girl who experiences many negative actions due to her Indian heritage. If the book reads like the way I think it does, it should not be banned because maybe more light will be put on the horrible lives that some Native Americans live, due to poverty, alcoholism, racism, and a lack of education. White people have been abusing these people for hundreds of years and even today, there are tribes who live in areas that closely resemble Third World Countries. There have been a few tribes who have been lucky; these American Indians have learned from their years of torture and have established casinos on their reservations that generate vast sums of money for their people.

That is great, wonderful news and the Mainstream Mass Media and the American Government, who of course work in tandem, would like the American Public to believe that all Indian Tribes are treated equally and sharing the profits with each other.  As nice as that sounds, it simply is not true. The Tribes do not support each other like that (please remember that there were many wars between the different tribes.) and with all the American Indian Tribes in The United States of America, there are only a few that are allowed to own and operate casinos.  The other Tribes are poor, existing on government rations and whatever work they can find. In rural America, as in the cities, employment can be very difficult to find.  My point is that American Indians, just like any American minority and the Poor, suffer in terrible conditions that are obviously alien to the folks who would like this book banned.  The book is titled “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian” and I believe the author tried to write what she considered to be true so it does not surprise me that the book has graphic detail.  The lives of the Poor and disenfranchised are not pretty at all……

http://www.wlky.com/news/30264341/detail.html?source=htv

 

.AN.F.

Drew Kazinsky

January 23, 2012

West Stockton, California

The Devil’s Night

It’s Devil’s Night

The Night before Halloween

All Hallows Eve

It’s not joy that you hear

As the little children scream

When you take in your last breath

You realize that this night is not a dream

It’s Devil’s Night

The Night before Halloween

All Hallows Eve

 

Tonight is not the night for trick or treat

This is the night for arson and fire

And when the Police arrive on the scene

Shoot the pigs in the head and leave ‘em for dead

In the middle of the street

I already know that when I die

It won’t be God but the Devil that I meet

I could be good this evening

But I live in the Darkness where it’s so hard to breathe

Knowing I once had a choice

And now it’s impossible for me to ever leave

I’m a dead man already

In Death, my Soul will never be free

Especially on Devil’s Night

The Night before Halloween

All Hallows Eve

 

It’s Devil’s Night

The Night before Halloween

All Hallows Eve

It’s not joy that you hear

As the little children scream

When you take in your last breath

You realize that this night is not a dream

It’s Devil’s Night

The Night before Halloween

All Hallows Eve

ANF

Drew Kazinsky

October 30, 2011

Stockton, Ca

10:30 P.M.

Drew Kazinsky at Scrib’d.com

This is another website that I use for my writing……….

http://www.scribd.com/drewkazinsky

 

 

We Are All Oscar Grant

On June 12, 2011, a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon, a diverse crowd of people gathered outside the Fruitvale BART station in Oakland, California to protest the release from prison of BART police officer, Johannes Mehserle, who shot Oscar Grant III January 1, 2009 at the Fruitvale BART Station.  Mehserle was released Monday at exactly 12:01 a.m. after serving eleven months of his two year sentence. The jury determined that Mehserle, 29, was guilty of involuntary manslaughter and using a firearm in the commission of a crime.  Mehserle could have faced a maximum of fourteen years in prison but in his eternal wisdom, Judge Robert Perry sentenced him to two years, which is the minimum sentence for his conviction. On the day of sentencing, Judge Perry threw out the gun enhancement charge, declaring to the jury and courtroom that he was “troubled by the jury’s findings”.

At the time of the shooting, Grant was lying on the ground of the BART station face down, with his arms behind his back and he was surrounded by at least three other officers.  The incident was captured on the video feature of many cell phone cameras. The BART police handled the situation by closing the doors of the train, moving it on to the next station, and unjustly confiscating peoples’ cell phones, so that the video could not be released to the public.  Fortunately, with the many forms of modern technology that humans now have at their disposal, it is almost impossible to hide the truth of the misdeeds of our public officials, such as our police officers, politicians, and religious personalities. The video was leaked onto YouTube and within a few hours, the video had gone “viral”.

Mehserle has insisted since the beginning that he did not intentionally shoot Oscar Grant.  He claims that he mistook his service weapon, a Glock pistol, for his X26 Taser. This is very odd because those two items are very different and it would not be easy to mistake the sleek grip of a hand-gun for the bulkier feel of a Taser. The manual for the Taser X26 reports that the weapon weighs seven ounces, while the average weight of a Glock pistol is at a minimum over twenty ounces. The really strange and therefore suspicious fact is that most police issued Glocks are a very dark color, usually midnight black, while the Taser X26 has bright yellow markings on its surface and also has a two-digit LED screen.  The difference between the two weapons is a vast chasm where Oscar Grant’s blood pooled and immediately stained Mehserle’s defense of mistaking the weapons in “the heat of the moment”.  Regardless of what was happening, Mehserle was a trained officer that should have been able to keep his wits about him in this type of situation. It is true that there were many passengers on the train at the time of the shooting, but none were on the platform. Three officers shown on the video backed him up and there is no way of knowing how many other officers were in the station at the time. Grant was face down, arms behind his back, possibly handcuffed when Mehserle “accidentally” pulled the trigger.

The injustice of the case brought protesters to the street even before the trial, conviction, and release.  Downtown Oakland erupted in chaos and anarchy the night after the shooting occurred and other violent protests took place throughout the past two years in Oakland. On Sunday, as protestors gathered at the Fruitvale BART station, almost a hundred officers watched the crowd for any signs of trouble. As the Police Helicopters flew through the air, a dozen police motorcycles readied themselves to escort the protest marchers down International Boulevard to the Frank Ogawa Plaza in downtown Oakland and the protesters blocked off the corner of Broadway and 14^th.  Many stores closed early and some even boarded their doors and windows to protect against the damage they had suffered from previous protests.  The only business open in the immediate area was Pizza Man, who did a brisk trade with the hungry protesters. At least ten unmarked units were present, along with many patrol cars.  Undercover police officers floated through the crowd at the rally, obvious with their noticeable ear pieces stuck deep within their ears.  The police expected the worst, even as the speakers and family members asked for peace and nonviolence during the march.  The rally and March did end peacefully, with only one arrest made. The people made their voice heard and demanded justice for Oscar Grant legitimately.

A family from Stockton, California also spoke to the crowd Sunday afternoon. Their son, James Rivera, Jr. was shot and killed by Stockton Police Officers Eric Azarvand, a fourteen-year department veteran; Gregory Dunn, who has been with the department for eight years and San Joaquin County Sheriff’s Deputy John T. Nesbitt, who has eleven years at the San Joaquin Sheriff’s Department. Rivera, 16, of Stockton, had already escaped from the San Joaquin County Juvenile Hall, where he was being held on felony charges. While on the run, Rivera was suspected of committing new crimes and when the Stockton Police spotted him in North Stockton driving a minivan, the police and Rivera became entangled in a high speed chase. The officers intentionally caused a collision and Rivera lost control of the van. It slammed into the garage of a residence, which the police quickly surrounded, and when the van began to reverse out of the hole in the garage, the officers opened fire into the back of the vehicle. James Rivera, Jr. was struck many times and died because the police officers said that they “feared for their lives”.  Neighbors of the house where the shooting took place claimed that the officers had an M16 assault rifle with armor piercing bullets at the scene. Stockton Police Department spokesman Pete Smith denied that armor piercing bullets were used. “There’s absolutely no validity to that,” said Smith. “An M-16 rifle was not fired at that vehicle or used at that scene.”

This incident and many more throughout the State of California has certainly brought to light the Gestapo tactics employed by the police. The Central Valley is an area where many shootings have occurred, with little or no repercussions for the officers. An organizational speaker at the protest rally was quoted as saying “they operate by being blue by day and white by night”, implying that the police sponsored and participated in violence against innocent citizens.  The family of James Rivera, Jr and the family of Oscar Grant III have both filed civil lawsuits against the police, in an effort to find Justice that has been denied to them so far.

I do believe the shooting of Oscar Grant was an accident; there was no premeditation on the part of Mehserle and I sincerely doubt that he went to work that night, New Year’s Eve, with the intention of killing a young black male, but the tragedy of this story is the immediate lies and the cover-up.  Mehserle had his pistol out because that is what officers are trained to do. I am not sure why the safety of his pistol was not engaged at the time of the shooting or even why he had his finger on the trigger because when you are pointing a gun at someone, you never touch the trigger unless you intend to use it.

An innocent person shot by the police is not new.  Despite what color you are, if you are poor or just happen to make a horrible, stupid mistake, there is constant, continuous police harassment.  A sad truth is that some, but not all, of the police are not there to help, as they claim, but rather to judge whether or not you belong in the system. Once in the system, certain aspects of your life are basically ruined. You can overcome it sometimes, but many folks climb to the top, only to slide right back down, a product of their environment.  I am white, but throughout my life, most of my friends are people of color.  I grew up in Stockton, where the police are notorious for shooting first and asking questions later.  I have witnessed horrible things the police have done to my friends. An old roommate of mine in West Oakland was once pulled over at a liquor store and he exited out of his car before he realized the police were there.  A woman police officer ran over to him with her gun pointed at him, screaming that he needed to get back in his car or she would shoot him.  She then dragged him out of his car, pulled down his pants and boxers in the middle of rush hour traffic on College Avenue, informing him at the same time that he was lucky that she was not a rookie because she would have probably shot him and added she would have been justified.

I happen to carry a KA-Bar knife that hangs from my belt. I wear this knife every day; it is sort of a good luck charm and in California, it is completely legal to carry as long as it is in full view, which is how I have always carried it. My wearing it sort of tests any police officer who sees me as to whether or not my civil rights will be upheld. One day a while ago, I stepped outside of my house to speak to several Stockton Police Officers who were there because of a possible domestic incident. Walking toward the four police officers, I voiced a greeting but before I was through with the sentence, they had pulled their guns out and told me to put my hands in the air. The police then detained me, taking the knife, and cuffing my hands behind my back, all the while informing me that they could have shot me right then and there and that they would have been completely justified. My mother was a witness that I had done nothing wrong, nor had I even reached for the knife. I argued with the officers about this and they all insisted that shooting me would have been within their rights of deadly force, even though the knife was legal and not in any way concealed.

This incident astonished me and proved that the mentality of the police is twisted and maliciously deformed when it comes to the rights of the innocent citizens that they are here to “Serve and Protect”. I do not find it surprising that many Police Departments have removed the decal on their patrol cars that used to say “to Protect and Serve” because that is no longer their intention.  In that, at least they are being honest.

A.N.F.

Drew Kazinsky

June 15, 2011

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7QOuIYCo9qc&feature=related

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncNXjd-hoBA&feature=related

Raging Bitch

The Beauty of the Wild Orchid

The Snow on the moutain-side

Hurts my Eyes

Since I’m a guy

I ease the pain with the sight

of bare breasts and naked thighs

In this titty-bar,

There is a good-lookin’ girl And

She just started workin’

The paying customers never question

why their wallets are hurtin’

I sit here at the bar again

Writing on a napkin

with this pen And

The bass is slappin’

I haven’t had too much sleep

But the whiskey I drink

Allows me to keep

A steady hand with a reasonable Mind

On the Double Dutch Bus (That crazy Drink)

I’m mad-man that you cannot find

Outside of Stockton

The Two-Ought-Nine

Once again my ex-girlfriend seduces yet another victim

For a whole lotta money (or she hopes) She will get him

later, he won’t even be a memory

And I keep getting drunk for free

While she’s on stage dancing,

I’m getting my own song dedicated to me

Feeling good and with each drink

The girls get more pretty

To fuck with these bitches, over at the Wild Orchid

You need to come with money cause

you can’t come here hella broke, poor kid

Cause the beauty some of these girls are showin’

Are more than worth the money And

The D.J. keeps playing music

That I consider funky

It all reminds me of Cali, my home

Besides my music,

He’s playing some old school Deftones

A little Mac Dre, along with Ten-Fold

Next, the D.J. grants my request for Nirvana

While I keep getting drunk,

Stoned of Bay marijuana

On stage, is a girl named Stacy

She’s a beautiful woman So

Don’t look at me crazy

When I say the prettiest girl is Cat, my ex-lady

But I am biased, in this I never fail

The song switches

It’s Trent Reznor with Nine Inch Nails

And that girl Cat, I’d still fuck like an animal

She’s the only one of these bitches

that could maybe handle

even of portion of me(yeah, right)

Oh, No!!

Start looking at the Confidence

of DreW KazinskY

It’s all pretend but she makes me believe

Since Reno ain’t Cali,

I gotta go to the room to smoke some weed

Right now, no-body cares

but I’m in the titty bar And

The girl with the long hair

Dances to music that I can do better So

I will

When it come to drunken Rhyme

I kill

Obsolete MC’s like DreW KazinskY

Running the Gauntlet out here in Reno

I’m not so stupid to lose

My money in a Casino

So I try and get what I can for free

which is not to get stopped by a rookie

Cop who finds the Shitaki’s

and then handcuffs me

on the side of the road

out there in Sun Valley

I’d rather make my money and get the hell back to Cali

But it’s cool

I’m drunk again

I am a fool

No use in Denyin’

these words

I am always writin’

Oh, no that Nicotine Habit

That I have been fightin’

has got me back for the Minute

When I get back to Cali,

Maybe this shit, I’ll finish

Drew Kazinsky

A.N.F.  1-19-08

Reno, NV

Crazy Killer Cracker

 

 

(Chorus)

I throw these Words so Quick on the Page

Whether to Express Pleasure or my Rage

It Doesn’t matter Any Fucking Way,

I just Write in the Dark Night until it’s Day

The Written Word is Black and White,

Almost Never will it be Gray

 

 

 

DreW KazinskY

is a Crazy, Killer Cracker

Just another Mad Man Rapper

In a vain search for a true slapper

Like the one feeding my Brain

from the speaker

I smoke Marijuana from a glass beaker

I stay down cause never was I a tweaker

and I don’t need a heater, to defeat your

Anger when you found out your girl, I beat her

But in a good way and never again will you see her

She’s mine now but I don’t want the whore

The Bitch is a bore, as Dumb as a door

And the sex was only good when we fucked on the floor

but I really can’t stand her anymore

She never buys me shit because the bitch is poor

It’s cool, I took her just to fuck with you

What are you going to do?

No, wait, let me ask again, friend

Just what the fuck are you going to do

To hell I will send       you when the corner I bend

and put three slugs in you

Get out the car and go to work with the Power Tool

Feeling Evil and Wicked, like that Dumb Fool

that shot up the Children at Cleveland School

He shot himself, exit wound through his hair

That memory still haunts me though I wasn’t there

At night we used to smoke weed

On the Playground on a dare

talking with the Dead Kids about how Life wasn’t fair

I asked a question that gave them pause

 

Did God ever Care

for them or any other Child that was lost

 

 

I found the truth but I can’t tell you the answer

It’s the reason I’m a Mad Man, Killer Cracker

that will die from a bullet that a car-jacker

Shot me With

I can’t blame my attacker

He was a Kid

 

(Chorus)

I throw these Words so Quick on the Page

Whether to Express Pleasure or my Rage

It Doesn’t matter Any Fucking Way,

I just Write in the Dark Night until it’s Day

The Written Word is Black and White,

Almost Never will it be Gray

 

 

Yes, Sir!!!!!!

It’s time to deliver

old school shit that

I know you remember

Back in the Day

When you could never

Imagine the Life you live now

Days spent smoking weed

wondering exactly how

did it all come to this

I remember when people were real

Not this Fake Bullshit-ters

Narcotic Anonymous Quitters

Such a Skinny Bitch

with just one Finger I could lift her

Over my head and into the Sky

Your girl could be mine

If and when, I got her High

These fucking Kids on BART

annoy me and they don’t even try

I know your only Fifteen

But I think you want to die

Cause the bullshit is getting close

they ignore me and they see

in my note-book, I’m writing prose

 

Not a threat or so

they think they know

but Kazinsky’s a Sick Ghost

Ready to grab his knife, slit their throat

Slice some meat, and cook up a Roast

I’m originally from the Central Valley

Of Northern Cali

But I now be                           In the Bay

Where Life is sometime Deadly

but you best believe the Kazinsky

is more than ready

I send letters through the Mail, guaranteed

to make my enemies not forget me

Shit, these

Motherfuckers must have forgotten

that I’m from Stockton

Now in the Berkeley Hills,

Blasting into the Dark with a Shotgun

My back hurts now and I need a Vikadin

Any-one got some?

 

(Chorus)

I throw these Words so Quick on the Page

Whether to Express Pleasure or my Rage

It Doesn’t matter Any Fucking Way,

I just Write in the Dark Night until it’s Day

The Written Word is Black and White,

Almost Never will it be Gray

 

Drew Kazinsky

Rewrite: 04/06/08         Berkeley, California

A Salute to the Gods of Freedom

My, My, My,

Walk with me and let me whisper sweet nothings into your ear

I stare into the bright lights of illegal fireworks that to my delight

explode to the heavens, showering the ground with fire

Make some noise for the fallen soldiers

and the night turns brighter

As you’re ears ring with the explosions

The inside of you’re eyes bled white

sparkles on the waves of a thousand oceans

Freedom rings true and sweet

Call America whatever you’d like

We won’t suffer in defeat

A salute to the Gods

of freedom

(even when it sometimes rings hollow)

.A.N.F.

DreW KazinskY

July 5, 2007

12:12 AM

Murmurs of a Ghost

Murmurs of a Ghost

Whispering in my ear

Living outside myself

within Loathing and Fear

I know not a way clever

For what it is I should do

I know I live only for me

And never again will for you

Fuck this world        And

You that exist within

My life would be better

If I could appreciate My Sin

I cannot seem to grasp

The Nature of my Crime

I destroy the English Language

with ever Alcohol Soaked line

For my own amusement

I decide to make the words rhyme

What do I care if you hate it

and forever refuse to listen

Surely you are a Conservative

A snot-nosed Christian

More than likely at Bible Class

Learning a hateful religion

Ignore me, please,

I must really be trippin’

No, not really

For the bible was written

By authors who were Gods

of their own Masters

and lets not all forget

Jesus Christ was born a bastard

Who, if he was alive

would be drunk and driving faster

than the speed of sound

in the dark, purple twilight

I always ask the question

Which is simple, Why fight?

On any drug-filled night

I very well could

 

I mean I might

just let the Demons

Swallow and Eat Me

But these are just thoughts

After a night of Whiskey.

 

Drew Kazinsky

Early Morning within The Gates Of Brookside

Visiting with Child Hood friends  And

They are Real

Freedom Songs of the Doomed

 

So here’s Kazinsky with another rhyme

Can’t seem to get my mind

out of the gutters of the two-oh-nine(209)

I think my continued misery

is a positive sign

that it is salvation I must seek

but never find

It’s okay, I understand

I wanna make a hundred dollars

into a hundred grand

and it certainly wouldn’t be

done by any legal means

Imagine something out of Movie Scenes

The only way to get tax free cash

is by moving things

And what does that mean anymore?

because when the shit hits the fan hardcore

The almighty dollar won’t mean

a damn thing no more

Maybe One Day, Big Brother will want to arrest me

for the words I write

under the name of DreW KazinskY

I must be a schizo cause the voices whisper:

They are all out to Get ME

I hope I’m not dead in a few years

but my dreams are starting to convince me

I need to write more words because

I believe One of the Gods have sent me

to write these Songs of Freedom

and escape the material           Greed, Men

of a evil nature put before our Eyes

but Now I See Them   And

wish to rip off the disguise

and bring them                        the misery they deserve

for deceiving us with their lies

it’s the weight of this Responsibility

that makes me get so fucking high

 

So now you know why

 

ANF

Drew Kazinsky    Berkeley, California

12/14/08

A Little Something Written in Reno, Nevada

Well now, What can I say?

Decisions made by fate

Nothing more can be taken away

The morning light breaks through the window pane

I sit here, in Alien territory, not quite sane

I’m not killing you because death would be the same

As giving you happiness and I’m not that lame

(She said into the phone)

Smacking hep lips against chocolate

Planning against the game

that no matter how you play is never finished

My ex-girlfriend dates only ex-convicts

At least in style is how she lives it

or so they think and tweak and think

Constantly my love for her is there

and then gone in the next blink

of an eye only to reappear

as I gamble and ask for a second drink

No other reason to be at a casino, I don’t win

So I waste away the time, watching others sin

A inner voice in my head asks,

Do you not do the same, my friend?

I tell the voice to shut up

And thus does the fight begin

These types of things you do not win

Nor

Will this battle in you’re head end

But who am I, to say such things and moralize about some other life

 

or even mine

About which I write

All the damn time

Keeping in sight

 

The knowledge of the demons

that live in my head

If it wasn’t for this pain,

I would think I was dead

I am not here to complain

I’m just in Alien Territory,

Really Not Quite Sane

“No more bitching and moaning,”  Kazinsky said, breathing the air of the mountains and the desert at the same time.  He looked at me for a long second and said

“She’s a wonderful girl, that there Cat, always special.  She’ll be fine, as long as she uses that pretty little head to escape The Place Where The Tweaked Out Mice Play.  Live with that nice mother of hers, she could,  even run into the desert naked  without a plan and still that girl would come out strong.”

 

Much Love to that Girl in Reno

Who eats Top Rammen Noodles, mixed with

Canned Green Beans and a little mayonnaise

Drew Kazinsky

May 6^th

The Year of our Lord

Two thousand and Seven

Written sometime this morning

in the Belly of the Beast

A Real Writer

I still……..

Focus on the Obscure

You don’t need to tell Kazinsky

that DreW is Weird

He knows the oddness creates

these Words that you Fear

Lifestyles of the Sick and Depraved

that much is Clear

Take a sip of Miller High Life

I know it’s Shit Beer

but here, tonight, I drink for free

because that man Kazinsky

                                                           is DreW’s good Homey

or at least Sometimes

When DreW is not Distracted by Words

that Turn into Rhymes

on Pieces of Paper

that happen to be Parking Ticket Fines

People think because I scribble

Words in a Note-Book

I’ll be Rich and Famous

But the Truth leaves me Shook

I’m just another Half-Ass Poet

Writing Weird things to make y’all Look

Now I’m tired of the craziness,

So Sick of the Watching

But this Writing Thing is just Something

I have No Way of Ever Stopping

Fill up the Empty Space of the Paper

Not giving much Though to it,

until much, much Later

When I Read it Back

I see the Work of a Hack, a Real Faker

Who has a Pen clutched in his Sweaty Hand

I throw these Words so Quick on the Page

Whether to Express Pleasure or my Rage

It Doesn’t matter Any Fucking Way,

I just Write in the Dark Night until it’s Day

The Written Word is Black and White,

Almost Never will it be Gray

But a Writer is a Prostitute who Writes for Pay

I’d be a Liar if I were to say, I didn’t want to be the Same

I look in the Mirror everyday and Suffer in the Cold Shame

That I’d sell My Soul

To be a Real Writer                                                     Drew Kazinsky 4/5/08

Living within The Fear

Now Listen:

I’m lost within these crazy things

I go to sleep already knowing

what the morning light brings

More of the same misery

that I escape into dreams

That are sugar-coated from reality

I care not what this life means

I’m not quite right

on this moon-filled night

I sit at the computer

with only the monitor for light

Sometimes I wish I could pray

But Jesus Christ and I only like to fight

Buddha used to comfort me

but I find the path to Nirvana

much too lonely

and if only

I could find an excuse to leave

this world it would be bliss

but this not possible from what I see

So I try and overdose

every other night on weed

It just doesn’t work all that well

I should try heroin Maybe then

Death would finally ring the bell

Until that time, Death doesn’t have the nerve

to take me because The Devil decided

and gave the word

that I would stay alive and suffer for my sins

The demons follow me with their tongues waggin

over waxed leers of malicious grins

to remind me every day of why I’m still here

and that is why I hardly get drunk off whiskey

chased with beer

I always stay some-what sober because

I’m always Living within The Fear

ANF

Drew Kazinsky