A Killer’s View of Society

Every Man, Woman, and Child were killed

Their innocent blood was spilled

On the kitchen floor and splattered on the walls

As a result of a bad drug deal

That had gone wrong

Now the whole family is dead

No more Dad, no more Mom

The Killer is sick in the head

The kind of man not fond of Love

And sees Life always in Red

Pure anger and pellucid hatred

For a World filled with people fakin’ and hatin’

Who lock themselves away in a Barnes and Noble bathroom stall masturbatin’

To magazines fresh off the Newsstand

And they don’t consider this as any sort of violation

Because the magazines never left the store

So how can they be stolen and really,

What is wrong with a little semi-public self-gratification?

So is it any surprise?

That the Killer had no pity

Or shitty remorse in his implacable eyes

As he stares at the corpse

He does not feel a damn thing and why should he?

She was just a whore

Of this materialistic World we all live in

Filled with liars and false prophets of apocryphal religions

Where even the dishonest priests truly believes the lies they are givin’

As the subtle glow of the full moon caresses him,

The Killer is diggin’

A hole for the dead woman in the kitchen

Cut and bled out

The sick nut then gutted her

Dismembered at the joints,

Removing flesh from the bone

Stopping only to sniff lines of coke mixed with oxy-codone

Trade name Oxy-Cottin

Guns, marijuana, cocaine, and prescription drugs is like a Stockton

Christmas with stockin’

Stuffers and every-thang

The Killer does not worry about the Police because he is Rich

And just like any other street gang

The cops can be paid off

In a currency of paper bills often said to be snuggly soft

This is The American Way

Where there is no Black or White (except on the streets)

There is only grey

In this so-called Justice System

Where so-called protectors of society prosecutes folks for simply livin’

The Serial Killer is a bad guy, Ladies and Gents, that’s right

And as you sit at home learning about The World

Only from the five o’clock news every night

You discover you are brainwashed and can no longer find the will-power to fight

When the knock on the front door sounds

On some bitterly cold, rainy night

Men from the Government will come to lock you away

For the rest of your senseless live

And I bet all you wonder about

Is if the Serial Killer you saw on television is still alive……

 

A.N.F.

Drew Kazinsky

January 19, 2012

West Stockton, California

Westies 209

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

 

 

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

I am not a Gangster

I’m not a gangster

Nor do I pack Heat

unless I need to

And with this rifle scope

I can see you

But I’d rather kill from afar, dude

put a bomb under your car

and blow you the fuck up

watch as you and your bitch

turn into little bits of dust

I walk away so as not to get hit

by shrapnel flaked with rust

 

If you see me on the street

most likely I’m chillin’

but if you see me walking like a ghost

in the woods at Tilden

then you know I have a list of enemies

I have started killin’

It’s the madness I share

with you and yours

I get a craigslist breezy everyday

So I can murder the whore

Nah, man, I’m just playin’

Don’t believe a word I’m sayin’

I’m the first to say I’m not gangster

So don’t start Hatin’

cause I bought the squirt-gun

if y’all need some sprayin’

It’s the Oakland Corruption in me

and I’m prayin’

That you fuck with me

So I can make the news

Fuck Ted, It’s DreW Kazinsky

 

I’m homicidal

every goddamn day

Born and Raised in Stockton

Now I live in the Bay

 

I’m Suicidal

every goddamn day

This life is so Rotten

I exist in the Hate

 

The Mind of an Addict

I have set it up so that if you want, you can play the video and listen to the music at the same time as you read the lyrics……..Kazinsky

The Mind of an Addict

It’s Much More than just a Habit

It’s a Way of Living

And to the Next Addict

You are always Giving,

Grief and Pain

But It keeps you

Relieved and Sane

It’s just that Simple and Plain

The Mind of an Addict

It’s Much More than just a Habit

It’s a Way of Living

And to the Next Addict

You are always Giving,

Grief and Pain

But It keeps you Relieved and Sane

How else is an Addict supposed to Maintain

If They can Never Find a Way to Complain

I was Created by the Destruction of the World!!

As I draw breathe inside,

I Die,

A little more until the very notion of Life is a Lie

And because of this

People Hurt and Destroy

Thus, creates the very need for me to get High

I know my habits aren’t Healthy

But Intoxication is the only Thing that I believe can Help Me

My latest Prediction of this Cursed Affliction

Is that if I stay on course,

In a couple of years, I’ll be in a State of Full Blown Addiction

I’m Scared Every Night as Time runs out

Marked by the Clock steadily tickin’

Climbing in my Skin with Weird Spots on Body itchin’

And I’m Hungry

but I spent my Last Dollars on a High

So there’s never Food in the Kitchen

That’s the Force of My Addiction

Causing my Decay and a Case of Malnutrition

I Search the Earth in hopes of Absolution

But I can’t do battle without Self Motivation Ammunition

A Prayer to Lucifer Himself doesn’t even Help

Cause even He won’t Listen

One Night, when I was Sick and Mad

One Night, when I was Ripped and Sad

I made a Plea for the Devil to come and take My Soul

He appeared before me and with a mocking grin,

He said No

His Explanation was delivered with little Hesitation

Life Hurts more than an Eternity of Soulless Inflammation

I said,

I’d rather be Damned than Suffer through Salvation

And it was here,

He Stops and Interrupts Me

What He said Dug Down Deep Inside and It Cut Me

He had reason for not wanting My Soul

My Punishment was to see what I could have always Controlled

And That Was My Life……..

The Mind of an Addict

It’s Much More than just a Habit

It’s a Way of Living

And to the Next Addict

You are always Giving,

Grief and Pain

But It keeps you

Relieved and Sane

It’s just that Simple and Plain

The Mind of an Addict

It’s Much More than just a Habit

It’s a Way of Living

And to the Next Addict

You are always Giving,

Grief and Pain

But It keeps you Relieved and Sane

How else is an Addict supposed to Maintain

If They can Never Find a Way to Complain

I wish for the Moon Light

as I sit and I Write

Why do these Words come out at Night?

Try as I Might, I Hate My Life

Keeping My Enemies in Sight

Knowing No Difference between Wrong and Right

I’m in the 12th Round of a Lost Fight and I’m still High as a Kite

My Main Focus in Life is to Stay High

Don’t Bother Asking Me Why

Except maybe it’s the Easiest Way to Die

It’s a Reoccurring Theme, it seems,

When I’m Trapped within these Things

And Everybody Screams

Yesterday I awoke in Cold Sweat from Dreams

I want to Forget but for Her Memory, that’d be Disrespect

So I calm myself with a Cigarette

Inhale Clean Nicotine and I’m fine

I’ve been Sick and Tired for a Time

But I’m Sick and Tired of Meaningless Rhyme

It’s all a Tedious Whine

Look in the Mirror, Man, and See what You Find

I don’t Need to Look in My Eyes

I don’t Need to Recognize the Disguise

My Mind Uses to Hide the Lies

I tell Myself Everyday that this is what Works

When most of your Friends happen to be Jerks

And I’m an Atheist so there’s

No Point in going to Church

So I guess I should find Help somewhere else

Now would some-one tell Myself to Shut The Fuck Up

And please go back to hell

Maybe kick back and smoke crack

With my cousin Jason Mitchell**

The Mind of an Addict

It’s Much More than just a Habit

It’s a Way of Living

And to the Next Addict

You are always Giving,

Grief and Pain

But It keeps you

Relieved and Sane

It’s just that Simple and Plain

The Mind of an Addict

It’s Much More than just a Habit

It’s a Way of Living

And to the Next Addict

You are always Giving,

Grief and Pain

But It keeps you Relieved and Sane

How else is an Addict supposed to Maintain

If They can Never Find a Way to Complain

The Mind of an Addict

Drew Kazinsky   .A.N.F.

2003

**My cousin Jason Mitchell died of crack overdose in 2003 and the first verse and the chorus I wrote a week before his death. It’s weird because I wrote it about him and the second verse is about myself.  This poem/song is dedicated to both my dead father, Laurence R. Farrens, who also died of an overdose of prescription drugs and my cousin, Jason Mitchell A.K.A. SHADOW.S.S.S.X.I.V.