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Your Parents are Proud

You used to have dreams, you used to have hope.
Then you sucked back on your first zap of coke.
You used to be young, you used to be pretty,
Now your face just shows this drug has no pity.
You pick at your skin, your hair all falls out,
To make five dollars, he uses your mouth.
You're a crack corpse, with that sick rictor grin,
Your ribs stick out and your face is too thin.



Did you think of the consequences,
The cumulative lies.
You're becoming the person,
you used to despise.
Your number is coming,
Your life is used up.
You're filling with poison,
as you sip from your cup.
You did what you did,
You'll do what you do,
But you know in the end,
It's coming for you.


A Moment in a Day

The crazy old Fuck is eating chocolate. He's running off his mouth, the intonation sounding like a prayerful chant, broken up by his swearing throughout. Fidgeting with his hands, body spasming, clutching at his bag like it could save his life. Smacking his lips, this is who sits beside me on the skytrain. Sharing my space...Add to this the twin drones of the fans and the asinine chatter of the sheep, and the moment takes on a surreal quality. This makes it worthy of notice, and maybe even writing about.


Kiss these decomposed lips,
Look into these orbs that never see,
Ride these resting hips,
Make love to what’s left of me.
Baby, I’m long since dead
and should be in the ground
No thoughts inside my head
as maggots crawl around
Baby you love it and you make me sick,
Aint nothing like a dead mans dick.

All Poetry by Ryan Clark

Game Dog

One on one,
Lets get it on.
A straight up beef,
can be such fun.
They ask who, what,
where and why,
return their stare
with a steely eye,
a shrug of the shoulders,
a poker stare,
nothing to say,
I wasn't there.
A game dog,
A King of Clubs,
An old school kind of guy......




I'd scream,
but you couldn't pick my voice from the cries of despair.
I'd cry,
but no sympathy comes from those who feel worse then you.
I'd beg,
but who pleads with a captor only to have their fingers trod.
I'd laugh,
but only at the
irony of my situation here.
So instead I'll wait.......


The turmoil is livid,
the colors are vivid,
the evil insipid.

Look into my mind,
alien worlds
tidal wave curls,
my colors are swirled
I'm one of a kind
emotions repressed,
in jail depressed,
By god I'm blessed,
I begin to unwind
The court give it's dates,
my pencil creates,
and opens my gates,
my artwork defined.




As the Humidity rose, his mentor, his nemesis....the city reeked of urine and jet boy played on his headphones he knew this was home and he would always wind up coming back to her. His twisted self destructive love. Toronto

your parents are proud

-Your Parents Are Proud, Poetry "Stars in our Heart" 
ISBN 978-1-60880-123-7

-Crazy, Poetry "International who's who in poetry"
 ISBN: 978-1-61936-065-5

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