teaching how to kill

I live in a town, is not downtwow,
full of marrocan criminals,i have to become one of those animals,
to survive.
Funny, this idiot shows me a video in his cool cellphone,
him shooting, gangster he is. Laughing.
I asked him if he was targeting,
i know he is not obviously.
I looked at the pistol, Parabelum militers.
I used that in the army for a loooong time, just the side arm,
ask him how he use it, he tells me to pull the trigger,(funny in a sense of Q&A)
now I´m eager,
to show him.
Broke down how the pistol is reasembled and assembled, in front of his face,
including…if you want me to go
step by step it does take forever in a cool short poem,
fucking pistol women, bitchasses goes my poem.
Not the smartest thing for this young criminal to use and me to show him,
he is just talk, me,done with these idiots.
Once I started talking about the technechalities of it, not only about the weapon,
but how you move, stand, how you grasp that weapon, e.t.c. He went, O shit,
I dissuade him. For me.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

living near a school I feel like Herod the great

Herod or Herodes the Roman Client King of Judea
He is famously known to build the city of Jerusalem
What does it has to do with me living near a school?
I´ll tell you.
The freaking english school(ironic, in a shitty Spanish town)
is right under my cool-small-rent-room in a first floor,
facing the street, facing the kids,facing the constant scream of kids,
driving me insane
and the kids are to blame.
In comes Herodes the Great, hey, he built a city and he was a king,
He was also know famously for killing kids with his bling…..
Not a bad idea!
day in day out
constant scream of kids running about
my head about to explode
my neurons already have erode
little monsters
are the real badass gangsters
i decided to follow Herodes example
not only to trample
those evil monsters sent by satan
kill-fry them in a pink pan and eat them in a can

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

Jail time

El ¨Chabolo¨, that is what we called in Spain, a cell.

Let me tell, obviously not proud of it, but,
In that type of environment I could be not content,
I was there, my army experience helped a lot in those situations,
It was nasty, punks.

First time I was placed in a cell,
I went again to hell.
My job is to keep me alive, my bunk bed body was or still is,
a drug trafficker, if he is still alive, so that was his OWN cell,
he did want his respect, I did not give it to him, that is what I mean,
If i would be a pussy and let him fuck with me, then I am screwed.
Words fly.
He eventually had brain damage, I just hit the guy and grabbed his head
so I did pound it into the that object he was very fond of…..the bunk bed.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

A soldiers duty

Handsome Charles of Priestes, in sunny…. Ibiza!

Been in the army, and I’m also a military history buff of WWII.
So there I was yesterday Sunday night watching documentaries of that era and some general said:

¨A soldiers duty is not to ask why, his duty is to do or die¨

And I thought he was exactly right, it is not a democracy, you are a tool in a killing machine,
and that´s it, just another tool that roles and roles without much space to maneuver
if you don’t want to fuck up the machine completely hence the machine doesn’t does it´s job.
Just talking mostly of the lower ranks level.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.

You´re killing me….

So one of my twisted experiments is to ask once in a while people to tell me the first
word that comes to mind and then write a quick poem about it on the spot. So out I meet
my other roommate and ask her to tell me the first word that comes to mind, she obviously
looked at me like I´m nuts, although there I am 5 feet from her staring at her while she
comes up with a word, so after 30 seconds she says ¨a beautiful day?¨, I say ¨not a sentence,
a word please” and ¨Marta you´re killing me¨, she says the word, and the seas parted.


You´re are beautiful
I hope you are truthful
A bit slow when it comes to creativity
Each to his own in a world
That constantly does a swirl
But I do love you baby girl

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.


Brad only knew one thing, he didn’t care about the bling,
but, only the shooting and killing. The blood from his victims gave him thirst.
First, for more blood.
Second, it gave him an urge to fecund.
He took to many souls, and with his urge to fecund….YOU can be the son of Brad.
Who was not all that bad, just mad.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.