My first post

I 'm an avid book worm . I like to write anything that i like from my reading in to my note/scrap book. But last two weak ago , a big flood had flooded my house and cause most of my scrap book collection and 6 diary of my youthly year ,unreadably/destroy.

s0o i' starting to write my scrap book again,this time its will last forever.

(ps: never use cheap pen for writting important scribble and stuff.

Thank you!

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This is a poem call :”me against the world” by “Charles Bukowski”from Urbanus? That I had found while Looking for a poem with a spider in it and I really like it very much. It has a kind of"flavour" in it go like this.

me against the world


when I was a kid
one of the questions asked was,
would you rather eat a bucket of shit
or drink a bucket of piss?
I thought that was easy.
“that’s easy,” I said,” I’ll take the
piss.”
“maybe we’ll make you do both.”
they told me.
I was the new kid in the
neighbourhood.
“oh yeah,” I said.
“yeah!” they said.
there wee four of them.
“yeah,” I said, “you and whose
army?”
“we won’t need no army,” the
biggest one said.
I slammed my fist into his
stomach.
then all five of us were down on
the ground fighting.
they got in each other’s way
but there were still too many
of them.
I broke free and started
running.
“sissy! sissy!” they yelled.
“going home to mama?”
I keep running .
they were right.
I ran all the way to my house,
up the driveway and onto the
porch and into the
house.
where my father was beating
up my mother.
she was screaming.
things were broken on the floor.
I charge my father and started swinging.
I reached up but he was too tall,
all I could hit were his
legs.
then there was a flash of red and
purple and green
and I was on the floor.
“you little prick!” my father said,
“you stay out of this!”
“don’t you hit my boy!” my mother
screamed.
but I felt good because my father
was no longer hitting my
mother.
to make sure , I got up and charged
him again, swinging.
there was another flash of colours
and I was on the floor
again.
when I got up again
my father was sitting in one chair
and my mother was sitting in
another chair
and they both just sat there
looking at me.
I walked down the hall and into
my bedroom and sat on the
bed.
I listened to make sure there
weren’t any more sounds of
beating and screaming
out there.
there weren’t.
then I didn’t know what to
do.
it wasn’t any good outside
and wasn’t any good
inside.
so I just sat there .
then I saw a spider making a web
across a window.
I found a match, walked over,
lit it and burned the spider to
death.
then I felt better
much better.

Charles Bukowski From Urbanus