24 posts
  • theprivywriter 166w

    Together, as One

    She gave him access to the core of her universe.

    He made love to the broken pieces of her soul.


  • kevinosullivan 300w

    Paths to Recovery

    Doubt, jealousy, animosity and coffee.
    Recovery by mystery, faith, osmosis and misery.
    Sick, suffering and sober; a mass diagnosis.
    My individual program of action gives me a prognosis of hope.
    Old timers preach of doubt as if appointed by some anonymous Pope.
    While droves of jail talking newbies ramble their stories of problems bout booze and about dope.
    Skeptic, born again believer and literature drone; some barely surviving on daily meetings alone.
    Cliques and snake oil remedies around methods and flavor.
    God forbid you are agnostic or have a different Lord and Savior.
    Differences many but one thing remains.
    Living Sobbah is Beddah while balancing that beam of spiritual plain.
    Theres a wrench to fit every nut I often think and sometimes say.
    My failure is an option as well if I drift too far astray.
    We give ourselves the answers, another cliche I've earned.
    Lessons from experience, strength and hope this pupil has already learned.
    I can't live on yesterday's sobriety not that all is yet known.
    My path to recovery is quality first with His path for me so clearly shown.
    So far, so good; I've never contemplated alcohol or alternatives to quench an emotional thirst.
    My time is on loan from my higher power; so save your advice and come down from your glass ivory tower.
    I can see both the forest and the trees and appreciate what we can collectively achieve.
    But please keep the focus affixed firmly on yourself.
    For all any of us really have is but a daily reprieve.

  • kevinosullivan 300w


    He leads from the front and is noble of virtues. Inwardly accepting the Gospels once novel good news.

    Away from modernity his path both crystal and clear. He pushes forward through all obstacles, all doubt and all fear.

    If knowledge is power then he's pulsing with juice. Secretly fighting enemies who are deliberately obtuse. Radical botanicals waft in the breeze as democracy hangs from a tyranical noose.

    This ground up revolt, a line drawn in the sand; pits the good versus evil in all class of man. This global resistance, so strong with the Force will prevail against darkside as a matter of course.

    Do not bow down to pressure or cower from fright, for if its just for all then it's worth our good fight.

  • kevinosullivan 301w

    God Save us Tommorow

    Hours await as we watch our freedom circle the drain. Two women on the ballot for Comandress in Chief, by this time tomorrow I pray a woman will reign. To think of this moment while our countries a mess. Atleast we still have freedon of speech and the freedom of press.

    Privatizing government to generate profit, leaves exploited American blood dripping from the white house faucet. A power and energy cult has become our nationalist country charade; fracking, war and pipelines the media too sips the koolaid. Hues on the political colorwheel disguised and distorted. Red, Blue, Gold or Green party jockey for crumbs, control or collapse of our once great system.

    I beg of you racists, you imbeciles and socially worse; please dont elect a new Fuhrer Trump to prove your lack of worth. Democracy but a memory due to a neoliberal capitalist scam, here we were thinking Hitler was a just a flash in the pan. Do what is right, get out to Vote, dont let your houeshold be evils scapegoat. A demagogue, narcissist and son of the Klan, which Woodie Guthrie already exposed of his "old man".

    An evil regime of slavery, insanity and Reality TV, on the brink of power in less than a day. Before you I pray not to let this time live on in eternal infamy. As my life depends on my childrens bleak safety and future, I want to bandage whats left of the Flag with an electoral suture. This much is fact of me and of mine, we will march to the polls when the next sun does shine. We will vote for an underdog Doctor in green with no chance of winning office to be seen. But a US third party sure sounds like a begining process to dream. Heres how complicated and crucial tomorrow will be. I dont want you to vote as I do, no on the contrary.

    Go vote for the warmonging female oligargh, who cooks the books and deceives of her illegal communique. I can handle a lieing career politician over Trump any day.

    We only want 5% since we are not a swing state. I urge the rest of the right wing sympathizers to reconsider your choice. Lets not clean our guns, load ammo or sharpen up pikes. First he'll round up the Muslims, Wetbacks, Fags, Natives and Kikes. Next on to Leftists, radicals and activists a plenty. Guantnamo sites like Abu Ghraib in former childhood schools. Torture 101 instructed by water and burn in buildings first built to learn. Then he will come for whos left, paranoid of a coup, So lower your standards in the name of humanity too.

  • kevinosullivan 301w


    Love is a dogfight by aces of flight and of practice. Aeronautical warriors who sore with romantic and vengeful tactics. Battles ensue and hearts snap like old elastics. Shattered and crippled ice cream meets the spoon. Pajamas and heartache woven by cupids failed loom. Its better to have loved and lost, its said with a dimmer. As the microwave beeps with my lonely nights dinner. Vow do I quip to script from loser to winner. Accept what is yours, move on or its sure to get worse. Suit up again, get your dog in the fight to try Love once again and to wrong what is right. For Love is a dogfight high up in the clouds, pack your chute once again and prepare for its shrouds.
    kevin o'sullivan

  • kevinosullivan 301w

    Catch up if you can, but your holding me back. Human ballast, chain, rode, anchor and tack. For grounded I am with weighted sounder in hand. We are simmilar in age and height but a fathom, but know you not; a sailor from adam. Political, spiritual, emotional polar opposites asunder. The wind is freshening with fast moving lightning and thunder. Friendship, Love and Loyalty is plotted my course, speed and chart. You but an agnostic pessimist who mocks the good news; our ways we must part. I must choose to go solo on this final cruise. With no ark and no Vessel unsure how you'll do. The buoyancy of your life soon to sink with the set sun of despair. The course that I choose thats is true and is fair. Away sailing along to regret it or not; I must cut and run is my parting thought. For I have a son, friends, wife and daughter whos love and connection has long been sought.
    Your misery and salvation are a choice that you can't yet see at your sinking speed.
    "For if the son therefore shall make ye free; then ye shall be free indeed".

  • kevinosullivan 301w

    Recovery Ramble

    Complexity of thought, simplicity of word.
    Without pen to paper, a life handled? Absurd! Observe, process and accept; must transfer to ink.Letting God do the rest my part is complete. Regardless of thirst, just dont drink.This published struggle of loss and defeat. My literate roses that get placed at Her feet. Prayers answered, cleansed but a flash, till my attentions foreclosed by darkness and trash.
    kevin o'sullivan

  • kevinosullivan 301w

    Snuggle Time

    Snuggle with me my mama, while we still have time.
    That time that fell back today like a thief in the night, adding daylight to save but confusing alright. What time is it really, who will change the clock on the wall?
    Thinking of trauma, of pain and illness recalled. To have gone through it all and all just barely survived. The time is now so snuggle my buggle, its a school night; please no more morning trouble. God bless our Angelina and pray that she has beautiful dreams we recite before bed.
    The chill in the air, the chill of my spine. How could I have managed without a child of mine.

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    Revenge of the Heart

    Be careful there girl as I bare all emotion.
    She gets the hose again or on her skin goes the lotion. Hairpin his trigger of violence and anger. Lower her down in a hole with a rope like a rigger pallbearer. Seething with hurt thats carried within. Visually recreating her cheating with them and with him. Theres no secrets or so its been said, just things we pretend not to know; that dwell in our head. A hoe from a housewife from better to hearse. First to lie in your bed on her back then to your face and worse. The infidel is she, deserving death, stoning; disgrace. Audible visions, the sounds and moaning of carnage without any chaste. Cheat if you will and be but a whore. But for the sake of these kids, I will stay to even this score. You deployed the first strike even winning the battle. Up on my horse, armed to the teeth; a Calvary soldier in his saddle beneath.. All may be fair in war crimes of Love and of passion but this psychological wound didnt need to happen.Too late it is done, my wrath and disdain; you will now live your life in emotional pain. I'm but a victim I smile with vindictive repeat as my pain turns to joy from your crushing defeat.

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    My father gave me more than a name.

    I was named Kevin Michael O'Sullivan, a cursed birth in Boston City Hospital. Boston Irish, Catholic and Alcoholic how deceiving and thoughtful.
    So here is a tale from my mispent youth, I've been known to exaggerate but I'll try for the truth. Living under the roof of my at times loving Da, I'd run to the store we called it the spa. My errand boys fees paid with change both coins and paper. A legitimate side hustle, and no not a caper? A gallon of milk, smokes and the paper. A boss of tonic for me and a Whattchamacallit. Bobos for sneakahs so I could fight and get even. Barracuda jacket with shamrock on lapel, my older brothers from the hall, I'm gonna catch hell. Halfway down the hill I went a skipping; then I tripped and the milk got busted from skidding. Well there goes the neighborhood, I'm right truly fucked now. In the kitchen I run spilling much more moojuice than a smidge, pouring whats left in the near empty bottle in the fridge. My father was tough, 1 kid out of 12, with all but one having been in their own military hell. He lost a leg below the knee in the fifties, while driving his car three sheets to the breeze; ever so swiftly. You wouldnt know it though, his gait was but perfect; a union worker for decades not hardly a reject. So here is this man his own demons to battle and the sins of his father then still living and breathing.
    Fearing his one legged speed if we pissed him off after work.
    A realworld Archie Bunker, larger than life but a drop of the drink and quickly a jerk.
    Anyway heres what happened that menorable night thats reppressed from my psyche and is recalled with a fright. My old man was fast I swear no more lies.
    First he yelled and he swore but you could tell from his eyes. Fire and rage launched from his couch in the parlor, out sailed a stool made into a martyr.
    He clipped me, I tumbled. Then I got a good beating, a one way spanking to backside to inhibit my seating.
    For it wasnt the milk or my smart ass remarks that ignited this flame from some trivial sparks.
    My dad was a drunk like his & all our eternal paternity before.
    Don't sweat it, it wasnt long till I'd even the score.
    No not revenge on him, he left when I was young to grow sober and older.
    Since apples dont fall from the tree so they say and sorry but that mold wasnt broken with me, anyway.
    Regardless of birthname, nurture or nature, destiny is definitely always gonna have the last word never ending.
    So forgive, cuz we must and no need for amends but surer than shit I did it again.
    My own son & daughter both victims of us for we are the Irish, often drunk as a lush.
    I too evolved by those Graces of God, dysfunctionally abstaining from that first drinking drop. Not proud of our curse and history of sin but a pass must be given if we are to begin. Trudging that road, one day at a time sometimes with another, time spent long on the line. A boy from a man, long past overdue while approaching age forty; I live as I should.
    So, Slainte they say as the glasses raise up, to toast the man of the hour who did the best that he could.
    Farewell to all arms, one tattoo'd with a panther and his leg and a half fill the suit, casket and stanza.
    Remember this son when its my turn to descend, that we do what we can with what we inherit from men.
    But the future is all yours, of misery or merit but remember this kid. I'm your father; and dont you ever forget it!

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    Life of a Polymath

    Starts up and early and ends late but not surly.
    A competent man, masculine not usually girly.
    Never needing instruction or suggestion of actions.
    Self taught yet humble, devoid of distractions.
    Ten steps ahead, experience diverse, deep and tenured.
    Details, long forgotten unless needed to be remembered.
    What mainstream calls adventure, to be dismissed as juvenile sports.
    Been there, done that with the proverbial collection of Tshirts.
    Success meaured internally alone in their head.
    Their biggest achievement is surviving when others already are dead.
    Early to summit always ahead of the pack, alone with their philosophical view and next plan of attack.
    A Renaissance man with command of sword, language, music and art. Having filled out the answers before any test could start.
    Guiding the lost, a finder of path without markings; for such is the Life of a Polymath lone embarking.

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    Tears into Laughter

    So here is the day, awake with an earache. Equilibrium is shakey as I descend the kids bunkbed ladder thats flakey. Unsure whats ails me cant pinpoint the matter. First things next before we get any further, why is this dad asleep in a bed designed for his daughter. Enough is enough, a shower and rinse, must clear this fog and try again to think. Cant help feel off as I start up this morning. Oh wait theres more to complain before I learn any learning. Something is lost, somethings gone a miss. A tug on my neck for these religous trinkets, the thought of that loss; I cant even think it. Beyond the sore ear and pain in my back, approaching age 40 my time but a loan from the reaper in black. Ive figured it out and pinpointed the bother, this man lost his cheap black plastic comb to a robber. An old soul I am sure with habits some vintage. For such is the link between time and distance; age before beauty they squeal like deliverance.
    The loss of a comb to groom my graying limp mohawk, has me regressing to childhood with pain and with shock.
    Regroup I must quick, to right all these wrongs that set me back on the track to pen all these songs. The music is said to save all our souls for if the musics to stop than and so the bell tolls. Hemingways dead and soon I so to think; but forever he lives emblazoned in ink. I am no Strummer, no Dylan or Joyce; but write I must write since I havent a choice. The lyrics, the tune, the tempo and flow; silently dance in my head as my mane is going to fro. Out of control, my hair and my chapter but write everyday to change my tears into laughter.

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    Grind him! Grind them all!

    What of this world has our mark hit such a miss?
    When police kill a man in a garbage truck for simply rescuing a fish!

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    Sanctity and Suffering

    Todays the day, the first of November. No not for the dole but for Saints to remember. Think of them all your Patron and others, the Saints of the Church, our angelic mothers. Saints are but sinners that kept onward trying. Her tears bleed blood our Mary was crying. Today the dawn after all hallows eve night, dark from dark; light from light. Today we celebrate the solemnity of those who have arrived, either by deeds or by death, God the father by their side. Before we're engulfed by the weight of it all, lets keep it quite simple and answer the call. Righteous of rights to all near and far regardless if enemy or brothers in arms. Tommorows the day for the rest laid to rest, who mark time in purgatory awaiting access. You see, By droves we are born and then we must die but all in between we sin and we lie. Saint Peter, his gates and his keys will decide the decision but more often then not we alive are put up to the mission. We must pray for each soul often and stuff and trust that our duty will soon be enough. Purgatory is a granted access up the line, but its a long way up and not of this time. So Angels and Saints, Sinners and Demons we play out our part during earths temporal seasons.
    So heres a reminder for you all to remember, pray for all Souls through Saints in November.

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    Rage against page.

    A time for words, a time for handcuffs.
    Write instead your vicious fisticuffs.
    Clean your aura, cleanse your soul.
    Put pen to paper, word slashes cold; vocabulary and punctuation set this battles stage.

    Rage against page is always an option. Use of your ink to be deployed without caution. Drain them of blood with font and of structure. Either way in the end their a dead mothafucka. Kill them with kindness, no a not a chance! Be profane and deliberate, and burn them like ants. Enacting this strategy everlasting will destroy your enemies with swift satisfaction.

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    Sensitive Millennials

    Who the fuck are you on your moral high horse? Suggesting that all of us older are racist or worse? Apparently your kind will argue at it all, but when & where do you answer the call? At first your offended when a Caucasian refers to a girl as Chinese and not Asian. You become the LGBT flag bearing leader on occasion, quickly dismissing those who live life as a breeder. Why is it wrong to mention a puppy by its God given sex, dogs dont choose to be called by Trixie or Rex. I get criticism oh so mean for calling him a thug who hits on my preteen. Scratching my head, my psyche, my soul; my shoulders just shrug cuz I'm ready to roll . Its fine with me lets play rough and tumble down, I'll take your bait while standing on much higher ground. We can argue, fight and debate long into nights late round. Heres my problem with angry millennial feminists like you. Your lips keep on moving but what little you do is lesser than less? Where are you on the frontlines of our countries social mess?

    I may be crude and insensitive even but please dont assume its because of your twisted reason. I speak on authority on the topic of thugs since when have you gangbanged or sold any drugs? I recall your protected childhood with your safe, sheltered schools. Please dont preach to the choir with your new social rules. Forget for a minute that I was the one who would fight in the streets with a knife and a gun. The issue to me is clear as the sun which breaks the shadows of dark when nocturnality is done. You advocate equality when it comes to mere words but you fail to take action on strife and discord. You see little girl & no I'm not sexist or agist but you were in diapers when I was still catching cases. I call a spade a spade and theres no race involved but a thug like me knows much of some of it all. I now spend my energy both day and on nights, fighting for justice & for equal rights. I dont need permission or to even be trusted but ill defend all victims when and where they get busted. In fact, Ill battle for angry femists like your own despite your apparent disdain for testosterone.

    Politically our candidates are the same but you claim ownership because your a dame? Please join me on any cause and youll quickly see that your supersensitivity is just flawed. Im just a streetfighter for justice and rights but ive got an eloquent bark to go along with my bite. Next time you disect my words like a surgeon, question yourself where were you out in Ferguson? While out in Madison I bore personal witness of the republican right who say they are Christians. To me you sound like a thespian fraud and no its not because your a lesbian broad. Please Millennials, I say go get a clue; cuz many of your struggle elders have El Che Tshirts older than you.

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    Solitary Refinement

    Abandoned at birth by the sick and the suffering.
    Destined to be something far less than nothing.
    To smart for his good, a rebel from all.
    A perpetual loner, a roamer once called.
    Never waivering away nor lost ever a day.
    His mental compass guided his thought, but unique?; he was not.
    Would we call him eccentric? Perhaps, quite a lot.
    But here is a boy who grew to a man always making his way by his own special plan.
    To stray from the pack yet long for acceptance makes waves of a normally linear existence.
    Steady as she goes, full steam ahead.
    Alone in this world but surrounded by friends.
    Solitary refinement is a sentence and gift from inside; for he is able to live life adrift in the tide.
    Fear not, tear not as this is his call, to be alone in himself and question it all.

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    Please go to school.

    Daily battles at awaking.
    Her defiance, debilitating.
    Resist if you must but just get on that bus.
    Refusing at 12? Oh what a Hell!
    Homelife is tough when we deal with this stuff.
    Please go to school. Please go to school.
    Come weekend an Angel but five days such a demon. Preteen angst manifests during every school season. Please go to school. Please go to school.
    Your destroying this family echoes the house as pillows and blankets muffle the shouts. Her Anxiety temporal until the screaming subsides, then shes back to an Angel one more fucking time. Medication and threats dont seem to work. Instead of feeling like a father, I feel like a jerk. Just one dozen cakes with candles ablaze and shes acting like me when I was that age. My mother was right when she yelled and she cried that this would lead to a tough horrible life. I wish there was a way to prove such a point but until we see it ourselves, what is the use? Homeschool an option to avoid further terror but then guess whos her teacher? Boy what an error! Pray to your God if you have one at all that this families intact at the end of this fall. Halloween tricks but no such a treat for our child is sleeping fast under the sheet. The apartment is silent as the sun now shines through and her parents are confused at just what to do.

  • kevinosullivan 302w

    Seriously though, these are our choices to lead the free world?

    Fill to the brim and it will spill.
    Political Revolution, Bernie Still!
    Fascism knocks on our door,
    and or that of a corporate shill. Without doubt, history soon to repeat itself on either bill.
    Apples not far from the tree as son dons daddies hooded sheet. Fraternal oligarchs all involved in deceit. Profit at all cost, no surrender, no retreat.
    This land is her land, this land is his land. But what of all us tiny grains of sand? What of our Purple Mountains majesty, perhaps we need a bit of verdancy? Will we be the fodder of a man who grabs the crotch of his young daughter?
    This is the farce, this is the evil; open the doors and there's all the sheeple.
    Questions arise as the seconds tick by. Who do we choose when either way we all die. Business as usual if either are hired.
    Remember this and take heed, both of them are motivated by pure greed. Who then, If Trump is our Hitler? And Hillary our Nixon? Who, sooner or later is due off to prison. So if you too say Dump Trump and absolutely Hill No; who then will you choose to lead our free show? Unsure about you and please hold your atracks, but to me this two party system seems utterly whacked. Do we privatize it all and militarize our borders? Well, Ive got some colorful words on the good Doctors orders. Be heard. Be seen. Vote Green!

    Enough need to vote for Stein/Baraka to prevent future trouble in America . We need a third party to exist when the smoke clears and we crawl out of the rubble.

  • kevinosullivan 303w


    Write after everything.
    Edit after publishing.
    Burn after reading.
    Happily eva after...