Non Military

I existed
You drank….with me
You fought…with me
You hated………….me
You loved………….me
I was a memory
You thought…….and laughed
You thought…….and cried
You thought…….what an idiot
Then the memory faded and died
You don’t know me
But you…………..read about me
Laughed………….about me
Cried……………….about me
When I'm dust
Part of of the Universe
Will anything know
I existed?

© Tony McNally

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Letting go

Letting go isn't about the moment.

It's about the challenge of it, the difficulty in the moment, the hours and hours spent staring at the wall, hoping that with the mental ironsight on the heat of your emotional target, that'll you be pricesly happy by waiting for things to change. That the winning shot will happen at random times, and you're just waiting for it.


But, that's where you mess up. That's what causes the train-wrecked emotions that bring you to your knees, mentally weeping and emotinally hoping to be taken care of. If you wait for it, it'll never happen, because you're setting up expectations, and happiness is a building. You have to have a foundation, and you have to build it up from there.

Move on, and wait. Do things that make you happy, and try to make others happy. Don't do everything that everyone asks, and don't be someone that everyone wants you to be. Don't let others talk you down and keep you from being an aspiration in the modern day bullying culture.

Be yourself. Be happy. Don't set up expectations, just go with the flow.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Don't miss the moon for the stars, and seize the opportunities to be someone great.


AND there she was, standing in the distance, disappointed, upset, confused, broken, hurt. Begging for an answer to the burning disappointment she was presented with.
IT was not that she had not loved him, nor was it that she didn't love him, but that she was let down, and the feeling she was left with was impossible to explain.
WILL she understand what she feels, and will she make it through? Of course she will. She's strong. She may be broken, but she's fixed plenty of things in her lifetime to get back up and take a step out there and be somebody.
BE strong, be faithful, be truthful, be honest, be yourself. That's where you're going to find true love. Someone will come along and pick you up off of your feet and make you feel like you've never felt before.
OKAY is the word that's going to describe you after every battle. After every fight. After the loss, after the heartache. After the pain and breaths that she had to take in order to get through.

But in the end... She knew that she'd have to fight..

And it will be okay

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is personal, and it's how I made someone feel.

Bad guy

Call me the bad guy here.
How the fuck is that fair.
I do this for payback not payment. I swear
I dare you to say it again.

Then. I want you to admit your sins
All I do these days is sit at home alone
In my den trying to escape through xbox
I just sold my mom’s ex-boyfriend’s wristwatch to piss him off

I did it. He just coughed blood
Because I shoved his ass down in the mud.
Bam, pow, Thud! Was that.. th-thunder. Wow.
I’m not going to pretend I’m black. This beat is just my nack
But at least I don’t sag and hold my sack

Oh wait. Was that raciest
Don’t get pissed. Please I must insist
Just kidding because I don’t believe in color
Well, Bill Nye said it’s just the reflection of light

Well my sights bad and I stared at the sun till everything was bright
That’s a reason I wear glasses. So fuck off. Ight?
So stop with the stereotypes you fucking dikes.
I’m a fighter. Ivy said I was a brawler.

So I guess that makes you a crawler
I’m 6 foot now. Feet, whatever. I’m even taller.
From this height you appear even smaller.
So call yourself a lawyer and call me Tom Sawyer

Because I can write whatever my inspiration desires
I may look weak. But I seek to build my own empire.
Like a motherfucking Eagle flying to the top of the tower
Did I just use a simile to make a single? Damn right. That’s my power

Now cower because I’m reaching my fucking peak.
If I have to walk through more fire than fuck it. I’ll do it 7 days a week.
You’ll call me sire when I stomp on that devil you call a liar
I’ll do whatever I have to in order to inspire and I’ll never fucking retire

Here we are. In the middle of the night
So grab this wire and wrap it around your neck
Keep it tight like this rhyme.
But now you’re dead so I guess it’s time

To throw your body on the deck and let these eagles peck
At your fucked up corpse like it’s a picnic. Fick, Fick, Fuck.
Your parents are mad so I drove by and said what’s up.
Ill drive by their house, rope em up

Leave em strapped while I listen to them quack like a bunch of ducks.
Fuck it. I’m not really insane. I just have a mind vivid with imagination and pain.
Revenge consumes me so call me Cain.
But unlike my dad I don’t binge but he loves me and I love him so I can’t fucking cringe.  

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She told me she met this wonderful man
“he’ll take care of us”.
I later met this man
I wasn’t a fan

His name was Wayne.
He brought a lot of pain. Don’t know how I wasn’t slain
He seemed like a nice guy at first
But that was just a curse, I would soon pray for a nurse

Cursed. my mother wasn’t home.
He threw me to the ground,
Kicked me around
Round and round till he would use his 400 pounds

Break all my toys like a hound. I was abused, bruised, leftovers and I was told I loosed.
Religion was used. Careful not to blow his fuse
Brought down Emotionally ,
I couldn’t take it physically,

Felt like I was screwed mentally
He got to both our heads
we were used
What is true? Are you? I still cant believe I grew

Enraged. I would never be waged
They were past engaged. All those lawns for his pocket.
I wasn’t even tabbed
Grabbed a screw driver and stabbed my mother with it.  

That night before my first day of 7th grade
They walked into my room with a bucket and a broom
Demanding to know what I was hidin.
Acting like I had shrooms or somethin

Stored them in the garage
Had to be a mirage.
Sneak and pray I wouldn’t get barraged
Close to death row. Began thinking my mom was a hoe

take some of the toys back.
Take em off the rack
Hopefully he wouldn’t find a track back to me
But I wasn’t going to slack.

After I took my meds I would give them to  kinzie
Who would throw me in a frenzy
Treat me as a friend but would make me dizzy
I stuffed a few in my shoes. I would get a bruise

It would cause a ruse. Id be taken on a fist filled cruise
If I couldn’t use them other people could.
I was forced to attend church. Wearing a bunch of Good Will merch
and take notes on what the pastor chirped as he was pirched

Every Morning was way too boring
The rain outside was pouring
Read the bible out loud.
Wish I could be touring

Wish I had a talent but I am sitting here mourning
Im not even dead. But I wake up depressed in the morning
Every Afternoon. Shame. Forced on my knees  
I was the one to take the blame

pray to a god I didn’t believe in
Only thing that came
Was the thought of future fame
Dinner was always dramatic

An extra roll of bread made me ecstatic
His talk was always erratic
I wish I could cry in my attic
listen to him complain

I knew he was insane
Where are you kinz?
I thought you promised to keep me away from the pain
Multiple nights I banged my head

Against the wall to be dead
Wrote a letter to her
overdosing on asprin, couldn’t crush my skull
Fuck it  I paid my tull

Grab a clothes hanger.
Get the closet poll
Fell to the floor.
Couldn’t break my neck

I only knew danger.
My friends left me cause I was getting stranger
I was a stranger. Jesus was never in a manger.
found out the banging was me,

found my letter and
scared me till I was white as sour cream
he beat me till I started to scream
Got married on my birthday

It was on a Thursday
My presents taken.
Where they at? I couldn’t say
He even gave cinnamon away.

This continued for 5 years.
A Nightmare
A Broken mirror.
I hated my aggressive stare

I lost all my hope.
No intention to care
In the school bathroom
Found a hand held radio

changed the station until I found 99.3.
I hid the radio and some earbuds Kinz gave me.
At night id await.
till I heard him snore and I would embrace my fate

Put one bud into my ear and listen to the world of hate
Managed to convince him
let me join the cross country team  
made some friends

All their futures seemed to gleam
Treated me as if I was a normal human being.
Last day of freshman year
A courtesy award was near

Wayne bought me a suit and took me to it.
The only time in my life that I looked fit
I was one of the last people called to the pit
I wanted to run and pretend that I had to shit

Earned the Central Courtesy award.
Wayne was shocked. But he was cold as a rock
On the ride back he would nack.
Explained how I didn’t deserve it

how I should have sat in the back
Two Weeks later
another group of doctors
had me do some “tests”. Said I wasn’t a tater tot

They thought I was but now they thought I was not
I was Normal. No longer a bot
Doing pushups,
I was no longer defeated

At this point I was already heated.
I stood up to him.  I was 16 and I was done being cheated
This was my life and I was tired of it being depleted
Yelled at my mom. In the office she was seated.

Then it was time to go. We retreated

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"So hot headed,

but heavy is the hand

that is kept from raising.



being how soft

the surface below 

it would fall upon,

it is al and well


no hand was raised,


but there is no praise 

for such common sense.


Uncommon men

and situations

make for comics 

and comical accusations,


life's a joke

so sometimes I laugh at it,

but this time around

I keep frowning.


So here it is,

laid on the table

the meal made,

with much forethought.


And in the end,

all it causes is heat,

feet stomping,

no use for a cooler,


all around fire is sprayed

and it keeps trying

to catch, 

skin not lit.


Whatever the reason,

be it power or to tower above,

stepping in increases rage,

decreases range.


Within striking distance,

add more fuel to the fire

burning deep inside,

taught to never lay a finger


on the fairer sex,

but the moment tests all control,

reveal, resist,

total consequence in the rearview.


SLew of words,

which hold meaning

spoken out of love or anger,

babble dipping into ears


is all tuned out;

been inside my head for hours


So you go,


but not before raising your own hand,

no pain felt with the blow,

no weight to it.

But damned if the point isn't realized,


asked to leave 

only to come once I'm gone,

leaving my abode vandalized.

How dissapointing.


An anger so roasting

kept cool with a conversation

with a friend, 

longboarder, car hoarder,


keeps one in check

before diving into a bitter 


The bitter look


thrown with an intense glare

with one more pass,

feeling sick to the stomach,

but if one wants,


just ask.

I can be more specific.

Penurious of kindness,

parsimonious of respect."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Parsimonious, not to insult anyone's intelligence, is to be stingy; to be witholding (usually of money). Something that you have, but decide not to give, or spend, or show. Being parsimonious is a common reaction to many a great painful events in our lives. But maybe it shouldn't be. For once.

Behind and Beyond


Behind each blow,

is passion.

Behind the mean words,

is a hurting heart.

Beyond the blood shot eyes,

is a mind clouded by unhappiness.

Each sleepless night,

has a deeper meaning.

The anger comes,

from a place of love.

The slamming door,

is only because there was care at one point.


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A Poet Afloat

Simple Thoughts

"Find out

exactly what it is about,

what words flirt around;

being inspired. 




a piece of art,

hardrock rhymes


that tell what has transpired,

what had rambled on by.

Hard times,

or that feel-good story


that is too cliche for news


no love to be found.

Between then and now,


after everything that has happened,

still trying to climb a side of a mountain.

Reach up above and find purchase,

pull yourself onto the ledge,


overcome that edge.


overcoming what supposed story

has made times get harder.



denotes what is to be,

or what can be deemed

a possibility. 


So is it inspirational,

it being anything, 

just because it had been done

by one who downplays the feat?



it feels good instead,

the rushing feeling

of creating, being


involved in something more than me,

kittens and puppies,

dogs too,

more than you,


inspired to make a difference

because I had made made one 

to your day, 

or so you say.


As long as what is being inspired

doesn't bring the end

of art,

of love and life,


I'll do it every day,

I'll inspire,


that's the point.


I think.


Nothing in this world compares,

being lost at sea;

tidal waves won't let me be.


So poetry,

a release to me,

inpires others?

I can live with that,


be it the truth."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Having written poetry for a little more than a year now I see a lot of comments about how much people can relate to my work, mostly due to how some can read it and feel a sense of vulnerability, or truth. I never try to write a piece to just one person but time and again more people feel that some of my work is almost made out to just them. 


I'm okay with that, since I get that comment more than once. Ego on high, I suppose.



"he's such an uppity motherfucker

dripping with douchebaggery

but he's got swag..."


*   *   * 


a collective of offended morons

who share a narrow world view

with every keystroke 

prancing along with blinders

to pervert what they see as truth

internet superheroes

 hive minded individuals

who see insufferable injustice

in every word uttered

a culture of victimhood found

in every innocuous glance their way

the first world problems of today

magnified by fanatics and sheer idiocy

social justice warriors on their high horse riding on

one way trip down the rabbit's shithole


"it's ok,  it's all a fucking safe place"

"the world as it really is and always will be can't hurt your delicate sensabilities here"

"just cover your ears and close your eyes"


la la la


la la la


la la la

this has nothing to do with you

la la la


la la la 


la la la

but maybe someday you'll piece together the fucking clues

we're the disease

and there can be no justice

as long as our race breathes

we'll always hate

we'll always kill

we'll always subjugate

we always have and always will










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