The crippling pain of depression
seems to envelope small minds as
we curve through the long woven
path of humanity
To sleep in our beds and stream through
like a snake in the rotten soiled tubing
of our cryptic lives.
Each day we wake and wish to die.
but fail to ever live
it usually takes the fate of others
to worry one damp soul
we are hung in a pit
where only lies and terrible sins
could save us from impurity.
one whines for sight but fails to see
that his sight is not sought
A ghost in love like the bones of our sky.
impenetrable lies falter hasty goodbyes
uniformed youths circle in guilt,
spinning in song through sully
brown haze of an
angelic tune.
ensnared,
beaten ,
crushed
and
drowned
in the rivers of our disdained adolescents
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Nocturnal Illusions Pt. 1
within my arm.
a fruit will spring
a scab to peel. an obsession for such a weak man as I.
the dark blur tempting my action.
the over whelming urge to remove it.
its red. its vines. penetrate forth from my skin. and I bleed.
the first of a few falls out.
a tomato.
the second I try to remove.
I squeeze. it hurts.
its vine. is all I can reach.
I rip and tear. my skin is no more.
my arms are shred
no muscle. just the lumpy remains of my scarlet bones.
I tremble at the sight of my weakness.
a fruit will spring
a scab to peel. an obsession for such a weak man as I.
the dark blur tempting my action.
the over whelming urge to remove it.
its red. its vines. penetrate forth from my skin. and I bleed.
the first of a few falls out.
a tomato.
the second I try to remove.
I squeeze. it hurts.
its vine. is all I can reach.
I rip and tear. my skin is no more.
my arms are shred
no muscle. just the lumpy remains of my scarlet bones.
I tremble at the sight of my weakness.
The Prick
As the sewer sewed. the needle wrote a song.
flicking lights. and golden nails at each others necks.
the shame of their gloating
red to our sight.
a string held for dear life.
a clinging sign of need.
the needle falls
and to its catcher, it gives a poke.
a needle who falls needs not to be caught.
unless you are prepared and willing to feel its prick
flicking lights. and golden nails at each others necks.
the shame of their gloating
red to our sight.
a string held for dear life.
a clinging sign of need.
the needle falls
and to its catcher, it gives a poke.
a needle who falls needs not to be caught.
unless you are prepared and willing to feel its prick
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Grandiose
an extravagance of a familiar kind.
willing. needing. and wanting.
waiting, filing and looking.
Find it in the hard floors of the wilderness.
surely they will bow to you.
the crown will wave in your hands lusting for the appreciation you so sorely need.
the fools will doubt the truth of antimatters.
and coinsurances
the issue of love is grandiose.
as most would reverse the idea..
I wished to purchase such a quary.
blundering in my own consequences.
fluttering in my own air.
I would swear control as mine.
and it would belong to no other.
river, such overuse of expression flow unto thee.
mild heartache crushes stones to powder as would a mountain in it's eruption
false respect paid to the murderers.
break glass unwittingly
willing. needing. and wanting.
waiting, filing and looking.
Find it in the hard floors of the wilderness.
surely they will bow to you.
the crown will wave in your hands lusting for the appreciation you so sorely need.
the fools will doubt the truth of antimatters.
and coinsurances
the issue of love is grandiose.
as most would reverse the idea..
I wished to purchase such a quary.
blundering in my own consequences.
fluttering in my own air.
I would swear control as mine.
and it would belong to no other.
river, such overuse of expression flow unto thee.
mild heartache crushes stones to powder as would a mountain in it's eruption
false respect paid to the murderers.
break glass unwittingly
Giddy
It's a rush.
You know that feeling when your in space and all the molecules in your body want to fly in a separate direction but are forced to be stuck within your body so a wrenching pain of energy is blasting from every pore in your body.
a pulse of energy erecting from every molecule and you just want to explode.
The lack of oxygen turnging your skin purple and ever nanosecond is agony.
but it's all for the best.
that hollow feeling deep within the very pit of your soul that knows every thing will be back to normal in a few minutes.
the perplexing virtigo you get seconds before your collapse and wake up from that horrible nightmare.
and your suddely feel the urge to do it once more.
you want to feel the shortness of breathe the slowly recurring noises, (subtle at first) then a gradual impulse of sounds buyrsting through every nerve in your head. you want it to stop but the bang just persists.
you wanna die for just one seond before your back in space.
your eyes want to split in two and your heart is now moving so fast that it feels like is not moving at all.
the paradox within your heart empty but extremely heavy.
reoccuring sounds mumbles of ideas scrambling to releave all the pressure in your lungs. all sences shot. darkness followed by light and every thing you know is back as you left it.
that wonderful nightmare is over.
but the urge to relive it is still there.
the pain is unbearable. but the urge is much more.
silence.
You know that feeling when your in space and all the molecules in your body want to fly in a separate direction but are forced to be stuck within your body so a wrenching pain of energy is blasting from every pore in your body.
a pulse of energy erecting from every molecule and you just want to explode.
The lack of oxygen turnging your skin purple and ever nanosecond is agony.
but it's all for the best.
that hollow feeling deep within the very pit of your soul that knows every thing will be back to normal in a few minutes.
the perplexing virtigo you get seconds before your collapse and wake up from that horrible nightmare.
and your suddely feel the urge to do it once more.
you want to feel the shortness of breathe the slowly recurring noises, (subtle at first) then a gradual impulse of sounds buyrsting through every nerve in your head. you want it to stop but the bang just persists.
you wanna die for just one seond before your back in space.
your eyes want to split in two and your heart is now moving so fast that it feels like is not moving at all.
the paradox within your heart empty but extremely heavy.
reoccuring sounds mumbles of ideas scrambling to releave all the pressure in your lungs. all sences shot. darkness followed by light and every thing you know is back as you left it.
that wonderful nightmare is over.
but the urge to relive it is still there.
the pain is unbearable. but the urge is much more.
silence.
Pressure in my Holy Temple; A headache.
Before I begin with my rhyme
I must exclame it's been some time.
in days of old I used to write
in flashy letters both black and white.
"I walk along a lonely road "
That green day quote is pretty old
It reflects life and it shows
our petty goals and worthless woes
I see these flame way up high
as I walk I pass them by
the flames , I see on top of sticks
around me, buildings made of bricks.
I do not know where I am bound
then I stop to look around.
I see things that a man should never see
Beggers, Drunkards, Rats,and Addicts surrounding me
They yell at me, I say "this is swell"
I think I might just be in hell.
Indeed it's true I see a gate.
this man in red says "its too late"
I look at him in gross dismay
he asks me once to come and stay
He says to me "heavens not that great"
cause up there you can't masterbate"
And then he growls and laughs out loud
and with that, approachs a croud
they chant in key
as they approach me
and say the most peculiar things.
One says "you can't fly with buffalo wings"
and others join in to the chant.
"you can't yell feathers while I rant"
"I can't I can't I can't I can't "
"feathers" "Whether I can not say"
"Please you can't surely be so gay"
"Please Oh please don't get in my way"
I hear them speak and I say "HEY!"
"whats with all this crazy talk?"
then silence comes
not a word is spoke
until one says "ey whats wrong with you bloke?"
"why don't you join me for a smoke?"
As I replied "go home you joke"
I suddenly just awoke
I hide a gun beneath my bed.
some times I put it near my head.
in the night it would go off
My voice is gone, I have to cough.
the gun you see is not a gun
the gun reflects society.
in my sleep its under me
my bliss is sleep with no anxiety
You see the world is going straight to hell.
don't understand why? I'll explain. I shall.
you see, there is this guy. his name is . Tim
he is married to his woman, Kim.
every sunday Tim goes down on Jim
While at home alone is Kim
All night she worries for Husband Tim,
whether he will be back in time from the Gym
She thinks that Tim is in the Gym
Oh poor delutional Kim
It is in fact Jim who is in Tim.
who Can say that this is right?
And still we all sit around and fight.
on the side of who is right.
that is in fact the question.
Who is right?
to proof ones own correct fault
one must not assalt the one who seems to be right.
For he can put up a better fight.
ones own ideas can be strong
And as we live we go along
with what we are told and think we know
and justify them till we go
to heaven or hell we never know.
Sodomy, Rape, Incest , and lust.
Issues that just bring disgust.
sexual acts can be robust.
Stealing, Killing, And Lying bring guilt
on those Crimes are laws are built.
but we do not reflect on ourselfs.
as if we are innocent elfs
with nothing more then gifts and bells
but cute things like that in market sells.
the money that those markets make
are spared for rich men to take.
with shares and money at ones expence make.
and then he falls with a chance to break
He's broke it'g one no time for him
cause here comes money in a case for Jim.
A lawsuit is made with Kim to Tim.
A divorse is planned between her and him.
She caught Jim In Tim
and in a whim Jim leaves with Tim.
Some money lost for poor old Kim.
She was not ever married with him.
She is lost and sad no money to use.
she found a chance, Nothing to loose.
To sleep with men and drink some booze.
she has two kids. whom she can abuse.
One slap or two can light a fuse.
these kids are old enough to use.
that gun she had in case of theft.
Bang bang Boom boom No one is left.
No please excuse my lack of rhyme but this had to be said from time to time.
"you are what your surrounded by"
I must exclame it's been some time.
in days of old I used to write
in flashy letters both black and white.
"I walk along a lonely road "
That green day quote is pretty old
It reflects life and it shows
our petty goals and worthless woes
I see these flame way up high
as I walk I pass them by
the flames , I see on top of sticks
around me, buildings made of bricks.
I do not know where I am bound
then I stop to look around.
I see things that a man should never see
Beggers, Drunkards, Rats,and Addicts surrounding me
They yell at me, I say "this is swell"
I think I might just be in hell.
Indeed it's true I see a gate.
this man in red says "its too late"
I look at him in gross dismay
he asks me once to come and stay
He says to me "heavens not that great"
cause up there you can't masterbate"
And then he growls and laughs out loud
and with that, approachs a croud
they chant in key
as they approach me
and say the most peculiar things.
One says "you can't fly with buffalo wings"
and others join in to the chant.
"you can't yell feathers while I rant"
"I can't I can't I can't I can't "
"feathers" "Whether I can not say"
"Please you can't surely be so gay"
"Please Oh please don't get in my way"
I hear them speak and I say "HEY!"
"whats with all this crazy talk?"
then silence comes
not a word is spoke
until one says "ey whats wrong with you bloke?"
"why don't you join me for a smoke?"
As I replied "go home you joke"
I suddenly just awoke
I hide a gun beneath my bed.
some times I put it near my head.
in the night it would go off
My voice is gone, I have to cough.
the gun you see is not a gun
the gun reflects society.
in my sleep its under me
my bliss is sleep with no anxiety
You see the world is going straight to hell.
don't understand why? I'll explain. I shall.
you see, there is this guy. his name is . Tim
he is married to his woman, Kim.
every sunday Tim goes down on Jim
While at home alone is Kim
All night she worries for Husband Tim,
whether he will be back in time from the Gym
She thinks that Tim is in the Gym
Oh poor delutional Kim
It is in fact Jim who is in Tim.
who Can say that this is right?
And still we all sit around and fight.
on the side of who is right.
that is in fact the question.
Who is right?
to proof ones own correct fault
one must not assalt the one who seems to be right.
For he can put up a better fight.
ones own ideas can be strong
And as we live we go along
with what we are told and think we know
and justify them till we go
to heaven or hell we never know.
Sodomy, Rape, Incest , and lust.
Issues that just bring disgust.
sexual acts can be robust.
Stealing, Killing, And Lying bring guilt
on those Crimes are laws are built.
but we do not reflect on ourselfs.
as if we are innocent elfs
with nothing more then gifts and bells
but cute things like that in market sells.
the money that those markets make
are spared for rich men to take.
with shares and money at ones expence make.
and then he falls with a chance to break
He's broke it'g one no time for him
cause here comes money in a case for Jim.
A lawsuit is made with Kim to Tim.
A divorse is planned between her and him.
She caught Jim In Tim
and in a whim Jim leaves with Tim.
Some money lost for poor old Kim.
She was not ever married with him.
She is lost and sad no money to use.
she found a chance, Nothing to loose.
To sleep with men and drink some booze.
she has two kids. whom she can abuse.
One slap or two can light a fuse.
these kids are old enough to use.
that gun she had in case of theft.
Bang bang Boom boom No one is left.
No please excuse my lack of rhyme but this had to be said from time to time.
"you are what your surrounded by"
Cosmic Surgery
oh, come to my store,
I’ll fix you up.
I’ll grab a tooth pick and a cup, and
sow your mouth and stomach shut.
then while your sitting on the chair
I’ll give you some burdens to bear
as well as cut your silly hair.
perhaps I’ll charm you will a spell
and ask you to live safe and well
as I live alone in hell.
then while I’m at it how ’bout a perm.
a face lift? botox? and bath?
and as your tied up you try to squirm
while I wipe off every germ.
an acid bath will do you good,
a moral boost it would, it would.
how horrid it must sound to you.
a creature so uptight and rude.
a ghoul a ghost with attitude.
but heck it’s fine I’m in the mood.
lets fight and struggle in a match.
or fire brimstone with a catch.
the winner will be baked in a batch of
tasteful delectable snacks.
a sunshine moral code of ethics keep all dreams of murder,
blood and gore,as nothing more then just a simple
boring thought.
it’s all been seen you say.
there’s nothing that scares me. no way!.
then what about a streak of sadness, tainted with a birch of madness.
broken by an knife of steel deep within your back.
oh that sounds lovely for the hour and you’ll go deaf from screams as I grow sour toward your utterly pathetic thoughts of rage filled angst.
oh my wonderful flower. how was the trip with doctor bat.
who said he’d do you good and makes all troubles go away.
oh yes he’s good I’ll recommend him as you should to every wacko in da hood.
and we’ll be jolly filled with beans of caramel and suet
my pregnant rat is still alive with child in arms endangerment.
as all harm comes along at once we worry so a chance to put away the harms of filth and smut that plague our soft trite souls.
I’ll fix you up.
I’ll grab a tooth pick and a cup, and
sow your mouth and stomach shut.
then while your sitting on the chair
I’ll give you some burdens to bear
as well as cut your silly hair.
perhaps I’ll charm you will a spell
and ask you to live safe and well
as I live alone in hell.
then while I’m at it how ’bout a perm.
a face lift? botox? and bath?
and as your tied up you try to squirm
while I wipe off every germ.
an acid bath will do you good,
a moral boost it would, it would.
how horrid it must sound to you.
a creature so uptight and rude.
a ghoul a ghost with attitude.
but heck it’s fine I’m in the mood.
lets fight and struggle in a match.
or fire brimstone with a catch.
the winner will be baked in a batch of
tasteful delectable snacks.
a sunshine moral code of ethics keep all dreams of murder,
blood and gore,as nothing more then just a simple
boring thought.
it’s all been seen you say.
there’s nothing that scares me. no way!.
then what about a streak of sadness, tainted with a birch of madness.
broken by an knife of steel deep within your back.
oh that sounds lovely for the hour and you’ll go deaf from screams as I grow sour toward your utterly pathetic thoughts of rage filled angst.
oh my wonderful flower. how was the trip with doctor bat.
who said he’d do you good and makes all troubles go away.
oh yes he’s good I’ll recommend him as you should to every wacko in da hood.
and we’ll be jolly filled with beans of caramel and suet
my pregnant rat is still alive with child in arms endangerment.
as all harm comes along at once we worry so a chance to put away the harms of filth and smut that plague our soft trite souls.
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