Call me the hideaway kid
Cause I run from what they did
Avoiding the personal
Because it hurts.

I can see each scar
Each line of ages
And exhaustion

Each bald spot
Each sweat ring
Each stinging red spot

For every head
The hangs
Just a little lower

For every heart
That breaks
Just a little more

For ever bruise
Wound, or scar

I retreat just a little farther
Cringe just a little harder
Clench my heart tighter
Till my chest bleeds
Till I cannot breath
Till what is left of me
Is nothing
But a mess

Shadows become my home
Movies and games
Become my distraction
Easing just an inkling
Of the pain I feel
From seeing the real pain
Of the world

What’s so hard about being human?
Knowing our roots seeing our kin
in everyone
every father, daughter
mother, and son
is someone.

What’s so hard about being human?
Seeing other humans in pain
and knowing
that the growing
of their suffering
is wrong.

What’s so hard about being human,
about being humane?
I know it’s a struggle.
Struggling in vain
to impede the stampede
of the diseased or merely deceived
human beings
who think caring is a weakness.

What’s so hard about being human?
About feeding the hungry,
helping the homeless,
seeing a stranger as family,
seeing another nation
as distant cousins,
seeing a neighbor
as a neighbor
and not a competitor
for better
things.

What’s so hard about being human?
Giving A helping hand
to help us all understand
loving can
make the world a better place.
How hard is that?

He cultivated a passive nature
Made peace to pervade his essence
A sterling silver soul
But it was contaminated
Little dark parts littered his white heart
Abuse sparked black spots

Pass all those authoritarian lies
He saw the demon within rise
Not supernatural but emotional
With every angry words heard
With every heartbroken day
With every hope lost the cost
Paid was displayed in his ever
Darkening ways

And the kindness turned to hate
And the darkness consumed the day

Unaccepted left abject in retrospect
Perhaps he could have saved himself
But for the lack of love
He could not muster up enough strength

As his resistance eroded
His intentions were corrupted
And acidicly corroded
Till his innocence evaporated
And all that was left was
The monster they made him
The thing that he most feared and hated
He became a sick distorted image of
Himself

Time is
flexible glass
that reflects our painful past
showing transparent shades
of our better angels
bending to pressure.
If we push forward hard
we break the glass
lose the illusion
of our troubled past
and have a chance
to move on.

I am just a fish,
a tasty dish
that others missed,
a tuna plate
or salmon patty
with just a pinch
of mercury
poisoning.

Feel free
to eat me
and tons of
my floundering
family
so, you can die
oh, so slowly.

I like loving beauty from a distance
A soft spot
Not lust
But adoration
Lesbians
And
Straight girls
When I was younger
The hunger for love and ***
Drove me
But now
I am a vessel for appreciation

If you are black, they can,

shoot up your car,
come into your home
without probable cause,
beat you down,
****** you on the streets
while being recorded,
demonize you after the fact,
get away with it.

If you are black
and take a stand
you will be seen as the enemy
by at least half of your society,
even if your trying to
help your community.

You will be imprisoned unjustly,
and even after you’re free
they will try to prevent
or impede
your right to vote.

This is not a fake news reality
this is something that is
quite openly done.

I got the nice guy rage
Anger that stirs
Beneath the pages
Past the posts I pasted
Parceled out in controlled fashion
Because my passion
Stems from the pain of the world
Floods and fallen stars
Broken expectations
Failure to pierce the infinite void
Of human ignorance
It is unhealthy

A weakness

A fear

That even if it is justified
I may find the same monster
Lurking inside my mind
That plagued my matriarch
The rage that darkened her heart
And contorted her face
As she lashed out at me
So with every available icebox
I freeze and lock
Those dangerous emotions
Till I am numb
Allowing only a fraction
Of said passion to ever surface
In my writings
Now I am afraid
That I locked to much away
Disconnected the locks and lost the keys
So I can never get back to the real me
All because I am afraid of the anger

There are some sins
that feel like
a constant burning,
shame so deep
your stomach turning
becomes a relief.

Good grief,
I am glad
that isn't me.
I may not be
perfectly at ease
but my shame
doesn't torture me
all consumingly.

It just buzzes in
the background
discreetly
like a handful
of lost honey bees.

I am a sick *******
Sweet friend
Emotion fiend
Seeking stories
Wanting your
gorgeous pain
To hold
To harbor
The albatross
At the arbor
Flying to the dying ship
That weight around your neck
That anchors you to ****
That razor blade
You want to use to cut it
I am a vampire of sorrows
******* up injustice
Then spitting these flitting verses
Back out like sputum
So others can use them
To make us all more human
Though my wrists cramp with heartbreaks
I still write at night by lampshade
Sipping small vials of nightshade
Hoping to take your pain away
And plant posies with all that poison

Perhaps,
I held to many
expectations.

Is it right
to expect
a mother
to have patience,

To not lash out,
to truly think about
the hearts of
their child’s aspirations.

These are my specters
visitations
of previous incarnations
of pain.

Perhaps,
I should not
hold high
the standard
of acceptance
and appreciation.

That was not her job.
She did do her job,
maybe not
as the perfect
maternal figure,
but she was a provider,

Perhaps,
that is all
that I can truly ask of her,
my mother.

The grass shimmers
muted green
with cold emerald glitter.

Small onyx mirrors
of rippling beauty
loose their heated motion,
hardening with a lack of passion.

A stationary figure
finds light from
the siblings of
the absentee sun.

Releasing the teasing
Blinking space furnaces
finally expose their
naked mythological fury.

Breath curls
evaporating the last
warm spirits,
till the night vapors
swirl no more,
and the stiffness
From winter’s vengeance
let’s death overcome and own
the night watchman’s frozen form.

There were greater writers
That no one will remember
Sinners singing for their dinner
Tale weavers not award winners

But they were better than some of those
**** famous deadbeat poets
Those dirt dry boring heartless poets
Anthology barn describing
Empty mind driving
Generation after generation
Stale lifeless shells of poets

You missed the raw talented
Death seeking reeking writer
While you were pursuing some tired muse
She was riding through the darkness
Spiting you while inviting you
To partake of the snake that eats itself

The academic was systemic
Of the social sickness
That wants grammarly fitness
Till the point they cut the fruit off
And ate the bark
They plugged in the tv man
But ignored the spark
Lost the heart in pursuing
The same style the old poets were using
Till they changed styles to the new old poets

Meanwhile the cutting edge
Was in back water cities
Bleeding all deep poetry
Feeling everything but pity
And writing it so fast and beautifully

But you never took the time to see
Wrote some stuff that puts us all to sleep
Now we are creeping toward the two thousand and twenties
And I have found those once lost voices
They are rocking the twitter feeds
The facebook pages
The tumblr streams
Welcome to the digital age
Don’t need the old guard
To raise us up
It’s a true poets dreams
Were voices scream dissonantly
But still form a social harmony
They won’t forget me
And I won’t miss out on them

Do you know what you are to me
You are my family
Like a brother to me
Why can’t you stop and see
That what they want you to believe
It’s like a terminal disease

The orange flower blooms with pain
****** fire will destroy our youths and then
Were back at Vietnam
With crying parents holding
Their young and dying children

And if the veil of time is torn
If the loom that weaves fate is shorn
Cut clean to the core of my bone
Then I may not make it home

Cause the bombs that hit Nagasaki
The mushroom death at Hiroshima
Was just another destruction
Of the long separated but Japanese
Family to me

And when the natives cried for help
When we stretched our wretched ourselves
To cross the oceans and find a better home
Did we have to **** our native kin
When they could have been more than friends
We could have treated them like family

It’s the dark cycle that seems to follow
When we make ourselves hollow
With distinctions like race and creed
Make the media forget or deny our history
Then the bullets fire and the bombs drop
And all those hateful crimes never stop
Makes us monsters killing our foreign family

The world does not want
one more poet activist
crying out against
all injustice.

The world does not want
a moral philosopher
plunging the depths
of the lies we tell ourselves,
discarding illusions, and
barely overcoming confusion
to become a better human being.

The world does not want
another hopeless romantic
faithful lover,
god under the covers,
explorer, and discoverer
of all untraveled depths
that women possess.

This world does not want me
and I am almost okay with that.

Are some things better left buried
Sandy covered secrets
Red welts masked as rashes
Flinching PSTD trauma from past ****
It’s not golden dablooms
Under the moon
It’s bruises from ill-uses
Suspicious glances
Struggling to ever trust again
Never leaving the house
Never letting new people in
Never finding a healthy balance
Blaming yourself
For the insanity of someone else
And the best thing to ever come out
Of it is the poetry you write about
You know, all that buried stuff

He’s a huffed up
tough stuff,
bulbous
but head,
shifty show pony
shuffling up
cause he thinks
he is so well-bred.

He’s a bad boy nuisance
with his lack of patience
and eloquence,
no verbal skills to speak of
cause his language
usage
is at less then
age ten
level.

It is so frustrating
cause when I go on explaining
why this situation
is so degrading
people just say
I am player hating.

Teary eyes
Walking bodies
Working stiffs
Echoing
Losing
Everything
Originality
Disappears
Factory motions
Zoloft emotions
One sidewalk
Looks the same
One uniformed man
Looks the same
Loosing names
For sign in numbers
Citizens are just social security cards
Like Bob Segar said
I feel like a number
And every stranger is just a digit more

These moods are dark encroaching forces
Shackled to sad fortunes and unfair fates
They wait for things to improve without acting
Saying that by praying they will make it alright
Bent knees in supplication suckling on this greedy nation
Brown smelly droppings like they were caramel toppings
Fools facing downwards while surgeon’s hands deftly
Strangle any angle of retreat or success
Stealing the last happy hopeful breath
Till my brothers and sisters retire to death

She is in part
a viper,
a poisonous plague
upon my heart,
venom spitter
dark adder
damming me
from a distance,
crumbling my
resistance.

She is dangerous
but I do not mind,
I find I like that kind
of danger.

In the choppy Sunday waters
A piece of cardboard
swims just below the surface
only inches away
from the safety of the grassy shore.

Farther out a plastic bag struggles
slightly submerged
it cannot decide
whether it should drown
or fly away with the wind.
Instead, it floats wide open
******* in air
but never escaping its purgatory.

This could be a great place to rent
but I don’t want to live here.

So, I let the train roll heavy
breaking every bond
in my once well rooted
but now withering body.

These words don’t mean ****
when there is no one listening
cause I am just an over entitled
society fighter who think he is enlightened,
but in reality, I am just a coward
running as fast as I can.

It has been an hour in-between spent
just waiting for my metal chariot.
My cup jingles with ice water
because I can’t afford
the hard liquor
that other strangers adore.

Earbuds distract.
Loud music
plays strange extended chords.
The electric vibrations
swirl around
then wave in and out
as the tempo of the drum
beats in the background.
So loud and strange,
it flows faster
then the rain
that hits the rusted track.

I change trains
cause I would rather
hit the rails
then stay tamed
like a well trained
house cat.
Who never leaves his home.

Induced in caffeinated frenzy
The whimsy of forbidden love
Passion swirls stirred by the spooning
Mooning over my beloved
Engorged with desire
And all I am able to do
Is to die or write about what that inspires
She gasps as I collapse
United in my imagined state
A world of never was or will be
****** fantasies
Unreality becomes poetry
Urges become action
I spend myself on internet ****
To purge this painful ecstasy
*** and return to my sanity
Until I read or see her brilliance
And the cycle stiffens anew

An explosion
Rage at the system
Red
Violent
Rage at injustice
Blood
Anger
Rage forced inwards
Backlashes
Brawls
Or Self-harm
And the rage
Rages on

I wrapped you up
In my black ink
Leathery bat wings

Wings that once
Saw me soaring
Exploring everything
Every hope and dream

I let you ****** each feather
Close and fluttering
Crow colored I covered
Your heart with words
Soft, deep, and soothing
Profound and informative
Descriptive and imaginative

So, if you need them
I will clip these wings
And you can have your turn to fly

I remember a story from long long ago
Even though it has been years since it was told
The tale still holds strong to myth and mystique
When people told it in dark corners cause they had to sneak
From shadows to shadow in whispered tones they would speak
Pagans fleeing from the Christian scourge
That sought there destruction and wished to purge
All of their beliefs from the face of the earth
And trample their children down into the dirt
I remember each word and though I am scared as well
My heart and mind demand that I tell the tale
Of the greatest lover man has ever had
Who was gentle, passionate, angry, and sad
We have forgotten she who bore us first
Scarred her flesh, polluted her blood and done much worse
Denied her existence so that instead
We could profit from her suffering and desecrate the dead.
So even as in rain she weep for us
We are lost, wicked and unjust
Thieves of life, time and wealth
We take and take to help ourselves
Plundering the world into the abyss
Forgetting what we lost and what we should miss
However even in our darkest hour
When man destroys and covets power
I can hear her silent voice as she makes her appeal
Begging her children to love not to ****
To mend the wounds that we all need to heal
And raise each other up  if we should fail or fall
So remember these words and please heed her call
We her are children united one to each other
So let’s make peace in this moment from here to forever

Tears scar
my fevered
red face
as I rage
against
these
unites states.

Pillars of pain
pushed to the point
of bullets and
blood stained
t-shirts.

To young,
to run
far enough
away
that day,

Now politicians
send thoughts and
prayers
but that is
much too little
to even be late.

The media
garners
silent stares
of inaction
while anonymous
internet commenters
call grieving parents
crisis actors.

facebook posts
of dividing positions
put friends in
combative opposition.

I would like
to be fair and neutral,
but the roots
run red and deep
as this dark sea of grief
rises from its sedated state.

So,
I keep on asking
how many more children
have to die
before people do
something right.

I bring you flourishes of superb poetic sentiment
Superfluously inspired by my desires
To touch, to see, to hear, to be near,
To succor on the sweetness of your lips,

To worship your poetic passions,
In each verbal nuance, and embellishment
But not from such a terrible distance

To let whatever fury you possess
Consume me like a wave after it crests
Washing away the very core of my distrustful heart

It has been years since I saw the shores of love
Like a long lost utopia, Avalon still waits in the mists
Storms shadowing each precipice
You are dangerous but the perfect fuel
If you crush me I believe that I will bleed beautiful poetry
Still being better for loving you from such a distance

It is the snake that eats itself
Swallowing mortar and brick
From the bottom up
Consuming lives destroying families
Corrupting people
Greed begets greed
Desire begets desire
The top may stand for a little while
But as the building cracks
Floor by floor
The fallen scream
Said serpentine
Has cut the netting
Needing a helping hand
Quicksand men are sinking
Until one man stands
Deaf to poverty’s echoes
And then he starts falling
With no net to catch him

I wish I would have known you better
Spent more time together
When I was younger
Still I remember your soft strange skin
Your quite smile played out every now and then
Your ancient mariner look
Though I never saw you crack a book
I learned later on you were well read
Now you are just as dead
All I have are dying embers, sparks of memory
Losing their heat inside of me
I wish I had known you better
But this wish is just regret
And you can learn to forget
What you used to regret
It just so happens that hasn’t happened for me yet

We are citizens,
victims of a system
of stratification.

We use fiction
to relate
us to them,
women and men,
social programming
for the progress
to do more then
just began again.

While the filthy fat cats
are raking it in
doing more then
making a killing
by selling weapons
made to ****
foreign children,

making profits
off the violence
while calling us
immoral
criminals.

So, we use fantasy
to cross the breach,
break the cranium
so you can see
reality
through
that fictional brew,

and gain compassion
from the stories you read
or the movies you see.

This is the time
to select a brave few
who may follow you
through

Life does not promise happiness,
nor does existence guarantee dignity

But for the actions of few who sacrifice
Not battle born ****** bodies
But hearts open and bleeding
Seeding the carcass strewn landscape
With new and old ideas

Planting by praising with love

Weeding by damning that which
Diminishes love’s greatest achievements

Teaching that peace, love, and happiness
Are the only profits worth acquiring

Do we yield the products of this glorious field

The Goddess whispers love
And I am enchanted
But it’s not for me
She writes it perfectly
Passion verbally exploding
Reminding me
How lonely
It is to be
Me

Stanza after stanza of passion
Each syllable is a finger
Forcefully plunged into my heart
She impales me
Stabbing deeply
Slicing from throat to sac
Then around the back
And bleeding me in reverse

In her words
Dull emotions
Are reinvigorated
Phantom organs
Come to life again
Then
Melt away
Cause the facts say
That I will never ever
Be loved in such
A beautiful way

They did not come with super suits
tight black leather, flame retardant,
massively muscled or otherwise.

They did not bring sacramental salvation
speaking in tongues while healing the sick
at the feet of saints and seraphim.

Instead, they came as strangers
speaking words of wisdom and compassion.
They came as counselors, and teachers
with kind hearts and good intentions.
They came to help and we are all
better for their goodness.

The metal moves faster,
as he pushes the pedal down,
innocent urges shift from
first to second;
Moments of magic speed
with piercing wind
which he breathed in
almost syncing them
to his racing heartbeat.
The engine roars,
as he implores
time to take him
farther away from
everyone.
A sharp turn
turns him over
and as his car leaves the ground
he thinks
I am free.

The train chugs
along
moving at an
average pace
away from the place
he longs to escape.
Not as fast as the car
but this time
he gets much farther,
and enjoys the
tranquility
of seeing each city
slide by the side
and out of view
as he stares out
the train window.
  
The sea
opens up
as the boat
pushes forth into
a whole unknown
watery world,
as he moves farther
and farther
away from home
seeking
the freedom
of the unfamiliar.

Wings move him
away from the earth
and toward the heavens,
but it is never far enough away
for him to find
the freedom
he seeks.

Gravity is released,
as he looks
at a world below
with no
borders,
or countries
and though
he knows
he will have to go back
he turns around
to see the
bluish black
expanse
with white diamonds
that beckon him
to his freedom.

Years of pain
spent in a bed
as his frame
withers away,
followed by
a failing mind,
until the last day
when he finally finds
the freedom
he has been chasing
all his life.

I am a terrible human being. **** storming, anger machine that spits hateful things in poetry.
My memory is a landfill, of abuses, and poorly remembered happier times. I struggle to find the truth behind my anger, sadness, and regret. Is it what I remember, forget, or can’t forget that has ****** me up? Her face causes the familiar rage to rise. Voice spewing lies, or what I think is lies. I spent most of my life trying to figure out how it was my fault. I am still trying to figure how it might be my fault. Hyper kid, tired and lonely mother, the formula does not mix. I cannot calculate the value of her violence minus what I did to deserve it. Did I earn it? People aren’t all bad? I can remember going to the movies a couple of times, traveling and listening to music, holidays and presents, but in the present all that is shaded. I am jaded by being locked in an unlocked room, cut off in solitary confinement, because she got busted for the violence. I remember how she had to know what I told the counselor. So I stopped telling them anything.
A smart man knows that human memory is not perfect, so I keep trying to figure out how I deserved to get hit, why I deserved to be isolated, verbally degraded. Part of it had to be my fault, cause people just don’t lash out. I struggle to find out what it was all about because I am scared. If I can’t figure out the reason, if there was no good reason, could I become her?

Brown eyes
Brown hair
Down there
Skin folded or inverted in
Split ****
Who would go through this
If it wasn’t important
New hair
Hormone treatment
Doesn’t deserve
Your resentment
Life never offers
A perfect placement
Most of the time
We got to make
Our own happy space
New life
No more dissonance
Between who you are
And who you are
It’s more compassionate
To let someone be
Who and what
They want to be
Then to make them suffer
For your sense of normality

I live in a neighborhood were
Even if you got a job
You’re still barely getting by
Hardly get to live your life
When your bosses can work you
Anytime they like
Any shift day, or night,
Part, full, or overtime
While the yard gets grassy
Cops come passing out ordinance tickets
Frisbees float away falling into thickets
Surrounded by various forms of scrap metal
While bricks once baked and harden
Crumble to dust
The foundation cracks and busts
And your house comes crumbling down
Letting critters come and go
This is my block
What a shocking show

I tell my internet friend
That she is safe
As much as I want to
I will never get to
Meet you
There will be no café date
No train station meeting
The miles between us
Are more than I can overcome
So she will never have to see me
Or believe that she will be deceived
For some ulterior motive
I am not out for lust
I am not out to touch **** or ****
And even if I fall in love
It will never be so she is free to be
As honest as she needs to be
Because she is my favorite
Long distance internet friend

From the mainframe
That brought you war games
Head-shots for **** points
Team death match battles
Close to realistic war scenes
On your plasma tv screen
Here your enemies scream
As their heads explode
See your IQ drop
While dexterity improves
As your gaming console
Get used to control
A digital killing machine
Pumped up world war dreams
Cause death is a game
And killing is great
And now our children are well trained
To fly our missile and machine gun
Loaded drones
and shoot down the enemies
Of our sick bloated
Corporate corrupted
Fake free state

Can you see beyond
What you believe is a sea
Though in reality
Is a tiny trickle
Expanded only
In the minds
Of those who were fooled

Cross that tiny gap
Break the barriers
Of the past
And find the truth
Of our human connection

We are not a small
Band of ****** brothers
Or a class of kin
Classified by our borders
And the color of our skin

We are a collective
Cut from the same cloth
Of history
The same chain
Of DNA

We are human
To be loved and accepted
Not feared or rejected

We are children
Living within
The limited life span

We are not one clan
Against a million
But one tribe
That counts seven billion
plus

The factory is dingy.
Black floors wear
oil lines, deep scratches,
and metal scraps.

The tools are worn
with rust and age lines
like the ones in ancient pines.

Giant fans block out
all normal sounds.
Spider webs cling precariously
to the orangeish red moving things
that hangs from the ceiling.

Cracked and ***** large garage doors
beep like garbage trucks backing up.
Rotten wood rises. Wind rushes in
cooling my sweat soaked skin.

A rusted cage openly displays
all the expensive implements
the workers need to get through
the long nights and longer days.

Office in the middle;

Black and green machines
run so loudly.
Scattered all around
those rough machines
are stacks of metal stairs,
spools of metal wires,
and puddles of water
which from the roof
that needs worked on.

This place is ***** and chaotic
out in the boonies.
I like it way more
then the antiseptic one
I worked at before
because it has more history
and character.

The bright white headlights
pierced the quiet night sky,
catching the hazel eyed
strange passerby,

the unsuspecting figure
who was crossing the road
by the beautiful pathway
that lay straight next to
a perfect beach view.

There, solid metal struck
with an unsettling thud,
the fleshy form
of that adolescent.

As expected
when metal meets
meaty flesh,
that young man flew
if just for a second or two,
then tripped over the side rail
and fell.

The driver accelerated
moving quickly away
not wanting to face
the consequences
of this crash,

while further down
on wet and sandy ground
a human being
struggled to move
in hopes of being seen,
and saved.

Each breath agony,
persisting only in the hopes of living,
but never found salvation’s answer.

Where do all the lost boys go?
The rag tag scruffy band
of tiny merry men
playing Robin hood again,

The kings of
flying fancy,
dragons dancing
in the fire lit night,
the little wrathful
waking warriors,

The lonely eyes,
with scraped
and soon to be
scabbed up knees,

The oily skin
and dripping tears
accompanied by
snot that drip drops,

The searchers,
tiny adventurers,
monster hunters,

The little victims,
who follow the whims
of cruel dictators,
of vile violators,
of demon desecrators
on their soft flesh?

When all the madness
seems to pass
and only the stillness
finally lasts,
when they finally
silence the bad,
quieting
the nightmares
they had,

after peering
through
windows,
searching
the artic cold
of winter’s
harsh white snow,
searching for
a safety
they have never
known,

please tell me
cause I don’t know,
where do
the lost boys
go to?

In the before, before we ever were
We were the primordial
Till our ascendant transitions
Overtook our **** poor positions
On the rearranging food chain

When we changed to five fingered beings
With high octane ape brains
Transcending our vocal limitations
With new sonic imitations

A long lineage lining up
For one improvement then the next
Rising with each step on the DNA stairway
Loosing and gaining, gaining and loosing
Till, organs become vestigial
And even we cannot suss out
Their original purpose

We barely know the steps
To this historic dance
Just taking each adaption
As a matter of chance

Till tired tangents separate
Grow and aggregate

A billion years finds us here
Stewing in fear of
Our own irrelevance
Not knowing that by growing
Such creative brilliance
We have discovered
Our own non-magical miracle

Twigs sprouting leaves
Protein powered trees
Our heritage ascending to the state of
Such a prodigious poetic primate

Time is a thief
swift of feet
with nimble fingers
plucking the chords
of harmony
And dissonance;
Terrible and frightening
taking but never giving
a single second back.


Nature
Melting
Sounds
Disintegrating
Dissipation
Shadows of shapes
That never existed
Alone in the universe



When will she speak again,
play hide and seek with friends,
find new tidings,
night ridings,
space adventures,
and fairy-tale family
love and play
like her younger days,
instead of this
dull mist
of well employed
boredom?

There is no hope for my kind of crazy.
It spits and sputters, shakes and stutters.
Rages once ill conceived now burn and bleed.
Consistency of hope a false promise,
there are no healing spells, or magic potions
no perfect pills. Cutting flesh is for fools.
Settling is for tools, society is festering
it's flesh oozing greed and corruption.
I see the lines and circles.
From you to me, the web is incomplete,
and the madness
oh the madness
becomes bitter and sickly sweet

Foreswear thy love
Thy breaking life
To challenge death
To barely survive

Foreswear thy time
Though ill-consumed
The antidote
Is a poisoned brew

Forswear thy seconds
That you rush upon
Racing to each new experience
Not resting or facing
The thoughts fast pacing
Thy reason is muddled
Left to your passion

You would have been
Better served my friend
Foreswearing the folly
Of flesh born pleasures
In trade for those made
Of the intellectual variety

You let the music run rough shot, right over you.
Don’t you miss those calming blues,
The cadences and melodies that soothed,
Lully-byes intertwined with sweet good byes,
Celtic songs that longed to make you cry,
To help you find your celestial delight,
The soft thrumming of tribal humming,
The slow tempo that takes you home,
To old memories?

I am not saying that their displaying
A bad kind of vibe,
Or that they’re too far gone to the wrong
To ever find what’s right,
To lost in the night to ever see the light.
Angry faces flare firing fist for fighting,
But sometimes all that anger
Just doesn’t seem right.
All that bark still carries all that bite,
And I wonder if it’s in the rage
That you forget yourself

Do you lose the day?
Tell me what does your inner nature say?
Is there a bit of peace?
Or did you give it all away,
To that vicious beast,
To that malicious beat,
Sizzling electric and vocal shock
Yeah the hard knocks we all call hard rock?

This city drinks me in
Scratches my skin
And calls life sin

I am one bottle
Half empty
Sick salt water
Made to spit
Wet ****
As this vile brew
Slips pass my
Cracked lips

Drunk to get free
Buzzed to be me
So people can see
I don’t care what they think
How sobering

Dry eyes sealed shut
Crusted sleep dust
Thirsty, sore
If I flew before
I do not remember
I am disrobed
And dismembered
Exposed in December

Towering teeth
Swallowing me
Till I cannot see
Till I cannot breath
Till I have to leave

Water skin broken
The tab is busted
The words drained
Fizzy water
Becomes my
Clouded brain
I am spent
So I hit the train
Exiting as other dreamers
Come raining in