Is she good enough?
There is some doubt
Its all okay then
Just toss her out

Try it again
For there is no rush
Her face was alright
But her cheeks were too flushed

So just start anew
Remake all the work
It is not quite Art
But it has it’s perks

Too pretty a sum
To make up it’s face
But just think, so soon
She’ll be the new race

That now carries on
The family name
Design it right now
It’s all just a game

we are the sand on which man with his ever arrogant gait
treads. we are his tools, his land, his obstruction,
his children’s playthings, his building blocks
bounded only by the limit of his imagination.

to him, we are docile, but we are in conflict,
refusing to give way, robbing each other of the space
for breath, for drink.

we outnumber man as stars do, yet
our friction renders us subservient
to his hands.

we could be so much more.
if it were not for this
friction, this ****** friction,
we could bury oceans
and change the course of rivers.

it is my hope
that a great raptor shall beat her wings,
uniting us in her wind to rend flesh from bone,
that man’s blood shall be our water,
a medium to swallow him whole,

and we shall be dyed red like our brothers
on a former earth

who killed the god of war.

-recovered from the papers of codename ‘Wolf Spider’, spin doctor for the Purist resistance-

his Machinery is glitCHing: o so human
imperfect beings produce imperfect creations
yes, I believe: a jealous god creates warFull people
metal is flesh is plastic is flesh is metal –
hybrid creatures, and yet one species only

to come so far and yet still be at the basic
his steel claws are tipped with choking poison
recovered from the corpse of Socrates himself
war is fitting: slaughter of life
for the sake of stealing Death

his Eyes unfaithful to himself, he is not the only observer
the naïf does not read the Terms and Conditions
of his own (not his own) body
throughout my life I have seen the necrosis
caused by blind faith in humanity’s humanity

am I stuck in the old ways? perhaps that is true,
but in the Old Days of the Old Ways you could tell with a look
what was born and what was spawned from a factory
only the brain remains, they have not yet found
a way to binarise my soul

Every day
after the pub
I see this tree
With the Jacko lanterns face
On it
Is it carved or
Shove it in
The face haunts
Me
So one day I go visit the Facebook tree
To see for myself
With out driving by it.

As I walk
Into the forest to calm my
Mind it does not work
And so I screem
So loud that my soul
Leaves my body
For being in
The
Forest
Earthbound
Because I wouldn't cool off.

As the dark witch
Relinquished
Her darkness
She let's the sun be un eclipsed
And
Her soul
Leaves hear body to go to
Heaven
To be free of its evil
Prison.

I live in a
World
Which
Has
Seven
Moons
Yes s e v e n
Moons
In the form
Of a great Dipper
As i moon gaze every night
Until midnight
I see
The mooons
Clear as day
Neverr get enough
Of this sight at all
In my surreal world

One night
God and the great satan
Were in the graveyard
Hoping
To
Switch
And trade souls
From the
Blessed
And from the ******
The blessed when to paradise
And
The ******
Where cast
Into the hell fire
Every Halloween.