1988 -   
A young poet in NY trying to figure life out...
Currently trying to become a slam poet...
A young poet in NY trying to figure life out...
Currently trying to become a slam poet...
Robert Colascione
Mar 28, 2011

On the cusp of usurping the dominance of sadness, with a light in the flesh, I fly towards the moon to meet her...

I'm overflowing with light, just at the sight of your star-crossed smile, I think we'll be here for a while, watching time dissolve until this "while" loses meaning, and singing, we wander the cosmos in thought, together...

The problem is in thought and thought alone, only there does creation still carry itself through this dream, only in thought will we remain asleep. To relinquish all fear, will that make us God, or, bring upon a wholly different awakening... Are we still dreaming?

Soaring through the sky and slipping between realms, so I continue to dream...

I don’t care if I have to drive my auto in manual, I still will go to your side, for you are the sun-kissed star shine so many a night I have sought.  
For so many years I have fought, the urge to slip into the slipstream, becoming one with the wind. We have all sinned, and only through love can we find absolution, you and I are the solution for one another...

I sit at my computer sipping rum and orange, and all I can see are your pristine aqua eyes, paragon pools other metaphors envy.

This I call calm curiosity, the enthrallment ethereal, a cosmos contained within emptiness, you bring forth a warmth that for so long has been absent; sure it’s just our imagination, but hell, that’s the true creator behind the veil is it not?

Emptiness enthralls, curiosity captures, but for a moment, only if that moment can be perceived, to preserve false perfection, protection of an age old illusion. Avoid illumination within the void lest you wish the truth set you free. Radiated pain permits perception, however reluctant, and it is now that I know simply, that I am among the living. How few are actually left...

In this vicious cycle, the sickle swings faster and faster, nearing my nimble end if ever I slip away..

                  Ahh concrete heaven to kiss me good day...

I see the strings that hold us up, except the marionette has gone and we ourselves play this charade nonchalantly as if there were nothing else...

         Take away all movement within a moment and what is there? Who are we behind the many masks we wear?
          I walk around with this semblance of humanity, practically profound yet lost atop the cosmic carousel we call life. watch me wither and breach the barriers, illusion within illusion, to hear the calliope muted subconsciously, to awaken from this dream would that make me God? Or shall I simply disappear behind padded walls?
I think being this close makes me feel so far away, and now I know I am far more human than I give myself credit.

Robert Colascione
Mar 28, 2011

Finally, I now know death
          Albeit a resurrection
Eight red pills began the dissection
         Of my finite ego.
 
Scions of a different kind gain momentum
          Finding love's erosion
Corrupting my conscience
          A trip was in order.
 
A dizzy Carnival,
          The calliope muted
                            As decorated stallions dance
 
My recklessness reaches its peak
           So what the hell?
A soothsayers sorry signal as
           The venomous vixen gyrates,
 
My eyes bleed with regret.
 
As the chemicals persuasive grip subsides,
            The trip done,
A schizophrenic clarity remains,
 
 
My heart empty
My essence renewed

Baby,
     I
           think that
      maybe,
We've fucked up.
    Cause we've been force fed such fractured fallacies like,  
A Jewish zombie who is his own father,  
A chosen people, and immortality.
       Oh and did you know slavery was OK?
        How about Rape?
Yeah the problem with an endless line of orphans is the exponential loss of the truth of our cosmic dead-beat dad.
                                  Well now,
The hand that feeds has fallen short, with the founding fathers roll in their graves.
Whilst silly sheep support Disillusioned delusions dressed,
in
Red White and Blue,


Wait for their cue, because
The Republic
is being held at gun point, with modern Gestapos ready and willing for the killing.
The final days of momma democracy await.

Zealous jealous and out for blood, with a cross across their chests as they proclaim; "IN HIS NAME, WE SMITE YE!"

Now thats just jurisdiction to judge the jury.

And now

She showers us
With this Vampiric ecstasy,
As they mask our mothers murder under the banner of God.

As they
             wipe away the blood gushing,
      from the slit throat of
Lady Liberty,
with whats left of our crumbling
Constitution,
only to wrap her in a once glorious flag, now despoiled with
The poisonous blessings bought by the pontiff of flame
whose pseudo fame is a sign
that this clandestine facade will end soon.

Yet still we must deal with another contradiction, another, convoluted convulsion of consciousness severing our ties with that
good ol' American dream.

So watch them promote our fall, greeting hell-fire half-heartedly, these sanctimonious masses amass, a menacing masquerade.

See they've paraded on the moral high ground pointing the finger without the grounds to back themselves up, aside from a dusty old book and the rusty rapturous moans of defiled men.

As chosen children I chide you, for archaic superstition must be left behind, a fact that most may find, a tad bit unacceptable, even while you drive your SUV's and gorge on Mickey D's, while you gun down doctors and destroy human intelligence. Remember the dark ages? Guess who made them dark.

Your men on top fondle male prostitutes and tap dance in the mens room, denying every allegation; look, this is a nation stuck on revelation hell bent on escaping damnation.

And they say I'm the Devil! One worth the reapers embrace, those carcinogen caricatures carried by the book.
When fear rules their hearts,
Destruction and War
beget by their weakness.
                          Now all I say is throw it all away, Live, Fuck, and Love. Just imagine a world free, free from terror, war, hate, separation, and segregation.
             Imagine finally clogging that cancerous ventricle our country holds so dear.
   Imagine the end to a crutch,
A spiritual mod,
Imagine a world,
Without the illusion of God.

Robert Colascione
Jan 14, 2010

His Grieved eyes stare down the barrel
Teeth clenched, dressed in flame, she's got a soul to steal.
            As faint rays of day trespass
A ravaged passageway
The long forgotten bell tolls,
Accenting this tired tryst,
With the accelerating sunset
Dying the skies a capillary crimson,
Just another piece of scenery
Behind this scene of deceit.
 
The burnt shrine supports his skull,
As through tears torn tapestry and shattered glass
His vision is over powered by the pin-up with a pistol standing
         Point blank.
 
The dilapidated temple calls for one last mass, one more sacrifice
A fantastic funeral pyre paid in full, with the sins of Helios.
 
The words escape,
“I love you”
Only her tongue matches the sky
And theres no way to block out her incandescence
 
His tears of scarlet
Splash against the cold steel his teeth grind
All his hopes, all his dreams...all that he is
Now just organic graffiti
Splattered
All across the neglected floor of a forgotten Church.

With the horizon swallowing the sun,
she vanishes in the dusk, 

And as he falls, so too, does her ring.
Two bonds broken, death they sing.

 
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