Matt “Mouse” Howell; I think of life as poetry
Without the right to write, I feel locked down...
Like playing a friendly game of baseball in a straitjacket - three strikes
& my matches aren’t catching, Goddamn it.
Taken from the book “Reflushed, volume 01” (pdf available here): http://www.mediafire.com/download/433ftou1mwvec9z/Reflushed%2C+volume+01+%282001-2007%29.pdf
Singular and alone,
Where the darkness around it permits no life.
One with no face,
One with no race
One which has no merits,
No footsteps in the sands
For this one to be traced.
Silent and still,
A broken piece within
A broken whole.
Eyeless sockets look for a slice of pi,
But there is no three to be found from two,
For this is a place of one's.
Unable to be rescued from the darkness,
No voice to be heard of encouragement.
No life to be seen but the present
Confusion and doubt control the future.
A foundation built strong beneath the whole
Crumbles from beneath the weight of the black,
Darkness encompasses this single atom amidst the light of around him.
At the whim of no one but himself
He continues to dwell in the darkness,
Dancing to the melody of his own
Self composed song.
it's as if the air is thinner and fresher and my lungs pull it in
to roll around in and soak up its potent clarity
exhales sure remind me of letting go of heavy quilts
my frozen goosebumped mind longs to hide under
there is nothing to hide from, not even black holes - for
there is beauty within the unknown
a fear of blossomed beauty is a fear of losing that pinnacle of
infinitely heightened completeness
One falls for this belief when shyness to greatness is solidified -
belief they know depths and levels and proofs
knowing is knowing, yes, unknown is everything
If I knew where we were going,
I'd drive or would tell you to drive
not knowing encompasses everywhere and I'd sooner rather
look into your green eyes and drift into a black hole of unknown beauty
- where we could breathe in thinner and fresher air and
reach the peak of One with just two
they spur us on with mock encouragement.
a goal like a carrot
dangling like a participle right before our eyes.
and the tragedy and the misery
and the waylaid things
and the guilt they bring
storm around inside.
and the light that hides just seems to bind
when i can not make it shine.
but, 'on,' they scream,
'you must go on!'
they will not let it go.
i guess the mud doesn't seem such a bad place to rest
when you can't seem to lift your head.
so we strive for some vague representation
of something we saw on t.v.
and the time just ticks away.
so look at us now . . . they're selling us war!
pick it up at the most convenient store.
and now no one is paying attention.
forcing it on unwilling consumers
flooded the vast spectrum of media with rumors
these weapons of mass destruction
are just one big fucking mass destraction
and look! there's no one paying attention.
we've all turned our heads
in some middle easternly direction
a more reasonable enemy than our own fucking poverty.
but don't speak now, for we have not the time.
but be quiet.
and so we set sail
to murder ourselves
as the majority disagree.
and we fumble around in our pockets
and shift our eyes to the sidewalks
and step over cracks and break our own backs
for our orange and coveted prize.
but who gets the laugh when we all realize
our surprise was just death in an edible disguise
and a grave is a grave, regardless of whom it holds?
'on,' they cry, and 'on,' they cry,
so shuffle, and sigh,
and avert your eyes
from the light that hides
and will never shine
on anything we do
until we forget these disgusting concepts
of death as a path to the truth.
I try to hold on
to the good memories
the smiles, the fun
but they’re here
they surround me
and all my fears
they continue to go
one, two, three…
and i’m unstable
not strong enough
as they form a cloud
Small holes all around in the underground
built by humans trying to survive the sound
of mounds of earth and rock being blown around
with a deaf'ning shock, the after thought of the
nucular bomb, that one, the one and only
Surface dwellers bones blown apart
vaporised and locked in hells cellar
at the center of Hell
unable to escape the firey skies
the invisably cloaked radiated drape
Bombs falling all around
earthquakes rattle and are quick to
dismantle any structure left on the ground
Sound and safe in a hole, a cavity, a cave
my private underground hiding space
Locked and sealed
while millions lay dead in the feilds
Radiated cities and towns
people digging deep down
to be safe in the underground
I helped with the universe; I’m the Creator off all things.
Split me for a world of chaos.
My positives and negatives,
Contrast within me.
I once created you,
Soon I will leave you.
In the Doorway between Darkness and Light
but isn't that what we are; aren't we cycles?
don't we start from two, end up as one,
only to repeat and repeat and repeat?
creating something from an atom
that was always there,
because energy cannot be created
something had to start the process.
and the only way it will be
ended.. is the way it was begun.