like an endangered species,
spilling from the side
of a bloodied broken glass,
the sturdy thread that twines,
Listen to this @ https://soundcloud.com/spiritbarehear/the-living-instrument
PRESSURE - like animal skin stretched over the head of a drum,
BEATING, like ancient hands, BEATING
an even more ancient rhythm, BEATING. BEATING.
tribal eyes wide, pupils bare, BEATING
with ayahausca or psilocybin, ibogain or some sort of villlage speed
with dirt and herbs, a lion's adrenal gland to make the Super Amphetamine,
royal in it's derivatives
and it makes the heart BEAT BEAT BEAT
like a prisoner in the straight jacket of lungs it BEATS and screams blood into bursting vessels
it BEATS like the misunderstood youth of the 20th Century, the frenetic spirit HOT and LOUD
POUNDING HEART BEAT NO MORE FOR THE NON-SHIT GIVERS!
leave it to the liver to filter out those toxic connections that evoke those dire emotions
arresting both the heart and the breath
IF I AM TO FEEL CLOSE TO DEATH
let it be because if I were to live any longer in a happiness, it would just be unfair to the rest
that if I were to live any longer in a happiness
the whole of my being would fold into the openness of my chest
IF I AM TO FEEL CLOSE TO DEATH
it will not be caused by a PANIC, a PANIC caused by a PUSH, a PUSH caused by discontentment, discontentment caused by impatience, and impatience caused
by the resounding WUBwubWUBwubWUBwub of a beating heart.
THE LIVING INSTRUMENT.
living instrument, sing to me what is meant
living instrument, can you forget
what once made your strings as heavy as led?
what once made you wrench?
living instrument, twice as large as the machine in the skull, why do we bother with loving?
living instrument, are you solid enough to take this fall?
I could try every possible way to justify my sadness to you.
But it still wouldn't make sense because the only way anyone who doesn't already feel this way can see it is, as
No combination of 26 letters is gonna be able to encompass it.
And I could tell you how I'm feeling
but sad is really mild.
You have no idea how it feels to simply be walking home then suddenly start hating yourself and knowing that
this is it
this is how it is
is gonna change that.
You won't be able to comprehend how much misdirected hate there is everywhere when in actuality it's an individual causing it.
And I know you believe that I'm driving myself into this state because you believe I feel unloved or unappreciated... but it runs so much deeper. So so much deeper.
not feeling safe and comfortable within yourself
looking out of a tiny hole in a box because you're not like the other kids
You see things differently but you try.
You try to fit in.
You try to smile
and be happy
and find joy in the littlest things.
And yet, it isn't real.
It's all forced because you have to try, to feel that way.
For most people it comes naturally.
Trying to explain to you why I feel the way I feel, could end up to be a string of gibberish lined up to sound nice but
at the end of the day it's really simple:
I hate myself
I know I shouldn't and I know
I'm not a killer or a rapist or a
thief... but I hate myself.
And that is it.
you are the moon,
and i am the stars
every night i glisten
in hope to shine like the sun;
so bright and so warm,
to catch your eye.
i want to be something, you cannot
just like you are
Dear you, I miss you so much sometimes I can feel it in my bones
and see my own heartbeat in my eyes
that's not healthy you know
I think you left because I was sick anyway
Dear you, I wish I could hate you
but I can't even do that much
you beautiful bastard
Dear you, I never knew my soul could ache this much
until I saw your sad eyes for the last time
telling me goodbye
Dear you, I have so many medical conditions that I'm not sure which ones to see doctors about anymore
but I bet the doctors would laugh at me if I came to them saying I had a case of heartbreak
(even though this isn't healthy)
Dear you, I keep jumping up every time the door opens expecting to see your face
I keep jumping up every time I even see headlights going by
even though there's no reason for you to come through this side of town anymore
Dear you, whenever I see a black truck I think you're here
then I remember you sold it a week before you left
it was probably a sign
was I always blind like that?
Dear you, you said you would call eventually
and I believed you
then I remembered that you didn't ever call me even when you wanted to talk
Dear you, I know you don't have my number anymore
maybe you might listen to what I had to say if I was a stranger
Dear you, hey I know you don't know who this is anymore,
and I know I'm a stranger
I'm a stranger who knows everything about you and even knows how you make your coffee and all the words to your favorite songs even though I didn't like any of them, and the exact angle your head takes when you're drawing and damn it never mind I can't finish this
Dear you, I still keep your picture on my dresser
I don't even know why
I still have all your drawings too
it seems I love ruining myself with you
I bet you threw everything I wrote to you away
and burned my picture
(seems like something you would do)
Dear you, I wonder if you ever would have loved me if I wasn't broken
you seemed to only be searching for something more damaged than yourself
you found exactly what you were looking for
then left as if you made a mistake
Dear you, I told you loving sad girls would get you nowhere
even I hoped I was lying
Dear you, sometimes I wear the clothes you left behind because it makes me feel safe
because they used to be worn by the strongest man I ever knew
I got catcalled when wearing your flannel the other day
I looked to my right expecting you to be there defending me
I saw an empty parking lot and I had never felt so helpless
Dear you, I can't stop dreaming that you're still here
Dear you, I thought you were gone
I WISH YOU WERE GONE
call off your ghosts and leave
Dear you, today I ran to catch up with a boy who was wearing a leather jacket that looked like yours and when he turned around I had to pretend I wasn't looking
Dear you, I saw you today for the first time in six months and I couldn't breathe and when you left I fell to the floor and no one understands that seeing your eyes constricted my wind pipes and if you still had my heart it was trying to run to safety the thing almost jumped out of my chest and everyone was hugging me and I don't remember the rest but getting into my car and screaming at myself
how can I still love you how can I still love you how can I still love you
Dear you, I will forever regret not yelling after you
"I keep all my promises"
"I miss you too much to forget"
Like a child enlightened by heightened curiosity,
So is a native swimmer by poetic luminosity.
A prose in sight and sound devoid of modern flair,
For poetic convention the diver does not care.
So, take this vague verse as one roaring rhyme,
And take it as verbiage very overdue in time.
Unjustly sunken voices the swimmer seeks to hear;
Battling a torrent history...above, below, and near.
The inquisitive diver infers a present too dismal,
As around an angry sea lies an origin, abysmal.
Rejecting all fables history’s abettors inked true,
The swimmer seeks fair chroniclers as wreckage was their due.
Sought is Illyria, a place far from here;
A land said "not to exist", so how can it disappear?
Most fabricated history our beings cannot fathom;
Quelled grandiose splendor serves political stratum.
So, how does one interpret Illyria’s butchered will,
As her godless schism fibbing history faux fills?
While Illyria’s rebel ship sailed upon history a fright,
Shakespeare's pen amorously inked the 'Twelfth Night.’
Calling curious minds to ponder this hell of a theory,
But consider the diver's roots with impartial query.
What the Illyrian believed in was a life well spent;
Not man-written guidance begging cents to repent.
On modern Illyria’s outskirts sly mythology prevails;
Modern Illyria’s pervasion of such mythology still fails.
But her feeble-minded native is essentially to blame
For their grand, deceptive role in the imperialist’s game.
Brutal eradication of Illyria’s vocal reason
Deem all these conspirators of ultimate treason.
And as the State buries the intellect for piercing wits,
The native dog barks, upon foreign command he shits.
In the European south roam these bad hounds of species;
Anatomical sketches of Europe's rear excreting feces;
A pile all imperialists eject with laxative ease;
A pile all imperialists still smear as they please.
Above Illyrian graves, those below made to inspire,
The dopey dog dances, blind to his own fate in fire.
This damned work of art, not a site for you and eye,
Is an emblematic governance gagging an eerie cry.
The dog's disintegration, painted by his foreign master
Is an art to be repeated in future governing disaster.
As today’s worthless pawns in corruption they engage,
Illyria’s distinctive scions remain fools on a stage;
Our bodies dance and sway like silly puppets at play.
Our minds confined to idiocy as the capitalist’s prey.
Now, a poet's jingle jangle on probing minds they should linger,
As besought are worthy scions who must leave behind a 'finger.'
I've spent years
(in a skewed totality)
placed just so,
back to back.
With a devil's hand
and an ink jet black-
I label each box
It's easier that way-
with every last one
blocked off like this.
For then I can know
who's what where
no one can move
from their labels-
though they may try.
But it's tiring you see,
keeping everyone so-
they surprise me, step outside,
I watch them all grow.
That's the thing with us humans-
we don't say the same-
we've got good sides and bad sides
and sides in between-
Forcing labels and boxes
only slows us down-
open eyes, clear hearts,
turns each new day 'round.
A practical mind opened up by the complexity of human character.
Feeling dr suess-y, can you feel it ?
For years I have known only you.
You, unfaithful lover, mutilated monster, blood-sucking fiend.
You, walking cadaver, trash-filled ocean, rotting mouthful of cotton candy cavity.
I felt you first when their faces filled my mind with nuclear lies. We walked the halls, hand-in-hand, eyes fixed on the laces of our shoes, desperately searching the cracks in the floor for our hollow reflections. Together we were like widowed spiders, catching unsuspecting bugs in our twisted, silkened webs, and draining their insides for our own selfish use. We were run-down strippers and streetside hookers, needles shared between haggard addicts shooting up MAGICDUST in blackened midnight alleyways. I twisted my fingers with yours, knelt before thick lines spread upon deceitful mirrors, lies threaded between rolled bills. I spoke your name before tornados and blizzards, blindly hummed your song in the presence of serial killers and wild felines with frothing, razored teeth.
For far too long I felt your wrath.
You, loaded shotgun, CLICKCLICKBOOM.
You, pointed blade, silvered hair, bloodied sheet smeared with scream.
I danced with you on wires of barb, 12341234, licked clean the wounds you salted with poisoned defeat. I shot your arrow from a rusted bow and laughed, cried, prayed for the kill. On weathered crags where nothing grows we testified our right to life, dug the graves of sinners and murderers, liars and thieves, then threw ourselves inside. Six feet deep. Like zombies we emerged, hungry for throbbing hearts and wrinkled lobes of brain. Like hunters we searched, scouring mine fields and sunken ships for our hidden souls.
Many nights I succumbed to your power.
You, thick leather belt lashed upon my back.
You, vicious, vindictive virus pulsing thick through my veins.
I've tried to lead you astray from your destruction. I threw you from marbled balconies and left you behind in dense, overgrown forests where I knew not my way. I fed you to flesh-hungry pirhanas and strangled you in my clenched, white-knuckled fists, trampled your face with spiked heels and had you sleep upon hot coals. Yet still you found your way to me, followed the trail of trembling hands back to my door and hid in the corners of rooms and the pages of books, waiting for your next attack.
From you I have learned.
You, wolf in wolf's clothing, howling at my moon.
You, filthy fox of the slyest breed.
Beats flowing in beginning to spin sharp like a drawing pin
Remember your future don't forget your past, were all here living to have a blast