Electricity is talking; we understand
losing interest in conversations. creating land.
droplets of ice define the day
August ends in the middle of May

intrepid peeling; scabs of the earth
the hands fail; a dumbed feeling
Eins, the seeing blind have never seen
on screen, a shape of many faces

in through the open windows outdoors
smoke dries the unseen. air dry.
so paragon goners repulse the cleaver
the system has failed

so much detail to attention
when pink isn’t even a color
time is wasted on time itself
unfortunate cookie

wires once made you. complete.
ask for the answer to the question is nothing
Zwei light birds on a wire
the happenstance, the fire

where hell listens, there sight is drawn
selfishly we glare and mourn
******* ice cubes yelling “Jesus may…”
cold as **** the cesspool lay.

So, maybe I’m over thinking this.

I'm sorry but fact is fact.
Self absorbed, ignorant and arrogant products of a corrupt
and manipulative administration that promotes racism
on a level unseen before.
I speak, of course, of the "greatest" nation on the planet.
Don't get me wrong, there are so many among you who are truly
diamonds in coal or, rather I would say, ****.
And if reading this makes you angry then know
I am speaking to you, specifically.

So Asians are Arabs huh?
I guess the Russians, the Europeans, South Americans,
and even the Japanese are Arabs if that's the case.
Stereotyping has always been an American past time,
but to grow ***** big enough to **** on the world? That's new.
A **** stain on your own flag, yeah, that's you.
Open that gutter you call a mouth and show us all
just how civilized and cultured you can be.
Enlighten me with the values your wonderful tyrannical
government has embodied in you.
Do they have a special 'how to be a professional racist' period
in American schools?
Did you even go to school?
Were the teachers racial ***** just like you?
If you killed a foreigner would POTUS give you a medal?
I'm surprised nobody ever commended you for your behavior,
until now.
You can call me an Arab too.
I'm pitying you because you don't know better.
Cause if you did, you'd think before you compete for the crown of
Mr/Ms RACIST.
Catch my drift?

******* have ear holes too.
Isn't that what's going through your mind right now?
Okay okay, lets chill the **** out and be straight.
The next time you take a trip to a foreign country
(which you won't since, you think the world is full of Arabs and,
you're the ******* child of a nation that employed slaves longer
than the British ruled you while still claiming to be the land of the free)
I hope some local feels the same way you do, about you, and beats
the ******* derogation out of you while he's planting his uncircumcised dank
in your rear end.
I pray you remember my words AND YOUR OWN.
Reflect aptly while you're taking his dunk, on how you one day decided to
**** on a world full of diverse races
who are a million times worth the person you are.
The next time you fail to recognize propaganda,
or conveniently forget to think for yourself,
ask your commander-in-chief to do a press conference.
Bet you'll join the army simply to **** anyone who's not American.
This is a cordial '*******' to every condescending ******* out there.

You don't know the world,
but the world clearly knows you now.

I am a woman, in a man’s body
with a ***** that doesn’t work
I have ****** the vineyards and the haystacks
grown a beard as long as a pine tree
the beard is downstairs
and it is joined to my hair
which is also long, flowing from my shiny head
I speak 500 languages
I cant read
I once slept outside my own house
in the blizzard of 93’ I fingered somebody’s sister
I even slapped a judge for being too **** ugly
but seriously, I’m currently jacking off to everybody’s mom
no no no, I’ll be honest for old time’s sake
my greatest lie is that I am/have-done none of these things.

To reiterate,

Words filling contagious information
into the keener ears of degenerate people

While elsewhere,
leaving scars deep enough
to catch rain water
that can’t be drunk
to soothe the uneasiness

A girl was ***** the day before
GANGED - the headlines boisterously boasted
my fine countrymen on their best behavior
I thought

It’s not a mystery how lightly
they take to such things here
the average *** smoker rots for 10 years
while the ****** gets 4 before he walks

Capital justice
grass involves more money
who’s gonna pay to **** someone?
degenerates waiting on call

Asking for the unreasonable
while selling me a thought
sugar coated and studded with half truths
to turn with the big wheel
and stare atrocity in the eye, eyes closed

Able bodied souls handicap themselves
to perpetuate the cycle of corruption
the wondrous mechanics of our modern world
can’t put a price on dignity
so we boycott what doesn’t benefit us

Is that our reality
or just something I read?

day time disaster drifting
disdainfully into nights dark-lit
by only the protrusion of the sky

skinned till thin
in pieces at my feet, once, I mourned
and now again before mystique fails mystery

I grow tall and directed
shifted and perfected
incomplete

do they trim the *****
after doing your chin?
doing that to me is not a sin?

The darkest chasms hold
secrets of my soul
in the shape of my-
coniferous cone

I lick your frivolous flames
douse them with my tongue
even so, you can’t stay
in a wooden box anymore

You discarded mine for those
growing fondly around us
better shaped
unlike mine

When days were miracles
we carried our hearts
as trophies

Hearts wither and fail with the passing of time
Wishes, hopes, faith, love all wither together

But not this
coniferous cone
the shape of my heart
which you replaced
with a forest of your own

I cried into oceans terrible and mysteries ravaging,
all speechless - mute.
A time to become aware, too late
where words might as well have been nails to step on,
if they can ever be called words.

The shivers don’t stop
the biting cold grips, clinging to my layers like a parasite
what is to be felt,
cant be.
There is no clear way I can explain this conundrum
this is happening because it just is
all the aches remind,
you belong here.

Remind the conscience that there’s more to this game
than mere words and images
it is something not even poetry can capture.
True art is truly fleeting,
just like this moment you’re in.

I'll tell you why I don't deserve to win
because I really don't deserve to win
I am the alpha and omega of failure
seriously
because if I've won, it means that someone, who was actually supposed to win,
didn't
If you think that I am the king of losers then you are wrong
I lose even there
it's true, losers have champions
I'm not one of them
I am the key to my downfall
when clouds in summer pass by over head, it only rains on me
even in the company of others with me
this is the glory of my being,
to deposit checks only to watch them bounce
do not grow sympathetic towards my words,
the fallacies of sophists are all the fad these days
my poetry is quite literally a fluke,
meant to soothe the boorish eyes and ears
of those who don't know better
simply, a child's rant to whoever is listening
A tantrum unchecked
fodder for credulous cattle,
you will not buy
my victory here would mean my destruction
most certainly, the heartbreak of someone who has hoped for the opposite
I, the tragic son of fate and loss, am destined to wed grief
I beg you to see truth,
not reason
for if I deserve to lose and I don't, then let me win so I don't.

the time for wallowing has passed
there’s always a time for everything. we’re all but nothing
so watch me throw smiles upon frowns and mutate them erratically
wait for the ticking to stop, that means go.
go grab what little courage you have left and get ready to fight
to recover that lot you’ve lost; courage.

then go make jokes about the guy who’s always scared to stand up for himself
because he doesn’t know better and you know better than most.
*******
scratch that itch until you strike bone
excavating yourself is a good hobby, maybe it’ll help you get over the fact that you’re powerless when you discover you have a spine.

*** that makes so much sense! lets all grab spoons and dig into each others heads to find out who’s got none.
I got some. some wisdom to impart into the weeping hollows
to finally try and dry their tears. and help them catch the eye of that not so noticeable maiden that’s eying them.
yeah, I noticed.

make it a point to stay happy and distracted
there’s very little you can do but at least its not killing you
or better, sit there and count ants while I’m nailing that sweetheart you’re so afraid to talk to
she is a wonderful distraction, I’ll tell you that.
*******
you could have been hitting that. but then you thought
maybe, now is the time for wallowing.

I asked for success
disappointment came first
failure pursued close
so did the burdens of all my hopes

I've lost all sense in the things around me
mixing my hatred with apathy to slumber in pity
no bar girl's ***** will construe this animosity
thrashing mad within the synapses of my mind

if in finding the light I will be saved,
then I will break every ******* bulb that glows
such a shame - wallowing for name
pain is the ultimate game

lets see who can take the most punishment
they place bets and take shots
they is the flow of things
and they are *******.

I am a waste of life
life is wasted on me
they called me friend
yet I would see them bend
break their rules and heads
for someone who wets the bed
in the midst of chaos I lose their grip
this hand from left excuses me a slip
oh sweet pain! you return at last

I like to bleed
the sear of a wound
dripping crimson ink
lightens the burden
absolves my guilt
or so I feel it drain
my sins silently, along with memories
under showers where no one will see
I lie still, remembering why
it makes perfect sense in the moment
the incision will be subtle, but deep
enough to hurt and spill from

I will disguise my face
so no one can know
the obvious truth that lurks
beneath this skin of glee
I should have been accustomed
to losing what I love and care about
even if they mean nothing, I'd still want them around
It's harder than it looks to let go
wound around my fingers, the strings, cutting into them
and I pull, I still pull, till the bleeding is a norm
but eventually they'll take my fingers along
and I will fall, not from pride, or high
but gall, against myself
into pity and apathy
sneakily creeping through the silences
I'll look for resolve in darker things
and wither in the light of regret
until the next string breaks
and the cycle begins again.

Hopelessly dependent on your heads and hands
were the pieces of me strewn on your platters
spinning wildly, correcting, dissecting my faces
praying for movement of the allegro, sans.

{An insidious little fox with her naughty tail
came to wrap around my being and close
never you mind what transpired next,
a shattering soul was no longer frail.}

But back and forth the fugue swings
never fulfilling the adagio's haste
the remnants of me are long since lost
scrambling for nothing, my madness sings.

Now I am left with no memory or past
now there's naught to look forward to
now I can die a regretful death
now the scherzo, can take flight, at last.

No tears shall fill this olive grove
the sorrows of a few grace its arches
the final movement is now at hand
slump, lively, into the irony of the allegro.

alcohol tears away at the soul
we’re bound to its discrepancies
but alas! we are materialistic creatures
if not, then we are simply animals.

Like a pin cushion I wait for the next edge to serrate,
it's been months since I've felt such hate
The metal will not yield
It refuses to bend and spill; lashing obscenely, obstinately adamant
The screws which drive this hastened race have failed to open
And the cold is ever vigilant, lurking in the sinuses of apathy

Forlorn attempts to reconciliate have piled consistently
And further ones will also fail inevitably
The need for a past is much greater than the search for a future
Knowing what has been matters more than what will come
For dying knowing what could have been is easier,
than to die not knowing what was.

Ride forth with your burden of gilt,
in a fit of rage and redemption.
You are death; none can excel.
Your fealty eludes compassion.

That fateful scythe possessed with power.
The souls of your brethren sealed in your chest.
Eternal cries of the ones you ******,
forever wailing on the razor’s edge.

The one you called brother,
slain by your hand,
sold himself to power,
and corruption was born anew.

Unfolding, vitiating
more worlds then one.
The tree of life has fallen,
to this wretched blight.

The Shadow realms succumb.
In waters black they are swallowed.
And the demons fall to its lure,
now slaves to one will.

In the farthest corners of existence,
deep in the heart of the dead-lands,
riding despair, guided by dust,
what terrors await the wicked!

An audience demanded;
The King of the Dead.
A favor paid.
No answers given.

Restitution drives you now.
Concern for justice matters not,
as long as your duty remains unchanged
Salvation is but a weapon in the wrong hands.

Come to lost-light, to Angels.
A journey most twisted and perilous.
From the soaring peaks of the White City,
wait for the light to purge the shadow.

“The scribe is waiting”
words of a traitor.
An angel corrupted.
The light dimmed.

In the guise of honor,
virtue and God,
Suffer the world
the sky is now wrought.

Fire and ash welcomes your arrival,
heavens burn at the sight of you.
Kin-slayer, Executioner, Reaper,
Who is above you?

1.1 - I am unread    
        
1.2 - those letters of condolence lying on the bed    
        
1.3 - that ephemeral note initialed in red    
        
1.4 - that formal invitation for the newly wed.    
        
2.1 - A disturbed heart to caress    
        
2.2 - with words unfit to address    
        
2.3 - A tragic dusk beckons unless    
        
2.4 - here distress succeeds success.    
        
3.1 - Patience lost and passed around    
        
3.2 - anxious fell the tragedy crown    
        
3.3 - the coldest breeze brought it down    
        
3.4 - A stranger to all upon its ground.    
        
4.1 - A swindled tongue that once had said    
        
4.2 - all that bleeds will soon be dead    
        
4.3 - like the fading memory you choose to dread    
        
4.4 - A feigning heart yet to be read.    
        
5.1 - Those words of goodbye by despair led    
        
5.2 - with an ugly truth left to confess    
        
5.3 - that missive of hope which never turned to sound    
        
5.4 - still unread.

capture this fleeting joy
and bind them in memories.
not knowing what despair awaits
this morose forthcoming dependency.
condition my cold shell.

twas freedom that ached
for another day of rest.
lolling to the minutes of apathy,
sanctioned sadness ensues.

now. here. the voices play tricks.

ferrying me beyond sanctity
without appetite or stomach.
phantasm; blinding apprehension
with wisps of blackness.

hardened by sorrow
the tinker’s bells are mimed in spite
upon me, ceasing feeling.
Below, the sands drain wildly
into oceans roaring. still,
the screams of drowning souls
can be heard, similar to my own
cries, swallowing suffering
with hopes to be rid of it,
no one cares.

resigning to defeat
the weight of memories bearing heavy,
in these final few moments of quiet,
sink; down to the bottom patiently

Here we are, out of control  
eating our lips to keep us tame  
lodged in crevices  
waiting for the dark  
there are eyes spying from the skies  
when we look up they cry  

So now we are beyond control  
tying our wrists to keep us sane  
lest our hands play tricks again  
despite our frivolity, we are remembered  
as spineless worms of the under-world  
squirming here, in our own filth  

See, how we cradle hope  
sawing our ears to keep us dumb  
only lies fuel this furnace  
and yet, the congregation thrives  
lo witness, the second coming  
still only coming  

Finally control is lost
burning our legs to keep us here
in prisons with no steel or mortar
no guards or ghosts to haunt
yet we are gaunt when hope fails
nailing our knees to feed disgrace.

Under this ruthless azure
you return, crawling to me
cloaked in black, where sight is drawn
holding my wants, wrecking my tidings
your bleeding lips, your flaming hair
woo me splendid, fill me brimmed.
Caressed by your touch
forgiveness ensues
a yearning grows
revived again
by your wanton lust.
In the cold you are rigid
aching for comfort
clinging, to what I have,
to what you think of me
as you entwine
your sinuous wines
into my being and forge love,
a desire for your discourse.

In this cold I am frozen,
and here only to watch you shiver.

how horrible you are!
mirrors crack upon your gaze and split you in two
yelling and throwing tantrums, almost begging you
to vanish from their reflections, so they can heal again
the ugly truth - a part of the festering pile of **** you really are
want more? sure

you write about how wonderful a brand new day in your life is!

-this is happening in an E.R. at 4:00 AM - no subtext

last night was the best ever! drums, drugs, toxicity and debauchery

-you beat the land lady to within an inch of her life, then
ran from the cops for 4 miles, after which
you fell down 4 flights of stairs in the park because
you couldn’t see the railing properly - no subtext

{new update! 158 people followed you}

you’re a success. your blog is on fire. next day 281, day after - 590.
you post pictures of yourself with women getting ******* and ******

-you didn’t score with either - no subtext

you write old quotes that nobody’s heard in ages

-said you started a trend and took pride in it - subtext

you post made-up chats with ***** women trying to come on to you while you’re playing it cool

-it was your pen pal asking you to stop being a fake cause she believes in who you actually are,
so you tell her to ******* and block her. - no subtext

the one thing you don’t write about is why you are such an *******
in a world full of ******* with nothing better to do
than entertain others with a **** load of lies
simply for the sake of recognition

She is sweetness untasted,
by the likes of the deserving
though for some,
love is merely a mistake of judgement
until something better comes along
to subtly replace a misplaced heart.

She is forgiveness unfelt,
a bleeding heart of amore
so they drink,
and play and fall,
until choice is lost,
yielding to fatal attraction.

She is kindness unseen,
not wounded love could defeat
from the bounty of the wasted
we count,
moments until she turns sour
but she never does.

She is sanguine addiction,
of words that melt stone
with a fire that breathes
from her will,
burning in virtue
that makes me sing.

I will not refrain from making this personal
You have dwelled in me long enough
To force my hand
This hand, that now, won’t stop shaking
Because of you
Scribbling ink upon paper-
Smudged with sweat from my brow

Inside
The fires of your hell,
Outside
The tundra of your stare,
Rattle my brain
And from me you drain
My strength and my patience
I retain only adamancy
To rival your vexation

You, who have crippled me so
I pray you know, how much I loathe
Your pestilent touch
But I beg you still,
To keep my hands,
To keep my head,
To leave me this much.

the world is ablaze
with useless ****
I watched road signs for hours
like an angry nerve ready to pop
28 days later I judged perception
acutely tuned to the jargon of fools
******* away at the inklings of their soul
same **** different day
everything is a road sign.

One day, life stopped by to play a hand

I pondered, he glazed; through - slipped the sand

Things would have been so much easier, if I were sober

I would have gained priorities; game over.

paradoxes under tables
walled open doors
back alleys, woodwork streets
all busy, all morose
rat podium picture maze
my arms are gelatin
affixed in spares
left to be eaten
windows with glare
the arches of Rome
panels of glass
the musical sheets
orchestration aligned
trumpets on my right
tubas on my left
the open door
let the rats in