Humanity's womb is barren
The music has died away
We ***** our children
Lead them astray.
Change marched through the streets
As they lay littered and free
For these corrupt eyes to see.
For these corrupt eyes to see.
How we bled for peace
And we killed for peace
But peace was power
And power was peace
How we bled for peace
And we killed for peace
Now our blood drowns us.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
death
crawls into
and out of
the ears
of a conscious mind
that never stopped
thinking.
from a young age
it followed the boy
until the day he became a man
and beat him back
into infancy.
for every birthday
it seemed like
the agony of lost companionship
and blood became-
a sort of present,
reminding him
that he was closer,
and that one day
death
would feel it's way
into his soul as well.
the worst thought
he ever pondered
was that of the
after;
the time in which something else might live to see a
life
without the
constant,
brutal,
aching
pain of the ever-so-infinite nagging of
death's
fingertips.
it was almost as if
the thought of dying
was easier,
less painful,
because all of his
life
he never knew hope,
although
he never was a stranger to it either.
but he gave up one day.
and he did die.
and that's it.
no one knows,
or had known,
or will know
what was to happen to him after that.
he just
died.
and people dressed in black and cried,
and said a prayer
or two
for his colorless
tumor he once had called
his own
flesh.
but he...
he lived after that,
in a sense.
he'd come to realize
in his final moments that
death
would always be
there,
knocking on the door,
tall,
thin,
and deceitfully handsome, beckoning for the second
he turned the ****
so that he did and-
only then
would he ever know that
life
is the only true
death-
that everything was
backwards.
he'd always hated
death,
despised it
for it's
selfishness
and the way it inflicted
pain
on everything it touched-
but only then
when the last gasp
of air drew from his
lungs,
did he know that
death..
death
is
the
only
escape
from
life.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
I'm watching the home my mind lives in burn to the ground
The sanity that felt comfort there is now crawling around for an exit that can't be found
but hey, maybe it never existed.
I throw out my cigarette,
and as the the last smoke crawls from my throat-
I smile.
there's a nirvana in the embers that are chewing at the ceiling,
and I can hear my thoughts screaming.
but hey, maybe they never existed.
I watch the last of the shingles smother the ashes of that home,
And I'm not so sure my mind was alone.
Because the last time I stayed there,
The night I started the violent flare-
You were in there.
But hey,
at least now it's not hard to say-
"Maybe she never existed."
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 2:47 AM UTC
we hold alcoholism up like a trophy
that we can wave in front of a girls
drunken eye and get laid
and then reality hits
and reality said 40 years from now
we're on the couch knocked out cold
and the bottle replaced a wife
20 years ago.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 1:58 AM UTC
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray The Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray to God my soul to take.
If I should live for other days,
Pray The Lord to guide my ways.
My skin is inside out,
And my thoughts are speaking aloud.
Now I'm on my knees to shout,
"Father, are you proud?"
All of my life I've begged you for forgiveness,
But now I just want to settle this;
When you write your list,
Leave me off and call it quits.
How can something so beautiful love something so weak?
I fear to forget what I'm supposed to seek.
Is there a purpose to anything?
Maybe I'm just not getting the joke.
I've always been the one too slow.
What is a man with no hope?
What is a future with no grace?
Even the divine soap
Cannot clean this waste.
I'm thinking myself into a corner I can't get out of.
I'm backed in by a priest with surgeon gloves.
Tear it all out, don't leave anything.
My heart is hollowed out, and ill never amount to anything.
I don't want forgiveness to get into heaven.
I want forgiveness for the way I left you hanging.
Tell me what it's like to make a child that morphs into a hand grenade.
Then tell me what it's like to watch it pull it's own pin and burn away.
I would say sorry,
But apologies are nothing more than excuses to me.
So when you write your list,
Just leave me off and call it quits.
And now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray The Lord my soul to reap.
And if I should die before I wake,
I pray to God my soul to forsake.
If I should live for other days,
I pray The Lord to forget his mistake.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
When the heroes die-
And good men go to war;
Who will swat the flies?
And who will clean their sores?
In the dawn of destruction,
We seek peace in death machines.
In the wake of extinction,
We seek peace in annihilation.
I fear for my children,
And their children as well-
For this generation of men,
It's safe to say they failed.
When the heroes die-
And good men go to war;
Who will swat the flies?
And who will clean their sores?
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
Golden eyes
you disguised pain so beautifully
you hid my love notes in your shoes
you thought you loved the girl I used to be
I thought I knew what love was made of
pressed against your car
you smelled just like the ocean
I felt kept inside your arms
I had no knowledge of commitment
I was only seventeen
wanting a body made of heaven
born decades before me
we smoked cigarettes and danced
for hours in the rain
you were as gentle as the wind
I didn't mean to cause you pain
confusion is a cloud that visits
every n o w and t h e n
when I think of nights spent on the phone
and days worshiping your skin
whether or not you think of me
is fine and either way
you were a message wrote in cursive
that I r e p e a t everyday
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
Blood pumps through the veins of a weary traveler,
Every pulse salivating the teetering skepticisms of reality;
flowing through the fragile doubts of terror-
an omen to suffering and constant lack of fervor
The burden of unsatisfactory and the tattered walls of a loose mind start,
Constantly creaking and promising to give way
and crumble unto the molded floorboards of a heavy heart.
a bullseye in happiness with a wandering dart.
The bones as broken hulls to a ship that’s lost sight,
Abandoned shores tempting her for haven
and taunting the starving crew with false delight
another block of cinder to give way and lose it’s might.
20/20 eyes yet blind in bitter harmonies of fowl follies,
Visions of future calls to dreams that were broken before pieced
and carried to better men on royal and despairing trollies.
remembrances of a body drenched in longing and wrapped in hollies.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 1:19 PM UTC
In the ballroom, half past the hour I struggle to find place where bleeding walls are curtailing chase. and in the crude mix of masqueraded hearts I found your true face I watched you stroll in and out of fits of love, destroying every good thing left to break
In the ballroom, three quarters past the hour I felt your cruelty pierce my skin and bone to a core, childishly toying with an old doll that couldn't take the pain anymore
so that one day when pride knocks on your door he'll bestow you upon the floor and may you rest there forevermore.
but in the ballroom, as the hour ends, for now you say amen before you feast upon the fragile thin of souls that belong to men whom may never love again. and may love never forgive you for this sin.
In the ballroom, for the rest of your extent,
may all the lost souls never forgive nor forget you for this sin.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
What if I told you of a spell
One that could destroy whole countries
In the blink of an eye?
Would you scoff and turn up your collar
at my paganistic ways?
Lover, I speak the truth!
This phrase is not a lie!
It causes violent outrage
And it is inescapable.
Save yourself:
Don't pass it on!
It is not worth the carnage,
But I will tell the dreadful words, as I have told man after man:
I love you.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC