Sadness becomes the clown
for humor is a reflex
and denial is breathing
and ease is a smile when one's secretly seething
Sadness becomes the clown
for punchlines are hits
and fools are martyrs
and what are mocked pains but conversation starters
Sadness becomes the clown
for laughter is weighty
and jokes are suppression
and comedic timing is a guise for depression
Clowns give their all
day after day
while time is a pall of emotional decay
And they know it's inevitable
when the chips are down
that the clown becomes sadness
and sadness becomes the clown
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 3:08 PM UTC
God won't save you because of the frequency spent on your knees; but for the frequency sent on your knees.
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
They say that god created everything the earth the birds the trees the seas the skyyyy-hiiigghh
But no one will admit he also put, what you call sinful in your miiind ohwhoa
What is heaven? What is hell? And who the hell cares if alls well?
But for those who fear the end
And pray for some god send well
Ohhhhhhhhh-whhhoooaaaaa well
Now debris it covers everything, all the buildings burned down to the grooouuund
Flooding waters or scoring droughts you can't even hear the suffering all arooouuuuund
Could be heaven could be hell
always throw the thoughts out of my braaaaiiiinnn
Because neither pleasure nor pain time just, keeps on running down the draaaaaiiiiiiinnnn.
We're all the same.
Maybe one day we'll use our ******* brains.
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
"Get on the ground!"
"GET ON the ground!!"
"BAH"
"BAH"
"BAH"
"BAH"
"BAH"
"BAH"
"BAH"
"BAH"
"BAH"
Eight seconds between the first verbal command and the ninth bullet's firing. You don't know blue like We do.
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
-"Why do you breathe out?"
~"Because I breathe in."
-"Why do you breathe in?"
~"Because I breathe out."
-"How did this begin? I mean, how did it come about?"
~"I'm not exactly sure, though I swear I heard a shout."
-"Well, who was yelling to you?"
~"I don't know...but I cried."
-"And at your beginning, why cry, why not sing?"
~"Well because, my good friend, we start to die when we begin."
-"Pfffft, well if that's the way you see it then fine. We'll let it be-"
~"Oh no, dearest companion, you've asked the questions, the truth you will see. How truly there is no real Me or real You. How the mind has disguised what is one as something two. Two sides of the brain means two processors at work. I mean I should know I've been running them since birth. My experience cleaved so I may be able to comprehend something vague called reality? All that is real teases me, it flitters around my head and vanishes into nowhere, a land beyond Time, beyond the dead. And so that's what I mean between breathing and not. Because the space between breaths is where the Truth will be taught."
-"...well...okay...hmm, um, check please!"
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 11:34 PM UTC
A resurgence of emotion, you are an ocean.
Wrath of the sea proves powerful over me,
And spits my seashell fragments ashore,
broken and soft.
Your force will hold no boat aloft,
Unforgiving waves push them away and I have nothing to say.
A thousand times you’ve crashed down on me, a thousand little pieces
have created this beach.
But like when the moon waxes and wanes
Or the storms roll in and it rains-
Your surge is anticipated, your receding so late
Leaves my sand fragments so jaded
I regret to say every tide I’ve awaited.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 5:23 PM UTC
Writing with a hexed pen
Bewilderment, ink-blot, psychotic again
And once again,
One more time for good measure.
"It seems you've discovered a shipwreck,
won't be long until you find the treasure."
Buried deep within the ruins even air cannot penetrate
So however soon you dredge it up,
You've come just a moment too late.
Crash upon the surface empty handed
quite irate,
After all you were relying on that fortune to fill a plate
So now your belly's aching, rumbling, quaking
As the Earth before demolishing Man's crude play-things
The sound of ten-thousand mortars
simultaneously striking the sand.
Quick, lend a hand, or head, or ears.
There's nothing to fear here.
The company is pleasant.
As long as we stay below ground
with the dust-bunny symphony
Field mice play the pianette
Dare I neglect the cat faced composer?
Whose whiskers entrance, enticing stupor.
In the game of life there are only losers.
God gives to take, he laughs when you complain,
For he is the deliverer of Love and of Pain.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
Know that one fractal of mine previous bind,
the pact of where free will lies
Tied between minds, hanging by a silver thread,
And severed in a moment of existential dread.
To have to watch it all would be too great a burden for the human head.
To carry, so Mother groomed us clever
From faerie-dust tender care created a lever
In knowledge of Self-drenched to the core
Oh boy life can sure be a snore.
When all of your intents just lead to "I'm bored"
Go on now, with the leader of the fleet
he has ironed his pleats
Released his loved, his prized
The great farce, a fantasy of divide
Off to go catch the madman in his one last
one-last-act.
That retrieve is past.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
There was an odd shift in the air that morning when you called me so early.
I couldn't tell if it was sadness or defeat or even a slight twang of happiness in your soft voice.
And I couldn't quite make out the words you were saying as you spoke so fast and yet so dreamily.
I heard you say you were sorry. I heard you say you loved me. I heard you say it was time.
And then I heard the phone go silent.
I ran.
I ran through the ice and the winter breeze.
I walked.
I walked up the drive way into the open door.
I sat.
I sat down next to your already cold body.
And I cried.
I cried because "you" were me and I was gone... So what else could I do but cry?
Do you know what suicide makes you think about?
It made me wonder if the pain could have gone away.
It made me wonder why that day was the day.
It made me wonder what inside me got so hard I couldn't face another single day living in this toxic world.
I love you.
I miss you.
I'm so sorry.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
Some walk on their hands by some
cruel gesture of idealistic Faith
As long as the mind is numb, the Soul is all alone.
Feel the chill of a November evening
Neglecting the Life-giving day.
Act as if each of these things can be
merely thrown away.
For all that come or choose or may.
As for the Individual, who try and try as he may
to swear that at the end of this
One Long Day
That they know to be home
They didn't know they were creating most
if not all, of Love, of Fear, and hope.
Dismay or reasons to hooray.
Terra-cotta attachments
"Let all Rise and Fall"
by the end of your most
manic, monkey-minded day
You wish to say Nay
To cast your flashy wristwatches off
the concrete roof, in ballot to eternity,
While our souls collide, aloof.
Limitless, understanding, Time.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC