Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
mt
Your awareness is unclean Because there is nothing to cleanse Your mind is not a mirror Because there is nothing to reflect Pay attention to the center of your mind And there will be nothing to focus on The observer will disappear Because there is nothing to observe All thoughts and momentary feeling Will pass through Like light past eyes All things will be grounded in eternity The future is uncreated and decided by the past What has past was at once uncreated Leaving the heaviness of the past, Standing still for eternity, Sitting in the center of the present moment Eternal webs spin themselves Around what neither the past nor future could be But it is wrong to suppose that it was spun For just as the empty and forever flowing stillness of consciousness It neither moves nor stands still And just as your mind can only reference and live within itself, It cannot reach out Not because it is powerless But because its power means that there is nowhere for it to reach to. All in one Is the same as none With nothing without There cannot be any within
0
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 2:23 AM UTC
Perfect Awareness
The king of the Mud Ruler of the world we walk Only when it rains
0
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
Untitled
The only war Is the one in your head In a world with no sides We're only fighting ourselves The revolution is not ending this one But making sure no war Ever happens again Fight the last good fight The one to unite Within and Without Us, no them Being the tallest tree means Getting hit by all the lightning Thou shalt command only thyself Your will expression of god The only divine inside When Zarathustra speaks Do not listen. In the silence The words will open up Leave behind the money god **** the man god And leave behind the last man Burn down the pantheon Occupy the space with humanity With all the pitfalls That lead upwards Slay the doubts and in the evil Find an overcoming Step over bridges, Do not bother Swim deep And never come back From down under The nonbeliever is the most religious Giving in to belief On the loosing side Of a battle without a war Trapped behind All the banter played out loud Repentance is suicide Do not sacrifice You will not gain If god is dead, Perfection is too Good for you **** **** Listen to my command! Destroy! Destroy! Don't listen to my words! Hang on to in between, And listen to the quiet Crucifixion is for the weak With no world to inherent The meek must Give the world to themselves Laugh, laugh! As you cross over The dead bodies And the wishers, But not the takers Love at the wrong time And hate at the right, Are the greatest steps To going over Never a quiet moment The sky hangs low Heavy with static The silence presses upon ears And weighs upon souls Souls, the meeting of the in and out Of this world and Everything else The line in the sand Also dividing but Not changing what it is Just sand under the division Jump from the clouds To mountaintops Slide to the bottom to find truth Forget everything you've been told Or told yourself And feel it On your feet.
0
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
Zarathustra
The only war Is the one in your head In a world with no sides We're only fighting ourselves The revolution is not ending this one But making sure no war Ever happens again Fight the last good fight The one to unite Within and Without Us, no them Being the tallest tree means Getting hit by all the lightning Thou shalt command only thyself Your will expression of god The only divine inside When Zarathustra speaks Do not listen. In the silence The words will open up Leave behind the money god **** the man god And leave behind the last man Burn down the pantheon Occupy the space with humanity With all the pitfalls That lead upwards Slay the doubts and in the evil Find an overcoming Step over bridges, Do not bother Swim deep And never come back From down under The nonbeliever is the most religious Giving in to belief On the loosing side Of a battle without a war Trapped behind All the banter played out loud Repentance is suicide Do not sacrifice You will not gain If god is dead, Perfection is too Good for you **** **** Listen to my command! Destroy! Destroy! Don't listen to my words! Hang on to in between, And listen to the quiet Crucifixion is for the weak With no world to inherent The meek must Give the world to themselves Laugh, laugh! As you cross over The dead bodies And the wishers, But not the takers Love at the wrong time And hate at the right, Are the greatest steps To going over Never a quiet moment The sky hangs low Heavy with static The silence presses upon ears And weighs upon souls Souls, the meeting of the in and out Of this world and Everything else The line in the sand Also dividing but Not changing what it is Just sand under the division Jump from the clouds To mountaintops Slide to the bottom to find truth Forget everything you've been told Or told yourself And feel it On your feet.
Continue reading...
86
Never tell me that I'm not allowed to do that Because it's only me who can Decide that Don't ever say you don't love me Because I know that you Don't hate me Don't ever tell me to forget it Because then I wouldn't Know where I came from Don't ever tell me To get over it I know I'm going to have to Dig my way out of it Don't ever tell me not to lie Because all words have Some Truth to them Just maybe not the truth you're looking for Don't ever tell me that it's no use Or That I will fail anyways Don't tell me that something will Happen before it happens Tell me I've failed when I've failed But never say it's no use There's always something to take But don't ever tell me Not to take something Because when I take it, It gives me something to give back Don't ever tell me That I don't know what I'm doing Because not only are you Just as clueless But it wouldn't be any fun if I knew what I was doing Don't ever tell me That I'm going to get myself killed It's better than anyone else Doing it for me Don't ever tell me that I'm crazy If I agreed with you, I wouldn't be and then we'd both Be wrong But don't ever tell me I'm wrong Because if I'm worth anything It'll be clear to me Don't ever tell me That I'm not consistent I wouldn't be anywhere if I was And especially, Never tell me Never ever tell me That this wasn't part of the plan Because I had explicit instructions Never to have a plan Instead take every step In the right direction
0
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 8:16 PM UTC
Things to Never Tell Me
Sitting in class In front of the blank white math test I was in the process of failing That I had skipped first period to study for And instead just smoked my final final cigarette I had a grand realization I'm an idiot I don't know how I hadn't realized it before Between breaking my new phone to try and prove to my friends it was unbreakable And sitting on my roof cardboard wings duck taped to my arms With plastic shopping bag parachutes strung about my neck Or when I asked I girl I hardly knew to a dance I hardly wanted to go to Or at the dance, when I ditched her to laugh at the kid barfing in a stall From the *** cookie he had just eaten Honest mistake, I did it my first time, too Eating acid turned out fine, though Mushrooms, almost made me **** downtown But hey, Shiva's in the walls I love an audience And I know they love my cusses Once I put my arm around the wrong date No just kidding, I don't date On vacation, I got stabbed between my small toe and the next With a pencil Now I'm afraid of wearing flip flops I biked over the same patch of broken glass in the street Three days in a row before I finally got a flat I put duct tape on the frame of my new bike, It looked cool, And cutting it off with a kitchen knife I sliced my wrist and nicked a tendon Shot myself in the thigh with a BB gun To prove it didn't hurt to people that didn't care Twice Shot my neighbor, too I told her parents it was an accident Statistically plausible, but not this time Got in a fight with my best friend And made a Facebook status about how boring it was being suspended Broke a sprinkler when I was bored Blamed it on raccoons It didn't work, the neighbors had caught on to me Love poems don't come easy Which is weird, They're always better when no one loves you back So I have a surplus And apparently they say, Giving that stuff away for free Is a bit of a crime Like trying not to rip my already ripped pants or Putting a sticker on my cello I couldn't peel off Climbing over barbed wire to get high by the octopus tree I should of checked the penal code Hiking at night is a crime Ranger D. Heimer wanted me to tell you It's okay, he's an idiot, too September is not the eighth month The handwriting on the citation isn't half bad, though In the last three months, I've had four flats on my bike I haven't learned yet The wheel still sitting in the hallway I lost the repair kit You think it it would of sunk in before I failed my fifth math test in a row I went to a party, And I didn't do blow Because I was tripping too hard The white line looked too weird, And my nose was still burning from the last line. I dropped my ipod in the toilet Then I dropped my dad's, too Talked to gutter punks (that's not the stupid part) And shared a pipe with the sickest of the trio Yeah, I'm sick now Got angry at my mom, But of course, I'm an angsty teen, Decided to bike to the top of the greatest little hill around And gave up three fourths of the way there At least I gave one of my friends the chance to see me in that state, His house was on the way, And they say that bliss comes in two ways, In ignorance or in enlightenment That's too many choices for me So instead I elected myself martyr And grew my hair out to look like Jesus Christ But now I just look like Charles Manson I was going to do no-shave November But I started too early And ended even earlier And that was before I realized I couldn't grow a beard Fool me once, shame on you Fool me twice, shame on me Fool me thrice, and the fourths for free, I make my own omens, Then happily misread them. So it might be starting to sink in, But I don't think it matters much Being stupid is a **** good time Next Saturday, you're all invited.
0
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 10:50 PM UTC
I'm an idiot
Sitting in class In front of the blank white math test I was in the process of failing That I had skipped first period to study for And instead just smoked my final final cigarette I had a grand realization I'm an idiot I don't know how I hadn't realized it before Between breaking my new phone to try and prove to my friends it was unbreakable And sitting on my roof cardboard wings duck taped to my arms With plastic shopping bag parachutes strung about my neck Or when I asked I girl I hardly knew to a dance I hardly wanted to go to Or at the dance, when I ditched her to laugh at the kid barfing in a stall From the *** cookie he had just eaten Honest mistake, I did it my first time, too Eating acid turned out fine, though Mushrooms, almost made me **** downtown But hey, Shiva's in the walls I love an audience And I know they love my cusses Once I put my arm around the wrong date No just kidding, I don't date On vacation, I got stabbed between my small toe and the next With a pencil Now I'm afraid of wearing flip flops I biked over the same patch of broken glass in the street Three days in a row before I finally got a flat I put duct tape on the frame of my new bike, It looked cool, And cutting it off with a kitchen knife I sliced my wrist and nicked a tendon Shot myself in the thigh with a BB gun To prove it didn't hurt to people that didn't care Twice Shot my neighbor, too I told her parents it was an accident Statistically plausible, but not this time Got in a fight with my best friend And made a Facebook status about how boring it was being suspended Broke a sprinkler when I was bored Blamed it on raccoons It didn't work, the neighbors had caught on to me Love poems don't come easy Which is weird, They're always better when no one loves you back So I have a surplus And apparently they say, Giving that stuff away for free Is a bit of a crime Like trying not to rip my already ripped pants or Putting a sticker on my cello I couldn't peel off Climbing over barbed wire to get high by the octopus tree I should of checked the penal code Hiking at night is a crime Ranger D. Heimer wanted me to tell you It's okay, he's an idiot, too September is not the eighth month The handwriting on the citation isn't half bad, though In the last three months, I've had four flats on my bike I haven't learned yet The wheel still sitting in the hallway I lost the repair kit You think it it would of sunk in before I failed my fifth math test in a row I went to a party, And I didn't do blow Because I was tripping too hard The white line looked too weird, And my nose was still burning from the last line. I dropped my ipod in the toilet Then I dropped my dad's, too Talked to gutter punks (that's not the stupid part) And shared a pipe with the sickest of the trio Yeah, I'm sick now Got angry at my mom, But of course, I'm an angsty teen, Decided to bike to the top of the greatest little hill around And gave up three fourths of the way there At least I gave one of my friends the chance to see me in that state, His house was on the way, And they say that bliss comes in two ways, In ignorance or in enlightenment That's too many choices for me So instead I elected myself martyr And grew my hair out to look like Jesus Christ But now I just look like Charles Manson I was going to do no-shave November But I started too early And ended even earlier And that was before I realized I couldn't grow a beard Fool me once, shame on you Fool me twice, shame on me Fool me thrice, and the fourths for free, I make my own omens, Then happily misread them. So it might be starting to sink in, But I don't think it matters much Being stupid is a **** good time Next Saturday, you're all invited.
Continue reading...
104
And now, Ladies and Gentlemen The story of a man Who lived and died inside his own head Came into this world on a whim And left on a whisper Leaving behind just his footsteps For the waves on the nights Darkness came too early To wash away, Clean to the bone Leaving just the shiny purity And reflections for those interested In the forest, As all good mad men roam, He got lost on the edge of, Between beginnings and endings And no real divisions. Occasionally, finding a wise man To split his time with Making it the three of them Him, the man, And them together Roaming with direction But still purposeless Because a purpose Would be their downfall. He feels most comfortable When he is certain there is no guide No difference between territory, charted and uncharted Because there's no one to make maps Only forays forward Leave the paths clear Spontaneous insight lost soon enough Mystic Seam on his forehead Childish gleam in his one blind eye The Silly Being Cutting his way Through the molasses, thick Of time Space, inconsequential But he knows, The only certainty he dares carry Is that heaven, Heaven, doesn't begin. Cannot be reached. The pearly gates are grim Not a soul passes through them But too many Leave through the alley exit For Heaven is not a place Heaven is time Time well spent Because the burden of passing Is forgotten Destroying gates And slicing meaning Road block! Why! Only in my head! Detour! Runs out of steam Pure words tainted lost again run off the road missed the stream Back to a story A story of myself Framed in bigger terms Thoughts, thinking of big And ego eating dinner It's what the doctor ordered. Trying to convince What it could be, nothing to be nothing go nowhere while paths grow and clean themselves Srubbed raw swallowed by my tallest trees, growing richly inside a small world with deep holes to **** and cling to Being Nobody is an Overcoming Defeating the propaganda of Somebody The self lies It can only grasp Fruitlessly It finds for itself It can't see beyond No! Never that simple! To save yourself you must save the world Only fools grab all they can "Only fools rush in" Only fools stay back Playing with fire It's a prophesy Doing it because we can Is the route to go The only route we know There are no reasons Sometimes directions Even if they lead nowhere Right back atcha' Screaming, cuddling Cuddling? I'm not the sentimental type At least, I pretend not to be Maybe it shows I don't know That's what it comes down to Yeah, I don't know I can't remember a single thing I heard on the news Even if it's all engrained in My bark brain A pair of loveless lovers Wanted to prove to themselves So they cut into my soft brain Their own story And I would return the favor But I lost the binding to the pages Of my story But if I could so humbly request O, Greatest Story Tellers And Yarn Spinners Of our time I would very much like it If I was, humbly mind you, The Greatest Story You ever told But Nameless It would be my overcoming There would be no excuse Not to do great things Even better if no one Knew that I did them It would fill my heart And be a great conversation piece "Hey Ladies..." Pull up one eyebrow Flip out my pocket-halo "I've done it, done it all. Not that you would know" Just the way I'd like it Then remind myself I hate bars And talk a walk home Late at night (Okay, maybe a jog) (Fine, a sprint) The night suffocates If you hold your own neck closed It's a nice change from day. People have finally turned on Engaged Maybe its the fear, Time to relax I've forgotten that But seeing others alive Is the last thing that reminds me, I am I am, too. And, I hate heredity It can make folks forget That They are, too I inherited nothing Except confusion And that's the only gift to offer Because You know you love someone when you can be Confused, together It would bore me to death If we could understand each other That might just be My Neurotic Impotence talking Looking for an excuse to shiver in place Yes, Neurotic Impotence not neurotic impotence It's my second name I hate middle names People keep them secrets For no reason I hate secrets Secrets don't exist Somebody always knows them So they can't be very secret National Secrets, too Give my my cut I'm a gossip And I've run out of stuff To ride conversations Straight into I don't do enough weird things Or get involved too often To tell a good story The windows to my mind Are sufficient I've been informed, That they're quite pretty, also Makes me feel a bit better About all the time I've invested At staring at the tops of trees Not much, actually It makes me look pensive, I think Almost like I know what I'm doing That saddest part is that I'm not completely lost either. Hovering in the middle Neither here, nor There Typical, I suppose So's indulgence But I say, Kids, Older folk devoid of experience, Indulge Only in yourself, however Indulgence isn't the problem It's not knowing why Now let me preach a minute True prophets Ask for nothing in return Not a dime, The good ones, Not even your attention They stand on their private Street corners telling to the stars In both hushed whispers And crashing screeches About what they think And the day the find A disciple They will be pleasantly surprised   Because that was never part of the the plan They are prophets And saviors Because they are the select few Who saved themselves And now, The man we talked about earlier He's still alone He's a bit afraid Enough so to not find someone To tread the waters with him Because he is an almost fearless man He doesn't fear scenery Place, and time all the same It's the implications that weigh heavily On a psyche that's already burdened itself On long bus rides To remind himself (and his good pal, psyche) That he isn't going anywhere The city he thought he was bored of Has slipped into the background And now that the future Might just Actually happen It's time to freeze in place It's a nice break against the pushing rush of reality To stop and smell the roses While right behind His back, The world implodes The sky blossoms open Only fools rush in Only fools stand back Survey the scene and you will lose the gist The parts will show themselves And you'll miss the whole That's where it's alive Don't get so caught up in the pieces It's the weight You'll drown in It's a little death in the family Enough to shake it up a little bit Thanksgiving, dig in One less the thing to worry about And one more thing to write off I'm sure there's a grand deduction for it. Remember when I said I hate things? That's not true I don't hate anything Things only exist, and are Because other things are That they aren't And I can't love So there's no hate Nothing to compare it to It's more of an empty feeling With a silver lining, It passes quickly I haven't found the thing I just Hate yet There's always a catch Call the Holy Hotline, There's always a catch We're here for your calls, 24/7! Heaven is neon Brothels, tight lipped doors It's Sanctified Skidrow Baptized in Hard Liquor out By the chalice alley The heavenly Saints Who were brought down Straight from "Up There (He's smiling down on us, I swear I can feel it, if I strain really hard and pop the blood vessels in one of my good eyes, He's there, He's always there. I swear, She told me so, Late at night, screaming o god at the ceiling, That's when I feel him, ***** blood and Canonized *** These saints, now, Or perhaps Saints, Mumble to themselves And sing invisible praises It's weird The visionaries are all weird But to be insane in an insane world Offers a sliver of freedom Between all the crucifixions and handcuffs White noise, and head banging I never got What other people called Soul Searching Because I did it everyday Being broken down and rebuilt every week Goodbye o, Worldly World! Not too cruel But never too nice, either This is not the end I realized That there is no end, Is there? That's the only certainty And the man asked me, "There's no end is there?" Cigarette in mouth, limp No, no There never is And the walls We have built Will collapse If we turn our backs on them long enough And soon enough The Hopeless Caught on each side of the wall Will have to to unwind Themselves From the thick braid They've found themselves in Insanity Unwinds the same way Curling inwards From the corner of my closed eye Fractal Freedom In a million parts Twisting into The beautiful whole To be at liberty To uncoil again Back here again? Always back here Insanity Before and again And the big wide world would Drive you so If you dared understand it I think I Might just be part Of an elite class The fuck-ups The movers and shakers But never the pushers The world rotating around them Looking for an in Exits to nowhere aplenty But right now, I sit Here Sterile, and sick The man's voice buzzes, and rattles Like the old AC at my grandma's apartment The air, Almost as dry His low hum splits would could be A comfortable silence And I suppose, That's why they think we're here For all the "could be's" The first words out of my mouth Are a shrieking car crash The mechanical man Has such a grip On the Atmosphere His cogs and wires Are free from the disease That i Am Rotting in my seat Outside, where I cannot go, The sky is static Why is it static? I'm afraid It's been that way too long And now my walls melt into the sky Buzzing and Flickering Low Light The worst It's now a diagnosis Tell me what I have Please oh please It's in my head But feels like my chest Sitting in place Might be Cruel and Unusual Long walks on the beach sound nice But alone If you can be with me, and alone You're the one -Aw....thanks me!- And it scares me, Like many things The dreary rounds I make each day That I've built my own prison I might just find myself More free in a cell (Free up my schedule a bit, just a bit) And facing that mechanical man, My voice dries up Pulling my thoughts Down with it Flush A soft touch to The hard lighting Uh, Maybe I need to lay down Where the grass cuts my shins I've given up There's nothing but god above us And nothing below us The sky is god And it is empty.
0
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 2:07 AM UTC
Ode to Getting Lost On One of the Good Days, and Some of the Bad Days
And now, Ladies and Gentlemen The story of a man Who lived and died inside his own head Came into this world on a whim And left on a whisper Leaving behind just his footsteps For the waves on the nights Darkness came too early To wash away, Clean to the bone Leaving just the shiny purity And reflections for those interested In the forest, As all good mad men roam, He got lost on the edge of, Between beginnings and endings And no real divisions. Occasionally, finding a wise man To split his time with Making it the three of them Him, the man, And them together Roaming with direction But still purposeless Because a purpose Would be their downfall. He feels most comfortable When he is certain there is no guide No difference between territory, charted and uncharted Because there's no one to make maps Only forays forward Leave the paths clear Spontaneous insight lost soon enough Mystic Seam on his forehead Childish gleam in his one blind eye The Silly Being Cutting his way Through the molasses, thick Of time Space, inconsequential But he knows, The only certainty he dares carry Is that heaven, Heaven, doesn't begin. Cannot be reached. The pearly gates are grim Not a soul passes through them But too many Leave through the alley exit For Heaven is not a place Heaven is time Time well spent Because the burden of passing Is forgotten Destroying gates And slicing meaning Road block! Why! Only in my head! Detour! Runs out of steam Pure words tainted lost again run off the road missed the stream Back to a story A story of myself Framed in bigger terms Thoughts, thinking of big And ego eating dinner It's what the doctor ordered. Trying to convince What it could be, nothing to be nothing go nowhere while paths grow and clean themselves Srubbed raw swallowed by my tallest trees, growing richly inside a small world with deep holes to **** and cling to Being Nobody is an Overcoming Defeating the propaganda of Somebody The self lies It can only grasp Fruitlessly It finds for itself It can't see beyond No! Never that simple! To save yourself you must save the world Only fools grab all they can "Only fools rush in" Only fools stay back Playing with fire It's a prophesy Doing it because we can Is the route to go The only route we know There are no reasons Sometimes directions Even if they lead nowhere Right back atcha' Screaming, cuddling Cuddling? I'm not the sentimental type At least, I pretend not to be Maybe it shows I don't know That's what it comes down to Yeah, I don't know I can't remember a single thing I heard on the news Even if it's all engrained in My bark brain A pair of loveless lovers Wanted to prove to themselves So they cut into my soft brain Their own story And I would return the favor But I lost the binding to the pages Of my story But if I could so humbly request O, Greatest Story Tellers And Yarn Spinners Of our time I would very much like it If I was, humbly mind you, The Greatest Story You ever told But Nameless It would be my overcoming There would be no excuse Not to do great things Even better if no one Knew that I did them It would fill my heart And be a great conversation piece "Hey Ladies..." Pull up one eyebrow Flip out my pocket-halo "I've done it, done it all. Not that you would know" Just the way I'd like it Then remind myself I hate bars And talk a walk home Late at night (Okay, maybe a jog) (Fine, a sprint) The night suffocates If you hold your own neck closed It's a nice change from day. People have finally turned on Engaged Maybe its the fear, Time to relax I've forgotten that But seeing others alive Is the last thing that reminds me, I am I am, too. And, I hate heredity It can make folks forget That They are, too I inherited nothing Except confusion And that's the only gift to offer Because You know you love someone when you can be Confused, together It would bore me to death If we could understand each other That might just be My Neurotic Impotence talking Looking for an excuse to shiver in place Yes, Neurotic Impotence not neurotic impotence It's my second name I hate middle names People keep them secrets For no reason I hate secrets Secrets don't exist Somebody always knows them So they can't be very secret National Secrets, too Give my my cut I'm a gossip And I've run out of stuff To ride conversations Straight into I don't do enough weird things Or get involved too often To tell a good story The windows to my mind Are sufficient I've been informed, That they're quite pretty, also Makes me feel a bit better About all the time I've invested At staring at the tops of trees Not much, actually It makes me look pensive, I think Almost like I know what I'm doing That saddest part is that I'm not completely lost either. Hovering in the middle Neither here, nor There Typical, I suppose So's indulgence But I say, Kids, Older folk devoid of experience, Indulge Only in yourself, however Indulgence isn't the problem It's not knowing why Now let me preach a minute True prophets Ask for nothing in return Not a dime, The good ones, Not even your attention They stand on their private Street corners telling to the stars In both hushed whispers And crashing screeches About what they think And the day the find A disciple They will be pleasantly surprised   Because that was never part of the the plan They are prophets And saviors Because they are the select few Who saved themselves And now, The man we talked about earlier He's still alone He's a bit afraid Enough so to not find someone To tread the waters with him Because he is an almost fearless man He doesn't fear scenery Place, and time all the same It's the implications that weigh heavily On a psyche that's already burdened itself On long bus rides To remind himself (and his good pal, psyche) That he isn't going anywhere The city he thought he was bored of Has slipped into the background And now that the future Might just Actually happen It's time to freeze in place It's a nice break against the pushing rush of reality To stop and smell the roses While right behind His back, The world implodes The sky blossoms open Only fools rush in Only fools stand back Survey the scene and you will lose the gist The parts will show themselves And you'll miss the whole That's where it's alive Don't get so caught up in the pieces It's the weight You'll drown in It's a little death in the family Enough to shake it up a little bit Thanksgiving, dig in One less the thing to worry about And one more thing to write off I'm sure there's a grand deduction for it. Remember when I said I hate things? That's not true I don't hate anything Things only exist, and are Because other things are That they aren't And I can't love So there's no hate Nothing to compare it to It's more of an empty feeling With a silver lining, It passes quickly I haven't found the thing I just Hate yet There's always a catch Call the Holy Hotline, There's always a catch We're here for your calls, 24/7! Heaven is neon Brothels, tight lipped doors It's Sanctified Skidrow Baptized in Hard Liquor out By the chalice alley The heavenly Saints Who were brought down Straight from "Up There (He's smiling down on us, I swear I can feel it, if I strain really hard and pop the blood vessels in one of my good eyes, He's there, He's always there. I swear, She told me so, Late at night, screaming o god at the ceiling, That's when I feel him, ***** blood and Canonized *** These saints, now, Or perhaps Saints, Mumble to themselves And sing invisible praises It's weird The visionaries are all weird But to be insane in an insane world Offers a sliver of freedom Between all the crucifixions and handcuffs White noise, and head banging I never got What other people called Soul Searching Because I did it everyday Being broken down and rebuilt every week Goodbye o, Worldly World! Not too cruel But never too nice, either This is not the end I realized That there is no end, Is there? That's the only certainty And the man asked me, "There's no end is there?" Cigarette in mouth, limp No, no There never is And the walls We have built Will collapse If we turn our backs on them long enough And soon enough The Hopeless Caught on each side of the wall Will have to to unwind Themselves From the thick braid They've found themselves in Insanity Unwinds the same way Curling inwards From the corner of my closed eye Fractal Freedom In a million parts Twisting into The beautiful whole To be at liberty To uncoil again Back here again? Always back here Insanity Before and again And the big wide world would Drive you so If you dared understand it I think I Might just be part Of an elite class The fuck-ups The movers and shakers But never the pushers The world rotating around them Looking for an in Exits to nowhere aplenty But right now, I sit Here Sterile, and sick The man's voice buzzes, and rattles Like the old AC at my grandma's apartment The air, Almost as dry His low hum splits would could be A comfortable silence And I suppose, That's why they think we're here For all the "could be's" The first words out of my mouth Are a shrieking car crash The mechanical man Has such a grip On the Atmosphere His cogs and wires Are free from the disease That i Am Rotting in my seat Outside, where I cannot go, The sky is static Why is it static? I'm afraid It's been that way too long And now my walls melt into the sky Buzzing and Flickering Low Light The worst It's now a diagnosis Tell me what I have Please oh please It's in my head But feels like my chest Sitting in place Might be Cruel and Unusual Long walks on the beach sound nice But alone If you can be with me, and alone You're the one -Aw....thanks me!- And it scares me, Like many things The dreary rounds I make each day That I've built my own prison I might just find myself More free in a cell (Free up my schedule a bit, just a bit) And facing that mechanical man, My voice dries up Pulling my thoughts Down with it Flush A soft touch to The hard lighting Uh, Maybe I need to lay down Where the grass cuts my shins I've given up There's nothing but god above us And nothing below us The sky is god And it is empty.
Continue reading...
452
The flesh is weird A little more bone ought to do it The most moral of activities Giving rise to all that is right And ending all that is wrong If only for a moment
0
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 3:10 PM UTC
***
Taunt skin Makes for Disgusting Prayer Hold still, forget the nerves Experience, Without a body for Uncut Reality The reducing valve Loosened, for an Infinite Moment
0
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
Don't Meditate
I'll never change the world The little things Are too **** interesting For me to ever forget A thing
0
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 3:06 PM UTC
Untitled
I can't stop Therefore Nothing ever gets done Only trapped in What I was doing
0
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 3:04 PM UTC
Never Ever