robert-ueda
American
I'm 17, new to having my work broadcasted. I like the feedback though, negative or positive. I write what I feel and see, and sometimes have experienced. I write like I am, skewed, strange, confused, and working towards enlightenment. I think we all need something to feed our souls to, the pen and paper is mine, but in the modern world it seems to be the trend to transplant such mundanities onto the computer screen. Read away friends, and follow me on tumblr if you see fit http://redpillsandinkspills.tumblr.com/
Stoners go hippie with the sticky sweet smoke
Dope-wicked hope stricken trippin' sinners don't choke
Sellouts sell jail cells in the cellar downstairs
Hairs-frayed-from-hairspray stricken sisters don't care
Tell me where are the werewolves wearing skin overcoats?
Not a body dare boast that their coast is a host
For a problem don't got one when the team boat won't row
Don't tell me you got hope when the dough runs the show
Don't tell me that you care when to sin is to share
Don't ever tell me that you know when your love never show
You're fuckin' bloody-gut, up-chucking sick
Don't ya know?
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
Mirrors for mirrors
Diaries for dust
Dead men for militants
Martyrs for rust
Tears over trophies
Prizes for price tags
Lawmakers for lovers son
Lies while the time lags
Up is quite down
But two is still two
Question me not
I said I love you
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
Tell me
What is the role of your soul?
Will you be bold when you're old?
Or will you die quite alone
With a heart full of gold
Much like a buried treasure
Never to be found
Do you skirt around the sound
Or get down with the crowd?
What is
The end that you desire?
Do you define life by it?
Or is the angel a liar?
Are you scared or prepared?
A parade or a pyre?
It doesn't matter much
Just a flame to the fire
A match for the ashes
Tears for a tale
Tell me only what you wish love
I speak only braille
Misunderstood quite often
The object is not talking
It's a story for a siren
Only the deaf are left walking
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Foot hits the pavement
Alleviating impatience
Lighter than a feather
To better cushion the jaded
Stomping through the cemetery
The behemoth breaks his back
Stumbling over tombstones
Seemingly jagged in every crack
A man, half a monster,
Half a mouse, mostly bleeding
Drowning in the oxygen bank
Indian given breathing
When the rabbits loose their roots
Aside trees what speak and breathe
The kings are parted out
While the beasts break even clean
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
Tiers set to impress
Stress best the tears and ***
Together or separate
Still a well coveted mess
But the best of the rest
Catch death by way of breath
Followed closely by movement
From the mouth, teeth, and neck
Word upon words
Precipitate from pain
Chasing hollow hope-ways
Where fears fall free like rain
Yet while the inner chapel's laughter
Does mock every sinner's chapter
Internal combustion musters
The will to breathe soon after
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
Oh proud engineer of eternity
Seam of reality
Stitch of the universe
Go forth
Cross those barren wastelands
Composed of the flesh of your kin
All of what was
Sail those tumultuous seas
That lifeblood of Cronos, Father Time
All of what is
And find yourself naturally to a shore
For that shore is your shore
Though the bank not of sand,
But of finely woven threads
The threads of reality itself,
A blossom of life amidst the swirling tides of time.
And you shall break onto that shore,
A behemoth bred of circumstance,
For you are this moment!
And with all the might of a whisper,
A syllable and a heartbeat,
A spike and dip of glorious emotion and sensation,
Shall you impress yourself onto the fabric of life
And all at once release.
Recede with pride,
Backwards through that sea, once spiteful, now docile
Drift into that void what harbors all things once seen,
And with peace,
Await all that remains
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
Tinker, tailor, soldier, ****
Still on the wrong end of a gun, and
I feel like a walking phallus-y, spelled with a "ph"
A balancing act on a ballast beam
I'm sick of splitting pills
Like splitting hairs
Over an equal piece of the same share
I'm sick of playing fair
Like alliteration taught to an illiterate
In a post-biblical nation
I’m trying on your patience
And the monstrosity that is my social viscosity
Is borne consciously
Proceed cautiously
But who would I be without the depravity?
The sick and sadder me?
Another puzzle piece probably
Resigned to believe his beliefs aren't faulty
Fuckin' salty, and
Steeped in a brine of designer beef and corn feed
Too yellow to bleed
No
When I speak, I beg you to see
Suffering is a similarity, synonymous with life
So proudly riddled with strife, I spit
This wisdom demands sacrifice
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
“This Heart”
The heart bleeds black India
Though not through a vein
It's said the flesh is the sanctuary
For a soul led astray
Yet the heart is the library
Decrepit and ancient
Where the scars are the manuscripts
Collected with patience
Filled with love songs forsaken
Next to books with blank pages
For plays yet to come
Upon immaculate stages
To the melodies of mortals
With their highs and their lows
And a chorus of angels
Of which some fell below, and
Within this binding you weep, yet
At the same time you shine, for
In this heart were you born, so
In this heart should you die
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
She real cruel
She go hard, but
She speak sharp
She got heart
She spit fire, no
She ain't tired
She no fool
She real cruel
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
Foggy scribblings of last nights misinterpretations
Scattered chairs
Cotton flesh and torn stitching
Doggy dandruff
Burnt air, Bic lighters and crooked intentions
Ashes to ashes
Soldiers marching in silence
Keep moving
Layabout possessions and broken things
A roof, at least
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC