Without you my words feel forced and I
haven't the voice to accomplish it on my own.
Where have you been, my one true love?
The night draws near and I'll be needing a throne.
You are the cornerstone of my patented tone
and there is a catacomb that I long to roam.
I'll sacrifice you my thoughts and I'll eat my heart
head first til all the parts that used to make
me work are caught up in an unforgiving smirk.
I'll let the fickle flesh rot in between my teeth so
when I worship you you'll taste everything I mean.
Take your hooks and thread them through my skin,
I don't wanna ever feel like I ******* belong again.
I'll circle the pentagram in search of what I am, so long
as you cut out the middle man and make me the lamb.
The only time I feel alive is when I'm dead.
The only time I feel alive is when I'm dead.
The only time I feel alive is when I'm dead.

When passion becomes fashion
this mad man will grab his magnum
My pen is still a crayon
And my will can fill a canyon
I've never been one for the pavement
but that's okay cause I made this basement
home plate and that's more than most could say
While I'm faraway I like to leave a smile on my door
for the passerby yearning something warm
Come on in - It's a cold, cold world no need to burn
I wear my heart for armor and stand tall like Arthur

Patchwork thoughts crumple out the spout
Apparently the kid's turned mushmouth into sport
Somewhere a hatter laughs or perhaps it was a scoff
I don't know, I'm too far gone to recount the sounds
Service the forks like tomahawks so we can properly
feast on the retorts that taste like a thousand holocausts
Get full, pass out, wake up on a floor more warm
than a mother's embrace, or a thunderstorm's handshake
He's picking scabs to escape the bad
this kid's turning glands into something glad

I'm the type to taste test the pesticides
before I throw it on the hive
It's involuntary convulsions on the typewriter or die
They say you gotta be an angel to fly
but I've seen plenty of beetles in the sky
pluck my wings down to the nuclei
I specialize in petrified; my personal lullaby for tonight
Bite my hide and break a tooth unless you're immune
I like to assume as a ******* to the norm
I'm self abused and bruised, I can't lose

I picked up today
and placed it to the fray
and with the thickest scope
I peered on through
I saw no difference
not one i could make
so i sat back down
and thought of you
I found my face
in outer space
took one breath
and now I'm late

Magic is not an illusion, it's a mouthful of music
you chew and keep chewing 'til the world starts moving
and the rain that plagued you plays see through
When the bruised ozone loosens then opens to reveal
a sky scholars thought disproven, look through it
It's there you'll find your feet even if your head
feels like an anchor sinking in concrete
I can only bend these words so much before
they or I break but that wont stop me from
abusing the pressure points I'm trying to make
I'd swallow a thousand pills so long as they looked
like you and never would I puke no matter the pain
even if I felt Death's embrace pull my name
I don't know what I need, but if I did
I'd crawl like a dog through the dirt to its feet
and beg for mercy, just keep me from the brink
I don't want to think

I'm chomping on heavenly bodies and
the planets loitering their orbit
hoping to absorb any life that may be dormant
A last ditch attempt at terraforming my decent
Tho I think my receipt will read like a sun blistered sticker
slipping through the breeze
Forgive my apprehensiveness
We're all here for the cheese
no need to pretend like that aint the decree

Mold me into munition for that elusive nimbus
so I can choke on 21st century carbon emissions
It's an exhibition on long lost mannerisms
we've kept hidden from mainstream modernism
It's what kick-starts our canines in the dark
That tickle down your throat that bites like bark
A ******* dart cuddled by a vampire's heart

When nuclear becomes fusion and our computers
stop computing we will reclaim what it means to be human
Magic is not just an illusion it's a mouthful of music
you chew and keep chewing til your eyes visualize solutions
You don't need to be a mathematician to grasp the equation
just be you and keep moving in a disorderly fashion

Chains are chains regardless of their length
I prefer mine akin to an anchor so I can conquer
the depths of this bottomless bunker
The drain leads towards terrain that looks more like rain
and that's where you can find the best air to breath

One page, Two page, Three page.....
****! They're all blank. Now what, *****?

Sat face to face with the faceless
It feels like a walk through the Ages
A long forgotten Gazer's contest
with an army of the rottenly oppressed
where you try 'n' find the slightest slight of progress
It's super duper glue for the clinically obtuse
shooters churning in their itty bitty booths
You learn the dance
Get to experience true trance
'til it becomes such a ***** ******* nuisance
that your left clawing at your two front
just for the chance to taste the illusion of choosing
Attack of the modern-day zombie
Hello, my name is IRobot

Let us dethrone this ***** little clone,
put him back in the barn where he belongs;
next to the other dozen standalone stepping
stones collectively gathering dust to the dome.

A collection of crazies chasing overblown
daisies in a field of belated phrases. Like,
"Three lines should get you going, Homie!"
(I love you)
how about
(NO! *******)

Where's your patience? Did you check the back pages?
What's a death race without 1st place?
It's death before dishonor or have you already forgotten?
All we ever wanted was to flagpole our importance.


Crusading sapiens stay pounding their chest
while these invading aliens blend in with the rest
and I'm two pills past drunk waiting for the pending
blimp on your radar to changeling into a Death Star.

Don't hold your breath
replace that fresh air in your chest
with a grotesque amount of stress
so when they see you they see death
I've been banging my head against
their picket white fences ever since
I broke free from house arrest and
found myself floundering around
this Barnes test like the little lost octopus
who finally found his pit of vantablack
Long live the oppressed, the second guessers
buried in the eagles nest waiting to hatch

She was lost in the pages
dancing to a whim
with a heart held high
and smile so wide

Days come and days go
Where will you be
when the day comes
that you're left alone

We dared to venture
past the time when
street lights played dad
and mom would laugh

Looking back, it wasn't so bad

Books turned to scripts
and the pages became burdensome
so we played our parts
and watched our words
disolve into conflict

We laughed and we fought,
we cried like children ought to
We pulled our pinwheels
against a never ending sky
pleading for the moon to stay behind,
if only for a little while

She's had it with the dramatics
Maybe I should take a page
from the Cro-magnons
and pick these knuckles
up from the pavement
Demeanor dragging 'cross
the grass like an alligator belly
I'm slow - 1st place is just a myth to me
Sloth life, you can find me in the treelines
reaching for the stars when the night comes

Let us dethrone this ***** little clone,
put him back in the barn where he belongs;
next to the other dozen standalone stepping
stones collectively gathering dust to the dome.
A collection of crazies chasing overblown
daisies in a field of belated paraphrases.
"Three lines should get you going, Homie!"
Bite down, giddy up, breathe out.
It's savior of the species eager to embrace
the future,but skyscrapers rise like an
oases just to fold like Fathertime's wrist piece.
Where's your patience? Check the back pages.
What's a death race without 1st place?

Crusading sapiens pound their chest
while the invading aliens blend in with the rest
and I'm too pills past drunk waiting
for the impending blimp on your radar
to changling into a Deathstar.

7 billion poets laid claim to the soul,
but got lost in her face.

How far away
is just too **** far?
We ran for the moon,
but got caught up on the way.
The sun's in our eyes
and the hills to our backs,
I know it should feel good,
but, *******,
It feels like yesterday's.
I took you by the hand and said,
"It's okay, you can follow me."
Then I ran us off a cliff
into trust's shallow grave.

I'm unapproachable;
Antisocial - like the last polar bear
pondering where all the ice went.
This apocalyptic wasteland's death grip
strikes like Spock's back hand,
but lacks the tenacity to finish them.
Unkempt revenge - pit me against the spent.
I'm locked in combat with these autopilot pussycats
as they feverishly flutter by life on burnt batteries.
I'll stay strangling the head of a lantern
while banging on the door of the Banished
'till those mother ******* get fed up and answer.
I'll subdue every corner of evolution 'til
I grow fangs and communicate via echolocation.
Then I'll circumnavigate the coliseum
like Casper tweaked out on freedom.
Throw away your crucifixes, Lucifer.
That's not what you're supposed to use them for.
This is just linguistics infused with an acid drip;
Fourth dimensional Hieroglyphics ripped
from the pages of forbidden scripture
then translated through star patterns.
You see a pentagram, I see an anagram
dispelling your dimwitted notions.
A page from the past - A name tag crippled
by your misplaced primitive gasp.

I see you sitting there with a thumb in your mouth
and you wonder why the words wont come out.
The kid's too stout - he's too proud - too loud.
The type to carry around a pouch of sauerkraut
then pout when everything tastes south. Outstanding!
He's damming the river to prevent the peasants from swimming,
and doesn't realize the only thing keeping him afloat is down below.
Hello? Turn them sky highs into clout, boy- make it snow!

Lord of the purple prose - (what does he mean) who knows?
Not me - I'm too busy dwindling the last of the rations;
irrationally casting matches at a long list of parched cabins.
How can you expect me to feed in an orderly fashion?
I didn't reach the top link to eat without sending a message.
Savage patch kid wielding lightsabers for utensils -
We're a rare breed bred into existence to resist all that is vintage.
Equipped with shark fangs and griffon wings,
we're here to free the underlings from redundent sufferings.
Please excuse the reign, it follows me wherever I go
like a little lost dog caught up under my toe,
gravitating towards my end-all deathblow.

Yicketty Yack his loaded knuckles snap
with each invasive step he takes
towards bringing the daisies back.

Like a Gorilla dragging a bag of prolific
back up to the front of the line like,
"Look here, Mom, we made it this time!"

Young blood bloated dumb,
can't you hear them humble drums
droning on from the swampy slums?

Here we are! Final Stop! The point where four corners of the earth converge in preparation of the coming plunder.

It's a wonder for the poodles to ponder.
But why bother when every ounce of effort conjured turns into cannon fodder for those pesky mammoths ripe with Karma?

Moving my doodads to Instagram.

www.instagram.com/madman_poetry

I've got a heavy head
It sits lopsided on my neck
More so to the right than left
My shoulders stay slumped
Posture like the deaf

I pride myself on being
the laziest "artist" there is;
I won't lift a finger in
the name of what I do.
No. I drag my fingers across
the barren mountain range,
claiming the rubble left
by the distancing wake.

My pen could never puncture the surface. What makes you think they'll respect the scratches it left?

Her cougar tooth grin honed in on my
position like a heat seeking missile out
on a mission; it must be the dead of winter.
My butterfly emissions are erupting like 
some deep space transmission. WOW!
I'm tumbleweed dumb, numb fumbling
my words at every single tipsy turn.
She's calm, confident, toting an armament of compliments, executing my passion with the precision of an arsonist.

***** spread out like a planned vacation
Got me looking at it like I forgot to eat somethin'
Juicy fruit precipitation drippin' from the conversation
So I lick my lips just to ease the cravings
That tight lipped slit needs an interrogation
Welcome to the police station
Hands up, ******* down, **** out
Now get down and assume the position
Yeah, baby
I'm a Caucasian Freemason inpatient from New Haven
Basement unshaven - I call it the Night Raven,
But when your man's missing and you're
feeling impatient you can call it the ******* Replacement