It’s like,
now that I’m high I haven’t the slightest.
I’m trying to write but the font feeling tired.
Word to the wise, I’m outa this mind.
Time to shine like the whole week whined.
Joke.
Nocturnal like the sun been broke.
Look, It’s all I know.

A beacon beckons autumn a month before the climb
like a busy little bee drumming up an appetite.
How many times must the down be dyed
before the lowest of tides gets stuck to the sky?
We descend to the deep when them hills turn steep
and reach for the quill when the fleece won't leap.
He dreamt on the sheets like the waves on a beach
til the brittlest of his fleet ceased to leak.
Rise and shine, concrete feet, you were made to sink.
Took to the zinc like a Great to a tank;
he was bred to think but forced to shrink.
Everyday it's the plank, despite the wake.
It was there on the brink where he found his bake.

I was thumbing through some
old pictures of you just now.
You know, the ones where we
would swear it all lasted forever.
I'd do anything to crawl back inside
those moments as if they were a cabin
tucked within a forest and my life
the blizzard which never seems to end.
I could only get so far before my heart
played the contortionist. I've missed so
much of your life. We've now been apart
for nearly as long as we were together.
I can't think that sentence without feeling
like I've misplaced a step or two. I wish
I knew you now. I'm sorry I wasn't there.

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

She's got cool aid in her veins -
neon pouring through the rain
A lighthouse heart with red lips
shooting straight from the hip
I've been craving her since the 80's
like a cowboy gone******* crazy
A hundred million blue balloons
lift me straight up to the moon
I can see earth and all its pretty
lights when I look inside her eyes

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.

A mushroom cloud apocalypse
minus blistered skin competence
Who knew a disaster could be had
while fickle branches brave the blast

I must of bled the sledge dry;
gripped it too hard then let my creaks fly.
It used to save my life when the time was right,
but now the night haunts me like I've gone and died.
"Pick up your chin, kid. The plume ain't too bright."
I might but the particles feel like pesticides against my hide.
Too pessimistic to bleed, I picked up the scissors
and flea'd the **** out like I was dodging God's triggers.
Paradise sounds more like a synonym for prison
and I've surpassed being baptized by the right side.
So no thank you, but I will take an extra large fry.
A step away from vampire, so what if I live to dine.
I'll dine 'til I die and I don't give a **** if I'm crucified.

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 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.

Never played well with others
Got tooth decay blisters for bubbles
Prime numbers fester in the hundreds
like swine flu in the midst of summer

There's a puff cloud rolling off a dragon's snout and shark teeth scales that fit him like a crown

He's barren on purpose, no need for the surface; he's the hermit of hermits and surely he's ******* earned it

For each step fumbled the earth learnt to crumble
For each burnt verse the forest lurked wordless

His iron-clad claws crawl along the black sands of neverland
He uses lambswool to clense the gutter of his jabber jaw

He never assumed the words he worked into submission would stem into an insatiable obsession

All my favorite songs will forever
remind me of the time I killed myself

I am not alive,
I don't think I ever was
I'm a hybrid,
an artificial two tone virus
Science sent me here
to flatten the heart of giants
I'm mindless and know it
I don't need to be reminded
I'll find my vow of silence
behind a four pound tyrant

Beneath the lines they'll see madness apparently people are magnets
Face to face with matching poles
at least when it comes to metaphors

I need a cat nap.
Who's got the catnip?

My opinion..
Bristled whiskers warrant the Tinkerer's missiles.
Get lost in a field of lily-white when the doom plume glitters.
Around here, the suspicious get slipped into sinkholes
like a billion dim pixels fading through a fishbowl.
Although, we all know, vertigo provokes the sickest flow.

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

Down;
Down are the words I use
to fill my heart
A blade of grass cut to last
Torn apart - sort the mess

Up;
Up is what I tell myself
when mourning starts
A worm contrast the bird can't grasp
Paramount - my up is down

Stick around; enjoy the sounds
Turnaround; my up is down
Stick around; enjoy the sounds
Turnaround; my up is down

Moving my doodads to Instagram.

www.instagram.com/madman_poetry

Hostile fingers molded like pocket rockets
hang in a slow motion picture frame with
my God-Given etched into the name plate

I try to remain faceless, so I rip at my skin
praying if I pretend it was painless they'll
fade away into the wind aimlessly

Don't wave at me I have no name
My God-Given was previously reclaimed

Every red light is just another excuse
that I use to produce more volume.
It's a habit that I'd like to kick, but
where's the fun in letting reality win?

Thoughts of an elephant's walk
to help usher the pedestrians along.
It's the only way that I can make it through
the fray without feeling a step out of place.

Less a statement than it is an S.O.S.
A special request for the rightful ruler
of senseless vengeance in the lane over.
I'm the kid with a stick poking tension
like look mom I think it's playing Rapture.

I'm on a mission.
Where's the launch button?
I'm on a mission.
Where's the launch button?