And so I've spoken,
In burning, silent actions.
Long live the quiet.

I am boiling and bursting forth
from black sands where the waves whisper.
I am born again,
with the ferocity of ten-million suns,
and all the serenity of
learned men will remain
unsatisfactory.
For it is better to be alive,
a drum which draws the tribe
to bloodlust.

There lived a man,
with wife and child,
Who toiled the hours away.
He was never home,
So his son was wild,
And the man's hairs turned to gray.
The man, he prayed,
for something new,
To break his boring days.
The next day, on the shore,
On the edge of a cliff,
Was a girl with her hair ablaze.
The lady turned with a shake of her hips,
And the man did cry of lust.
For he knew that his wife,
His black haired jewel,
had half the face and half the bust.
But the ******* the shore,
With the bleeding hair,
had a trick for the man she'd ensnared.
She told the man her dastardly plan,
For she knew she could never be shared.
The man went home, and he ******* his bride,
Went away to find his blade.
Her hair of black did turn to white,
for she had never been so afraid.
When the man returned,
He cut her throat and she fell down from the bed.
Her blood did pool around her,
Till her hair was dripping red.
So the man returned to his mistress,
Who was waiting beneath the palm tree,
His mistress wore his spouse's face,
She killed him and ran into the sea.

When God glows within,
there is no time to waste.
Run like the wind,
into your own embrace.
The energy of nature
directs into the soul.
Power unlike any other
plays its holy role.
Carry forth the mission,
Until the pain is fun,
and you will find
the stars align
to dance beneath the sun.

Wrists made out of pencils,
A will made out of steel.
Blood and teeth amongst the tiles,
Was he ever even real?
Resisting cruel hands,
Left his words where they are.
He jumped out of the window,
Rather than stay and spar.
He could've stayed among the flesh,
But his bones snapped on stone.
Did he really choose to die?
Did he jump or was he thrown?

Forged in suffering,
and quenched by discipline,
we become strong.
A wall of swords is built
at the limits of our minds;
sometimes, we ***** ourselves,
and tumble headfirst into the
desolation of sleep.
It is no matter.
Venus will disarm Mars,
the blades will turn to roses,
a crown of blooming thorns;
entrancingly beautiful,
and twice as deadly.

Same ****, different day.
The wheel never stops turning.
So I set the bomb...

In a world of my own construction,
reality bends to my will.
Ancient secrets of ancestral blood
transmute to its inheritor.
The voice of eternity whispers my name,
carried on winds of rolling laughter
to my ear, waiting.
Naive enchantment behind child eyes
is transformed into something magic,
but real; second sight becomes
second nature.
Soon, the joy behind my eyes will return,
forged in inner fire and whetted with love.

The warping of the walls,
fills my troubled mind with dread,
For in the neon of the night,
is the fear of being dead.
The shaking of the floors,
burns my mind beneath the sun,
And the gunshot lodged inside me,
was the race's starting gun.
Now the air is caving in,
and reality's a lie,
So I jump off this mortal plane,
and sink deep into the sky.
Suddenly, in darkness,
I lose all sense of control
And in the place where I should be,
is a tattered rainbow hole.

Sitting at a desk,
pretending to pay attention to the professors monotone.
He wasn't always so dead.
He used to love baseball.
He would crack a wooden stick into the ball and watch it fly.
He would revel in the roar of the crowd.
Like it was all just a beautiful dream.
Now he teaches English.
His joy has been swallowed like tobacco between his now rotting teeth.
His life is a series of graded essays and Shakespearean words he barely understands.
It is as if his only joy is the memories.
Class will stop for 10, 15 minutes at a moments notice because suddenly he is lost in the memories and he can remember when life was good.
That is what life can never take from him.
At least for now.

Planted in the mind,
Growing stronger by each day.
God, I need an axe.

I am One,
My god is the sun.
One and two,
Now I hate you.
One, two, three,
A killing spree.
One, two, three, four,
I like this one, she's my *****.
One, two, three, four, five,
Very few of us survive.
One, two, three, four, five, six,
Maybe it's cuz you're ******* ******.
One, two, three, four, five, six seven,
Each a sin which keeps me from heaven.

The whiskey bottle is empty,
But I find the cap on the floor,
and give it away.
Somewhere, my closest family
sleeps, and I live
for the first time all week.
Ask whoever you want,
they'll tell you the truth;
the hymns of ancient people's
resonate in your ears,
and dead ancestors will look on
horrified.
Still, I am the medicine man in these parts.
But that was another life,
one of silent contemplation of the infinite.

Hovering between two unstoppable forces,
I am frozen in time. In just a moment,
my atoms will be scattered. I can feel the distortion,
and I can smell my blood, and suddenly,
it is over. For an instant, my feeble consciousness pulses in the
moment of oblivion.
It is torn to shreds, and blossoms into an infinite garden.

Silence doesn't come easily anymore;
we have abandoned ourselves
in favor of slot machines.
I have grown weary of spinning bells,
colored lights, and empty words.
Patience is my companion now,
and serenity follows closely behind.
I will walk the path alone,
and revel in the company of stillness,
as wanderlust guides me deeper
into the woods.

Six boys in blue are walking by,
Find a child who'll do or die.
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
They were caught off by surprise.
Five boys in blue are walking by,
With a child who cannot cry,
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
He looks into the flaming skies.
Four boys in blue are walking by,
They use the child to petrify,
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
Boys in blue say their goodbyes.
Three boys in blue are walking by,
Use the child to horrify,
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
Pumping lead into both eyes.
Two boys in blue are walking by,
They shoot the red boys, eye for eye,
Then one dies to feed the flies,
Screaming just to end their lives.
A boy in blue is walking by,
He knows they're coming, says goodbye.
Then he dies, to feed the flies,
The child ends him to terrorize.

It's hard to live without *******,
Tied to powder by a chain.
"Help," I say, but no one knows:
I'm bleeding lifeblood from my nose.

It's hard to live without some *****,
Liqueur up and start to cruise.
"I want to die." I flip a penny,
Rev the car and hit one-twenty.

It's hard to live without some shrooms,
I liked my life as a cartoon.
"I'm broken inside," I tell my friends,
They laugh along, the world bends.

It's hard to live without some ****,
It helps to balance out the speed,
"I'm in danger," no one cares,
Buried under thoughts and prayers.

It's hard to live with conscious mind,
I need poison, make me blind.
Roll me, smoke me, snort me up,
Pipe, spoon, ****, or cup.

Every single thing,
That considers itself wise,
Is fooled beyond words.

I haven't slept in days.
It's like something...
is missing.
My mind is just a haze,
It's like something...
is forgotten.
Maybe it's just a phase,
It's like something...
is changing.
My morals in a craze,
It's like something...
is wrong.
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
What is wrong with me?

I love you.
Three words never caused so much pain.
Or joy. Yes, there was joy in them once,
But the two young, stupid people who said them are gone.
They are torn apart,
Stripped of their clothes,
And thrown in a cell with bars made of air,
The air in their lungs when they said those words,
I love you.
They would revel in each other,
Hold each other close.
Each was addicted to the soul of the other,
Without a thought to the withdrawal,
And that's where the headaches start.
I love you.
And this isn't a poem, it's a letter for you,
I pushed you away to push me into hell,
because that's what I was used to.
I'd adapted to fire, demons and sin,
and you are an angel.
I was afraid of your light, and of your grace,
because you are the reason I look on my face,
In mirror's and can't bring myself to say:
I love you.
I remember. I remember the curses and cookie dough,
I remember the blanket we dyed red with our blood,
I remember a beauty, a beast, and a princess bride,
I remember these things despite myself because,
I love you.
And so, if you read this, and I hope that you do,
Just know deep inside I am waiting for you,
Behind the stairs, or the old construction yard.
Oh Sophie, oh Sophie,
I love you.

And just like that,
I'm burning.

The lonely spider,
inhabits the still places
until they are gone.

And as the sun sets on the left,
and rises on the right,
A false idol is worshiped,
And the brothers rejoice.

"You look like me,"
you said, not knowing how true it was.
Still, the words flow with you
erratic, unstoppable,
beside me.
When the light shifts,
and the ego dies,
I see you there, and I smile,
in awe of our art.

Part of me died when I lost her.
Part of me died when she wrote the first poem. It's just so much pain.
Part of me died when she looked at me and said "YOU can't take anymore?"
As if the thought that I was in pain was foreign to her.
I am broken.
Part of me died, with a noose around its neck.
I was in the garage, a rope to my left and a hook above me.
There was no time to think.
That part of me will never return.
I don't think any of them will.
I will always love her. Perhaps she will always feel the same.
But,
The part of me that has the strength to push on,
Died.
Choking
In
The
Air.

The clock ticks slowly towards doomsday.
I am in a desert, the sun pounding down onto my back,
Telling me:
"You are worthless."
It is right of course, but it doesn't make it hurt less.

I want only to look up from the sand,
And to see your smile.
I want to hold you, to kiss you, and to look up,
And to see the gentle moon once more.

I am the sun.
I am atom against atom,
In open warfare
Thousands of miles away.
I am the moon,
I walk in the night
Among the dark ones
The creatures you want to forget.
I am the sun,
I am light and life and good weather.
No cloud to obliterate,
No ocean to extinguish.
I am the moon,
I am master of the ebb and flow,
I am water,
Deep and dark and hidden below the raging waves.
I am black light,
Fiery water,
Living death,
and Master of None.
And yet...
I am only me.

If you don't know how to punch,
or how to have a good time,
If you can't make a decision,
you should know to flip a dime.
Cover me in tattoos,
Piercings galore,
confidence is ****,
without it you're a bore.

A thousand times in a life,
we confess ourselves to an ear,
and in retelling all our strife,
we are redeemed of every fear.
A part of you hates listening,
within yourself you must destroy;
and now your soul is glistening,
with the sweat and blood of joy.
If happiness were easy,
we'd live inside a shadow.
I know it may sound cheesy,
but you simply must let go.

Life is a pile of steaming, smelly *******.
Why can't I live my own life?
Why can't I make my own mistakes?
It's because I am nothing.
I am the shadow in the back of the classroom,
Who disappears when you turn your head.
I am a shifting wind,
Your drug dealer.
Your best friend.
Your enemy.
I am no-one at all, and you know not my name.
Not because you don't care.
Because I don't have one.

One, two, two, three,
Counting down to killing me.
four, five, five, six,
Rowing down the River Styx.
Seven, eight, eight, nine,
These emotions aren't mine,
ten, ten, ten, ten,
Die to see the light again.

He told her he loved her,
he meant every word.
He swallowed the liquor,
To make love a blur.
His fists and his actions,
no longer his own.
Every interaction,
cut down to the bone.
She thought that she loved Matt,
but realized the facts.
He lived like a rat,
who carried an ax.
He hurt other people,
But damaged her most.
Beneath the church steeple,
Lays their lost love's ghost.
He left marks on her soul,
They were angry and red.
Now Matt's six feet under,
With a hole in his head.

For better for worse,
But rarely in rage,
Or when hidden in sheets,
With someone half their age.
For richer or poor,
But not when they're old,
Sensual attractions,
turn into mold.
In sickness and health,
But not when in pain,
When the plague is hiding,
in the bachelor brain.
Till death do them part,
We all wish them well.
Their misery promised,
By the iron church bell.

Often I wonder,
if I am dreaming
and this life,
so thoughtlessly given,
will soon be rubbed
from my eyes
as they open
to let in the light.

Scarlet flames rain from a broken sky,
On vile murderers, rapists, and pickpockets.
They fall onto stacks of steel, scraping the skies.
Death descends on the hateful, on the lovers,
On the great, the rich, the holy.
The End slices away the poor, the innocent and the good.
Godly fury, Devil's wrath, Fiery heaven and frozen hell.
Call it what you like,
We brought it on ourselves.

There is something innate,
stirring,
when I look into the light.
It is, as the whisper of a spirit,
with neither form nor sound,
an invisible fly, beating at the eardrum
of humanity,
and its music moves us like no other.
And I look into the lights of the lecture hall,
and tears melt from icicles behind eyes,
and I whisper to nobody, "I surrender."

an unholy spirit, and otherwise entirely omnipotent God
revealed itself to me there, hiding behind the eyes
of the lighthouse.
The spirit, for a glimpse of eternity, plunges the mind into an ice bath of adrenaline and fire.
I am reminded now of the name of fear,
and once Her name is spoken, nothing will ever be okay again.
I speak in tongues understood only by paranoiacs and vegetables,
once more made aware of a prophecy, and what it reveals about nothing.

A sunbeam strikes a gong within the soul,
the forest whispers through the canopy.
The naming of the rain reveals the toll,
wind blows away the self to set me free.
I strip away my armor without fear,
the body underneath has been dissolved.
I sacrifice my sight to be a seer;
through astral eyes, I judge, and am absolved.
As joy takes up its journey by my side,
And I take in the things I'll never do,
I let go of my arrogance and pride,
now the only way out is fully through.
Confounded by the cosmic, I will sing:
"Spread love to every person, place, or thing."

When I awoke in bed today,
I saw the world in a new way.
I saw before me, all my life.
I saw success and I saw strife.
There was order, a comfy house.
And a brightly smiling child and spouse.
There was chaos, an exotic wind,
Stoking the flames of freedom within.
There was greatness, pleasure and gold.
Yet there was weakness, pain and mold.
There were angels and there were demons,
From above and from below.
There was rage and there was peace,
There was rain and hail and snow.
I saw every choice I’d ever make,
My adventure and my heartbreak.
I saw the good, the ugly, the bad,
I saw the happy and saw the sad.
I saw what my day would be like today,
And I wouldn’t have it another way.

As artificial light reveals my name,
and sunlight falls asleep across the sky,
I whisper to the mirror without shame,
And into the reflection I will die.
The Other Side is quite alike to ours,
but details shift and warp beneath the light.
Look outside now, and where there should be stars,
The spirits crawl within the glossy night.
But still the blind will stumble in the blue,
Oblivious, the truth lies underneath.
But slowly now the dead will slither through,
and holes they leave inside of you sprout teeth.
So now the flames within will always burn,
Reflection holds you, never to return.

If I were shot and left upon the road,
Would you whistle and simply walk away?
Or would you hope that I would be resewed,
By those who wish to mend before they pray?
A lightning bolt does fall upon the earth,
It aims for men who work in plots and schemes.
Their flaming hair become the bird’s rebirth,
They see the truth but only hear the screams.
Sentient beasts do walk from place to place,
Their hoots and growls keep children trapped in fear.
They turn to phones that teach them cyberspace,
Will get them girls if they will drink the beer.
Men will always live but more will die,
Until their bones do dot the deserts dry.

Disappointments and frustrations as old as time water the flower to blooming,
and the chemical smear of rage takes its toll on me, and the innocent.
The blossoms scream as they fall,
once more swept away into the breath's shores.

Not all are as me; a rope into the cave of the mind,
and a connoisseur of the pleasure in surrender.
Most are too afraid,
of all the broken things they'll find
in there; littered with dust, older than the room that it lays in.
But I too am afraid.
But it is not the undulating of neon kamis,
or the whispers of wind
that I fear.
It is the knife in the dark, unseen by the first nor the third,
until it is already too late.

For the rainbows and the stars,
For guitars, cigars, and scars,
To all the things I'll ever see,
I devote this poem to thee.

There is a snake there, waiting
venomously for an apple that makes its fangs fall out.
The first of sentient apes turn on immortal creators,
and are charged in the eye of Justice
for every extraordinary discovery in the ensuant history of
sin.

At first, it is a cockroach,
Which survives every boot-print you leave on it.
Then, it is a vulture,
Circling above, waiting for a moment of weakness.
It becomes a tiger,
Which hunts you in the night, until you wake up.
Suddenly, it is a storm,
And the tornado's of your past are throwing you away,
And you're drowning in the air, and you are singing in the rain,
And then the storm is gone.
So tell me, wise reader...
What is left?

I'm a foreigner,
In the land I was born to...
So this is real pain.

Home to every haunting dream,
Everything that makes you scream,
Your memories of an assault,
They call this place The Vault.
Holding secrets you don't know,
Letting out a darkened glow,
Guards on all sides shouting "Halt!"
They call this place The Vault.
Holding in what's scaring you,
Your insecurities like goo,
The source of every single fault,
They call this place The Vault.

Chaotic gusts will send you to the void,
Where bullets stop and hope to be observed.
Rats will eat the lovers and be destroyed,
And all who hate will ever be preserved.
A thousand curses fall upon the ******,
They live among the beasts they call their friends,
They're minds are branded, bound and re-programmed,
They're told that they will never make amends.
Time matters not in lands from whence it came,
Nor space reveal a truth about the fire.
Seconds and centuries given the blame,
That belongs to those who gather God’s ire.
When good and bad are hidden from us all,
Even the Angels learn the way to fall.

Smile for your time in the dungeon,
for the recompense you pay
is a learning experience.