You know man, living the life of an artist
it's not an easy thing to do, it's true
what they say, there's so much pain
entering in conflict with your soul
no matter how much you desire it, it'll never be whole
You try and try to escape the cruelty of your fate
you can't, it's all been decided before
So you suffer, hoping one day the veil shall be lifted

Come on now little man, you can do better than that

I've lived a thousand lives under the empire
of my pen
I've seen a million deaths unfold before my eyes
on a screen
I die every passing day, I lead my thoughts astray
further and further away from reality
To justify the notion of how my emotions
give birth to stars painting scars on the veil
of time and the cosmos

That's a little bit better, you're getting there
go on, tell us more

I wear a thousand mask for a thousand personalities
each interesting in their own way
to protect the boy I selfishly
locked away in a corner of my mind
A boy tormented by visions of Hell,
darkness, fears and insecurities
to give myself a sense of security
I write lines furiously and cry to my muse
hoping she'll have pity and fuel my addiction of words
I writes lines haphazardly to try and make
sense of the Universe which is life
I write lines to justify my meaningless existence
because broken promises of Heaven and
afterlife won't satisfy my unending thirst
for freedom of mind
I write lines to deny the existence of a ******
reality that crumbles down every day and to
prove to everyone I am my own God
if not over everything that is, was, will be
than over this tiny little world encompassed
in a tiny little brain

Good, we're almost there, do go on
loving the anger

I want to be understood
that's not to much to ask for, is it
I don't want to be forgotten
rotting in a coffin as time consumes my rhymes
until inadvertently no one will know of my existence
no children, no family to carry on my legacy
of broken thoughts and badly written lines
Remember me, remember us
That's how this odyssey should have ended,
an extended ode dedicated to the random
stranger living his/her life
A testimony to the gruesome beauty
of our ultimate God, time.

Ah, poo soul tormented by pain
don't worry your efforts are not in vain
You're far more than the plain
simple-minded folk running around doing
their menial and petty tasks
Look at you, only 26 years old and already
so wise,
It must be gut wrenching to live with
your parents while not being able to maintain
a job
Oh, how I pity your tormented soul
when you do nothing at all, sitting in front of your PC
lamenting about the absence of your muse

But, but I have personality issues, I suffered
from depression and had suicidal thoughts

Whoopty ******' do, poor you
you're a ******* disgrace to the human species
watching your own mother work from 8 to 8
just to support your sorry white ***
Oh, but don't stop now, tell us more
about your extremely difficult life
charm our intellects with your witty rhymes,
your view changing, ground breaking, mind shaking
life altering poetry

What are we...

If not leafs blown by time
brave soldiers fighting crime
in the empire of life
all the never-ending strife
carving our skins with a knife
forged by scars worn and memories torn
from our darkest fears
So on and so forth, see?
It's easy spewing **** out of your ***
when clearly you have no understanding
on how to live, on what life really is
Don't you think it's about **** time
you take your head out of your own ***
and start using your brain?
Heaven forbid someone dares to upset your all so
fragile balance
Heaven forbid you spread your wings for a little
while and experience flight before
you come crashing down
You deserve no sympathy at all, self righteous,
money ******* pseudo-intellectual ****** leech
Go now, cry to your muse and girlfriends about
how cruel the life of an artist is
Sniveling little **** -

That's it, I'm putting my pen down
I don't need to listen to all this hateful
mind destroying *******

There we go, the root of your essence
the core of your soul, this is who you are
a coward.
Whenever someone, God forbid, decides
to challenge your foolish ideals and talk some
******* sense into you, you flee faster than a
rabbit scared of its own shadow
Go on then, shoo
back to your exploding pixels, locked away in front
of a box where your toon is a hero
back to your wanking and occasional girlfriend
you'll eventually get bored with, get bored of how
she dares demanding you open up a little bit
back to your castle in the sky
where there's no one but you, and who can confront you?
No one!

**** son, you just got wrecked, bahahahahahaha

Now that I'm stripped of all the masks
standing naked in front of you
do you still value me?
I imagine it would be childish to play
"Oh, I'm just another human being
filled with flaws, I'm in no way perfect
but can't you see, that's what makes us
so beautiful? Our imperfections" card

perhaps once enough time passes
all 'this' will somehow make sense
for now I'll be content
in showing no contempt
towards the situation I'm in

let this poem be a testimony
to the foolishness of youth
star painted eyes constantly searching
for some hidden truth
itching to be found
as chaos
reigns all around

the mind grows weary
for the flesh is weak
a hundred ways to seek
some hidden solution as to
how to speak

An ancient fire ready  to ignite
as I watch myself, a fool
Driven by passion I burn
"It's my turn, it's my turn...!"

Anger and frustration vented through words
like jagged edge swords they cut through the surface
of my limited knowledge of how the world works
of how The Wise of my generation
get trapped in the age of consumerism
a gentle euphemism for
"I am a tool, use me."

here take this line
good do you see it
do you grasp its essence
doesn't matter here's another one
oh you're not done with the last
sorry the new one is better
use the new one or be gone
but wait here's another one
nice little shiny line
formed into a polished rhyme
as ancient gods of modern times
sit down to whine as they sip from wine
oh wait
we are those gods and we do enjoy
breaking taboos of days long gone
so please may I ***
between your **** come
for a nice long ****
and as you give birth to a monstrosity
the new baby jesus will amass a great
number of followers the old God dies
***** don't you dare to cry
or I might just beat you
'till it's time to die
you know it's true
I'm so lonely without you
and who needs boring stories about morality
when this new line infused with blasphemy
makes you wet your *******, gets you hard
slide your ***** into a ****** forget
about the complicated ways of romance
and cheesy rhymes where souls are shattered
and egos are held back lose yourself
lose yourself lose yourself
in the madness of flesh
because the only thing that matters is now
**** yesterday **** tomorrow
embrace the present ignore the rest
life is nothing more than a test
how bout that
you like it don't you
a sudden idea pops in my mind
and seeing that you're willing
to be blind lead on the path
I thread how about you
cherish this next few lines
about a lonely car that was
sold to a junkyard while
the car that just came out
the assembly line was brand new
the old car with all the memories
it held within its rusty parts
got destroyed crushed
left to rust in the junkyard
all the stars even the sun
shone their benevolent light
on the new car for what's new is better
what's new is a sturdy investment
well how's that for nifty little lines
sewn in poetry for the mind
while we're at it let's throw
some half thought opinions
about the depth and meaning of life
it's hard it's a process of strife
but if you manage to have might
you just might survive the hardships
lain in front of you
hahahahahaahahaha
look at that one look at that fail attempt
in living a so called blessed existence
surrounded by love and light
we know how things work
we truly do and as long as you
are living on the streets and have no home
keep writing poetry about kindness
gentleness and the way of the human heart
nah such trivial things are not part of our
complex way to live here we'll give you
something to chew upon and write for us
immortalize our never ending benevolence
we are your kind patrons our indulgence
gets you through the night
so those who come after me please remember
**** everything that's old
always I mean ALWAYS strive for the NEW
if it's OLD it's BAD
if it's OLD it's HORRIBLE
if a new version of iPhone appears
throw away the old one
don't give it a second thought
rush to the store buy the one
because those who don't aren't really
worthy of being called your friends
wash THOSE kind of people into oblivion
yes my lovelies indulge in your every desire
set the world on fire and **** those who
dare to think that tomorrow won't transpire
into the fruits reaped today

The wise of my generation
have become the tools of a nation
called "Idiot and proud of it;
Not worth my time, **** it"

Should these few meager lines
survive the trial of times:

You should find it in your heart
to forgive us, to forgive me
for tearing your World apart.

If I were to knock
Knock-knock
Would you let me in
Or keep the lockless door
Locked?
It's seems I've been struck
by being caught in a riddle
where the middle line
is something about time
and it's correlation
between poetry creation
and feeling euphoric

If I were to ask
Does this poem
Bring about some emotion
Or even a notion....?

I guess in the end
What I want to know
If I were to knock
Knock-knock
Would you let me in
Or keep the lockless door
Locked?

****.

this isn't poetry
just some badly disguised prose
as I lament while presenting
unclear images of a black rose
clearly a red one won't suffice
mostly because an "altered"
state of mind

surely my ineptitude stems
from this vicious and cruel world
whose inhabitants have no interest
in accepting their inner humanity
it has nothing to do
with my inability to clearly
express ideas and notions
simple thoughts through complex emotions
the world is at fault
******* world!
it's everyone's fault
except mine!

the ******* continues
it goes on and on
each voice to its own
all of them unanimously accepting
how the world is broken
how this isn't poetry
how souls get shattered
as ignorance blooms
rejoice!
no one is at fault
it's the past that haunts
creeping into the present
destroying youthful innocence
rejoice!
no one is at all fault
we all listen and accept
with open arms
idleness and neglect

this isn't poetry
it's just a waste of tim

the world around me is noise
playing the same tune on repeat
as all these voices in my head
form a man whom likes to beat
on the drums of the past
on the shadow it casts
the world around me is noise
as my thoughts incoherently mumble
on how I lost my voice
the world around me is noise
time strengthens its grip
as I forget to speak non-sense
the world around me is noise
yet the pen will listen
an anchor holding me down
as I walk in the shoes of a clown

the pen will listen
no matter the words I speak
rugged ideas dragged through mud
blossom like roses coloured with blood
instantly regretting they did
reverting back to buds
swaying in a rhythmic chaos
the madness of old times
spreads like mold
with a thousand glimpses of your smile
not really worth my while
bound with some imaginary tether
let's hold hands and walk together
until our bones grind to dust
I've let you go yet your glow
flowed through a crack
making me want to go back

time eludes my grasp
Chronos surely laughs
mocking my innate ability
to the thrown off track
by the supple movements
of lady curiosity
why do these colours
explode in a symphony of grey
only to eventually fade
swallowed by an all consuming black
a million questions arise
shining brighter than the Sun
no wonder I'd like to run
into the arms of the void

mock me for being different
shrug and walk away
the pen will listen
with featherless wings I'll fly
into the dawn of a new day

7 billion souls floating
towards the same destination
some are bound to stray
farther and farther away

if the Sun
refused to shed light
on your solitary path
it would not matter
even a World apart
we all beat
under the rhythm
of the same heart