I closed my eyes for a moment,
the person who I was
no longer knows who I am.

soaring through the cosmos of my thoughts
memories which I can't remember
drown in a sea of embers

the simplicity of being
entangled in the finer nuances of be
something you dream of
someone you think of

it's never enough

I closed my eyes for a moment,
bits of whatever I define as poetry
turned into an incoherent mumble.

duality

dichotomy

searching
meaning between the lines
time flies

in 2699 days from now
i'll be laughing
joyously

what a cruel joke
thinking time will fix

anything

we become better
at forgetting

What good is time
that never stops its flow
if I'm consuming mine
laboring to pay the toll
to shadows I've never seen,
instead of building the Sun
to brighten your darkest of days.

What good are the vibrations of the Universe
pouring rhythmically through this verse
when the sound of your being
is a Universe on its own.

What good are words
that create a myriad of worlds
if they fail to explain
what you mean to me, up here
in the labyrinth of my brain.

Darling,
Should I ever forget the colours of my soul
and you happen to remember them;
Let me flow, bask for a little while
in your glow.

The World lays its exaggerated, broken illusions of who I'm supposed to be
on the weary waves of my brain. I find myself torn between
my superfluous existence and the struggle of a mind craving tranquility.

The World lifted the veil and I can see the nightmare
of what we subjectively define as reality being poured into glasses,
we drink it to quench our thirst, polluting the magnanimous beauty
of our holy souls.

The World whispers its ***** secrets into me,
I no longer see what I want to see,
instead I float with the current, swept with the rest of similarly confused souls,
ready to merge into the sea of Self Loathing and Misery.

The World no longer paints my dreams in colours, they are no longer relevant,
everything is black and white just to further spite my confusion.
Dichotomy is the only answer
to the myriad of questions flooding my curiosity.

The World tells me I'm worthless and I am.
I accept your gentle embrace,
I revel in my own meaninglessness, a nobody screaming to no one.
I will never amount to anything and my life is no more
than a grain of sand in your vast desert.

The World tells me I no longer matter, I don't.
My gray matter is only a chunk of rotting flesh waiting
to be embraced by your mercy, death.
Even these abstract ideas, thrown around in filigree don't matter,
after all they only perpetuate the illusion of me.

The World I am no longer myself and I believe it.
I am the product of your words, the spitting image of your broken physique,
whenever I look in the mirror I see you.
None of these thoughts are mine, they're all yours, beaten into me
over a century, thousands of years  of evolution and here I stand
complete in your image.

The World tells me to get perspective so I do.
I see myself as a caricature, hunched over these blank pages
pretending I know what I'm writing about.
A heavy sigh leaves my body and  I can't help but laugh at my own ridiculous, petty  self.
I take a step further back and I watch myself watching myself,
One idiot looking at the first one, laughing. I turn my head and there is an infinity
of 'myself'', all of them cracking up.
It's pathetic because I am the one
drowning in my own mediocrity
while I find myself laughing to infinity.
Perspective my ***.

Hey World, I'm writing this super poem for you.

I'm writing this super poem with my life, everyday when I go to work
and 'pick' my dreams away.

I'm writing this super poem with an exaggerated sense of importance
because you are all so important to me.

I'm writing this super poem with super ink and super time because
clearly, absolutely, surely, convincingly I spend every nano second
worshiping your infinite grace and surreal qualities.

I'm writing this poem with super confusion because the fusion
of your muse with my poetics can only scramble together
stubs of rhyme and rhythm, repetition comes naturally
when you teach me that empathy means sympathy for the Machine.

I'm writing this super poem to praise your ultimate super creation, the Machine.


Machine, whose arms are molded to lovingly wrap themselves around me.
The right arm, religion and school strips me bare until I'm left servient,
ready to praise the left one, politics and consumerism.

Machine, whose eyes are never closed, gaze into the vastness of our beings
and swallow the forests of our souls. They are always on the look for more,
always vigilant and never ever ever satisfied.

Machine, whose arteries are the railroads, roads,
infested with locomotives, cars speeding towards their own meaningless end,
blowing and honking their horns
for they can't see through the thick veil of oozing smog.

Machine, whose veins are the internet, complex networks of web
trapping millions of disillusioned shards as they desperately try
to define their own humanity.

Machine, whose brain is capital. The almighty dollar, euro, pound, yen, ruble,
all rushing towards banks to ****, sweat, ***, ******,
birthing interest, famine, debt and helplessness.

Machine, whose soul is war, greedily consuming lives
to satisfy the eyes, arteries, veins and  the brain.
It's all in vain when death becomes a statistician, tragedy is numbed by the number
and the never ending slumber continues.

Machine, whose everything became my everything,
I can only find myself at ease when I please
with the entirety of my being.


I'm writing this super poem under the shades of a beat generation
because I find it resonates well with my vibrations
and I'm crawling, crawling, crawling towards your acceptance,
clawing, clawing, clawing through everything I am.

Hey World, I'm writing this super poem because I am tired,
beaten, broken by the endless charades you create
while I try to melt into the Sun.

Words: different, hooves, logic, endless, wrong, conscious, rare, cold, sad, mystical

The Mystical Unicorn Speaks

'Different hooves leave different prints
sometimes even we have to change shoes!
Now, don't get me wrong
I'm not here to change your perception,
I know I can't argue with your strong
and undeniable logic.

I'm just a regular unicorn
whom caught a cold, surely
I must be growing old!
Don't be sad, neither of us
take a conscious decision to do so
Just hop on my back and let's ride
the endless rainbow, show the world
we take pride in our rare ability
to escape the disability of a mind
tethered to reality.'

Words: rust, viral, blackout, hunchback, autopsy, bases, aftertaste, gurgle, bring

Blackout

The bases of my thoughts rust
under the blessing of the muse.

As I inhale particles of cosmic dust
the urge to use
the narcotic come to be known as her skin
grows stronger, inviting me to perform
the autopsy of these broken syllables.

'Like the hunchback of Notre Dame
I'm pulling all the ropes at your temple
yet there's no sound to trample
the aftertaste of your inspiration.

All I'm left to do is gurgle
with some random letters,
Spit out the remains
and as I watch them evaporate
under the warmth of your dry Sun
I can only hope my words go viral
helping me escape the never ending spiral
of emotions you always bring.

Surround me in shades of white
shine some of your light
Wake me up from my state of black,
I'll never look back

Words: bump, stone, address, captivity, homeless, costumed, bachelor, flood, crawl, conflict

The bachelor costumed as a clown
keeps on singing with a frown:

'A mind in captivity
will never come to know how stone
fades in the glow of time
oh baby you'll always be mine.

Even if I have to crawl towards your smile
baby I'll love you for more than a while
Even if the great flood comes again
baby I'll be sure to remind you then
How I'm the only man whom loves you
baby it's true, oh baby it's true

Should I end up homeless
or singing alone in the rain, hopeless
I'll think of you in a dress, address
the world my love for you
Oh baby, you know it to be true

Should I bump into conflict as I stand
before the world confessing my addiction of you
I'll take all the pain as a man
baby I know I'm plain yet I feel
your love will always flow through my veins
baby if you hold the reins
I'll pull your carriage to the ends of time

Oh baby, please be mine.'

Relax,
Get in the mood.
Elevate your state of being
we're about to create
a bond that can't be broken
as your mind creates sense
of all these words that are seen
but never spoken.

Let us melt our beings into complete darkness
and live a thousand lives as criminals
whom refuse the rule of the machine,
You and I, we've always been
doomed to be forgotten.

Hear me when I say
it does not matter
whether it's black or white
What we hold between us
is carried on a breeze throughout the night
more so, beyond the dawn of a new day
piercing into a reality
that is the bane of existence.

Come,
Let's dissipate into a thousand colours
and paint over the gray essences
of all those similarly broken souls
whom never really had a clear view
of their goals.

Shall we
Cast aside the boulders we carry,
witness the marriage of mind and matter
until there's nothing left of us
merely a splatter
hidden somewhere, nearly forgotten
in the consciousness of strangers
building their dreams.

As if the eternal flow
that stops for no one
can be fragmented into cycles.
All these seconds
minutes, hours, years
wasted on trying to understand
paint nothing but scars
that do not blend
in our modern perception.

As if all these what if's
flying around in my veins
somehow make me wiser.

When reality knocks on the door
I'll kindly turn the other way
Imagining the dawn of a new day.

In conclusion, here's to no resolution
god help me, god help us all
as we slowly crawl, about to fall
into the vast nothingness of time.

'How delightfully dark
surely this new approach
will ignite the spark
and the fire will consume
the roach eating away
at your brain
surely you haven't gone insane.'
'Surely.'

I wish I could sit on the edge of the Sun
Weave some rays together and cover you
With a blanket of light
So you wouldn't feel the need
To wrap yourself in darkness

I wish I could melt these words
Into a painting which ignites your smile
If not for an eternity then just a little while
You and me both know that the glow
Of tiny sparks is much more mesmerizing
Than the all consuming fire of sadness

When you look into my eyes
See past the shallow curtain
Formed by mundane thoughts
Know that the bright light
Shines for you

they say greatness can't be found
if you're less than a slave bound
down with some imaginary tether
formed from the Great Lies
of our blessed Modern Times
to that I say *******
maybe I enjoy being a slave
trying to relive old ways of life
lived by primitive men in a cave
surrounded by danger and strife

the pen starts to write
I refuse to be gentle and kind
to offer you peace of mind
to keep pretending I'm blind
to graciously bow down
to be the royal clown

as it is so it is written
smitten with the same words
over and over again

**** being published
**** your fame
**** your image of a tame
kind eyed romantic
dreaming of a better world
I'm a savage and I want to ravage
the sublime thighs of Lady Time
if immortality can't be bought achieved
I'll just climb to the top
and **** down the head of Chronos
if I end up being swallowed
by his gigantic mouth
I'll carve my way out
through his stomach using sharp words
and badly written rhymes

to hell with your preconceived notions
on how to feel emotions
on how to live
on how to dream
I'll love somebody with all my hate
I'll twist the arms of fate
I'll be early by arriving late
I'll eat soup as I would eat cake

to Heaven with your dreams
it seems you're already there
judging humans below
to Nirvana with your spirituality
being enlightened and one with all
as you ascend from the eternal descent
to the Bank with all your riches
and material possessions so you can
have more and more and MORE

it's a bit confusing I find it amusing
that I wish you all the well
while imagining you in a bottomless well
it's a bit confusing I find it amusing
how I keep abusing your sense of calm
with stick figures drawn with letters
it's a bit confusing I find it amusing
how I wish you only good
then again I want to say *******

**** it **** your acceptance
I don't need your understanding
or sympathy
or do I?

confused by my own words
****
whatever mate' I'll go and *******
******* some poems
as I drown in my perpetual shade of blue
being depressed oppressed
by my weakness

here's to being modern **** the World
make it your ***** pillage plunder
**** on the seventh wonder
get ****** be hissed by old hags
wearing old rags
dreaming of smoking ****
wishing to be young and wild again

here's to the World burning in fire
a myriad of Nero's hysterically laughing
as they watch
inhaling the fumes of their own insanity

here's to ******* till' you sweat
uh huh you like that don't you

here's to **** **** and ***

here's to us bearers of *****
aimlessly wandering from hole to hole
trying to fill the emptiness of our soul
with cheap beer bad ****
consequently conversations about philosophy
that **** the duality of our being
into a metamorphosis truly worth seeing
we're all moths flickering around some light
bright futures waiting to be lit
and pass down wisdom to future generations

here's to us whom now and then
see beyond the ****** veil of reality
and paint obscure dreams
onto the mind of strangers

here's to us fake poets ignoring
the visions dreamt by the Machine
showed down our throats since we're born
torn between consuming
and always wanting more

here's to us all humans on a tiny planet
trying to figure out where we belong
as we reach for stars
our scars become insignificant and petty
our sorrows and woes are obsolete
as we slowly slide down on the complete
beauty of Time

here's to us all
whom in our trifle existence
connect to each other
love hate and feel each other
whom live each moment as it's the last
trying to escape shadows cast by the past
whom burn brighter than the Sun
and we run arms flailing trying to fly
ending up sailing on the ugly sea
of a minimum wage dream

as it is so it is written
smitten with repetition
I don't want any recognition
my words have already taken me
far beyond the limits of sanity

thanks for taking your time
to embrace these few words of mine

Like A Bird On A Wire
drowned in the noise
of the nearby hotel
filled with all those magnificent *******

Coffee and cigarette
I long to hold you yet
again and again
until dawn spreads its lazy wings
and I don't want to work
to make the rich man richer
just my arms removing your clothes
ready to paint the hours
with moans and repetition

I no longer need rhymes
to express what's deep within
a few minutes alone with you
turns my shade of perpetual blue
into a rude man breaking the rules
into a clown walking comfortably
in his shoes

You Know Me Well
you seem to dwell
on the pores of my skin
come in, hop into my mind
let's get lost again and again
in the ancient sin

these next few lines
are nothing more than passing rhymes
conjured by yours truly
shaped by the marks of our modern times

our ability to mold the surrounding world
that starts with a single word
is the greatest gift bestowed upon us
if not by fictitious gods and goddesses
than the Great Nothingess we come from
we are all headed towards

to impose structure rhythm
or create musicality when it's not needed
or to conform to some ancient method of writing
is to limit your possibly endless intellect
into a circle of routine where neglect
confides you without a possibility of escape

absolute freedom reigns complete
as we begin to deconstruct
the image of a complete
and all knowing being

words about words
letters about letters
building a bridge that closes the gap
between times long gone
and dreams dreamt but not ye done

in a World overflowing
with an abundance of art
sound life music
why bend to the cold wind
of conformity

in a World where words
are now free why suffer
under the chains of captivity
created by men serving the Machine

I digress
for the sake of expressing
more with less
I must confess
poetry for me has always been
a method to see the unseen
a place where silence is sound
a bizarre journey on the merry go round
where this round planet I inhabit becomes flat
and I paint its reality with the imaginary
how about that

words about words
a hundred ways to depart embark
walking sailing
in the sea forest of art

On row DH30A102
Buddha is seated,
meditating.
Underneath him
in dust covered boxes
a dozen more
radiate enlightenment,
waiting to be shipped out and sold
for 29.99 at your local store.

'Surely the fatman
will give our house
a unique Zen feel to it.'

the more I write
the less sense I make
I should have known
alas
it is too late

Inebriated
I am good at two things
Writing
Setting your mind on fire
Until your thighs covet a warrior

2015, April 22

to experience a thousand
Suns setting, rising
with a stroke of a pen

to bask in the warmth
surrounding you
in the absence of light

to know that dying
is but a step
towards being one with the Great Everything

to watch your own flesh and blood
crawling, walking, loving
growing old, growing wise

to feel connected with Nature
by some weird concoction
of your unique mind

to infuse emotions
through simple words
on the canvas of your life you paint

to be enthralled by the magnanimity
of the Eternal Human Soul
wandering, wandering to become whole

to love, to write
to live in spite the crushing weight
of your dark existence

to be human, to be more
to become the Creator
you've always been

2015, April 19

I see angels crying
overwhelmed by joy
as they bask in the glow
of my memories

I see demons dancing
trapped in obscure visions
bodies swaying to the rhythm
of my sorrow

I see life as it is
not as it should be
all is well

get in the mood
works better when I'm alone
the kitchen needs to be clean
I need a coffee
I must smoke
excuses to be found
all around
bound to float without a destination
on the wings of some peculiar sensation
offline
it's as if words are not meant to be written
as long as I'm smitten by repetition
I forgot to write
line by line
out of practice

the gnome sitting on  my back
whispers that I'm tired
throwing me offtrack
I'm hot, the wind blows
I'm cold, the Sun shines
I'm neutral, my mind rushes
not good enough, concentrate
elevate the way you think
lift the veil, unveil the demons
that lurk within
prepare a feast worthy of kings
see if the offerings pleases
reap the benefits
out of context
context
meaning
convey emotions
poetry, what's it really about?

roll another cigarette
drink another coffee
find more excuses to whine about
while writing nothing at all
dig, keep on digging
dig your own grave
lament how you've become a ghost
trapped in visions of the past
how these will outlast
your shiny and glowing being
write nothing, keep them all
in your mind
be blind, see magnificently crafted rhymes
be mute, shout words melting into lines
be deaf, hear the melody of your words
caught in the lines above
trying to figure out what fits
and breaks the monotony
of the absurd
so boring-
perhaps reality has a stronger grip
than I like to admit
while my mind enjoys ideas
flesh begets flesh
and you can't really live
by manufacturing halfy chewed
and then spat chunks of trash wisdom
-
sometimes I starve for paper
while imagining myself in the arms
of my muse
-
that's it, you've written some words
pat yourself on the back
go to sleep
wake up and get lost in patterns
come again
start complaining

Slightly dizzy and in awe  
feeling connected  
to some obscure and forgotten god  
engineered by my pen  
almost as a necessity  
to explain the unknown
feelings that lay beneath  

I look outside  
all that I am  
is reflected on the surrounding sea  
of blue and white  

I peak between the clouds  
and see dots  
washing into a puzzle of colours    
souls clinging to seconds, minutes  
hours  

In my mind  
the closer I get to god  
the tinier I am  
a grain in a vast and endless  
desert of sand

Inhabitants of a wonderful planet
basking in their beautiful ignorance
What special flowers we are
how much we want deliverance

Humanity, society is to be blamed
for the millions of trees we've torched
for the millions of bones scorched
in concentration camps
"We learn from our mistakes,
we truly do,
Just you wait and see
how our descendants
will be completely free"

The past refuses to be history
aware of our beautiful ignorance

so much insignificant
beauty and wisdom
in these few lines
it's as if I'm some sort a Jesus
dressed as a clown

I'm certain sometime in the future
people will surely change their view
Inner humanity falling as morning dew
ready to awaken us

I actually have no clue
of what's real and
what should be true
it's as if I'm sort of a human
pretending to feel

yellow flowers sang
on our every* stroll
ultimately forgetting to say hello
refusing to advise or even bo*w

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