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41.9k · Sep 2012
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
[A] is for
Archer with
Arrow through his
Apple, very
Applicable, to the
Amounts of
Adorning his heart, in
Attributes, that impart, the
Admiration, of
*******, in this
Acting out of
Arrogance bit. he is,
Astute, in his
Allure, and
Aloof, in the
Air, of
Aspiration, in which, he was
Alienated in the
Agony, of
Assassins, the
Aforementioned. lights, camera,
Action. recipe of the
Admirals of
Aliens, that
Attacked, with the
Arms and fists, of
Arachnids, now
Aching to be
Activated in sudden
Allegiance to the
Answers, of the truth.
Accumulating wealth for
Anarchy's of
Angels in
Academies of the ever
After life .. . of silence.
****** strengthens in these
Accolades of violence, in
Alliance to
Appearing in the
Arson of
Apathy, happily, to
Anguish in the
Amputation of my
Abdomen, if it meant i'm a real
American, even, when, only
Ash, remains.
Acclimating in its remains
Attained, the
Articles of my pain, in
Affluent shame, next time ..
Aim... oak

[B] is for the
Bah of
Black sheep, and
Bit¢hes, fat cats,
Bombarded in the
Bastion of
Berating the
Be-seech, of
Brains, to feel
Bad, about the
Blotching of
Binary codes, erroding, the
Blanked out
Books, of
Back the
Bank rolls of
Betterment, from the
Back of the
Bus, as i'm
Busting guts, in the
Butts, of *****
Benched, but
Beautiful, in the
Battle, in the
Bane, of existence.
Baffled, in the strain of
Belligerence, in
Beating the
Butchery into
Brains, in
Bouts, of
Bobby's for
Bags of
Before, affording to
Bombs, is just
Bottles on the
Benefactors of
Bashing with the
Beaks, of
Birds, with no
Bees. just a
Being, trying to

[C] is for the
Courting the
Choreography, in
Circumventing the
Contrivance of
Calibrating, to the
Contours of
Celebrating the
Cylinders of
Correcting the
Calculations, of
Coughing, in
Coffins of
Cobble stones, from
Catacombs, in the lands of the
Capturing the
Claps of thieves, sneaky
Cats, of greed. its
Comedy. oh
Comely, to my
Cling of
Cleanliness, and for your self

[D] is for the
Dip *****, as they
Deeper in the
Deliverance, of
Dying to
Delivered in the throws of
Defiance of
Demeaning that which
Deems the
Dormant of the
Dominant, to be
Demons of
Dooming us for
Deploy the,
Damsels in
Defiled and
Detestable and
Dead. in the thump of
Dumbing down the
Debts of,
Dire regrets.
Dissect the
Daisies of,
Disillusion, in the current
Diluting night into
Disconnecting the
Dots of the
Dichotomy, and arming me, in the
Diabolatry, of,
Demonology, as i watch me
Dwindle away, the

[E] is for
Everything in nothing,
Eating the
Enigmas of
Exceeding in the
Essence of
Escaping the
Elegance of the
Elements in the
Eccentricity of
Exhaling, the
Exostential blessings, of inner
Entities, and renouncing the
Enemies of my
Easily to appease
Extracting the lost
Embers of
Enlightenment, in
Excited delight, but to later
Entice, the fight, and
Escape, like a thief into the night of
Entering the
Exits of
Elevators leading no where, to
Elevate, this useless place,
Encased in malware in the
Errors of
Every man,
Enslaved, of flesh and
Enveloping the core of
Everything, that matters,
Enduring, the chatter, of
Ever present in
Ever made to take

Funk the
Ferocity of
Fandangos, with
Fooled in the
Fiasco of
Falling through the
Farms of
Flying in the
Fame of
Fornicating on the
Fears of
Fish getting their
Fillet of
Feel me in the

Granted with
Giblets of
Gratitude and
Greeting the
Goop and
Gleaned from the
Glamour of
Ghouls in
Gillie suits,
Getting what they
Going, in the
Gallows of a
Gaffed by

Hello to the
Horizon of
Hilarity, in
Hope of
Happy, to
Heave from
Heifers, to
Help the
Hobos in
Horror, to
Honor the
Habitats of
Herbalising the work
Horse, named
Have Not, in the
Houses of

Ignore the
Idiots, too
Illiterate to
Indicate the
Instances of
Idiom in the
Inaccuracy of
In the
Intellect of
Irritated with the
Illusion of
Illustrated upon the
In the
Illumination of

******* the
Jokers, and
Jimmy the
Jerkins from their
Jammie's, in
Jousting off the
Jumps, in
Jokes, and
Jukes of
Jesting for
Jury's to
Judgment from the
Jeans of

**** the
Keep of
Kool aid men,
Kept in the
Kilometers of
Knifing the
Knights of
Keeling over the
Keys of
Kaine, with the
Kick of a

Love the
Levity, in the
Laments of
Levitating in
Living in
Laps, of
Looping, but
Lacking the
Loom of the
Locked with
Leeches of the
Leering of
Limbs, that
Lash at the
Lessers in
Loot of
Lost letters,
Lest we
Learned in the
Lessons of

Marooned in
Masqueraded as
Memorization's of
Mantras, but
Mikha'el the
Mundane, who is
Mused of
Mangling the
Monitor, but
Maybe just a
Moniker of

Never to
Navigate the
Nether of
Not to
Nit pic the
Naivety of
Neither take
Name the
Noise of
Nats in the
Nights of
Napping in the
Nets of

Ominous in the
Omnipotence of
Orifices in
Offers of
Ordinances in
Optionally an
On-call Oracle, in

Perusing the
Pedestals of
Pursuing the
Plumes of
Piety with the
Patience of a
******* on the
People with the
Pianos of
Portals, in the
Points in the
Pats of
Poor, but

Quick to
Qualify the
Quitter for a
Quill in
Quivering of
Queried in the
Quakiest of
Quarantined to a
Quadrant, of
Questing the
Quizzing of

Relax in the
Relapse of
Realizations, and
React with
Racks of
Rock to
Rate the
Rep of the
Roar in
Rendering of the
Readiness in the
Rallying, of the
Refracting of
Realigning, the
Rearing of the
Realm, and

Steer the
Serenity in
Sustainability, and
Slither through the
Seams of
Secrete the
Sobriety of
Salivating upon a
Slew of
Supplied in
Slain in the
Steam of
Sadly, i

Titans in
Turbulent in
Teething of
Telemetry of
Tortured of
Told in
Turrets of
Terribleness, from
Tikes unto
Toys for
Thrusted upon by the
Tyranny of

Unanimous is the
Ugliness in the
Undertones of
Undergoing the
Unclean in the
***** of
Uplifting the
Ushers in
Undergoing the
Ultra of

Venial in
Viciousness of
Vilifying the
Vials of
Villainy in the
Veins of
Validity of
Violence, is
Valiant in the
Vacationing of

Whelp in the
When you can
Wave to the
Whipping Where the
Whimsical Were
Way back in the
Wellness of
Whip its,
Wrangling my
Worms, as
War shouts are
Wasted in the
Walks of

Xenogogue, of
Xeons, turn
Xyphoid, in the
Xenomenia of my
X, my
Xenolalia of
X, to
***. im lost in the
Xenobiotic zen of
Xerces, on a
Xebec to the
X on the map.
Xenogenesis, in the
Xesturgy of my

Yearned from
Yielding, to the
Yodel of
Yeahs, to the
Yapping of
Yanks, over
Yucking it up with the
Yawn of a

Zapped from a
Zone i
Zoomed with
Zeal in the
Zig and
Zag of my
Zest, upon a
Zionist, or
Zeros or ones, just
Zip your
Zip locked. and
this is a work in progress
5.8k · Jul 2012
Michael W Noland Jul 2012
i want unity
without alliegence
for once
let there be no strings attached
lets act
like we stand firmly on our feet
face our defeats
and take the blame for our actions
lets be adults
and go unsupervised
i dont need you
you dont need me
but lets drink
to our independence
5.6k · Aug 2012
Stare into the sun
Michael W Noland Aug 2012
i want to do right

but its so hard to find

another boot party tonight

im still just fine

franky on the mop
billys on the floor
only from the top
i sit laughing and drinking

refusing to clean these boots

cleanliness is godliness

twisted and stunted roots

praying in godlessness

as they all line up at the ticket booth

take this knife

give the slow slice

through my jugular and wind pipe

            into the
5.2k · Aug 2012
Michael W Noland Aug 2012
2 better days
of better ways
too bigger dreams
in better words
to the express
of my renditions
in wish-less missions
to infringe in fantasy
as i write out the years
of fearless tears
and scream
in happiness
and chant
of the blasphemers
in the murmurs
of drunken
sewer structures
the sutures
of my missed maneuvers
in my bruise-less
and still strutting my luck
in abrupt
to the clause
of impunity
to rhyme-less scrutiny
to sooth the dream
for today
the blame
of melancholy messiahs
playing pariah
on xbox
they gonna fry ya
through savvy ****** talk
with their mouth on your ****
but their ears on the block
to fulfill the onslaught
of a distraught
in lock
about to drop
in happy bombs
of debilitating
you cannot
when you are
you cannot galk
when you are
with ******
fixed to enrich
the lives
of the many
i have plenty
in the trunk
just bend down
and look
ill blend in the boom
of bass
the second thump
closes the trunk
strap up
with me
be blunt
don't want
a ninja on the run
in the sun
of reputation
1 finger away
the mostest patientest
a bu3ro$hit
to 0bl1terat3
the glUt3nou$
of thy most muTtonest
of ch0ps
i cropp3d
the plopp1ng rainb0ws
of raindrop$
and Stopped  .
thE hoPped up ho0ligaNnry
of my N1njary
in my socks
sometimes i rock
but mostly not
i wont stop
until outlined
in chalk
until the froth
from my lips
blinds me
in trips
with a 5th
into thine own
from the groan
of maturity
and the **** flapping
of insecurity
i try lyrically
to be free
and stop rhyming
at least stop whining
just trying
to do my thing
dost thou heart not sing
when im plowed
within the silver lining
with a little shining
came hither
to where the sliding turned to slithering
my ministry
of infantry
into comedy
applauding me
in my idiocy
its daunting
in simplicity
marinade me
in a massacre
or a major disaster
watch me blow my ***
in haughty claims
of clogged
alpha/beta waves
to a pre paid card
and charged
for helping a man up
in a corrupt
city of butts
my paychecks to the *****
of never was
im riding the short bus
until she blushed
and brushed
the *** from her mouth
im gross
a little weirder than most
i boast
in defeat
i facebook
over tweet
as if there be a choice
as i crumple
the invoice
and rejoice
in knowing
i know nothing
i'm [Esc@ping]
4.9k · Jul 2012
Michael W Noland Jul 2012
Ignore the silence of our thoughts

ignore the silence of our dreams

ignore the demon and its taunts

ignore the demon and its screams

this darkness is not what it seems
4.7k · Sep 2012
[ Mikha'el the Mundane ]
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
I don't always feel you

nor do i care.

nor shall i fare

the weather of your temperament.

I am exempt of the pettiness, and of the nervous fetishes, in the indifference.

I try not to be presumptuous, in the perceived ignorance, of the plunderers of my wealth

but am more alive.

More willing to die.

More willing to try

anything but sigh

in feeling the mediocre hand of my health.

So high

doling out the breathless help, in the restless stealth, of bland demands, felt,  in the smoking stacks of hell.

I survive off the glean, provoking, glass from sand.

I act,  as though i give a ****.

Evoking ash from hands, in the defiance of no mans land.


in the trampled giants of the black.

Sampled, the compliant hacks in backless, tackling of the stance.


I cracked.

and cracked the cast, in blast powder, compounding the flames, of the flounder flamed, in profane name calling.

Never to dodge the calling ..

Feeling the falling of doubt.

In the Tao,  of mauling my malevolence.

Thought i bled it out, as the stalling turned to insulting rebukes, in the flukes,  of lands never lived, but shredded in repulsing lingo, with a flute, to do away with the kids, I mingle, in wait of the sedatives to kick in, than,


Nail it to the cross, of the intended loss, singling and wringing them out.


amid, the somber slayings of bombers praying, for fire to rain from the sky.


of the calmer makings of alarming sayings, for desire to feign from the cry.


The reciprocation of a social spy, trying his best to comply to the prize, and smile.

Its been awhile.

Been a while in exile of thine own heart.

Heart of gold in denial.

Denial of the trials where i shone the brightest, in the mightiest miles of defiled lights.

Lights igniting the nights, in my first rights of passage.

Passage granted in the damaged dues of diligence, where i pursued the villages of my virtue.

My virtues perused the innocence and matured.

Matured in the final words of old birds, dying with dimes, and bagged wine in hand.

Never to understand the last laughs from young chaps blowing off their stacks, just to collapse, in their own mess.

I confess to paying homage in the calmly delusions, of my intrusive self abuses, to the ruthless seduction of my bitterly bitten bruises of seclusion.

I try to loosen up a bit, but instead run this gambit of bankrupt belligerence and hope for the best.

******* in the blessed wishes of the test.

Tested in the vetted nutrients of an institutional bowel movement upon my chest.

My chest giving in to the stress.

I often wake in duress as tears flow through the forgotten, as i brush my teeth of the remembrance of dreams, and clean the dumb away.

Clothe my flesh, and put my gun away.

Locking the front door, I journey into my day.

Every day...

One day.

One day from the mundane

I wont strain to change it all.

I will make the call

but never answer.

Instilling the hollowed cancers

to end it all

I shall befall,  the null.

The No.

The land.



The unseeable.

In unbelievable hate.

Conceiving the inconceivable, and cleaning the slate of my faithful fate, in which i ditch the mares of my dared intention.

I concentrate on the beautiful view from the deliberate limitlessness of my vivid visions to another place, that closely resembles the one that i hate.

Consumed of blue suns, and water breathing.

I bloom

in anger activated guns, and painless beatings.

Marooned from afar

I dare to bare the battle scars of taking it too far, and fainting.

Tainting the waters of life with the ****** knife, of my,  positivity.

The imagery of my imagined city

ssscattered across the tattered remains of my naivety.

Sssteadily holding fast upon the mass of men, even though i readily hate them.

In a single flash of rash decision, i forget it all, and go to work ...

smirking in the murky fog, that marks the facade,  where i lurk in shirtless shirking from the cold.

The shaking of the folds, in time, in space, in the told, telemetry of the mold



In the boots that birth, the same old, hold of the complaint.

Applying force in restraint

In pursuit

to unearth, and loot

the saint

in broken wings, and painted words

that twirl, in the spinning ink

on the brink, of the blur, that births,  this sleeping male

to a world, encroached, by mundane flames, poached, from the slain trail of the ordained, tales of Mikha'el.

As others entrails line, the pale comparisons, as mine, are shell shocked in monotony.

i signed with the autonomy, never talked, and marched blankly into the day.

Every day

but one day

to stray

from the mundane

and make it right.

I will get out of my head

and fly

in light.
4.6k · Mar 2013
Dystopia Risen
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
Not a single truth is presented to you, as actors, cameras, and green screens adjust the magnitude of your opinions, and attitudes.
4.0k · Sep 2012
warm up spewmanship
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
I don't know what to think
when i'm staring in your eyes
more akin to speak
in blind lullabies.
than logistify
my heightened
in flight
to somewhere nice
if only for tonight
come with me this night
the cindered fires
of our desires
and incite
the throws of light
in **** obscurity
moaning through the sincerity
of our oddities
gleaming in the rarity
of our academy of lust
all or bust
entrust the accounting
of blaspheme
to the enemies
of poverty
and shove me
all the way down your throat
fill you
instill you
with the hope
of a million
grinning in *******
of the tangled mental merchants
of pretty lights and custom curtains
drawn at first light
amongst cursing pedestrians
prior to *******
of forceful *******
with an another human
lightened strikes the truant
in 9 months of fluent
just imagining little Timmy
has me scavenging for a shimmy
to escape
its social ****
to a blind ape
still patting his head
don't be mislead
by ***** carriers
pack your own barriers
and prepare for the scarier
side of a mans mind
3.6k · Aug 2012
Michael W Noland Aug 2012
a beast
bitterly binding
the broken books
of the benevolence
that be-seats
the thrones of thieves
a binary botulism baby
survived by
the lowest common denominator
lord of may be
the calamity shaker
shaking limbs from trees
he made me
who am i
to be enshrined by
the designs in which
he heaves the storms away
leaves the drones in decay
as of yesterday
in an electrical parfait
of symbiotic energy
******* tempting me
in its tether
as embryonic entities
shutter the flow
to the effects
that no one knows
of the development and growth
of self
and the foes he oppose
as was imposed upon
by force of will
exposed and deloused
of the shrill
cockiness instilled
in his build
in the post stillness
of his kills
he is i
and i am thrilled
to lower the shields
leveling out the playing field
and yielding
to the technical terminology
of my basic demonologies
of my ****** up philosophies
cloning the technologies
you infuse into the spirituality
of your broken dichotomy
just let me know
how that goes
as corrosive winds blow
through the boroughs
of your haunts
i can almost feel
the taunts
as i hear the boots clomp
turn to stomping through the door
enacting your unholy chores
in that which bares no reward
the price is blood
the cost is love
in which i cannot afford
unfurled upon the hoard
in torn intellect
abhorred in the twirls
of a de-cored vortex
and robbed of originality
in the result of cultural finality
in a sea of dreams
our heads blown apart
is only the start
as it seems
ill be whispering
from afar
by dark
yet to embark
from under the rage of my darkening heart
but if i hiss cyphers into your charts
ill become safer than the cause
as i shall get the sympathy
of the claws
across my character
in the jaws of the barrier
to non existence
its even scarier
than the persistence
of ignorant citizens
with hard-ons
and night vision
down-loadable intuition
with the precision of the averages
unlocked savages
in the ravages
of synthetic bliss
1.1 happiness
projected in eyelids
defectors of the world
gotta free them
beat them
if you have to
defeat them in the bathroom with a knife
rip their chips of deceit
show them life
clip their legs in retreat
until they secrete
the evil from their throats
binary bohemia
pooling into a despondent
pool of blasphemy
drained happily
from the heads of greed
only when willing
to commit to killing
can we fix the dream
and control the lean
of modernized thinking
chromatically depleting
as our chromosomes are shrinking
not one inkling
nor notion
of the ocean sinking
before the rise
and in all that you bitterly despise
as the world is washed
before your eyes
yet to realize
the compliance of failed tries
a crashed system of self told lies
yet ...
i still spy the better days
i can smell them in range
i muffle the cries
of demise
in reprise
of a new name
a fresh start
in the surmise
of restraint
the faint
delivering from here
the elixir of life's experiences
cryptically laid upon the sentences
of my ethereal commencements
the beautiful lessons
entrenched in the blemishes
the scars of the heart
on you
the virtues
of the tried and true
blood sweat and tears
in the blurbs
of yesteryear
it be my will
to instill
in you
love yourself
and i shall
love you
3.0k · May 2013
Day 1 - Sun up
Michael W Noland May 2013
The dread set in upon opening my eyes, as i swing my legs to the right side of the bed and stand. Slightly stumbling i make my way to the bathroom while adjusting to a waking state. I flip on the light, wincing my eyes in a sharp electric freeze from the back of my head, and while recovering, i pull the shower curtain away from the showers pull ***. Pulling the *** out slowly twisting it to ninety degrees as the water turns on, i am reminded to feed my plants before leaving the condo for the day. I step into the shower dipping my head under the warm stream of steaming water while resting my hands against the wall, as images of all the women i had saw the night prior begin shuffling through my head and a partial ******* forms. I imagine their eyes filled with tears, as i shove them down to my ****, and finally the Rolodex of faces stops on a Starbucks girl with piercings all over her pouty face that i had encountered on a lunch break a few days ago, and i begin stroking my **** with my right hand whispering "you ***** ****" over and over, as her eyes look up at me innocently, Mascara running down her face, until suddenly i hear my phone vibrate atop a pile of pocket change in the bedroom which promptly kills the moment in my wonder of the importance of a 5:00 AM jingle, which slowly fades, while i proceed to apply Ax shower gel to my Ax body scrubber that i had received as a gift in a Holiday work raffle three months prior.  Vidal Sassoon extra volume shampoo plus conditioner, "All in one," proudly printed on the label, as i apply a handful to my shaved head in a smooth dripping lather, that i do not rinse until after applying a pink ****** scrub that's label has worn off, and i am unsure, and not concerned with its origin, as I squeeze a blob of Colgate paste onto my toothbrush from the rack overhead, and scrub in a slow circular motion, while i rinse off the shampoo, shower gel, and ****** scrub, and then reach for my Listerine mouth wash, and swish for 30 seconds before spitting the burning mixture into the drain, while putting the brush away. I tilt my head up, and open my mouth wide under the water, taking in a mouth full, which i gargle for 10 seconds then spit, and turn off the shower reaching for a tattered towel left over from a breakup four years prior.  I dry off while still standing in the shower, and gently lay the towel on the floor before stepping out onto it, and grabbing a stick of Degree antiperspirant from the counter.  I apply 3 long strokes to each armpit before capping it, and putting it down. Two sprays of coolwater cologne i apply from a 1 foot distance, misting my chest and lower neck, before i put it down beside the deodorant, and walk back into the bedroom, grabbing a pair of boxer shorts from a drawer not caring which pair i grab. I slip them on, and walk over to the mirrored closet where i flex a few times, point aggressively, and in an authoritative tone repeat "I don't give a ****.", three times before sliding the closet door open and grabbing a pair of Marc Echo blue jeans that i had purchased online two years prior with a gift card from a local pub that i may have frequented too much to have received.  Reaching for an Infliction black tee shirt with ghostly gray swirls cascading to its base, i become completely still, left arm clutching the shirt still on its hanger, i am paralyzed for two seconds before looking away, and saying  "I don't have any plants" inquisitively to myself, yanking the shirt from the closet, and walking over to my phone atop the dresser.

Picking up the phone almost eagerly, i click the screen on in a light squeeze, and swipe my finger from left to right across the display to unlock the device, to a missed call from an unknown number, a voicemail, and 3 missed text messages. I tap the voice mail icon, and enter my pass code upon the automated prompt, "1234." The voice mail immediately clicks a few times before hanging up which assures me of its automation, and i assume its the power companies robots attempting to collect the monthly charge again. I tap on the missed text message icon, disconnecting from voice mail, and see that all three are from a girl named Haedies i met through a roommate long ago that i have recently found over facebook. A "How are you!", "I MISS YOU!!!", and a picture message of her with a wax figure of a trollish cartoon character i cannot quite place, both looking very serious, and i look at her **** pressing out from her white tanktop, ******* clearly hard, and her neck, long and attractive, its definition, thins my blood, and her dark black medium length hair loosely dangles just above her shoulder, causing me to partially smile, as i close the message paying it no further thoughts, and slip on my tee shirt, as i head for the kitchen. I open the refrigerator and grab a plastic bottle of 5 Hour Energy, and twist it open, tip my head back, and take the whole drink down in one swallow, throwing the empty plastic shell back into the fridge, and swing the door shut with my bare left foot, before i head back to the room to put my socks and boots on. Once my black combat boots are fully laced up, i put my wallet, change, and keys into the appropriate jean pockets, and head for my jacket hung on a hook beside the door. A black leather windbreaker. My mini trench that allows for a high level of concealment, and pocket space made possible by Wilson Leather. I run my hand over my face satisfied with my slight stubble from not shaving today, and reach into my left inner pocket of my jacket and pull out Sony earbuds, and plug them into my phone. I select a Pandora station based on the black metal band "Burzum", and walk out the door, locking only the dead bolt behind me.  5:25AM
2.8k · Jul 2012
Michael W Noland Jul 2012
oh the unholy chores of my withered lord

of my remorseless discord

must stop the hordes as though an indian from the cupboard


in the rugged stubbornness of my hellacious mischief and deviance

sounding out the ingredients of my grievances and disobedience

patient expediance.
2.8k · Sep 2012
The Vigilante
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
Sometimes he was like f+ck it
just went ahead and stuck em
let em fall where they stood
crack another bottle and brood
hysterically on the ridiculous
he had a meticulous knack for belittling the serious, berating feelings and imposing his will in a furious fashion. He liked knives and passion, and will cash in on your lashings. A vigilante, stealing antes to match the chips. The missing teeth of split lipped grinns bidding his amends to the dense. sent to cleanse, the fences on the perimeter. a distributor of disasters.
contributor to the laughter in the stoical spleens of nerdy teens, always cheering for the away team.
He was the benefactor of traction-less tractors rotting in the mud. He was a slacker, smothering the world in love. He was above all else, on drugs.
2.8k · Sep 2012
thoughtless spew
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
i am of the light
my shroud
that crowds the villains in the toppled telemetry of my steeds
galloping gallantly from the burning cities of my dreams

i shall gleam from her or he
that which delivers
their truths faithfully to their dreams
open wounds turn invitation
in the pity of hungry thieves
who dared to dream
of peasants king-ed.
as we sing
of desperation
in passionate confessions
of jaded wisdom
passed on through every failure
never to falter
in the betrayals of Walters
in loss-less flac files
i have miles to go
smiles to grow
daggers projectiles
from mild mannered children
freshly ridden
of maniacal miracles
but not stupid
we are troopin
this lucid movement
to the repetition of the drum
the gas blow back of a gun
the bursting bubbles of bubble gum
having fun
i learnt goodly on the run

learned nothing in victory

learned nothing in simplicity


snickering it all away
bullet by bullet
case by case
and eventually the blade
in my compassionate displays
we shall congregate
and hate ourselves
**** the donks to hell
dwelling on the cellar doors
that darkos teacher adored
in verbal massacre
of the written literature
of cracked brain fixtures
seeping the lines
in cold tingles
down the spines of maniacs

just relax

mix it down on a track
spit the thesis into pieces
through the creases of cracked sneakers, and out the speakers
of trouble seekers.

mistakes make us

deliberate chaos
upon the fakers
who cry to think
the dream
became a reality
mistake us
for serrated blades that rip the hearts from beasts
sometimes i stop to think
while having a drink
conclusive brinks
of sanity creaks
of my humility
the disposing of my jealousy
of your feelings

i rip a felony
from a face
in appealing agony
antagonizing me
in the frenzied forensics
of my oblique
none of us
were ever crooks
speaking to self
while being booked
in hell
2.6k · Sep 2012
[Dangled Smile]
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
Twiddled knifes upon glass eyes, cry the insight of reprise, amongst a galvanized pride, in flight from spotlit skeletons, denied of sunlight, without a fight of adrenaline and puking on the side of missed roads.

An abode, of foreboding wealth within a duffel bag, drags the corroding moral codes of trolls controlled by ignorant over lords over the coals, before another log is tossed in the fire.

Before the fog of the fading embers, dislodge the common splendor, from the lives of nine to fivers, tending to the totals of the dead versus survivors, in vocal onslaught of the names of the slaughtered daughters of liberty that faltered in the after glow of nevermore.

Anymore,  i only wish to dream.
dream of better things that sing in the blood, and shrug the smugness from drug-less fiends, in consumption of peeling seams, and paint-chips.
Cancerous fractions entrap us.
Just ask the plaintiff.

Sustain it ...

In stillness.

Mastery over illnesses.

Embrace the contaminants of my inanimate imagination, swallowed in the shallows of a nation lost to bacon and broken beautiful.

Tokened suitable with corporate suitors to the masses. Blinded in the flashes of dismal diobolitry ,upon uprooting the touting in the jealous shouting of the shenanigry of driven villains, knowing of the chronology of the buried devilry, toiling in the ecology of a dying star.

My gods aren't too far from yours.

My stars aren't too bogged for more.

My more, your cut off point.

Disjoint the facts, let the words womb themselves and slither in the delivery, of malicious adhering to the tongue, in the atrocious abominations of falsified accumulations of the letters manifestations of fruitful creations abiding to immaculate consummation of lost thoughts that prevailed in one long exhale of a run on sentence.

No penmanship in breathlessness, as i faint in my confessions of restless lessons learned in burned futures overturned in grief.
Burned in the disbelief of fractured animals, cannibalising the chastised cultures of the mechanical signals planted in our cores.

Arms forward and moaning for more.

Always more.

I claim victory in my plastic citizenry of pity and tragedy, where i too can proclaim my self godliness and engage in bliss with the rich.

Im an emo ***** with blood on his knife and a list of names read aloud from the braille niche upon glass eyes, where to see is to realise, the severed root of the bloodline, in slow chromatic decline over time, until the with, is without, and the made mark is gone and the new birth is spawn to embark upon, brawn over brain the simple rule shall remain, conned in the game of numbers, slumbering from under the wonder of man vs machine. Again ranting in my rhyming declining into boredom.
Seldom to abandon the foreboding doom i cant shake.
Stephen king meets Dr seuss for a lovely kick of the chair and a hug of the noose.
Never to lose when smiling.
2.6k · Jul 2013
Not the slightest
Michael W Noland Jul 2013
The wake of nevermore
To be forever and more

Through the doors of metamorphosis

With whorish twists
To twine the submissive slits
Into bracelets bracing for a face lit
In joyous glee

Cheek to cheek!

The sheen of sheep
Greased and ready to eat

Oh Gristlesworth
Smiling from a bag

Don't eat the tag
2.5k · Sep 2012
{ He bled into the sun }
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
Strumming the untuned strings, he stares drunkenly into the setting sun of yesteryears songs, sung of lost dreams and the birthed ambitions of the dark, dark days to be.

Happily,  he tears up in the fortunate tragedies, of the reclamation in his dreams, as he seethes out the damnation of his steeds, galloping gallantly through his being.

All seeing, in the finite fleeting when he sings, of strummed dreams to the rhythms of heart beats lost, embossed on the epitaphs of kings.

Sad songs of dreams once had.
Be glad for that, which does not **** you, only to bestow upon you, the gratitude of the weirding ways, in passionate display for us all to play nice.

Shake these dice and jump aboard this bus of wandering poetry, from the porches of poets singing to the sun.

From the morning Moet, to the afternoon beer run.

we sing of dreams

of better things

we blaspheme

and spin the scenes

of our murdered dreams

and just clean the guilt away

I am so awesome as to be devoid of fault.

I am a god that cracks the asphalt.

I am the angel signing the clause, of deserved harm.

I am the indentured servant sounding the alarm, with the charm of a Trojan horse, forced to adhere to the most righteous path.

The first

The last

Laugh of inevitability

Honing in on the ability to capture the longevity of dream warriors, in the lock of predators, in the employ of a senator, from the center of the heart, to impart on you the fear from thieves caught in the plight of those fraught with the graces of an exterminator, exterminating the pro-creators of your world. Soldiers unraveled in the lavished gavels of real criminals drowning in their own subliminal theories of the self imposed heresies of intention.

Free will

A fragile blessing

I cracked, all so long ago, as i gently bestow my  belligerence upon your innocence and **** it all away.

I'm the ******* son

Strumming for the only one.


Before the lore of the storm.

Born of the swoon of a gun.

More than one.


As the day faded into night, his strumming turned plucking, as he slightly eased from reprise to silence, in the whisper of nights words, easing him into the blur, of sleep.
2.5k · Mar 2013
Date Night
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
I banged her with a curling iron before kicking her into the tub.

She wobbled, writhed, and knocked out the lights, as i chopped and snorted her drugs.

Date night.
2.4k · Aug 2012
Get it out
Michael W Noland Aug 2012
the TV commercials
the fake ****
the campaign trail
the welfare recipients
psychotic shooters
bible thumpers
and athiests
gangsters and
special interests
its junk mail
the court system
its the poor paying more
the ignorant
the scared
the recluse
the extroverts
the sales tax
the hospital bills
zombie ammo
beggars making more than me
nuclear threats
animal abuse
drug addiction
half assery
its the bullies
the police
its advantage
in retreat
the lies
the masks
the crys
the laughs
its all the ******* that ******* annoys me
2.3k · Feb 2014
Michael W Noland Feb 2014
I could be the quiet guy, standing just outside your door at night, or maybe a monster if you'd prefer, I could slaughter your dog while you are at work, or might I just observe?  ~Neighbor
2.3k · Jul 2012
Michael W Noland Jul 2012
an intergalactic being of the static
trying not to panic
in the sporadic antics
of a frantic romantic

manic freak

bobbing to the beat
of drones and sheep
as the storms seep
from the more discrete
holes in my heart
render me obsolete
and deplete me from afar

weave me the dreams of delicate surrender
cleave me at the seams in vicious splendor
deceive me in the memes of malicious pretenders

and take me to never was
tell me of the ridiculous
the insidious
the belligerence of thugs
the deliverance of slugs
the hideous
wrap me in a rug
with no love
and a mean mug

peacefully pitiful
2.3k · Oct 2012
Destination yesterday
Michael W Noland Oct 2012
Our galaxy, a ship, speeding into the depths, of deep space, a casualty in permit, heeding the concepts, of our place, in space-less mass, glimmering from the cast, of gods, even from the cracks and smog, we move along the path, of our intent, hell bent to extend our wrath, upon the woes of men, unknown to the myriad angles, in the dangled essence, of the limitless blessings, in the finite structuring, of negative nothings, filling our hearts of imagination, manifesting, in our epiphanies recollections, of days gone, but came back to be, born freely, looping infinitely, simultaneous, in every possibility of personally realized realities, realizing themselves in sunless helms of technology, merging with the organics of our being, and seeding, the start of everything.
2.2k · Aug 2012
[An0ther L0v3r]
Michael W Noland Aug 2012
smothered lover
in the Hollywood hills
unbag the bottle
crack the seal
oh the appeal
of intake
for the sake
of intoxication
so meek and unique
in gurgled screams
a pixie in the hand of a king
to discretely
capture the beauty
in eternity
i just felt
i had to nest a shell
and befell
clearing her residual
flirtatious signals
even in the squirms
and even in the squeals
even though i know
she yearns
to be hooked by her gills
dragged through landfills
in a projected field
where she would yield
and kiss me.
i'm gonna pretend
to love her
as i tenderly
shove her
in the river
of our love
take her under
my loving thunder
and plunder her
when drugged
dazed in her wonder
i hold her under
from above
if only for a moment
we locked eyes in love
she fit me like glove
disposed of
in a rug
posed so beautifully
for the smack
hack and rip
one pretty *****
in an irrigation ditch
our wordless
its over *****
move on with it
in the mouths
of varmints
as im clicking *****
on key chains
sticking misfits
with loose lips
usually homeless
here to destroy
in my twisted ploy
to employ
maximum points
my addictive anger
to something a little stranger
im going to dangle
her entrails
in front of her eyes
while i'm bangin her
shes looking so surprised
from every camera angle
the mangled *******
what a lamo
in the passing of life
in the
the ***
the ****
and the knife
2.2k · Sep 2012
[®u√\/ on senten¢£.]
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
Scared,  to let the words die, he hid, amid the languid luxuries of solitary structuring, lavished of the jaded and anguished lines, for lines melodrama, of the deviled days, of state, of mind, in fate, in kind, of the nether commas, devoid in honest ignorance of written words, dying on the caterpillars, cocooned, in all that's assumed, lost, in metamorphosis, never knowing this, is a dream, within a dream, of hope, clinging with stinging fingertips, ears ringing in the ripplits of a synesthesic pulse of visual signals, subliminally sounding the sirens, of solidarity, in the silent screams, of the sun rising, writhing in wanton seduction of my functions laying the heartened words of dead birds, falling from the sky, hardened in sloven cries, to justify, the means, tapping out on the screens, of a misnomer, a loner, in a coma, phoning you from the corner to warn ya, of the storm, in words prone to patience, in imaginit immaculance of the limitless limits, of livid lovers loving each-others lullabies, lolly-gagging in the illegibility, of our lucidity in the pity of leveled lofts, lovely-ly, levitating in elevating thought, fraught with passionate poetry, of ghostly words, blurred in the debilitating reasoning of reasonable reason, seasonally.
2.2k · Jul 2012
1 line at a time
Michael W Noland Jul 2012
some say im cynical
that my minds mechanical
spoken essence erotical
jaded imagery hypnotical
liable to solve the unsolvable
while prodigal poets drown in their nautical modules

im a criminal
a cannibal
storming the street like an animal
shooting cannonballs
through prison walls
splattering the generals
in bathroom stalls
leave you poppin pain pills in the hospital
my temper is flammable
mumbles illegible
choking you with your pentacle
leaving onlookers speckled
the abominable
mental protocols unstoppable
the unfeasible constable
shooting up the card table
willing and able
to call your fables
and smash apart a label
i raise babies in unstable cradles
let you bleed out
like cracked ladles

engorged in unholy wars
the corruption of the core
uniformed for
the clash of the double edge swords
taking control of vocal chords
a meet of the hordes
of the horned
in sunlight

trying to shine
just 1 line
at a time
until my life signs decline
almost time
light and shadow combined

Horus and set

by hindsight blessed
yet to contest
to the rest of this mess
by melancholy caressed
as i arise unrest
from the cess
of the un confessed
2.2k · Dec 2012
Chopstix and Cheetos
Michael W Noland Dec 2012
There is no poetry
Playing Far Cry 3
Getting cheeched
Unlocking cheivos
Eating mac and cheese
4 monsters Yo!
Chop sticks and cheetos
You need those
To keep your controller clean
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
I shaved away the edges until there was nothing left, but a dream of what could have been, and so with frustration i accepted the jagged.

A common law of common flaws, as my face morphs into mask.

I still wonder, when it all will collide, building up inside ...
So much.
Too much.
Electrified in the the allure of my ruthless retorts, as i struggle in futile resistance to the inevitable.

The feeling is incredible, when you let all just go.
As it gently flows from the empathy into ecstasy, learning to love thy enemy, even as they are metaphorically stabbing me in the back.

Euphorically to react to the sensations in my lap when shes next to me.
Hexing me in a shellacking smack to my mannerisms
Her summer dress to address my cynicism, as it flows back from whence it came.

Detained in her image.
Restrained, in questioned worth.
Worth a thousand words.
Words never heard but seen in synesthesia.
Synesthesia saving my amnesia from forgotten verbs that be-heave us, in forgetful stumbling of the loving mumblings before the kiss.

The kiss dismissing the winded blue lips from the fumbled wits of love.
Love drown the fires ablaze as it spirals away.
Away from the journey.
Journey of the uninterrupted.
Uninterrupted in the hunting of my comforts.
Comfort in the squiggled lines.
Lines that pack a little comfort.
Comfort in the blinds, as i sacrifice my obedience for a little bit of expedience on the smile that awaits, this toothless face.

Bludgeoned stupid, as i pace at half mass, blinded in the tall grass of empty lands amassed in colors unseen with tunneled eyes that refuse to defy gravity.
Gravity in your roads chosen.
Chosen in the glow of abodes ablaze.

Amazed in starlit eyes.
Eyes to dream.
Dream of better ways.
Ways to clean the bad away.
Away with my wayward words.
Words observed in zero.
Zeros the point in which i met her, blinded in the blur, as im pulled to her.
2.1k · Feb 2013
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
Lets look on upon unpopular stars when we are apart, and wish our hearts were heads, forgetting we ever met, as if meant to be, compiling our indoctrination unto ****** scent, and cold coffee, stale smoke, and years of therapy.
2.0k · Jan 2013
Plastic poet
Michael W Noland Jan 2013
Built plastic houses
in plastic lives
With plastic wives
And plastic knives
For safety
Safely snoogled in a lie
Cannot cry when its gone
Yet i try
With plastic tears
And plastic faces
Plastic years
And premade places
To visit
From plastic spaces
In my heart
In plastic pains
From plastic drains
Of my plastic dreams
With Elastic seams
Stretching the view
We all knew
To be real
In plastic poetry
2.0k · Sep 2013
Michael W Noland Sep 2013
There I stood
In a long hallway
Stretching thinly
To a lit point

Lined with doors
Opening as they closed

Its prisms transposing
Euphoria as it shone

Lifting my chest
It dragged me breathless
Down its stretches

As I was reflected
In my own projections
Of sentients

Until innocence
Was all there is

And that is
Where thoughtless
Narrative lives

Where languidly it gives
Wordlessness meaning

And that is
Where fraughtless
Intentions can win

Acting replacing thinking

Incentive in Zen
Awaking and thinking again

Was is and gonna be
Everything I believe
Even while deceived
In sets of themes

Numeric categories
And the tragic stories
Of grander things

Things of grandeurous dreams
That I wring out in the sink
While winking
The well wishes away
In splashes
Of graying

My hate
Is displayed
In the mourning
Of Mondays

And with relatable monotony
And some mundane

Everything goes back to the same

Or at least
That's the philosophy
1.9k · Sep 2012
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
It is vice versus virtue, in vindictive victories,  laden in vanity, as venial villainy, intervenes in the memes of the idolatry, that dauntingly hangs from branch-less trees, vetted out, and stripped by thieves, as only on our knees we breathe, in peace.
1.9k · Mar 2013
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
If not to tempt the temperaments of lesser men, I shall bludgeon the object of our obsessions again, just to watch the reddened britches go un-itched, as my grinning is met with dissatisfaction, impacting the over expressed whining of gentle wimps, flailing, and stomping as disgruntled chimps, flinging feces from the cages again.
picking on coworkers
1.9k · Feb 2013
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
As though a booster pack of magic cards
They broke the seal
And discarded what they didn't want
Collecting the rejected
I built my deck
While everyone chose their colors
I chose every one
And with my eclectic half deck
The rejected won
1.8k · Sep 2012
Michael W Noland Sep 2012
We may only postulate the beauty that awaits beyond these gates of probability.

Haughtily in wait of wax wings

clutching the stolen tools that experience brings

father laid out the flight pattern

crying out against the vile lament.

Examining the sun in melted, and falling feathers, against fathers wishes.

drowning in the negligent sediments of the blessing,  lost.

flightless in sightless frost


into eternity
1.8k · Dec 2012
Fuel burn
Michael W Noland Dec 2012
Never finding expectation to exist beyond the last known blip of the past, projected through my back, in tackled grounds, bound, in the banter of spectators, speculating the specifications of specialised  weaponry, silencing the empathy, and seducing my enemies in the isolated idolatry of their stupidity that i sculpted from the scrutiny, that was wished to have eluded me but soothed my playful solidarity to my sickly game called reap and sow instead.

We are all dead, all dead inside, residing in thriving wounds.

Left unsaid in rhymes etched in tombs.

In the lies of old bafoons

I shall not fight, myself, as they do, nor shall i defy whats right just to eat tonight.

I will fight until I am mine and sleep.

Cradled in my shrine of thoughts amiss, in the frost of loss vs reward.

I am torn, between torture and a vultures wait of the prize to pedal the pestilent pettiness to the edges of my testaments, in the truth of youth-less suicide, slicing social structures into cylinders to swing in circles around the room.

Swooning, in my looming threat of self immolation to warm the heart with shopping carts of satire, killing the sad away.

Delaying the the decay of hope.

A stay of patience in my irrelevance,never hesitant in my clever projections of nothing.

I feed you nothing

But emptiness

Shuttering in the sultry shade of my suffering and loving every moment of it.

Saying nothing too much in things of such insignificance.

Spilling the mizpellings and settling for wordlessness after a good ***** of belligerent arrogance.

Im tempted to quit but my wick is lit and to submit now, would just put the fire out and i want to watch the burn.
1.8k · Aug 2013
drunkin wifi hop
Michael W Noland Aug 2013
I looked upon the greats, and found nothing they didnt take from the pre-existing grates, that drained our goals into slates, degraded our souls into fakes, and mistook our traits as hate,  before we faded into an abatement for safetly, safely enslaving our notions as nations, from the oceans, they saved me ... made me ... who I am.

But nothing is sacred anymore
Only deplorable horror
To numb the chores
Of that other lord
That the imaginitive ignore
Pretending to abhore
The things they cant feel anymore
But what for

There might be more to a coin flip than explored.

Intent and decent Vs stoical form
1.7k · Dec 2012
Michael W Noland Dec 2012
A toe-tapper with dapper deities dancing amongst my dreams, whilst whispering the seeds of hidden keys

Interloper of the thieves

Charmer of the fleas

A Powerful peon, seceding from the teams

Daring to believe in the sea, swallowing the cities in its grief

Dare to achieve the belief of flight and fly away

Contemplate and fall in over thought

Just do not


Doing the undo-able

Fate is renewable

Outwardly controllable

In what you think you see in the deplorable hues from the hopeful news of better days, lead astray in satisfaction to the complaints of saint-less ways

I debate creating another other place, and drifting away through space, but hey, maybe its a phase and i'm just late to the show

Last to know your nothings

Im [Spinning]

In place
1.7k · Feb 2013
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
I want to smother your mother with the hands of her lover, in the time of your conception.

I want to feel what it is to be

Your fatherly figure

Lingering over her body

Post ******* dichotomy

1.7k · Jan 2013
Blather shoot
Michael W Noland Jan 2013
Its annoyance
In pessimistic clairvoyance

Its the avoidance
Of the simplistic
And stoical

Its motion
In oceans
Of lip service

Its ***** potions
For the passionate

Its fake ****
And face lifts

Its abortions
In portions
Of subordinates
As gifts
In gifs
Of gorgeous
In tortured
Of the dead

Its all the fame
In shoving
The pain
Of loving
In the oven
Of stubborn
Under the covers
With other men

Its the omens
Of the oh mans
In roman
Of fortunate
From time

Its the mine mine mines
To their own kind
Pre signed
In old blood

Its consignment killers

Its the drugs

Its timeless thrillers

Its the shrugs

Its the thunder
Rattling out
From under the bed

Its all the thoughts
In our heads
The booms
Of the tamed

Its the assumed
The restrained

Its this tomb
Of shame
In doing
The same
Old **** again

And again
Its been

Then again
I grin

Its when i should fold
That i embolden

Its all the No's

Its blankets nose

Its the cut blow
And lack of flow

Its fists and elbows
As opposed
To safety locks

Its ******* flu shots

Its everything
That ****** me off

Its the the stupid robots
And the silly riot cops
Fencing in the famished flocks

Its the *****
And the *****
In plastic boxes
Giving rocks
Without us

Its the gold pots
And stacked stocks
From us

Its the Rocks
Inside my socks
As they knock
The blocks
Of billy bobs
On the dash

Its the harsh
And its the rash

Its inside the last
Of dummassez
Through the
Blast radius.


Its the mass graves
And the paved pools
Of anyone who knew
Anyone who stood

Its all us fools
As cool kids
No show biz
In soul ****

Its in knowing this
And *******
And barking
At the moon
To swoon

I am peaking soon
In looming threat
Of lost concepts
Slipping away
Under the sun
Electing to quit
While im ahead
Way back when
It was fun
Way back when

It mattered

Its a gun
Shooting blather
As a bladder

And misunderstood

A changed topic

Knock on wood

Bye is good


Told you

Its implied
In rite


1.7k · Jun 2013
Michael W Noland Jun 2013
Timmy the tortoise shell
Lived a tortured hell
When he fell
And cracked his shell

As Timmy tortoise
Had a timid soul
That would spill
From the cracks
And stack in tow

But Timmy was a loner

Quick to ******
Closed the traps
Of deviants and attackers
With his snapper

Even happier
He'd turtle slap ya

But Tim's dapper days
Were done

He was a flapper in the ****
Of an overly populated pond

Technologicalcated and wrong

And it tinied t
Under its beams
Of ruining

Until he

Was gone
1.6k · Apr 2013
Michael W Noland Apr 2013
She had
Big luscious
**** ******* lips
A ***** *****
With tattoos
Across her ****
And an ***
That any man
Would kiss
The ***
And the ****
Already on it
She had sass
And would *****
On *****
As her mascara ran
But she wasn't sick
Her every ******* tear
She was a submissive
So dismissive
When you hit her
She came
And begged
For another
With her
Bloodied pucker
Of mucked lovers
She was a nasty *****
Leaving lipstick
On rich boys
And Leroy's
And she
Would ****
Or ****
Just about
To get lit
As she elongated
Her words
Like a *****
Southern ******
Slurring her verbs
With dead birds
In her hand
And fear
In her heart
She fanned
Her flames
And scrubbed
The stains
From predictable
Strangling her
While getting ******
From every angle
Dangling her soul
In her mangled holes
She cried
And cried for more
Reap and sow
The *****
From her nose
As every man knows
To blow as she chokes
Such a beautiful throat
And that walk
That walk of a *****
That every man adores
That other girls
Only wished for
And she loved it
The attention
The erections
The affection
The infections
She was addicted
To ****
And knew it
She was a ****
Strutting her stuff
Letting her **** out
Of her blouse
Just to arouse
The curiosity
Of your spouse
And wreck
Your house
She couldn't get enough
She'd eat your girl out
Before getting ******
She was down
For anything
Or anyone
A **** ** bag
That we all
Tagged twice
Once for fun
And once alive
I was her life
She was my wife
She was a
kick in the face
Away from fame
And she would
Say anything
To get away
Until she
1.6k · Feb 2014
Michael W Noland Feb 2014
I'm a space man
Doing space man ****
I'm a space man
With a space man ship

I'm in a space ship
Doing space ship ****
I'm in a space ship
With a space suit, *****!

I'm a space walkin
Space talkin
Space casin space man, *****!

And I'm just a cadet

A space cadet
With space man jets
Doing space cadet ****

A space racin space man
Doing space man ****

Mother ******
Spaceman, *****

Takin a spaceman ****

1.6k · Jul 2012
Michael W Noland Jul 2012
He was a heavenly hellion

acting the fool again

filled of dreams and adrenaline

hes mumbling with the manikins

and mocking the shenanigans

of morbid ministers dabbling with their daggers again

a hooligan

with a silencer ******* in

the machiavellian

looming beneath the luminescence of the crescent moon again
1.5k · Mar 2013
Sext violence
Michael W Noland Mar 2013
It always starts like this
They beg for violence
But when they get it
They want me to quit
They think i'm a ******
But its them
It is them
Tis them
That beckon
The beast

The text message
Michael W Noland Aug 2014
I can separate fact from fiction,
one is heaven
the other
a prison

Which is what, is in intuition,
and I'm missing it, mostly
but that's your religion
1.5k · Sep 2013
Sweet Pea
Michael W Noland Sep 2013
She took in the light
Of flashlights
As though a sun
Warming her
To perfection

Her feline smile
Unmoved for hours
Despite her heaving breaths
Unrelentingly fed
To the fading bulbs

Where she waited

For him
In the dim

Until the door opened

And he
Walked in
Lifting her
As he sat down

Laying her on his lap
In his chair

By the window

Where he
Brushed her
To sleep

Just once more

Once more
In the golden glow

He had seen before
My Sweet Pea had to be put down 20 minutes after I brushed her on Friday sept. 6th. She was my bud.
1.5k · Feb 2013
Michael W Noland Feb 2013
I was an early teen with a black and white TV, staying up way too late to see magnum p.i., while smoking ****** slime re-fries, for a high so intense, i even shat my pants, ****** myself, or collapsed my fat *** on the couch.

I was alive while not

My mother worked typical nine to fives, and even nights, and with no father in sight for guidance, a kid can slide, into redefining the lining of respect, one lining, or even lying instead, it was better than dying inside, and i tried, oh i tried to go outside, inside a box.

I tried to deny my crimes, my thievery, my sublime feelings of neglect, but maybe i was less neglected, and more centered at the core of the universe, where snake eyes protected Bianca from Cobra commanders clutch, but Bianca, was into it, and wasn't like us, ***** knew it, and set us all up.

Dumb *****

Rubber bands
Screws and guns
All piled up
And that's all that's left
Or ever was?

Ninja nothing

My imagination was corrupted
I wanted something
But knew i couldn't have it
Couldn't put my finger on it
But knew the dangle of a carrot
And i was on it

Moth to light

That's how the infection spread, dissecting eloquence, and injecting prisms into the imprisonment of reflectous rages in the intersecting of the yellow projections on my television, as i would just lay there on my bed, and soak it all in, hoping for something better, or perhaps just something different.

I had already written by that time, a thousand lines to the screams, behind the screen, as the programing repeats, and repeats in mastered recipes under a canopy of grief, and humility, holding the people humbly to their seats.

The records not scratched
The needle
Is seated
Where it intends
To be

I cheered for tanks
I cheered for bombs
Cheered for any ******* thing
That sounded the alarms

Suits, with ties, next to the soccer moms in line, at the grocery store, complaining about meat cuts, to a brain dead acne laden ****, making 6 bucks an hour, the dream had died before me, and begun to sour, but not one would see what they were doing in the scheme of things, and only seen what they wanted to, and i wasn't about to wear anyone's shoes, but mine.

That's when it whooshed over me, in the spark that grew my heart to be bigger than the rest, and i stepped outside, poking sticks in hives, and even lost a few fights, but saw through my own eyes with nobody at my side, though alone and wandering, i was still alright, and stronger than those family types, who would hide from life, in wealthy slights of hand, i still demanded nothing.

I wont beg for a leg at the masters feet, after i have broken my leash and ceased to be anything close to a functional member of society.

I was 13 and just starting.
1.5k · May 2013
Michael W Noland May 2013
Hobbling out of bed
Half dead
I'm led
To the bathroom
The shower a vacuum
Of my powerlessness
But first i ****
Then get in
**** out the contaminants
Of my ***** habits
And i scrub
I scrub off
The plastic love
The mean mug
And tug on my ****
Plant a vision til it pops
And drop
To the shower floor
Tilt my head back
And gurgle to the gods
For more
Scrub the grill
Lay a towel on the floor
Suit up for a war
Two sprays of cologne
And im out the door
Headphones on
Angels atoning
To the morning
As im floating
Through the fog
Descending in my grog
Along the path
Like a lab rat
For a slab of cheese
Through the swamps
And trees
Dead things
And leafs
And im seen
By nobody
As i ascend a hill
To the corporate power
Where ill cower
For nine hours
Before reporting home
Going to bed
And waking up
To do it all again
Its blue collar zen
And im bored
So fraking bored
With my chores
Id rather scribble sounds
Into forms
Verbal storms
Visual cores
To explore
The tortured
Terms in torrents
Of turbulent
Talks with dead gods
And im born
Into the horns
Ive sworn
To protect
In widows peaks
And deepened
I'm infected
With my perfection
In the muffled traces
Of noiselessness
Among the space-less
To my sentences
Taking out the crackles
And recording
Over the blemishes
The fragile moments
Of eloquence
In **** jokes
And threatening
The restructuring
Of molesting
Verbiage beat
Over the mic
Delusions enticed
In my writes
Of fights
In long sleepless nights
Of rhyming
With bad timing
And mumbling
Of slimy things
Bubbling in the cuts
Dubsteped to **** fits
Sunkissed in lacking curtains
Disturbing the certainty
Of sleep
And cheapening
My dreams
Rolling over
Planting my feet
Upon wood floors
Hobbling toward
The same thing
Washing away the sleep
And fleeing
My creativity
For the rest of the week

(in progress)
1.5k · Jun 2013
Michael W Noland Jun 2013

We all become believers
You will see

We all hit the gutters
And deceive
What we know
Into what we need

On the hope
To cope
With the NO
Of every plea

The gaping holes
While fruitlessly
Feathering dreams
Of ceasing
To be

Anywhere but there
Anywhere but here

Afraid and aware
Lying barren
On a hair

To everywhere
But where we want to be

Your everything
Believed in our belief
In our grieving
Of a meme

Obsolete and teething on a ***

Seething in seeing it
And undone
Unto nothing

Disconnected dots

Breathing out
And away
From meaning

Slightly clinging
To the things
To Matter

Scattered over
The tattered matters
In meteor
The other chapters

But not until after
Factoring in
The tractor beams
Of nothing

Just waiting

On the bottom
Of the gut
Crawling up
The throat lumps

And stuffing our luck

With all the succulent stuff
We are made of

Until eruptions
Of higher functions

Save us
From the ****

When enough
Is enough
And we just stop
Giving a ....

And let go

Blow after blow
Until we know
Who is in control

Of what is real
And what is
Made up

From atoms to the eave
Of our dreams
We must glean
What we need to

To get us through
These words
Of hurt
Out from lurking
In the work
Of our enemies

Forever tempting me
To blaspheme
In the wake

Of your passing

The endeavoring
Ever lasting
In careful mapping
Of the synapses
Into relief

Though brief

Locked in eternity
Oh the possibilities

My everything
And my humility

Locked in a single thought

In anxiety
Gone quietly

My hands before me


Always ready
Blanket me
In blank

Make me
Or break me

Take me

To forever
1.4k · Jun 2013
The Path
Michael W Noland Jun 2013
It was a trackless railway
In the woods
A bit misunderstood
And secluded

It was Illusionious
In its imprints

Its indentations
Of footsteps
In sections
With the phantoms
Of past steps

The glints
Of stimuli
Widened my eyes
In My
From feeble


In rhymes
In rows
In times
And places

But this time
It's just different

As I

Signed the sky
In denial
Of the price

And paid nothing
1.4k · Sep 2013
Michael W Noland Sep 2013
I saw ripples
Dimple into little dents

And they ruptured through
The door and into
My living room

Tiny sun filled slices
Sliced straight through

Tore my flesh
In molten sinew breath

My barrel pressed
To my head
And leveraged
With the depth

Of the situation

But patience
Patience wasn't my virtue

And I was blind
Blind but
Saw it through

Alive in death
The death before the

In the warmth
The warmth
Of the sunlit
Living room

Burning too
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