The song of the dead, is a most hollow tune

That fixes to the ears, of those coming soon

To the 6 foot kingdom, that lays beneath

The dagger is out, from the marble sheath

The roses spoke to me, as the rain poured down

They said don’t be sad, for the sun will surely rise

They blanketed me in their petals, and I became as colorful as the sky

All the while it seems to carry on, the wind blows regardless the moments that transpire

The world spins madly on, and the tides still remain on their destined patterns

I stand in idle somber confusion, as the winged dreams of my youthful former, soar to the heavens I don’t believe in

All the while everything moves to a motion, it all follows a pattern, I merely stand in confusion and wonder in sorrow

This world is watching close
Close to your very skin
So much into your eyes
A light very thin

With this doctrine
Do all these heads bow
You only peak up
Knowing you’re not allowed

This world is watching afar
In cities of grey
Waiting for your head
To sleep where you lay

And once the witch is free
And the crows are somber
You and your kind
Won’t exist much longer

Melting rain sprawling on the asphalt, mirroring the desolate buildings around.

With the beat down pick up truck parked near the gas station close by, it’s occupant smoking there last cigarette.

A smokestack stands alone near the lake, radiating a feeling of isolation, an obelisk of stasis.

Driving along seeing around, a town filled with failed lives and Leviticus in minds.

A masking plume seeps from the mouth of the stone giant, it exhales a heavy song of sorrow.

So many details that give a feeling of dread, driving past these images everyday kills the hope of getting out.

The blurred lines of reality and romantic denial seem to shape the mind. And I’ll ponder this dread, in the middle of gods belt, with the true masses of the country.

This summer has been gracious with blue skies, and the sounds of a harmony from the woods around

The mothers carry their kits and cubs, to places of safety and rest

The flowers do their best to hide from the eroding heat, the grass seems to dance with the waltz of the wind

But it seems my bones are still as hollow as the winter came, the spring never seemed to make them whole

Summertime blues as the song would say, but the blues are all but foreign to what is the trial in my mind

Alll the while I feel as the cardinal stuck in the grated sewers of Rome, no flight or cadence to sweep my sorrows to the skies above

I am a grounded leaf, floating to the streams of a modest river, never reaching the lake to take me to the beyond

This stasis is a peculair feeling, one of fuax majesty and no supreme devinity

The lonliness is a formidable nuiance, a scratching leech on the edges of my mind

The sun looks so bright on the mornings I wake up early, the rains that arise as quick as God’s sins, leaves as the innocence of the past

So tonight I’ll walk a wooded path to a place I never knew, for the unknown seems to be the only thing that has stability

Whisper no more, my sweet emerald
Save your breath, for the final moment
Sleep soundly now, in this end
My pain has ruptured, at your departure

I was never truly, able to save you
Now in this moment, I can do my best
To calm you now, as the darkness comes
And be the sunlight, that you always wanted

The marching cries of dark armies, the lambs breath halted by plumes of smoke and walls of flame

Ascend to the next plane, for this one has been scorched by hatred and malice, creatures of dread and pestilence rise from the ****** mud

In the primordial ooze of the human birth, crescendo’s of bashing hymns ring out in the echoes of gunshot blazes

Fires arise like an ignored diety, seeking its revenge

Standing on borders
Of all that is light
And off that is dark
Do you see man
Jumping across
Bleeding between two worlds
In his hand he holds bread
In his heart holds blackness
One finger to the sun
And one on a trigger
And before you can see the truth
He slips into the confusion
And we are left afraid

The vast shadows, that cross along the body of a doe
Five legs that sink into the snow, hooves that are breaking
The cabin above the tree line, in this valley of dead pines
A solemn gaze upon a world that is sick and diseased

don’t want to head outside, and become swept away from the storm that is raging

To be drowned in God’s black tears, to become another body laid to the graves of Babel

I wish to escape what is happening around, but the fates have set their sacrifices to my placement here

So I’ll sit from the shattered window sill and watch the storm, biblical in measure, chaotic in humanity

I don’t want to head outside, and become swept away from the storm that is raging

To be drowned in God’s black tears, to become another body laid to the graves of Babel

I wish to escape what is happening around, but the fates have set their sacrifices to my placement here

So I’ll sit from the shattered window sill and watch the storm, biblical in measure, chaotic in humanity

he awareness of a broken adolescence, when you know that it has slipped away into the sea

Oh how it becomes

When you look to the roads, and see they aged, cracks among the asphalt and despair in the colors

Oh how it becomes

Looking to your hands, to see how withered they became, to look at your face and see the sunken eyes

To sit in sadness among the lonely ghosts, to swallow of the sorrow of forced adulthood, to have blood seep from your smile

Oh how it becomes

To not deserve the despair of your broken childhood, to not have been the victim of the devils that befell you

It is a depression that truly never leaves, it is a anger that lines the grey of your skull

Oh how it becomes

But it gives a resolving strength, it gives the hide of the rhinos anger
It gives the resilience of rebellion, it gives the determination of future

Oh how it becomes

In the darkness it seemed you lived, how you live in the fog of the past
But you gain light to break it away, to walk with anger to futures of hope

Oh how it becomes

Sardonic is the day against the trees, how it looks to cast judgement upon the ground

What vitirol it holds for the human realm, how it seethes with poison on the soil

The day is doomed with this aura, never will it become more than just a somber storm

For the day has turned a vengful shade of red, it has shown its teeth to the sun, it has scraped its claws against the moon

Out the window the signs are clear, that the tides will not react to this haze, they will restrict and cower

So I look at the sky, and know the day is not at hand, I am alone in souless elements, only my will to call on in trials

How I saturate in the flames of chaos, and sit calmly with a cup of tea

How I spit out my vicious blood, and watch it spiral to the abyss

For chaos is real, but so am I

The Devil told me as I sat legs crossed, in the dreary wheat fields I spend my time

That the world is a dark place, cruel and malicious in its nature, that God merely is a vacant father to his children

The Devil spoke of his disdain; his contempt for God, how he loathed him so

That he was merely only the gatekeeper, that the evil of humanity did not come from Hell, but came from within

I looked with a dreary gaze and said what of evil, is that how you say it is so for this world?

Maybe God never wanted this to be correct, merely a test, a trial on how things would transpire

Maybe he knew all along how it would go, maybe he knew that this moment would come to fruition

Maybe you are God yourself? Dressed in devils skin to mask the sin you will not admit to

Maybe you are afraid of what you have done, afraid to know the dark honesty of all this

Maybe because you aren’t so powerful, merely human, as human as the rest of the world

I live in a forest of fallen sunflowers, old and wise, they speak to me of the days gone by

When the sun sets among the wilderness blaze, they tell me night is befalling, and I must make my departure

They tell of decades ago, how they’ve watched as humans lived their lives, most rotten in nature

They spoke of the one that used to tend to them, how gracious and kind, how pure and warm

For the sunflowers spoke with melancholy, for they knew that their former caretaker was well gone

So for a moment they wept their tears of seeds, and sung soft melodies of their former caretaker

They spoke to me and warned of the evils of humanity, how they were too once the victim of the evil

They asked why humans destroyed what’s beautiful around them, why they wish to sabotage what keeps them breathing


But they spoke to me and said I was a rare human, one that had good intention, and a sensitive heart

As night began to fall, I left the forest of sunflowers, carrying their tearful seeds

To spread as I walked away, to maybe rejoice and create life once more

The forest I hope will remain tomorrow, that it stands the test of time

I once walked upon the house of god, inside was a fog made of dust
The spiders silk all along the walls, the stale air of times neglect
And I saw a chair at the end of the hall, etched in blood I saw words
Throne it said, and no sign of life was around the house
Only the succumbing feeling of uneasiness, uncertainty
Was this the house of god, or was the just a house, merely a house
Had I found something I was never meant to find

the leviathan sheds its skin again, they form mountains of decay and rot

the ground around becomes poison, seeping into the waters around

the moth flies towards the flame, not knowing of the fate it has

i throw my body into the grey, hoping to find myself somewhere else

the leviathan begins to scream aloud, and the sky begins to bleed

i hold my breath in primal fear, unsure of what will become

The discomfort of self, the sheath of truth crumbled by the church preaching ignorance and bitterness

God does not look upon you with grace and love, this is what they tell you

You are poisoned, grotesque, morbid, monstrous, and vile

You are the product of mistake, you are the cancer that is destroying this already decayed society

We did not do this, it was you

We stayed in our homes with our wine and hate, we abided by the rules, but you didn’t

We made those rules to keep you in line, why did you think you could say they were wrong, because you are a human too?

We built our castles of sand and limestone with our own hands, we built them upon the bodies of the meek and helpless

We honored their lives by casting their lives as our own, we bastardized their marrows with our own

We told you what you are, but you say you are something else, if only you would follow us you would be happy

We are the solution, just adhere to our creeds and rules, while we punish and demonize you for your self worth

This is the motion we have made in stone, stained by blood and sorrow, this is what we say, this is what we sow

Our time of punishment will never come, there is no fire coming to burn us

We hide that fire in our closets, the smoke is only an illusion to us

We are not beasts, we are not vile

These are not fangs dripped in innocent blood, these are not claws marked by tears and pain

We have dressed them up in suits and dresses, we are the wolves among wolves

You mark us as the problem, how dare you, we did no such thing

We only lit the fires to keep you warm…

We will not burn, for we are made of hide and steel

You will suffer for going against us, for trying to be yourself

We will start wars to keep our order, we will torture to keep our peace, we will bully innocents to make them conform to us, we will **** to keep our power

The discomfort of self, the sheath of truth crumbled by the society preaching ignorance and bitterness

That take flight through the flight gates between the fingers
Flying to the destinational end, where hope and sorrow sit tandum in somber stare
With clashing hopes and dreams, against the head of the moment

How fast can the moment lose control?
It seems that answer will find oxygen in the coming minutes
With scotch tape bandages across the breast plate
Stopping the black bleeding wounds from exhausting the moment

Soon the world will swallow the light, and the titans will slumber
The cusp of reality will bleed into the bleakness of rain on asphalt
The moment will not know what to do then, how to go forward
It seems that the moment has passed, and it has missed its chance

This nation does not value, our fellow citizens of color, in reality it never has

Denial is quite the dessert for those that are oppressing, but truth is an acid, that burns all materials

This is a nation of wolves, feeding on the meek that have no ways, to combat the rules they force

Be in the party of denial, that is quite okay, just don’t expect respect or decency

For you are as guilty as the oppressor, for you are the problem, not a solution

I sat on the edge of the rivers mouth, watching the sun set slowly behind the eyes of forever
There in the dusk a pack of coyotes approached me, they asked of my somber state
I said my sorrow was with morality, the thoughts of my death and the dismay of human suffering
One of the coyotes scarred with deep wounds from years of survival, approached me closer
He said I have been from the moutains edge of Appalachia, to the rivers of Savannah
Life is a fragile and cruel thing, our kind knows of the suffering of existing day to day
Life isn't a waterfall, it is the blink at which you do at the waters cascading down
Death is the pool which the water collects, all living things end up there
You must not ponder why, only ponder what to do next
For it will be gone human, as all things go
I merely looked and nodded a heavy sigh
The pack nodded back in unity, and carried on
And I looked back at the sun, disapperaing in the forever
So I took my heavy legs to a step, and walked from the mouth
To the limbs of Oconee, and walked to my place of rest
To ponder my next

Apathy is a most infectious disease, a grueling illness in the hearts of the human populous

For if there is no cure of this plague, it will surely be the sounding horn to our own extinction

Nights where no sleep occurs, oscillating nightmare drips across my eyes

A dinner consisted of two Jumbo Push Pops and lukewarm orange soda

As these walls begin to make more sense, I grow more terrified

The lamps knitting scarves and gloves for me, to survive these harsh cold slumbers

Growing out of my fingernails bark, each day I measure the progress

Soon the sheets will swallow me, and trim will skin be close to salvation in wolfs pelt

When the wind brushes against the windows, the sunlight halo settles on the green grass below it
There your voice will be, as subtle as the rain that falls in the evening grey, so calm and timid on the blades of the small churches
And when the wind goes away, the crunching of the dead leaves will be your steps, as you walk eternally through your wooded kingdom
You have become the princess of the forest, you have become the spirit of the animals, the protector of the trees
The flowers bloom as your eyes, the petals the color of your smile, the stem your arm reaching to hold me close
You have become the infinite universe, you have become the stream of life, that river which flows through all of our mortal bodies
Never will I see the sadness upon your face, for you will always be in the majesty of the pines, the grace of the weeping willows
The fox will be your words, the orange of it’s tail the hums you will sing all along through those woods
And when I find myself in the tendrils of darkness, weeping hollow tears into the palms of my hand
You will be the moon, shining on the crowns of the trees, singing me a midnight song in the silent solace

Sickness is the laces of our words we burn into skins

Meandering like scholars in this play yard of our generational whims

We will soon have to reap what we sowed, in our irony and inactivity

All for the sake of status and hedonistic introspection

In the afternoon sun, a swarm of bees confided in me of the days ahead

They spoke of their deaths in a sorrow and fear, that they knew their lives were set to a fast clock

They told me of their ancient wisdom, how they have been since the days before human

They told me of the pestilence that will arise from their departure, and to take caution in their premonition

We will be to blame for what happens when we leave, they said

But it will be the human ego that starts the fire, and greed will have been the gasoline

Those trees will beging to dry, the animals become famined and dead to you

Take our warning with dread and awareness, for this a future that is sure to happen

Humanity will have been its own destruction

On this road, does the black tarnish smell of death
Clasped in tree hands, the clothes of those once organic
In the high tops of the willows, hangs a lonely suicide
The air desolate of any breath, only carbon monoxide clarity

A world that has hung its head, and has eaten all that did not see
Now do beasts roam, filled with acidic humanity
Gnashing teeth at all moving, setting fire to any green
This march of sorrow, has crossed the plains and mountains

From the wes the California skyline, ablaze like a victorian candle; a majestic sight cut with screams
In the northwest, the great  trees fallen in Washington, titans of once something pure

In the the Great Lakes, a pestilence carved out with rib bones
In the south, peanut fields and farmland mere toys to a malicious force
in the Delta, the swamps all gasping for air, choking in silence
In New England, the cities and metropolitan philosophy

A match burnt away in a gale of hatred
On this road, does the ash begin to pile
The cries of help, become ambient noise
And the trembling hands, soon become frozen

Born into darkness, a space of flashing consuming orbs in the outer rims

Of this sliver of cosmic abhorrent existences

Crashing against young minds with no sense of empathy or care

Filling those innocent souls with jaded sighs and black streaked blood

Never a chance they had, to see the world through a brighter scope

Only the reality of a concrete road littered with trash and dead rodents

There is no grace with these decayed churches, only hate and ignorance in these pews

You wail of love and understanding, oh how wretched you can truly be

You'll burn the ground you stand on, and burn your own flesh, just so your ignorance is protected

The faith you hold is a very ****** thing, it's poison to the innocent that you say you love

The few who do not wish to partake these actions, who say it is not all of their congregation

It does not change the ignorance, if it bothers your soul as so, you are the few who must have the want to change it

Being apologists does not excuse you, you stand idly by while the other wolves cause suicide and self hatred

Oh how the church is a joyful thing, joy for their own greed and hatred, believing they will get to heaven

How very strange, and yet sad

Myabe tomorrow will be a different kind of day, something that may catch me by surprise, that will give me the most joyous sense of content

It will happen with unexpected grace, a day that may be filled with happiness and grace, something that will come as a sunrise among the clouds

I don’t wish for something of lavish action, nothing within the realms of grandiose, no requirement to have a vein of amazement

Tranquility and peace are something that would be nice, simple leisures that the birds always enjoy, that the deer in the forest enjoy in twilight

Maybe this is something that will happen tomorrow

My nails are rotted

Soon it will be just skin

And I will have to dig my way out

All the way to the bone

You told me once, of my inherent ugliness
That I was a "fat"
That I was "prideful"
That I was "vain"
That I was "headstrong"
That I was "flawed"
That I was "unloveable"
You aimed to crush me, for your own pleasure and gain
But I knew better, for I realized
What you were really saying, you hate my joy, and I loathe you have it
For I am ugly on my insides, and wish you unrest
I took your words, and threw them to a fire
And walked along my path
With my "fat"
"pride"
"vainity"
"confidence"
"flaws"
With joy on my cheeks, and grace, in my heart

t’s hard, to use the method of escapism to deal with the reality around

For writing, music, games, art, reading, can be mesmerizing to distract

But sometimes it isn’t enough

And you still have to cry into a pillow alone at nights

Though it may sound as melodrama, the harsh reality is it’s true

For many are not lucky to have grown up in good homes

To have had loving and caring parents

That pain sits like a razorblade pillar in your stomach

And your tears sting your cheeks like saltwater acid

Then you have to muster up strength, and keep your hopes on an even level

And for those that are the unfourtunate ones, always know that you are wonderful

And that your cage isn’t permanent

My arms begin to grow twigs,

                  my eyes turning to bark

The legs below become hollow trunks,

                                          my mind lessening in reason

You are memories, so eternal and immortal

Your death was a great sorrow, but you live on in love and virtue

You were more than a name, you will be more than a tombstone

You will be the stars in the sky, the grass on the earth, the clouds in the sky

The moon in the night, the fish among the rivers, the winds among the trees

The sunlight among the crystals, the echoes of cities, the singing of birds

You are gone from the mortal world, but you still live in the world of love

When the breath is heavy like a fog, the hard part is seeing

Feet won’t move, no matter the strength being used

Teeth being cracked by the tension

All of it becoming lost to time

Matter and then ash

Then ash to the winds

Give me all your cosmos

For I need to get lost in eternity

To find something called

Happiness and stability

Behind the rain curtain, I saw the place of your rest

I laid orchids on it’s ethereal grace, and saw my memories flash like thunder

There you were, becoming one with the planet

As a walked as a mammal, unknown to the angels above or below

There is no right or wrong in this life, merely living

And I’m tryin to live as much as I can

For the both of us

I sat down in these fields of vanilla orchids, waiting for the sun to set, turning them to a shade of yellow

Among the shadows of their leaves, I saw your face along the congregations

I saw the radiant beauty of your smile in the colors, the exuberant joy in the dancing of the wind

Your presence was among the serenity, a guardian joy grasping my hand, as I reached to touch the clouds with my fingertips

Your canvas was among the docility of these orchids, how gorgeous and wonderful you are truly

A magnificent creature painted among these fields of vanilla, how sweet and illumnating you are in my soul

When I laid my head to the evening earth, you warmth lay as a blanket around me

I held in reaction, knowing you are love in my bones, and joy in my eyes

Time is cold, it is passive
It leaves scars on the glass
And erosion on the nail

So I make my crown,

From dead leaves and the fogs sorrow

And cast my kingdom

To be among the fallen pines,

And the abandoned animal dens



I do not have wealth

My subjects vast and scattered

My eyes dark as the tree trunks

My teeth as brown as the sap



My hands hold my sword

Made from weeping limbs

That I guide towards a sun

That never seems to set on me



And in this place,

Can I feel this peace

Some illusion of content

A fractured dream of stability

The heart of all this confusion, resides among those summer graves, were I buried the bodies of my former selves


Etched in the rotted wood, resembels the signs that I used to know, graves made in the presence of a fox den


Reminders of the shackles that can arise, to step into the waters and swim to better lands


For it becomes a disease, a curse, a ******* sorrow


To progress into the darkness, and not get swalloed by the past abyss


But to find the tunnles, that lead to those fields you dreamed in solidarity


To smell the nature of peace, and eat the fruits of joy


To live

The sound of frustration reigns angelic, a hymn most familiar

Is it anger that will keep this back

these dark corridors that roam in your skull, house the things that trouble you most  

A gas lantern that is your only way, to see the path ahead. Winds try with their might to blow it out

How long before lighting that flame becomes a ritual, and progression is a faint scratch upon these doors