Where is everyone who knows what their doing
People who actual ponder the words their spewing
Who don't just falsify the metaphors around
And do more then fancifully describe absence of sound
Sure there may be no rules to this game you play
But still you do no good fiddling  in the grey
Sure it has a charming tone
That doesn't mean you have a single artistic bone
There's no formulated thought
Just basic patterns bought
Through the books you heard others sot
By authors who only gained value once they began to rot
So continue to spill your soul to those
Who's poetry lacks everything including a sense of prose

In the days filled with vacant eyes
Lost in the timid nature of hollow lies
A man was left too corrupt to realize
The exact root of his own demise

Blanketed in the emotions of doom
He forges his self made tomb
Leaving behind a dimly lit room
And the portrait of a family cartoon

Waves lapse in on a hollow shore,
creating an intelligible roar.
In the distance stands an hour glass on a hill,
filled to the brim by poly coated prescription pills.
With time seeping through the cracks,
the object seems void of facts.
Staring down into the oceanic abyss,
as though there was no element of life it would miss.
It seems blind to all that's going on.
Can't see there's no point, it won't be long,
until he's overtaken and shown to be a pawn,
placed upright as a cautionary tale on the local churches front lawn.

Apparently I'v been going through something of a phase,
eye's have become clouded by a sweet smelling haze.
Certainly not the child parents want to raise,
seeing their son indoors all day with an endless gaze.

So in a swift move at the end of the year,
Shipped off to a cottage with no one near.
Except of course the squirrels and deer,
maybe even an apparition created out of fear.

Believing that in my isolation I would find,
a personality more resigned.
Perhaps it was supposed to sooth my mind,
and prevent the regression of a life lived on rewind.

Losing yourself to someone new,
Looking down over a dusty pew.
Only by the knowledge of slim to few,
While they wait lined up in a dingy cue.

An uprising in a whailing line,
At the exodus hoping things turn out fine.
The collection of vibration,
From a rastaman's creation.

The cap only seemed to fit,
While lazily working the night shift.
Crazy baldheaded men going to war,
Feeling possative vibrations on the way to the store.
Pleading someone "cry to me",
Because the rat race was to hard to see.
Johny was, Roots, rock and reggae,
Wanting more of the things on display.

Pimpers paradise seemed so long.
We and them singing reemption song.
Coming in from the cold after work
After the zion train with a subtle smirk.
Pulled the bad card,
Made things quite hard.

Envisioning a road I'm not meant to walk along.
Acting as a misdemeaning pawn.
Trying to tread a path,
without undertaking wrath.
From ghostly figures,
who are quick to trigger,
emotions long left in the past.
Simply because they couldn't last.

Wouldn't take my own advice.
The reason...that's my vice.
Treading in the footsteps of giants,
leaves you less than defiant.

Wasn't able to define,
that effervescent line.
So now I'm left to pine,
stutter then whine.

There's no resolution here to discover,
because no ones quite that cleaver.
Maybe it's more about nothing,
or perhaps a smudge of something.
Sorry, I don't really know,
ask my friend on blow.
The answers could be more efficient,
in the form of a breakthrough rant.

Really I'm done now,
it's all I can allow.
This has gone on far too long.
Destroyed a simple 4 bar song.
So with all good adieu,
I say bye to you.

Lost traction,
in a disillusioned faction.

Thought prosperity could keep all afloat.
Instead it's left me to gloat.
About a lifestyle of inefficiency,
in an attempt to gain a touch of currency.

What a poor excuse,
for something so abstruse.
But it is a tampered explanation,
after large amounts of manipulation.

About the best thing I'm left to offer,
seeing as I'm a poor impostor.
But then again isn't everyone.
Seeing as we've all been outrun.

I seem to be able to pulse of these two lined sentences,
filled ****** misspoken penances.
With a bitterly true rhyming scheme,
from someone else's dream.
I can't tell if what I'm doing is right.
That would require breaking my line of sight.
So instead it's nickel this, dime that,
bouncing my way through a base beat on a tom hat.
The contradiction is clear to state,
but it's too confined to rate.
Pulsing back and forth,
off of wave forms down... north.
I got off topic, but that's all I seem to do.
Not like it's something I consciously choose.
Just seem's so natural to deviate,
from the things I can't alleviate.

Here I sit in a shed,
fueled by an appetite un-fed.
Unfortunately not for a burger and curly fries
But a distinguishable visage who tells no lies.

But then again if I continue to wait,
everything will be simultaneously late.
So I guess it's time to get off,
of an image more fictitious then something by Boris Karloff.

Just a Frankenstein of my own creation,
seeking some known relation.
While inhaling more than air.
Taking an unformulated dare.

I'm drunk,
and in a flunk.
I know speaking while inebriated may not be the best idea,
as well as tending to those with gonorrhea .
Sorry it just fit the rhyming scheme,
had not intent to demean .
But sentences seem to flow so clearly,
while under the influence of whiskey.
So I wonder if it really is something I should refrain from.
or an old wives told by doctors to seem fearsome.

Though to think like that your doomed for an early grave.
Liver failure is no grateful save.
So I suppose it's time I give up the delightful sin
before liver failure starts to win.
So farewell jaundice,
despite our fondness.
I'm giving up this clarity
for a new outlook and some moral prosperity.

So, I am simple, not rude.
Perhaps a little crude.
But, people usually won't act.
So it's dignity that they lack.
Sure my edges are torn and shredded.
Not as though this can't be mended.
Asking simply for the chance
to spark a bit of romance.
This request was met with pain.
Though it wasn't all in vein.
All I needed was a glance,
to inspire a hint of forward advance.
Although it could have been nice,
at me she wouldn't look twice.
So now I spend my days missing a friend.
Praying for my loneliness to end
I just need this to go away!
Find some shelter, a place to stay.
Just to try and weather the storm
and get back to my original form
Yet it seems no matter what I seek,
my arrangements appear far to meek.
I just can't escape realizing it's all too late.

I came,
             I saw,
                       I lost
No time to even pause

Now I'm left with a life un-lived.
Twenty years young with dreams well hid.
What is left for me to do,
but fashion myself a good ole noose?

Though I enjoy the sentiment.
I can't really deem it an accomplishment.
So now I retreat check the horn,
turn on the T.V and watch a little ****.

...
These seemly men talking to seemingly underage girls about a seamless transition into a whole new world.
...
Not even a past time I can enjoy,
scenes just drift by the by.
With one click,
I was on to a new flick.

Not quite Cinimax.
So no more visualized ******
Just the tale of a bride to be,
and the husband she could not bare to see.

(Insert True Love...)

Bride to Be:
Oh how could he do this to me?
I trusted him undoubtedly!
Now I lie upon the grass
Hoping one day a man will pass,
And steal my heart from my chest.
So I can escape this god awful mess


Fiance:
My heart is trapped inside,
A woman of a common kind.
Continually forced to pay the fee,
Of dealing with those bound to flee.
I swear I could give her all she needs,
the complete effect of fantasy.
But I would be remiss.
In not mentioning her recent fear to kiss.  

Bride to Be:
I am a wallowing bride to be
Wallowing in misery
A month ago surrounded in bliss
Until he had to take that risk
All because he heard a scream,
Trailing from a crimson stream.

Fiance:
My face is cut and torn to shreds,
And now my love won't be wed.
I only did what I thought was best.
Yet I was surely led to loneliness.
I heard a scream from down the street,
And so I immediately took to my feet.
Saw the face of a woman scorned,
And a man who saw fit to leave me adorned

Drowning in the sorrows of everyday life,
due to a fight at home with a rotund wife.
Things are never as bad as they seem,
...Well actually that depends on how much you let them mean.

But still with mildly corrected vision,
and possibly an unplugged ear to listen.
Things can sort themselves out,
before you go finding a noose to hear you pout.

I swear the chord offers little bounce,
as your life will be quick to trounce.
You'll be left to dangle in pain.
As you realize it was for no gain.

Lost souls on the boardwalk tonight

Their dreams D
                           O
              W
N
E
D
In a nearby bar fight.

Perched precariously close to the edge

They won’t ever forget this feeling of looking down over the ledge.

Everyone has a story worth hearing,

About misfortune, pain, or a poor attempt at stealing.

Yet they all seem to fall on deaf ear.

As these people stop they only seem to leer.