there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at ****** are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to **** you
to **** anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art

I used to think there was a secret room
In the dead space between
Full of whispered words
And secret things
Words that no one has ever heard
But then i grew
And thought i knew
That pipes filled those spaces
But now and then
I remember the spaces between
Sometimes As i drift to sleep  
I hear the whispered words
Of secret things that lie between

Its kinda disconcerting ,
The hole in the sky.
Darkness seems to slither in,
As beauty withered up and died.
The stars that once lit the night,
Are now just silent prayers.
See the only light in the sky,
Is that scarlet staring eye.
As many as there where once stars.
The monsters begin their waltz.
It scary the holes where demons come,
Within the hearts of men.

Death is a cosmic joke, the punchline.
Something we fear so much,
Yet its the second gift.
We are born into pain and madness,
As a lock fits the key,
Locked in our bodies till the death that sets us free.
With the dying of the light,
Comes another chance to be.

The sound was bitter
As walked from faith
Saying to myself
Its better this way

sometimes
i apologize so much
i feel like i'm saying sorry for my existence

Oh stay at home, my lad, and plough
The land and not the sea,
And leave the soldiers at their drill,
And all about the idle hill
Shepherd your sheep with me.

Oh stay with company and mirth
And daylight and the air;
Too full already is the grave
Of fellows that were good and brave
And died bacause they were.

Like love
There is a time for everything
Feel the days passing nights
Inside your hands hope blooms again
Long face lost soul
keep smiling
Perhaps the times will change

and the things I've forgotten
will line the seams of my mind,
and every last nail driven
into the coffin of my memory
will echo in my ears
just like they always have

so I'll quietly stare at these
photographs of tomorrow night,
when everything is alright,
and I'll just keep trying
to remember that they are
underdeveloped and overexposed