Gaze away at the iridescent Cemetery sunrise
While harbouring anger
From previous lifetimes
The seeds of petty discontent  bloomed into a field of sorrow
In it lies a path
That meanders through
Tracing the origins of tragedy
And leading back to the womb

Memories of October
When you were highly favoured
Are etched on your skin
Like old scars
Brought back from war

You dissolve in the shadows
Of the light shines upon them all
Always the forgotten

Struck with two little arrows
Is your heart in your hands
Always in your trembling hands

Your resolve wore thin
Safe as houses no more
No longer will you bury yourself
beneath these sins
The flood of aftereffect
Is corroding what remains
When the time comes
I will stand on the gallows
Beside you.

I want to be the one who silences your demons
I want to be the pain that spurs you to run with the wind
I want to be the love and light you ask in your darkened dreams
I want to be the hushed voice in your head amidst screams of nothingness
I want to be the gentle wind that moves you to goosebumps
I want to be the feathery touch at dawn as you rise
I want to be the whispers of the moon and the anguish screams of the thunderstorm
I want to be the sweet nectar of heaven and the devilish sting of hell
I want to be the cawing crow that awakes you
I want to be the gentle nudge that calls your attention
I want to be all that and more
Are you ready?
Give me fierce fiery hell or banish me to heaven
Give me all or nothing
don't give me half hearts and lukewarms
I'll spit you out and have the dragons trample you
Give me you or give me nothing
I'm here wanting and waiting
Are you ready?

I came to see the casket
An open heavy thing
And what I saw inside was
Decomposition's hymn

A song without a spirit
That never should have died
Remember when you killed it
Remember how you cried

The reoccurring nightmare
That shook you from your sleep
Had made its way outside of
The consciousness you'd keep

The ceremony's over
And now I must confess
My person is the coffin
The coffin is my chest

It is the waiting hour
And our time is nearly up
But what will matter when it comes?
When our waiting stops

So we clutch our dying dreams
And watch the embers burn
An hour gone's
An hour lost
But our waiting doesn't stop

It is the waiting hour
And these dreams will never end
sometime soon
Around that bend
It'll come and end our pain

But the time is running out
And our lessons never learned
The waiting done
Will make us Dumb
And death won't stop a thing

It is the waiting hour
Our time is nearly up
nothing will matter when it comes
When our waiting stops

prognosis
for gnosis
unfortunately
poor for us

enlightenment
eschewed
like a bad
case of
halitosis

veins of
understanding
constricted with
thrombosis

open minds
burst from
chronic
trikanosis

students and
teachers lack
a needed
symbiosis

antibiosis
trumps
scrabble
word
biocenosis
for the sake
of a bit
of silly
exegesis

oh my
gnosis
where for
art thou
angel
peda go
go sis


Music Selection:
Esperanza Spalding -
I know You know

Oakland
4/2/14
jbm

(Please read entirely)
Her life began to become the dark room she always ran away from
The memories in her mind were the reminder of who she was
The times she spend in the darkness of her room,
Were now the reminder of what she became
And the sparkle in eyes,
Were only captured in the pictures of a younger age.
She tried to hide it with a smile
With a nice compliment
With a positive attitude.
But there were times when she was alone,
when she couldn't and didn't,
want to think
or remember
and much the least,
she didn't want to let it become her present
But how could she find a way to erase it from her mind
How much must she do,
to let the memory die!
It might have taken many things:
Suicidal tries
Drugs
Alcohol
All types of pills
and anything
Superficial
like cutting
and self-hurt
it didn't matter how she tried
or who she was,
She let the memory become a daily nightmare
She let it become an obsession
Until she met someone
He wasn't like the others
He wasn't like anyone else
Because no one else did for her what he did
He was a king,
and became a peasant for her
He was the ruler,
and he excepted rule for her
He became hated,
and loved his enemies for her
She rejected him so many times,
Yet he put his life in for her
When she found him
She was too blind to see him
So he gave her sight
When in the water she was cleaned
And she wanted some to talk to
he gave her his spirit
so she could hear him
They talked together
In a language that only he could understand
In a language where her true feelings,
were the words that came out
She had no need for blades,
No need for pills,
No need for nothing else
She was free from the chains
Of lies
Thievery
Hypocrisy
Hatred
*******
and many more things!
He gave her everything and his name is Jesus
He is the father of those who need him
The son on those who want him
And the holy ghost for those who must hear him
He is the only things she needs

we dream
not to
see
smell
touch
hear
taste

but to
*be

death:  |deTH|
              noun
              the end of the life of a person or organism
doesn't scare me



death*: |deTH|
             noun
            the inevitability; fact that it will eventually visit everyone sometime; no way out; the waiting
does.

Thy overzealous, sustained presumption
is akin to this, my long-seeded indignation.

Thy seemingly effortless pretension
and blatant disregard for implication
creates quite the hypocritical situation
seemingly devoid of deliberation.

Thy egotistical ostentation
does not evade much observation;
this is thy choice, such alienation:
I anticipate resentful perturbation.