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Oct 2022 · 1.4k
Sunday School
Self pleasure is the definition of the Devil.
We must strike a happy medium,
for the soul is Christ yet the body is sin.

Life, a battle of what lies within.
I, myself, struggle yet seek holy kin.

Promise me virtue,
tomorrow you’ll forget.
Mold form, for my design is ****!

Edit the author, punish the script.
Fight the altar, praise the stripped.
Religious figures are but avatars of human virtues.
Nov 2020 · 408
Cancer and Lies
Death stared at me from the same recliner she always did.
Her veins wrapped around her legs like spider webs.
She poured pepper on her perogies and commentated for the TV,
“No whammy, no whammy, no whammy, Stop.”
I was too busy making plans on my phone.
“Isn’t this nice?”

Yes grandma

She used to clean her Catholic church on Saturdays.
I’d bring my toys she got me from McDonald's
and ran my race cars through the ramps filled with holy water.
She’d lay arms stretched before the alters and I’d follow suit,
but only in play. Our devotion was not the same.
“You make me so proud, my little Christian.”

Yes grandma

I’d spend nights for what must of been months,
because she lived in town where the parties were.
I was chasing tail, drugs and alcohol.
We’d both pretend she had no idea at all.
Our best conversation following a night of glassy eyes.
What we said I can’t recall.

Soon enough the pattern fell as I finished high school.
I moved away and walked new halls, an undergraduate.
It was in those halls my phone cried out and I soon after.
I drove new roads my eyes a flowing well.
We waited outside her room in vain.
I would not get see her that day.

I made a point to see her once she returned home.
She now sunk where her rear was once plump.
Her skin sagged relieved from the pressure.
Fluid dripped out her lungs the color of Pepto Bismol,
and they missed every second breath.
Yet, she was beaming, “Look how skinny I am.”

Yes grandma

I’d only see her once more, after another trip.
She slept in that same recliner as the TV played.
Wispy white hair, thin pressed lips and tired eyes.
Her head hung against her chest and I hid mine.
My sister asked if I’d like to wake her just to say hi.
I considered it, but thought better.

“No, I'll catch her next time.”
Recalling my grandmothers death.
It's still hard.
Jul 2020 · 175
Human
I love you so madly.
Your quirks and grins,
the many colors of your skins.
Harmonic melodies where progress begins.

I miss you so sadly.
Your peace and understanding,
the pinnacle of Humanity.
We've lost our tune, turning a minor chord on one another.

You disgust me, certainly.
Your shouting and screeming.
Like animals we fight, seething.
An unorganized orchestra of adult children.

I loathe you completely.
Your beatings and killings.
The streets run red from a rainbow of dead.
We've laid down our instruments and taken up swords.

Beautiful lives destroyed.
They hang like ornaments in the trees.
Beautiful lives taken.
You rip them from cars and leave them in the streets.
Beautiful lives forgotten.
As soon as we revisit our screens.

I want to love you, preserve you.
I feel I must destroy you from those who would pervert you.

I geuss I am you.
Poem based on current events in the USA as of July 04 2020.
Jan 2020 · 174
Progressive Aggression
When they chastise you for something you're not
eventually your protective walls will rot.
You begin to become the very thing you both feared,
a monster until the final shot.
Jan 2020 · 1.4k
Ramen at CC’s
It smells of cigarettes and 12 year old regrets.
Matted shagged rugs with creeping, crawling bugs.
There’s shouting from the back.

Humming coming from a ***** metal box.
A shrill announcement that it's time to get our fill.
We race back while trying not to spill.  

In my bowl is the same hard heat of imitated meat.
I run my finger across the couch. A halo of polyester,
where too long an ember was permitted to fester.

My friend had dawned new clothes,
a flashy new skin, but a month’s gone by.
Holes now show what she’s hidden.

Uncertain, she’ll dawn a new curtain.
Whether a lack of communication or a thoughtful hesitation
to force another her burden.
Jan 2020 · 212
Observations of a Cynic
I am so sick of pretending to care.
I’m so sick of taking this ****.
we seem to wish that someone would care,
but I’ll drop you for changing your hair.

I have grown sick of all politics.
Differing opinions, your all hypocrites.
I'm simply sick of cynical ******.
The way they love to polish their *****.

I hear what you say, “look in the mirror”,
That’s why I tend to chug my beer.
We all live in fear of all of our fears,
Brought on by distrust of all of our peers.

We laugh, we sneer,
We point, we cheer.
Then freak out to find that fingers point near.

I am so sick of living fear.
I am so sick if chugging my beer.
We seem to crave the fear we fear,
but hide in our safe space till everything’s clear.

I have grown sick of pretending to smile
Profit for virtue, is it all worth our while?
I’m simply sick of modern day style.
The way we stand in single file.

I hear what you say, “look in the mirror.”
It’s my reflection that I tend to fear.
I cannot face the way that I sneer.
I cannot face the way that I cheer.

I laugh, I sigh
I point, I cry
Then freak out to find pointing at me.
Jan 2020 · 146
Pappy John
I remember dirt, a taste of summer.
The smell of burning pig flesh.
The stench of my great uncles breath,
filtering through his beer drenched mustache
and running down his inflated stomach.

I remember laughter.

I remember the hallowed tree.
“Get your *** outta there” shouts a familiar stranger.
The anger I felt as I scratched my blistered skin
in the autumn breeze.

I remember poison oak.

I remember the smell of cinnamon
and spiked cider with Santa there on guard.
The snag of turning wheels on rug.
The chitter chatter of adults
as children pitter pattered around.

I remember Christmas.

I remember my tie was too tight.
“What a grownup you’ve become”
The smell of flowers and formaldehyde
loomed over forced smiles.

I remember leaving my family
in this showcase of the dead
Tackles the loss of an important family member.
Aug 2019 · 147
Losing a Dying Sun
A jack of all trades, but master of none.
I always lose track before the race is done.
You've just started this project, I'm already on the next one.
This task has lost its fun.

"I can't sit still. "
They offer a pill,
It takes off the edge and the also the thrill.
My blank stare gifts your spine a chill.
My mind thoughts, that another would ****.

Speak your mind, but choose your words wisely.
Your ideals must match ours precisely.
Lean even slightly right your career looks dicey.
But paint on a rainbow grin and you'll fit in nicely.

My soul beats ******* my hollowed husk
Veins vastly ventured by my pumping blood.
Inner rage riddles my raw, ripe wounds.
I scream blatantly, howling at dusk.

A Warrior, a beast, a four eyed freak.
A battle, a feast, a belittled geek.
My blue colored safe space torched and burned.
A Red blooded sence of grace honored and earned.

Conversation and Revelation a thing of the past.
Shouting and yelling or at best a gasp.
Others stagnation source my frustration and close fast my clasp.
You're setting my ways, an old man steadfast.

We have lost what we've won.
Cast out below a dying sun.
Mar 2019 · 142
Free Thinking
Talking politics has become a fruitless endeavour.
They'll hate you for questioning their own opinion,but except you to be grateful when they question yours.
People live in their own creations never thinking there could be other worlds.
I mask mine behind illusions for only those who listen can apperiate what it truly holds.

"Free Thinkers" not thinking belittling those that do. Tell me this do you?
We say people are all people, but it's an empty statement if you don't ask why, how, or who?
This world that you are building is self defeating, equality through quotas and elevating a selective few.
I don't judge you for your skin, please don't judge me by my hue.

The limelight is not a battle, God forbid that we share it.
Maybe there'd be more room if we were all judged by our merit.
I know that there are those of you that will love, like or hate it
The world is full of different veiws and although you might not change it,
The world would be a better place if on this we stood united.
Feb 2019 · 184
Drink up
Why does this poison leave a slack in time?
Or,
Is it rather a return to time?
Has it stolen the father and held him  captive within a glass bottle?
Rub it 3 times then chug the whole thing.
Feb 2019 · 148
Alternate
I come from privilege
I come from hate
I come from power
I come from money
I come from a top the tallest tower

I am not free thinker
I am not a lion, but a lamb
I am not angry
I am not confused
I am not becoming exactly who you think I am

I really didn’t mean to change
I really didn’t mean to offend you
I really didn’t mean to challenge your views
I really didn’t mean to challenge my own
I really didn’t mean to defend myself

What I want most is to separate
What I want most is the hate you accuse me of
What I want most is a burning nation
What I want most is your demise
What I want most is to lose myself
Jan 2019 · 181
She looks good in Pajamas
Fluffy, fuzzy, full grown adult,
she groans as she stretches.
Marks flowing out.
Every ditch, all the trenches,
you may start to doubt.

Early morning chills
and after noon siestas,
midnight thrills
and raving fiestas.
She whips them out still.

Cute, cuddly, captivating sight,
she drags me back to bed.
Crushing windpipes, she holds me tight.
The bags of her eyes lit and embedded,
her imperfections, my delight.

Tag-a-longs
and weekends away,
movie marathons
and the down the driveway.
Absent only when at play.

Bashful, budding bravely,
herself allowing comfort.
Brisk winds, I dive for safety.
I plot revenge, her days are numbered.
Our duals are aloft, crazy.

Night sky gazing
And role playing games,
Fandom crazing
And thinking of names.
For me their all amazing.

Dreamy, daring, lacking dramas,
We waste the day away at lay.
What honeymoon, perhaps the Bahamas?
I drape an arm, her skin like clay.
God, she looks good in pajamas.
Jan 2019 · 268
More
Understand me,
we all end on Earth

        decisions.

You, that bodies must become blessed,
The reason we can realize

          Peace.
Source: Mirror by Gary Weyandt
Jan 2019 · 205
Mirror
Mind boggling,
We are all entitled.
Blessed on this earth,
We must realize its end
ability,
it will move peace.

Our bodies exist
inside our decisions
and become,
Right now,
    Alive.
Understand that you can reason with me,
accept                                                                 
from your con.


The will to live just.
Source: Altoona Mirror Letter to the editor, ***** donation 'correct decision'.
-Jan. 2017
Jan 2019 · 161
Day Inn
Days inn
A flannel pillowcase, button up.
Teepeed toilet.

You follow the pizza guy 4 change.
He tried to take your side dish.

The shower's cold,
Tied shut with a shoelace.
Now hot, she is.

Running makeup
Your drink next to soap,
Life is good.
Jan 2019 · 124
The Itch
I have an itch.

There's something inside me.

Everyday it grows larger.
Like a hungry toddler, It whines and yells.
I, as a patient parent offer fodder,
But it continues to belt.
This, have it you ever felt?
A burning hunger for violence?
Your judgment starts to doubt,
Because I'm begging please!
I need your guidance!

Before I lose control.

This instinctive rage is hard to please.
Snapped pencils, crumpled paper, what's another few trees?
I'm told it's man's disease,
But he screams and disagrees.
On dark snow fields I beg the shadows.
I ask them for the fate that I chose.
A hungery lion, a frightening tiger, or a furious bear.
It's better their flesh then yours that I tear.

Dear God do I dare?

I have an itch inside me,

Its teeth begin to bare.
Jan 2019 · 2.0k
Privilege
I used to know you,
You used to know me,
I was told to hold you higher.
You were told I pushed you down.

I am a Slave Owner,
That must make you my slave,
Or so I am told.
Or so you are told.

I am entitled and in charge,
You are oppressed and left to discard,
Or so you tell me.
Or so I tell you.

I may speak freely,
You may only speak with permission,
So why must I bite my tongue?
So why do you shout at my sons?

When I go left I am a hero, a champion.
When you go right you are a trader to your kin.
You tell me I hate.
They tell you to hate.

I want to know you as I have before.
You say you know enough.
My canvas is blank, you've taken my brush.
I say the portrait you paint is unfamiliar to me.

You tell me to hush.
My world is shattered
And why you ask?
Because the animal within
Is just beneath the skin;
And it only wants to begin,
But every time it's about to breakout
You freak out
and reside within yourself and act out.

So you consume these poisonous toxins
That fill your vaines with fear.
So sure, grab another beer,
But you know that when it's all over you'll still be here.

You'll keep trying,
Even when you feel like crying.
Crying for that hand that won't appear.
But in its place you hold another tear.
Until the day you realize
That there's no time for fear,
Or crying,
Or even to shed a single tear.
Because in the end you know that we're all dying.
Mar 2014 · 427
Birth of a Hollow
Come here and bask in my agony.
Come here and drink the liquor of youths torments.
The ache of mornings breath on pre-aged bones;
a reminder of my unseemly existence.

Come forth and shudder under my presence.
Come forth and acknowledge me.
A pitiful attempt of overshadowing the dread within.
Masking such a stench only allows fermentation.

Step back and watch as I fall.
Step back and watch as your words unravel my world.
A pathetic string rapped around a feeble neck.
I fail with much dismay; alone with my thoughts.

Overlook me as I corner myself.
Overlook me as my tears run dry.
Overlook me as your words fail to hit:
for they've left my heart an empty pit.
For those who forget to feel.
Feb 2014 · 542
Social Class
These hands are cracked
from over work and lack of care.
Once fine oiled machines,
their gears propel lightly through rust and grime.

A mind of exhausted emotions,
broken down dreams, and dismembered hope.
Retained only through studied behavior
and societal judgment.

Living is merely a system of zeros and ones.
'Units' flow in-time of funding,
a routine tolerance permits.
Exhausting the grace
and sizable knowledge of life's good people.
Jan 2014 · 645
Rose Petal
The flower blooms with signs of hope.
Joy blinding sight from its thorns.
Whispering sweet promises within its roots,
budding blushing petals.

Built up from complements and time,
its walls ever harder to climb.
No tools in hand, no fuse to bind,
and yet it's crumbling, crushing under the weight.

What once was a muse has become a prison.
Hurling through the cement in vain.
Planted to the ground the flower remains,
for duty now reigns over pleasure.

It's thorns in full view,
petals no longer red have lost their hue.
The stem cracked and bruised.
My flower has wilted.

*It's waiting to die.
Jan 2014 · 425
Change
I remember when the stars had no meaning,
when trees were just trees.

The moon an empty light no purpose,
but that of giving sight.

I remember when the world changed.
Its inner meaning soaking through its unnoticed pores.

Empty light filling, overflowing with emotion.
Paths now visible, reachable, tamable.

I remember when the stars brought tears,
when trees brought life.
Dec 2013 · 570
Bionic Man
Steel, Frigid to the touch.
Tension of movement can be seen through the entire figure.
Eyes open, the glow of inner essence betray the Beast,
For no matter how cold it grows attachments still hold true.

Hands full of power are weak to gold strands,
Incapable of abolishing past ties.
The Beast watches it's body frost over.
A tremendous roar echos as the Beast raises.

The realization of contempt has fueled change.
This Beast, this Man tears away his metal crust.
Heat breaks through the cracks.
I sigh with relief as I finally see my own skin.
Nov 2013 · 1.1k
Fumes and Poison.
I need to speak my mind more often.
I need to speak it truthfully,
Pent up it fumes and poisons me.
Turns my tongue to ash.

Today I've noticed I didn't recognize myself.
Fires have warped my features,
Though unchanged my reflection
yields new connotation.

Poets once unheard
now rip tears from my eyes.
Music plays on repeat for hours,
Immersing me in a blanket of deceit.

I hide myself behind my mask of notes,
Submerging myself in an unbreakable bubble,
But its protective husk suppresses the peril within.
The truth is I'm suffocating.

My open wounds pus hate,
Scabbing over in deceit that only cracks with more hate,
Unexplainable angst inflames a desire to break out,
To speak my mind truthfully.
Nov. 30/ 2013
Nov 2013 · 1.8k
Chasing the Cheshire
You laugh to realize your life's perfect
As you chase the Cheshire,
Watching yourself run.
Thin as glass, you dare to be the skyscraper.

Unbreakable.

Your life beside you.
Your past behind you.
It has made you stone.
Unswayed by roads.

You choose your own.

As pitch reflects off pitch,
An unending forest before you.
Fireworks thrown back towards you.
You remain unflinching,

But forever touched.

Figures with hands the size of the heavens.
They flash again, but only for an instance.
Tears held by pride,
But none less meaningful.

Wind in your hand empowering you,
As you stare at a universe of gravel.
a jungle of wispy greens,
The travel brings you back again.

Life is wonderful, I won't let it spoil.
Written Aug. 12/ 2013
Nov 2013 · 512
Collapse
That moment when you feel your chest collapse
The world's at war and your isolated
Emotionless feelings to express your mediocre indifference
Joyous gatherings yielding only to bring plastic smiles

A pulling at your eyes yearn for attention
No matter how you try they never respond
A flash of reality only implements mentions of liberal sense
Necessity for prior involvement point to poison remedies

How do you maintain consciousness?
Why don't you dissolve into naught?
What grip sways your lingering reprieve?
when will your Atlas drop his arms?

Fade into Pitch

Still
You're content with being content
So the cycle remains
You feel you chest collapse
written Nov. 6/ 2013

— The End —