Dance beyond the mystic moon
and further than your dreams
let this river flow on by
in lustful endless streams
kiss me drowning in this water
swallowed by the sea
are all my aching alibis
I swear it wasn't me

I write this poem from nothing
no inspiring thoughts come clear
I write for sake of writing
in hope that someone hears
my heartfelt cries of loneliness
are shallow unwiped tears
these words I write upon this page
are just hollow unkempt fears

I drink coffee
from a mug
that says
"I love tea"
because I have
a healthy sense
of irony

If life is a river
and god is a clown
can a soul be sold for silver?
can a heart in sadness drown?
Can the words I write
upon this page
seem utterly profound?
When all my thoughts
are broken dreams
I've picked up off the ground

I've seen through a cosmic alliance of eyes,
and brought back a truth
from those who have died.
A spiritual race is this mortal man,
beginning as one, but became rival clans.
As time goes by the blood starts to fall,
then stands up a man to call himself God.
God is the angel of death in disguise,
building his churches to spread all his lies.
The blood keeps on spilling
while he just gets rich,
and we keep on saying,
ain't life a *****.

Sleep take me please
put me at ease
dream an adventure
abandon uncensored
if only to wake
with your breath
on my nape

A poet within the midst
of his own creation
born into his own trap
his chosen madness
ticking away
his prophets profoundly
faking the pain
piously urging him
to do it again
till he's sane