Constant enigmatic status,
see me in the back of the pack standing static
or maybe slipping a slick soliloquy
like olive branches to panicked masses.

Violent demeanor don't overreach or
it'll be sure to see you swiftly burned
like pints of ether.

My smile disguises bedlam,
incessantly caching weapons,
I could storm the pearly gates
and boot God out of ******* heaven.

Fear me, dear.
For though my tongue drips with honey
and words flow from my mouth smooth as midnight silk;
A volatile demeanor and proficiency with word craft
can see this sugar turn to venom with the swiftness and severity,
of a lightning strike.
I will cut you down.
Fear me, dear.
For though in this moment I describe my adoration,
as though its' power would make a super nova pale in comparison.
Too much time creating my own little worlds,
in which I incorporate all that which has caused my bliss and sorrow,
has blurred my reality.
You will become another story.
Fear me, dear.
For though my smile melts you as a hot knife through butter,
and you hear every word I speak with a tone of utter sincerity,
I'm far too fond of writing truth between the lines,
of layering what I really feel so deep it's near impossible to find.
You will never know.
Fear me, dear.
It's for the best.

A series of flashing lights simulate a reality that no longer extends farther than the boundary of your back door.
You sit complacently in your living room while the world outside your window turns to ash and the re-constituted chemical pastes you eat as food slowly transform your body from flesh to a synthetic meat by-product.
I am more preservative than man
Your perpetuated existence is a lie. Maybe once the plugs pulled those incessantly firing neurons will catch up to what's already done and stop.  You've been decomposing for years but haven't lived enough to ******* notice.
That's it folks,
the show's over.

You do not piece back together
shattered glass,
you sweep.

Hate man, it soaks to the bone,
leaves you eatin' animosity, every night, alone.
And I know, it can be an easy thing to harbor
but brother understand, it only makes the heart harder.
A slow burn, just like the end of a cigarette,
sometimes it's easier to cling than it is to forget.
That's why I highly advise you breathe easy,
cruise on through it like fluid, smooth in movement.
And my brother please let your wrath fly freely,
Never aim it like a gun waitin' for you to **** and shoot it.
I recognize, life leaves you searchin' for answers you can't find,
,but it's better to let go than to poison your own mind.
I hope you listen to this message I'm sendin'
and try to get a grasp on the lesson I'm stressin'.

We will NOT,
destroy this planet.
Long after the human race,
has dissolved into nothingness,
our earth shall remain.
We will however,
most assuredly destroy ourselves.
We will cloud the air,
we will poison the water,
we will soil the land.
In our arrogance,
we will destroy ourselves,
but not
this planet.

In a valley dark and dead, a little lamb did lie,
he'd given up, enough's enough! And here I'll tell you why.
You see his spirit had worn away, with every fang-ed smile.
This meager sheep was born and raised, within the land of lions.

The little lamb toiled all day, he struggled to find a purpose
while everyone he'd ever known, just filed into the furnace.
He looked around at all the lines, how they carried on for miles!
But this is just the way it goes, when you're in the land, of lions.

And despite the effort he'd commit, the cycle wouldn't stop.
All hope was lost or beaten out, of his meek and wayward flock.
They'd turn their heads and softly say “We do admire your defiance,
but we're very sorry, little lamb, this is the land of lions.”

Many thanks to all of you,
who've given me their time.
Took a pause from busy days,
to read this drunkards lines.
I've never asked for compliment,
but some are so inclined.
I still am shocked to see such praise,
on these, my humble rhymes.
So again my friends, I give my thanks
you all are much too kind.
And I hope a few have had some fun,
in skimming through my mind.

Everything we never said,
every ounce of love I bled,
the memories I thought were dead,
the silence spells it out.
And what I believed I'd beaten down,
the feelings I thought strangled out,
It's got me reeling, nearly kneeling now,
the silence sounds it out.
Foreboding like the coming rain,
or worse yet winds that sound like trains,
I choke on sorrow, drown in shame,
the silence screams it, now.

I'll be honest
with you
friend
It's a long, dark, hard ****** road
we walk
You and I
It's gonna tear your heart out!
Spit on you
kick
you
when you're down
and
no one is ever going
to be
what you need
expect
I'm tellin you
roll with it
It
is
supposed
to hurt
It's not all
sunshine
and roses
But
at least
you'll feel something.

My heart weeps for those lost,
those yet to lose.

We are everything.
Every man, woman, child,
every living thing that ever put forth energy on this earth.
You are the culmination of millions of years of energy,
being recycled.
I like to believe this is why some of us feel we know things,
or people,
that we have no logical reason to.
The energies converged,
at least once.
And though dispersed and reformed,
into something new,
the resonance remains.
This is why I do not believe we ever go forward alone,
into the dark.
Energy will always flow onward,
companionship is therefore not only inside you,
but beside you.
Tangible or not you are followed,
and filled with,
the energy of a million lives that have been,
and will be.
Keep doing.
Keep being.
Keep flowing.

The crickets,
sing of nothing.
While,
the stars watch,
in equitable silence.
I,
think of screaming,
my rejection,
to the sparkling void.
Cigarette smoke,
pirouettes,
in the wind.
Grace.
It all means nothing.
Clouds consume,
the scenery.
Rain,
drowns the music.
So it goes.

What are we ?
Just a flock of sheep,
steady standin in line for the lions to eat.
I don't mean to preach,
but it seems to me,
that we ceded control with weak critique.
And,
Who are you?
Another part of the group,
You will never be a predator you will always be food.
Don't be confused.
You were openly used,
you were never a partner you were always a tool.
So,
What path to pick?
Diplomacy's kicked,
it's time to hit the streets with switch blades and bricks.
The system's sick,
the cure for it,
be-head our politicians slip theirs skulls on sticks.

I'll sit and smoke a cigarette with death,
before we step.
We'll share a couple shots of bourbon,
then we'll down whatever's left.
I could argue on our love,
and all the memories we've kept.
But a part of me is bound,
just to stand and accept.
I don't enjoy a wasted word,
it'll leave me bereft.
So I'll just look him in the eye,
take a drag and save breath.

Here comes my little chick-a-dee.
Here to sing of sin and sympathy.
Come to spill the truth to me.
Don't tell me brother.
Don't tell me brother.

These hills hold riddles in the lime.
The stars keep on telling me I'm fine.
I just can't seem to find the time.
Please save me sister.
Please save me sister.

Can't help but live within my past.
The sun sheds light on what I lack.
Everything I breathe turns into ash.
Forgive me father.
Forgive me father.

Sometimes,
all you need is strong drink,
and a couple good friends,
to part the clouds.
All that drunken truth,
spilled so sloppily,
it can lighten the heart.
Lift the weight from shoulders,
even release a little guilt.
Yea,
life's mostly misery perpetuated,
but little moments like this,
make it worth the while.

I was born into the wrong generation,
just a little too late.
The revolution is dead.
I see cops **** citizens,
almost every day.
And not a single brick gets thrown?
City Hall isn't torched?
Are we really this hollow?
Are you people that ******* callous?
I bide my time,
hoping my brothers will wake soon.
When they're ready,
I'll show our so called shepherds,
there were wolves among their flock.
Our teeth are sharp.
And our stomachs empty.

I have a number of uncles,
though their blood does not flow through my veins.
They are my fathers brothers,
for these are men who have seen the jungle,
as he once did.
Brothers forged,
through the trials of war.
Feelings of guilt and regret.
One by one I have watched,
as these strong men,
these warriors,
have entered the grave.
Taking a piece of my father,
along for the ride.
The world is a darker place,
at their loss.
But all have earned their rest,
some peace.
I've seen much of despondence,
in this life.
But I lack the words to describe the sorrow felt,
when a warrior cries.

A rare night indeed,
when I find my whole world aflame,
with the light of life
and of love.
All the more noticeable
for my exit from the shadows.
All the more appreciated
for a life spent in the dark.

Death beside me, softly waiting.
He gave me time for contemplating,
Past mistakes and wrongs I’ve made.
I truly thank that somber shade.
On borrowed time I cleared my mind,
Prepared myself for one last dive.
He whispered patiently in my ear,
“It’s time to go but have no fear”
“I’ve been told to lead you, toward a light”
And so I rose without a fight,
And took death’s hand and let him lead,
He’d given me the time I’d need,
To rest my mind and heavy heart,
Before I followed into the dark.

I dreamt that I slept,
in a field full of sunshine,
near a creek that flowed slowly,
where the wind gently blew.

And I woke with a stretch,
and a sigh and a yawn
and I saw a lost angel,
with eyes, bright as jewels.

Her lips were like velvet,
her skin soft as silk
and she spoke with soft grace
her words like glass, smooth.

Well I reached for my angel,
and, this dream fell apart.
The scenery faded,
for dreamers are fools.

I think I know,
the pain that must have come,
while fighting and dying in battles of old.
Solely from the ache in my heart.
I like to imagine,
you shoved a spear right through,
or split it's center with an axe,
cleaving it, in two.
But no,
you did more than just halve it.
You stuck the knife in,
gave it a savage twist.
Tore that wretched pump to pieces,
and then you spit,
on it.
So now I wander,
a wounded man,
no place left called home.
The only thing I'd known as such,
was the land on which you roamed.

I preach peace and reason while I'm loading my guns.

My words won't seem to flow of late,
a couple lines then rhymes deflate.
Too soon they stumble, thoughts abate.
From mouth does tumble basest prate.
Maybe whiskey, swallowed straight,
or potent herb, consumed in weight
will end this twisted, tragic state
of yearning pen, without will to sate.

It was on the walk home,
from school.
A path I always took,
with slow deliberation.
That Frank sidled up to me.
"Hey man, you ever smoked bud?"
Reaching into his sock,
he produced a small bag.
"You wanna?"
That Cheshire grin.
We slipped off the road into a small pine thicket.
He shoved what I'd now refer to as,
"Bricked out Mexican grown *******,"
Into a little metal pipe.
This was no,
"I didn't get high the first time" event.
No,
I got ******* ******.
I wandered my neighborhood after,
for quite some time.
Everything was beautiful.
The colors of the trees and the houses
all burst forth!
Brilliantly vivid.
I journeyed home and came to find;
the beratement, the hate,
it rolled off
like so many drops of water.
I fell asleep listening to "No Quarter,"
for the thousandth,
but the first time.
Life never was the same,
after that.

Just wasted days
and wasted pay.
All you've said was wasted praise.
Wasted time,
and wasted dreams.
Most of life's a waste,
it seems.
I'll waste away,
just smoking haze,
with every second I'll waste my brain.

So much death.
Twenty-two years of life
and I have experienced,
so
much
death.
My heroes all died,
as they will,
when youthful ignorance
turns to a bitter understanding on the reality of men.
We are flawed.
But it didn't stop there.
No,
year after year it seems,
death reaches all too soon.
A drug overdose,
a car accident,
a suicide.
One by one,
friends, family and enemies alike,
all have passed.
Some sought the grave,
some simply stumbled upon it.
It's all the same though,
the dead slumber;
the living carry on.
Until they don't.

All my attempts
to grasp upon inspiration
that will linger for more than
just a moment,
end in flames and utter disaster.
Yea,
the fire lends me light
but it's a momentary
high before I drop from the pinnacle
and return to earth
with a crash.
I'll never stop the campaign
but I'm growing afraid
that if I continue this path
I'll wind up broken and cracked.

Never have I seen a heart,
so wrought with open woe.
As a mother with a child who,
was far too young to go.

And nothing is as hopeless as,
watching parent bury child.
The scene burns into memory,
as if your eyes have been defiled.

Pray you never come to see,
your offspring meet deaths' kiss.
For naught in all the world I know,
is a purer pain, than this.

I always think I'm prepared
but,
every time I bump into you,
my heart turns to a thunder clap in my chest and,
the world spins
a little.
Just before I left you told me,
you liked my hat.
I wanted to tell you,
I liked your everything
but,
you would know,
I never did corny very well.
So I just said thank you,
lit a cigarette with shaking hands
and walked.

I'd steal and I'd bleed,
for a couple hours rest.
I'd probably **** a man,
for just one at best.
And when I say rest,
I don't intend to describe sleep.
Rather just a night,
without ghosts in my dreams.
Sans ominous themes,
I'd even be pleased,
if tomorrow never came and the nightmare would cease.

It was a wild ride, today from yesterday.
I made mistakes along the way,
I smoked, I stole, I lied, I drank.
So when I went to heavens gate,
I expected only solemn look,
And for St. Pete to close the book.
Was to my surprise to find,
A cheerful grin and words so kind!
I apologized for being late, explained my shame,
For my mistakes.
“We know you’ve sinned son, and that’s just fine!”
“Because we know you always tried,
Trust me, you arrived in time!
We’ve set the tables, poured the wine!
So come on in son, have a seat.
There’s rest here for your weary feet.”

If you think world peace is realistic,
you are a ******* idiot.
All the bright eyes and optimism,
I'm getting pretty sick of it.
No, it's not that I don't want it.
It's such a lovely thought.
I just know that evil in this world exists,
People full of madness;
malice, hate,
and rot.
You can stop the useless chanting,
go and tear up all your signs.
And if you can't quite shake the hope,
remember,
children die.

I'd like to make a toast to the ghosts,
settled softly on my shoulders.
Shapeless apparitions,
creating such a pressure I stagger,
with every step.
Here's to you,
the permanent parasites of my mind.
Never worry old friends.
I drink one for me,
and one for each of you.
I will let the burden,
carry me forever downward.
I will not forget that which was once flesh beside me,
now turned dust beneath my feet.
So cheers!
My ghastly ball and chain.
Pray that you rest soundly,
while yet gnawing at my brain.

I watched the gates of Heaven crash,
how they tumbled unto earth.
Not much longer, did the kingdom last,
Oh how the angels burned.
God had had enough of us,
he set the world ablaze.
He sat back calmly and observed,
our final screams of pain.
Now all that's left is lonesome void,
in which God may contemplate.
The experiment had run it's course,
and it had been a great mistake.

Oh, the days are long,
and the nights are cold.
Maybe I'm just growing old,
but it seems to me,
that we have lost control.

We will carry on,
and play our hand.
Some will even make a stand.
And if they fall
it's all part of the plan.

Come one! Come all!
Hey, bring the kids!
Whatever your trouble buddy,
I've got the fix!
I've got cures of all kinds,
in a thousand different shades.
They can even be ingested,
in a thousand different ways!
You can shoot it or snort it,
hell, you can smoke it in a pipe!
All my snake oil's cheap,
I've got just the kind you'll like.
The first time's even free!
(The second might cost double.)
Don't worry about your soul,
just let the elixirs fix your troubles.

All I wanted was a lullaby,
a simple song to ease my mind.
And guide me into gentle sleep,
I’d long forsaken counting sheep.
A whisper through my clouded thoughts,
To recall a peace I had forgot.

Now I'm too ****** up to write,
it's probably time I called the night.
I just can't seem to shake my strife,
I'm wallowing and hating life.
I'm tired of the constant fight,
I wish someone would hear my plight.
Deliver me unto the light,
and see my misery take flight.

I found a man, amidst the chaos.
No lighted eyes, his dreams were lost.
I asked him was it was that ailed him,
Though I knew, ‘twas hope that failed him.
“I’ve looked upon the face of death,
And feel his hands, upon my chest,
reaching for my aching heart
I lost my faith, right at the start.”
I smiled weakly, I felt the same,
Except some hope I had maintained.
“We’ve been gone from home friend, for far too long
But I promise you, we’ll see the dawn.
The sun will rise, and it will set,
And with it we will get our rest.
You’ve marched and fought and carried on,
You’ve charged into the raging throngs,
Watched your comrades fall and die,
Seen life snuffed, as have I.
I cannot ask, you maintain faith,
Not here, not now, in death’s embrace,
For we’ve been gone from home, for far too long,
But I promise you, We’ll see the dawn.

Darling,
I'm hardly a man of impeccable character.
And lets be honest,
some of the **** I'm known to do
has probably put some doubt in you.
Yes,
I'm a drunk and I'm ******* reckless,
and, my words have never failed to cut deep,
when I feel I'm tested.
But give me a chance and you'll quickly come to learn,
I'm also a man of daring and I am a man of my word.
Yea,
occasionally I'm lacking in moral fortitude
and empathy's a feeling that I'm genuinely foreign to.
Truly though, take my hand
and I promise I will love the very ground on which you stand.
I'm fairly far from flawless, I've got some vices I adore.
Just put a little faith in me, I promise, I'll love you more.