Define a modern day criminal
While hypocritical political beings run our land
Living in a critical pitiful painful physical caving roof
With a senseless empirical prototypical lost truth
Indivisible people with inimical minds destroy the parasitical

But we don’t dream
We don’t wish
And we fear

Impermissible values atypical to the nonphysical morals
Incorporated with subliminal messages conveying hypercritical cynical thoughts
That create a clinical stereotypical that cousins the excremental
Archetypical of hatred and malice of our digital kind
Visible scars traditional to the mental demons in our minds

But we take the beatings
We’re let down
And we disappoint

An occipital which lacks visual of the coincidental
Leading to a sentimental moment where the only desires are miracles
The minimal heart becomes gentle and suffers pain
A pain in the temple far from accidental that can offer supplemental guidance
Unconditional love and fundamental care

But we take for granted
We’re selfish
And we fail

An oriental vibe in the beat box’s instrumental welfare
Which adorns the continental flesh like a spring ornamental plant
Judgmental is the incidental human race, the municipal force of the universe
Oppose the parental control against the environmental curiosity of our infants
Because unlike rental we can’t take back our wagon of mishaps in a world so
hypocritical, cynical, stereotypical, digital, and just mental.

Jonathan Pizarro
Copyright 2011 ©
March 7th, 2011 5:42am

Define a modern day criminal
While hypocritical political beings run our land
Living in a critical pitiful painful physical caving roof
With a senseless empirical prototypical lost truth
Indivisible people with inimical minds destroy the parasitical

But we don’t dream
We don’t wish
And we fear

Impermissible values atypical to the nonphysical morals
Incorporated with subliminal messages conveying hypercritical cynical thoughts
That create a clinical stereotypical that cousins the excremental
Archetypical of hatred and malice of our digital kind
Visible scars traditional to the mental demons in our minds

But we take the beatings
We’re let down
And we disappoint

An occipital which lacks visual of the coincidental
Leading to a sentimental moment where the only desires are miracles
The minimal heart becomes gentle and suffers pain
A pain in the temple far from accidental that can offer supplemental guidance
Unconditional love and fundamental care

But we take for granted
We’re selfish
And we fail

An oriental vibe in the beat box’s instrumental welfare
Which adorns the continental flesh like a spring ornamental plant
Judgmental is the incidental human race, the municipal force of the universe
Oppose the parental control against the environmental curiosity of our infants
Because unlike rental we can’t take back our wagon of mishaps in a world so
hypocritical, cynical, stereotypical, digital, and just mental.

Jonathan Pizarro
Copyright 2011 ©
March 7th, 2011 5:42am

Today walked down the street in my wheel chair
Rode the bus and train but forgot to be pay the taxi fare
Found my self with a blind guy who gave me directions
Got educated by an eighty year old on morning erections

Held an interesting conversation with a deaf friend
Listened to a book with no meaning and no end
Sitting down made my legs hurt but mostly my heels
Skinned an orange, threw out the bad stuff and ate the peel

Breakdanced the morning moon with a dude who didn’t have legs
Simmered the night sun with tea that was poured out of kegs
Had dinner with a vegetarian and we shared my steak dish
Also, we swam in the sky with a remarkable flying fish

Saw a janitor perform heart surgery on a machine
While the doctor told a cricket what was wrong with his spleen
Wrote lyrics with a dyslexic composer on a piano
Tanned on the beach lines of Alaska with a dark albino

Found my way thru the day with a dull flashlight
Slithered around with a snake that offered a colorful sight
Today was a day much more opposite than any other
Is this the confusion you had when you saw me with my lover?

Jonathan Pizarro
Copyright 2010 ©
May 12, 2010

Standing against the crime of my heart
I’m tired of falling for your type
Today I’ll find my way and break apart
I’ll celebrate my victory with Irish bag pipes

But I’ll cry for you on lonely nights
How can you have made my days so bright
How I wish I never know ya
Now I’m all alone in this room in a Hotel in California

Divine were your kisses of pure seduction
Now I’m lost on this one way highway
Who would of known you were a terrible destruction
I’m meaningless without you! you were my dossier!

How come no one told me life would be such a bad ride?
Surfing in a ocean of my tears with a forecasted high tide
I’m pouring out my feelings on this ***** napkin
Cause unlike you, it at least holds a bit of dignity

We were foolish to claim to love each other into infinity!
The hunger made me eat too much with my eyes
Forgetting my values and my only decency
And I fell under the spells of your lies


Roses of pity in a bouquet of discord
Can’t even afford to pay attention
Can‘t keep going on with this tension, People where is our Lord?
I just want some words, give me the silliest explanation

Heal the pain you have purposely caused
Your false image keeps running thru my veins
Black rain won’t mask the painful distraught
The thought of seeing you again will be an attempt so vain

In which I try to forget those events
From all my mistakes your one I wish I can prevent
A soup so hard to swallow with these sour condiments
You’re a horrible person I take back my beautiful compliments

Can’t believe my days will be filled with your torment
I hope this is for the time being, just for the moment
They judge me for what I’ve done but what do they know?
If my only companions is a comfy carpet and a bottle of Cuervo


Jonathan Pizarro
Copyright 2011 ©
January 29, 2011 4:31am

A mask of lies disguises my inner thoughts
Accompanied by a black veil which conceals my sorrows
A cage of snakes hold captive everything I ever bought
While ropes of disillusions hold back my tomorrows

Encountering materialistic poisons that plague my existence
With a side dish of infectious bad habits
Offered with a full menu of self-destructive malignance
That are stuffed into my boxed head like voting ballots

Having a desire for unwanted capitulation
Which lead to uncontrollable regrettable decisions
But a light guides me on a path to true elation
With nervousness overcoming my body like a surgeon making his first incision

Darkness becomes light blessed with colorful roses
A flame of love has ignited its route like a traveling circus
Followed by a wandering mind that creatively composes
As life’s symphonic strings are strummed, this writer finds his purpose

Jonathan Pizarro
Copyright 2011 ©
January 29, 2011 2:40am

Pumping an uncontrollable substance through my heart
Hope this feeling never ends or I’d be torn apart
A magical sensation with every pleasurable pulse
This must be illegal, something for the adults

Every moment, every thump, makes me lose my thought
Lets runaway together with the thrill of getting caught
Shuttle me thru your loops of vibrational divines
****** my flesh with your soft hum while I slowly unwind

Make me lose myself with no method of meeting time
If your admiration is at the top of the wobbly hill, then I’ll climb
But understand I’m wrapped around your finger with every minute that passes by
I’m in a meeting with your roots with nothing on, except a tie

This must be the so called meaning of life
Listening to every word and every piece of advice
That you simply can not only be mine
But is like your part of me, somehow connected to my spine

A strong emotion I can’t get rid off, where is its rubric?
Maybe your suppose to be a part of me, perhaps you’re my runic
This is such an indulging pleasure I can’t confuse it
Because I’m not in love with you girl, I’m in love with music

Jonathan “Prototype” Pizarro
Copyright 2011 ©
August 30, 2010 11:12am

Words and letters are written on walls
Some as vandalization others as messages
Words and letters are written on walls

Words and sentences are written on billboards
Some serve as advertising others to arouse awareness
Words and sentences are written on billboards

Words and paragraphs are written on my brain
Some serve as inspiration others to support guidance
Words and paragraphs are written on my brain

Words are the weapons I use in a society that controls my image
Words are the only thing that can divide me from being ghetto or educated
My words are the only thing that I can vouch for like my *****
My words are the root of the intelligence that propels this sentence
Letters in my words stand close to each other eager to make a statement
If I do not show my words, my letters of cheerfulness begin to fade away

Sentences are the compound of the mind that begs to be understood
Sentences are made up of a tyranny chained down by a trendsetters mood
My sentences contain verbs, nouns, adjectives and subjects that explain a lost purpose
My sentences define the meaning of an ironical imagery that leads me to dream
Sentences paint a picture that any blind character can see
If I do not paint my sentences how will I ever show my brains art gallery

Picasso used the paint brush to express his moods and feelings on a canvas
Shakespeare and Allan Poe used ink to utter their thoughts on a sheet of paper
Somewhere in my mind the collision of words and paint occurred
Where I fused the essence of writing with the masterfulness of painting
My words and sentences have met a significant other called paint
Paint and words are my new best friend

Paint and brushes are splattered and used upon walls
Some are called vandalization while they represent artistic skills
Paint and brushes are splattered and used upon walls

Paint and words are written on subways
So the eyes of the young and old can see the traveling message
Paint and words are written on subways

Paint and words smack up at my face
So that the world sees who conveys this message
Paint and words smack up at my face

Paint gives visual to what words cannot picture
My Paint serves as a method of expressing the mind’s tears and smiles
My Paint becomes a tour guide through the loops of divine wonders
Paint is just a stepping stone to the magnificent path of beauty

A brush is just a brush depending on who holds it
A brush is like the keyboard I constantly battle with to unleash my mind
A brush can combine negativity and positivity and make peace
A brush unites celibate beliefs with those whom are perverse
Words and sentences along with paint and brushes help explain my motive

Jonathan Pizarro
Lost Cause © 2011
April 17th, 2011