“A real man,”
She said,
“Must not be afraid to show his sensitive side,
But he better swing his *****
When he needs to.
He must be strong
But his strength must not make him weak.
He must be smooth,
But he must not slip or slide away.
He must be refined
Not ground thin.
He must be proud
But not haughty.
And then she smiled
Her cavalier smile.

And I said

“Let me show you.
Let me show you what a real man looks like.”
So I showed her.
I showed her my death
And rebirth,
I showed her my missing rib
And broken teeth,
I showed her my lying mouth
And my truthful eyes,
I showed her my deific wrath
And I showed her
The book I wrote
In ancient tongues
A thousand years ago
I showed her that holy book,
My seditious tyrannical spirit,
My unconquerable will to dominate  
Then I showed her my hand,
Its fine lines,
And the diacritic print of each finger.

Then she showed me,
Purpose.

I love to be hated
By the liars and thieves
Who pretend their your friends
‘Till you’re down on your knees
I love to be hated
But never ignored
By the pundits and tyrants
And prophets of war

We froliced like children
Dancing with knives
And we prayed to our Idols
'Til we ate them alive

We all were fatherless
With room still to grow
Lost in the desert
with nowhere to go

They look like insects
So far away
We drown out their cries
The louder we pray

Nobody cares
Unless devils draw near
So scream out for rescue
There’s no one to hear

I am
A needer
A wanter
A desirer
My purpose is to exist
In a state of less-than-enough
I am perpetually hopeful
Always hungry
Always wanting, needing, more, More, MORE
But I am never satisfied
I am consumption
A machine whose sole purpose is self satisfaction
Never satisfied

When I watch the news, I see myself in the future
Telling my Grandchildren's children that I was alive
When America burned
When I feel homesick, I see myself in the future
Where I used to live
On Rue Saint-Andre in Montreal
When I am drunk, I see myself in the future
Still angry and rebellious
The same disillusioned child with an older face
But now, I see myself in the future
Cancerous and bitter
Waiting for this disease to finally **** me
Or let me live forever

the inherent beauty of the mob
is in the fluidity of their anger
it is the colors of burning buildings
the music of guttural chants
the freedom granted by inevitable destruction
and the finality
of their judgment
it is in the perfection of collective enmity
and the clamant rectification of flaws perceived
so that in the end
all that remains
is the disarrayed corpse of the mob
and the excrement of it’s existence
not as a force of humanity
but as a mechanism
of wanton ferality

You trade your soul to live forever
And stay, imortally disgraced
You stand in righteous wingspread pose
In you mouth burns freedom’s elusive taste
But never will you fly
You stand through ages
Through empires and wars
But your life is just a lie
You stare with empty eyes
At an ever changing world
You sit in silent longing
For the universe to die
Never satisfied
Never to create
Never to destroy
Never, Never, Never
All your world is void
The iron’s strong
The wood is firm
The water cool
But you the fool
The drum beats
The fiddle sings
But no one envies
Your marble wings
Men will fall
Grow old and die
Empires crumble
Eons pass by
But the marble dove
Will never fly

I just saw a reflection
Of who you could have been
Had you not fallen from glory.

Had you maintained your beauty
Had you maintained your health
Had you remained above the drudgery

I am sorry
For who you have become
Even though I tried my best
To make **** sure I wasn’t responsible

So I bid you well
Whoever you had the potential to become
And should you ever stop your frantic run
Know

I will not be there anymore
I will be in the mirror
With your reflection
Altogether more beautiful
In that uncorrupted bliss

I see you there in the corner
Your voice trembling with fear
And I see you there on the pedestal
Your fist raised high in your patriotic fervor
I see you there in the church
Your body tense, in frustration, at the failure of your coin operated god
I see you there in the gutters
Clutching your alcoholic life preserver
I see you there on the battlefield
Leading the forces of Armageddon to victory
And I see you there
In a hospital bed
Old, weak, and impotent
Yes, I see you dying
I see you there, having achieved your ultimate goal
Fulfilling your emptiness
And I see you there
Under the brightly painted jackboots
I see you there lighting righteous fires from your state of perdition
And I see you, unconquerable
In exquisite defiance
As a burning testament to the strength of your revolution
I see you at both ends of the gamut
In strength and weakness
Sickness and health
Oppressed, Oppressor, and free man
And I wonder how I
In my alien skin
Could walk among you
Breathe your air, and bleed your blood
But I know that I cannot
So I watch as I have for ages
Your beautiful drama
And dream of the day you will reach out to me

I have watched a million silent transactions of hate
I have borne silent witness to unspoken atrocity
I have stood by and done nothing as those I loved fell
To the fists and blades and nooses and flames of industrious bigotry
I stood aside and allowed the hordes of damnation to overtake my own

I have wept for them as they fell.
I have cried out their individual names
Cried as they were slaughtered
Do not think me stupid, cruel, or uncaring.
I did not want it to be this way, but never the less, it is.

I did not want for my loved ones to fall so low.
I did not set out in the hope that they would sink into iniquitous despair
Nevertheless, they have.

And yet, I regret nothing.
Because, I alone know.
I alone know the ultimate destiny that I myself wrought.
I was the one who took infinite nothing and formed it into something.
At least, that is what I believe I did.
I believe that I wrote each perfect neuron,
And that I twisted and deformed some to create, not their foolish “normal”
But rather my endlessly superior real.

For I am the architect of reality
I am my own immortal, perfect, self-imagined, self-sanctified god.
I will live forever, master of the universe.
Unless, of course, they unplug this feeding tube
And I die.

and what if I don’t care
what if, in spite of your efforts, I am unmoved
what if you failed
what if I am not alone
what if your greatest horrors are realized
what if not only the few, but the many reject you
and your fabricated truth
and you forget
and are forgotten
an empty shell of the best forgotten past
and you no longer behold the world from your ****** golden throne
but from the slums
in the dysentery and refuse that is a product of your empire
and in the putrid mire of your failure
you die
the end

You have a gun
I have my words
Therefore
You are a king
And I am God

We are hated
Impetuous, reckless
For our bodies so out of sync with our minds
Our minds which cry to be numbed
But we are told we must face our world
Raw and unaltered
We are told we are dangerous to ourselves and others
So
We are told we must swallow our spoonfuls
Of seething vitriol
But we do not heed these naysayings
And though we are faced with righteous constriction  
We cannot bear the concept of this empty red iron life
So we escape the sub-real by fleeing to the surreal, the anesthetized anti reality
And burn away our tortured, sober, senses
Until we hold no fear of our forefather’s submissary world
And we may repress our heinous dreams
And our uncomfortable thoughts of a greater reality
Drowned in a caustic flood
Of shameless hedonism, glorious temporary satisfaction, and amorous alcohol

the greatest intoxicant known to man
does not come in the form of a substance
it is not alcohol, nor ******, nor *******
it cannot be smoked, or shot up
it costs nothing
and any man can attain it
it ruins more lives than all others combined
kills more, addicts more, slowly wastes more into despair
unstoppable, claiming more each day
the greatest drug is blind rage
against which no war can be won
so that man need not fear any drink, smoke, powder, or pill
simply the horror of their own anger
for man holds no greater addiction
than to his own intoxicating rage

as i sit here plagued by forgetfulness
i realize that i am happy
i realize that my imagined suffering is a form of denial
that in actuality i do not care
i believe that i am content with my lot
that all i desire is what i am doing at present
that i will in fact realize my greatest desires in life
and that all the hatemongering i have been spoonfed
will also run down the cosmic drain
like so much curdled milk and mildewed honey
and that i will achieve happiness here
in this beautifully stark wooden chair
i will be happy
as soon as the final drops of detritus drip from my nose
and the final watery remainder of my brain matter completes
the Rorschach stain on my shirt
and i can no longer reason or comprehend  
i will be happy.

I know you
All of you
You the spores
The tendrils
The green shoots of a mighty tree
I know you
The perpetually in-the-back-ground
Those wallflowers
Silent spectators
Standing as character foils to the revolution
The anti-rebels
The sedentary
I know you
The viciously unchanging
I have seen you
I have felt your inert presence
Your supreme lack of influence
Your defining apathy
Your ignominious existence
And your abhorrent sanctimony
Yes, I have been one of you
But I have grown from you
And I hope to, by my mere existence
Prove
That you are not permanent
That something can become of you
Because, as I have said
I was you
But now
I am not.

Forgive the fools their gold
And the wise men for their cynicism
And, if you would be so kind
Forget
Those honey laced words
And the ocean sweet bliss
That you tasted the other night
Because I fear that if you don’t forget
You may very well die
Not from a broken heart
Like so many poets would love to tell you
But rather from the pale honey
Of which I should have never given you a taste

If I LOVED YOU, I would change the world for YOU
Yeah, if I LOVED YOU
I would get down on my knees and beg for YOUR acceptance
I would build YOU a temple, and a holy city
I would make the world bow before YOU
Yeah, if I LOVED you
I would rearrange the stars in the heavens
To center around you
I would organize world peace
To keep harm from you
I would harmonize vibrations like Buddha
Write you eloquent poems like Pablo Neruda
I would pound my heart into my sleeve
I would carve it into the mountains
I would sing you a thousand love songs with the voice of the ocean
I would caress you with the embrace of the breeze
I would embrace you with the loving strength of the typhoon
I would make all that is mine yours, but not before I made ALL that is mine
Simply to give it to you
Yeah, I’d do all of this and more
If I loved you
But as it stands
i am fearful
i am meek
i see you and i avert my eyes, not in disinterest, but in fear
Fear of rejection
Because it is not I that LOVES YOU
Or I that LOVES you
Or even I that love you, or YOU
But merely i, nervous, insignificant i
That loves YOU

One More, My Love
One More, Cigarette
To quench the stress in your shoulderblades
One More, Sweet Note
From the belly of the dying Piano
One More, Last Kiss
Before you learn to hate me for the rest of your life
One More, Burried Treasure
In the park by the tree where we met
And One More, Excuse
As to why I let you wander into oncoming traffic when I knew you were drunk and I should have been watching you.

The world does not hate you child
You simply were not born to live in it
It is not your home
You were made to dance with stars
Upon galaxies
Through black hole arches
Clothed in the silken dust of constellations
Painting pictures with the brilliant pixels of a hundred million distant suns

One More, My Love
One More, Cigarette
To quench the stress in your shoulderblades
One More, Sweet Note
From the belly of the dying Piano
One More, Last Kiss
Before you learn to hate me for the rest of your life
One More, Burried Treasure
In the park by the tree where we met
And One More, Excuse
As to why I let you wander into oncoming traffic when I knew you were drunk and I should have been watching you.

In what peace can they rest?
They, who struck to cut the vital cord,
To silence the endless violent voices they had heard.
In what peace can the rest?
What peace, other than the universal silence
Of all voices that cry out in hate?

Something
About nothing
Is incredibly beautiful
Maybe that’s the wonder of space
Quite simply
The amount of nothing
That EVERYTHING is made of

one hand does not know what the other is doing
one hand does not care what the other is doing
one hand makes **** sure the other doesn’t care
one hand has cancer
one hand is bleeding
one hand left a long time ago
one hand got lost in the war
one hand remains
one sick hand
one broken hand is left
to do the work of a thousand