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you bought a megaphone so god could hear your cries.
you stole many a writer's pen, because you liked the taste of ink.
you broke your own heart gently for the ability to relate.
you sharpened your teeth on the spines of an old boyfriend and dusty books
written by dead men.
you are here to win.

i broke the cross around your neck and called it false advertising.
i covered my writings and body with gasoline for the thrill.
i picked the scabs on my heart because it's a bore to mend.
i strengthened my hide by digging a bed for myself in the warm moonlight,
dead men,
the best company to choose.
they don't judge,
and
they're cool with my decision to lose.

you created a monster,
then got ****** at your monster
for being a monster.

i created a ritualistic woman,
me at my most masochistic,
she fell me and used
my writings to
stoke my funeral
pyre.

fading flesh,
melting ink,

fire, fire, fire.
Copyright 2009, Josh Hutton
Baby,
     I
           think that
      maybe,
We've ****** up.
    Cause we've been force fed such fractured fallacies like,  
A Jewish zombie who is his own father,  
A chosen people, and immortality.
       Oh and did you know slavery was OK?
        How about ****?
Yeah the problem with an endless line of orphans is the exponential loss of the truth of our cosmic dead-beat dad.
                                  Well now,
The hand that feeds has fallen short, with the founding fathers roll in their graves.
Whilst silly sheep support Disillusioned delusions dressed,
in
Red White and Blue,


Wait for their cue, because
The Republic
is being held at gun point, with modern Gestapos ready and willing for the killing.
The final days of momma democracy await.

Zealous jealous and out for blood, with a cross across their chests as they proclaim; "IN HIS NAME, WE SMITE YE!"

Now thats just jurisdiction to judge the jury.

And now

She showers us
With this Vampiric ecstasy,
As they mask our mothers ****** under the banner of God.

As they
             wipe away the blood gushing,
      from the slit throat of
Lady Liberty,
with whats left of our crumbling
Constitution,
only to wrap her in a once glorious flag, now despoiled with
The poisonous blessings bought by the pontiff of flame
whose pseudo fame is a sign
that this clandestine facade will end soon.

Yet still we must deal with another contradiction, another, convoluted convulsion of consciousness severing our ties with that
good ol' American dream.

So watch them promote our fall, greeting hell-fire half-heartedly, these sanctimonious masses amass, a menacing masquerade.

See they've paraded on the moral high ground pointing the finger without the grounds to back themselves up, aside from a dusty old book and the rusty rapturous moans of defiled men.

As chosen children I chide you, for archaic superstition must be left behind, a fact that most may find, a tad bit unacceptable, even while you drive your SUV's and gorge on Mickey D's, while you gun down doctors and destroy human intelligence. Remember the dark ages? Guess who made them dark.

Your men on top ****** male prostitutes and tap dance in the mens room, denying every allegation; look, this is a nation stuck on revelation hell bent on escaping damnation.

And they say I'm the Devil! One worth the reapers embrace, those carcinogen caricatures carried by the book.
When fear rules their hearts,
Destruction and War
beget by their weakness.
                          Now all I say is throw it all away, Live, ****, and Love. Just imagine a world free, free from terror, war, hate, separation, and segregation.
             Imagine finally clogging that cancerous ventricle our country holds so dear.
   Imagine the end to a crutch,
A spiritual mod,
Imagine a world,
Without the illusion of God.
Psychotic break stole
Sound mind with a dream
Escaped from the hole
Left by heart's loss.
Paste and paper seams
Meant to give gloss
To facades distressed
Unravel in time
And a life, no less,
Is bound to come loose
When built on old lies.
Lost to reality
In a new delusion
I watched a poor fool,
Arms flapping wildly
Certain they were afire
Set to flame by the embers
Of that brazier
Lit a life time ago,
Left hidden in past
Still aglow,
Time's slow drip
Yet unable
To put the coals to rest.
From poets,
Madman learns,
Salving fresh burns
With quenching words,
Delighting in their
Cooling flow,
A newfound remedy
For a primal malady.
Babbling in swatches,
Speaking of things
That aren't there
But maybe were.
Then lighting more matches,
Lest the glow extinguish
Its delirious illusions
Ease smoldering anguish,
But leave the room too cold
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