Love and power.
Bodies materialized.
Bodies that matter.
Pariah.

Pariah, on the subway train.
Pariah, speaks in her ugly name.
She is power: Pariah.

She is love.
Pariah.
She is power.
Pariah.
She is this:
Matter.

To house such an adequate thought
and reverse your new born doubt.
You'll become a pariah,
bathed in defile.
Textbook definition, modern-day messiah.
Lies filled with truth, shiny gold in your bile.
Polluting the space between love and life.
Hammering in your image of grief and strife.

It's all moving down a road, the wrong road.
All deciphering this code, it's the right code.
Transfixed at implications of there being any news.
Buying an idea, mister pariah.  You've got the blues.
And the highway traveling shoes.  
But it's buying, not acquiring.
You seem to forget you spent all your dying moments.
Simply to seek this race's long lost atonement.  
You've only bought the right to rot alone.

So now, oh great and high in regard, pariah.
You still think you're the main arm? The big alpha?
Time to realize your life's a farm, without it's farmer
While you wander around wearing armor.
Pretending to be a revolutionary of the highest order!
Climb down this throne, mister pariah.
Feed your family and need your friends.
Go pick out all your favorite odds and ends.
Make sure life is full of thrills...
and stop trying to build these chaotic hills -
of distress
and just confess that things are as they are
No matter how hard this seems to bare
That love is far, but we can make it there.
Hell, might already be near to it.
Time to get a new suit.

The Dark Pariah and The Mouth Breather went to go get a jump start on their blackmail and their payback

All the kissup's
All the suckup's
Who think they're the best thing since sliced bread with the crust cut off
Who pick on people's foibles and leave their self-image in shambles
Not to mention all the narcissists who claim to have coined certain phrases we all use, then pucker up to the ***** of those who can keep up with the Joneses

They were going to make this world go belly up
Remove all of the potholes and speed bumps in life

The Dark Pariah wrote his plan in chicken scratch
And The Mouth Breather wrote his in calligraphy

The Mouth Breather's plan was to kick start a new denomination of hero worship
All followers must give themselves rug burn and stick up three banks in thirty minutes then put their plunder in the collection plate on Tuesday mass

The Dark Pariah's plan was to create music to their ears
That would make them hopscotch off a cliff and free fall to their deaths
This was part and parcel for his sham to exact his vengeance

But ipso facto they never followed through with their plans due to sheer laziness
And now they're both dominated by remorse and online FAQ's

Where is the Messiah?

Are you there God?

It’s me, your pariah.


I’ve become something of a liar,

a mystifier, a cad, a fraud:

Where is the Messiah?


To deliver from brimstone and fire?

Against the one wielding the iron rod?

It’s me your pariah,


son of the dawn, prince of the nebula

the gates of Judecca have thawed.

Where is the Messiah?


I’ll take silver, like Judas and Delilah

their feet are swift; to shed blood.  

It's me, your pariah.


Your ***** for hire,

Oh, how I await the flood.

Where is the Messiah?

It’s me your pariah.

I am the quill that marks
The water-walled history
Of the sea as it may -
A swan, be it, or a black-backed
Gull.

I am the pariah who
Failed to posit his load on
A hill that hung low, like a
Sunless moon, but who can still
hark the dark
Rumbling of repetition.

I am the Quixote who took
On the wind who made the mill
Sob like a bronze leaf in grief,
Seared by the passage of
A sluggish summer.

I am the pariah, the
Quixote, and the historian
Of the rainbow runner.

©LazharBouazzi, August 5, 2017

Pariah

Nihilism at its finest

Bleed black the finest shattered diamonds

Of all the lost hopes and dreams

Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome

Cynical skeptics, sarcasm dripping venom

Acid burns through flesh blood and bones

No one gives a ****, scream for a savior

Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome

Shards of glass smile razorblades

Plague of loneliness grips your throat

Heart beats darkness through your veins

**** society, anarchy reigns 

Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome

Shadow world of gray and stones and broken homes

Bleeding hearts and gutted homes

A black void in collapsing homes

Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome

Cesspool of sick and stinking ****

Hungry ravish burning Rome

Parasitic beasts feeding on lost souls

**** you in and never let you go

False promises of help, burning, burning, burning, blackens the sky

Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome

Nevermore the sun shines down on the wretched land

Outcast Society burning in the ruins of fallen Rome

This

Is

The 

Future

Julia what a grievous injustice you did to me, a
Pariah you've create when you stole my heart; a
Messiah it's to me for it house my light Like
Jeremaiah the prophet I will lament with a

terrible sob; I will flood my cheeks with tears till my
miserable self follows sleep to the world of darkness. Oh!
Adorable Julia has flee with my merriment so no more
laughable cloud on my horizon only a memory of a

Fickle lover that stole my joy and flee within a
twinkle of an eye like the stars in the sky: what a
miracle it's she has left my soul behind I will
Buckle it up and give it to the company of my

solitude where he will reflect on past deeds and
attitude that makes other souls shook and recoil in
multitude because of the touch of evil darkness and the
magnitude of it in my empty pariah's heart and life.

Mind is roaming like a pariah dog
in some dusty lanes and lonely paths,
Sleeping on debris, regaling in waste and dirt.
I was its master once
But has lost the control now,
Time ahead looks bleak with
the equation reversing slowly
When I see me trembling before his bark.

Tis whimsical yes?
How the pariah's of old
Such as Picasso
Poe
Vangogh
Egon schiele
El Greco
Oscar Wilde
Emily Dickinson
John Keats
michelangelo
( all poet's or artists)
All were the relic age nobody's to quote (popular society.).....
And they went broke pushing their beauties,

Yet now look at them
Millionaires in their graves....

Bet their looking down thinking
Really????

I will rise,
Rise to paradise again
Spread my wings, free from any chain,
With only one goal in my eyes I look to the sky
Then I rise, yes I will rise
From the hellfire, no matter the price

May I burn
Take my turn

But then it will surely be my time to shine
The beauty of the heavens will surely be mine
I will not stand these flames,
Embrace my devilish distorted wings
See what good that may brings
One last judgement
On this long lasting journey
I will rise, rise, no matter the price
A future dawns dream, draws near

Make it clear

In this realm of art and devilry
Heartfelt dream scapes shape the mirror
In a world so dark that the stars will blind-

Refuse to fall!

Forgotten by both Heaven and Hell
A craft of hearts forms my kingdom!
Take my hand, all ye pariah souls-
The love of light is for all to bear!

~ Umi

I said I'll meet you by the water
Just follow the path down the shore.
Follow me across the world,
to a place that's left unexplored.
We'll carve our names into the tallest tree,
reaching up towards the heavens and skies.
We'll count the stars as we leave,
to the other side of the island.
Drag a stick through the sand,
drawing tiny infinities.
and then we will sleep in the trees,
it's safe, trust me.
Look at the skies and watch the clouds roll by,
they were all ours.
We traced constellations with our fingers,
and talked in the language of the stars,
so they smiled back at us and sang us songs to sleep.
There is an island named after us.
A legend of a pariah duo.
Oh, the stories this place will hold.