because we fell in love with the law
and fell out of love with ourselves.

because the ***** of great minds
wear pineapple fatigues in their fathers’ *******;

from Judas swallowing 9 bullets
to one day being a kid at heart
a symptom of some abnormality.

Ever get the feeling that you’ll die on a Tuesday?

Or one day wake up on their government bed
Screaming,
“you can blame the French Revolution
On silent reading!”

watching

as three teacups of *** plan war on the asphalt.

I can hear a drumming
A pounding in my head
Of footsteps hitting wood, tile and stone
Yet I don't feel the dread

And when the earth is softened
By the might and motion of feet
A torch-light gingerly carried down past all of them
To me

I stumble 'cross the ages-
Feet lighter than the last-
To pluck it from your tiring hands
You tensions flee then, fast

Although it is quite heavy
This light in my hands bare
I carry it high and smile by its light
To see you easing there

I trip and fall and fumble
In my cloudy, foreign trail
Although I, myself, am burned, this is
Not why I cannot fail

I cannot fail and cause the world
To stop from lack of light
I cannot fail to see you love
And live so joyous and bright

I cannot fail in any way
That'd ever cause you to hurt
For you deserve far better than
This path I lead of dirt

My generations past all
Rose up on sweat and bread
Thus for you to live free again
I'd bleed and toil myself dead

Dearest one you hear the agèd
Popping of my back
This bearing that I love
Turns my eyes old and black

Let it all to me, I beg
You don't deserve more hell
I'd fight skinless to get you out
And never escape, myself

I fall into these twilight hours,
  Body drifting, mind awoken;
Captured by these moonlit powers;
  Spirit lifting, life has spoken.
Trails of thoughts that lead to peace,
  Ego resting, soul at ease;
How can one explain the pull?
  The simple joy of living full?

Realized fantasy, dreaming awake,
  Finding a reason to do what it takes...

To live your own life
  And not someone else's;
To follow the wind
  And know who the self is.
To learn who you are,
  And learn how to think;
To listen to life,
  And laugh when she winks. ;)

Pacing pacing shifting left and right in a flurry.
Run to the bath to dry heave, which does nothing.
Lop it off and hide it away with a smirk.
Calmly walk up the steps and toward him.

We touch and the rush feels me but not us.  
You've been here before oh so many times.
Open up with a straight right to your face.
You dance away and hint at a smile.
You think that's all I've got.

This is our first go and I want to make you remember.
I eat fist after fist fear of the knockout lessens but doesn't go away.
Your fists don't hold the strength to maim.
Your heart holds a fear in it tightly, and then you hesitate.

My steps toward you leaves the fear in your heart and spreads to your face.
I saw lighting from one but not again,you realize this.
Three left hooks to my head I trade for one to your gut.
You know I mean to hurt and you slow down.
Not stopping but thinking just enough to **** your reflexes.

You found yourself in the corner and saw me smile.
You block the overhand left and squirm away.

The bell rings

I drop my hands and can't pick them up.
Completely exhausted, I find a nice little bliss.
I get out of the ring and just hope I helped you a little bit.
I am not the prodigy it is you with the speed and endurance.
Now show the world we're not people to mess with.

All armies are the same
Publicity is fame
Artillery makes the same old noise
Valor is an attribute of boys
Old soldiers all have tired eyes
All soldiers hear the same old lies
Dead bodies always have drawn flies

Here dead we lie
Because we did not choose
To live and shame the land
From which we sprung.

Life, to be sure,
Is nothing much to lose,
But young men think it is,
And we were young.

the words sliced deliciously
drawing not blood
but ink
furious passionate ink
she was just words on a page
in a human shell
he was just
another who wanted to try
with expendable arms and legs
but still the ink came
the words sliced horizons
not vertically
so as not to ****
only to bleed
and before the cut
has a chance to heal
pens and greedy fingers
jammed into the wound
hoping to take
the last drop
of art