On a long and simple gallows tree
a god and dollar bill I see --
and I've never felt so happy;
no, never felt so happy.
I walk around and brush the bush
and think about all the ants I mush,
just want to make a cent or two;
what else am I supposed
                to want to do?

And on the laundered sky I spot
a furious eye over a shackled lot
-- but I'm told it's just the sun
                               that blinds;
   destroying all the ants it finds.

I don't think I understand,
my god, my wallet is full
but my life ain't worth living.
God, you're like a bird in my hand:
something beautiful, always squirming.
     And I wish I could let go.

Theoretically we should be perfect
And my life shouldn't be this wrecked
Theoretically I should know who I am
But how can I when my life's a scam?
Theoretically life should be easy and death hard
But theoretically I shouldn't be scarred
However the fact is I am
And my life is a scam
And my life is wrecked
And we're not perfect
Life is hard and death easy
And sometimes nobody cares or see's me
It's maybe because everything I say, I say poetically
But at least I don't live my life thinking theoretically
Because my life maybe be wrecked, a scam, hard and scarred
But at least I'll be for filled once I'm layed to rest in the graveyard

It's a mess but so my life .

You pulled me close and I smelled leather,
the scent of rain clinging and weaving
through you like ivy. Your breath rustled
like the trees we climbed together, laughing
and carefree. My eyes were blue as the dead
sea and yours only looked at me. We
sat in those branches, warm and safe.

Sometimes in the dark the smell of morning
dew and fresh leather hits me and I feel
a melancholy too intense to understand.
I hear your breath next to me. My eyes
used to be blue as the dead sea, yours
are a distant memory. Now I sit in these
branches, cold and alone, wondering
when you will come home to me.

~~ Ah, the shivers of loneliness along my arms. ~~

Trees of forever weeping
Following my decay through the forests left
After all the sorrow inflicted upon the dying earth

I suffer
The last pain
Of giving birth

The last progenitor
To receive the gift
Rejected by all that breathes

When I awake from sleep
The weight of the earth ravages my back
While every delight from life ceases to exist

Under knees I stare everything gone
Monuments of goodness fated to find oblivion
And my last breath ready to find death


Qorban: "Unending ashes are the ocean to drown me, to douse any spasm of life remaining in this treading corpse, where every step is bringing me deeper into this wasted, bottomless world uttering 'you don't belong here, you are life and the time of life has passed'. And I do think my body is slowly and surely giving in, when every mile gives birth to more ruin, an endless sea of monotony. Despite myself, I watch my knees caving in, sinking into my grave, welcomed by earth, shrouded by storm. And I am too drained to ride, too battered, too devived..."

© Lips of Dust

Today another human
was buried in the dirt,
and other humans gathered round,
and cried because it hurt.
And nothing in the time that he
had spent upon this earth,
could, in those tear-filled mourners' eyes,
diminish that man's worth.

No label he had ever worn
could sway their human hearts.
With no conditions, they loved him,
the sum of all his parts.
Now under six cold feet of ground,
he lies before his time.
And other humans wonder if
the sentence fit the crime.

Another human was his mom,
another was his dad.
Some others still had been his friends
since he was just a lad.
They had laughed and cried with him,
been true through thick and thin.
Now they've thrown handfuls on the box
they buried the man in.

Now the streets are burning-
other humans, filled with rage,
lash out at OTHER humans,
with the city as their stage.
Man and woman, boy and girl,
bear witness what you're seeing-
the aftermath of the wrongful death
of another human being.

Apologies if I've previously shared this here.  Written in 2015 following the bedlam in Ferguson, MO.

I stood, unseen, as the lights faltered and
I heard a heavy thud. A wave rushed through
me. My friend, out of reach, disappeared. Vapour.
The ceiling was gone - stars, stars. I couldn't
feel anything, it was all normal. Then,
the vomit came. It burned all down my throat
into my stomach, bitter bile tearing
me apart from the inside out. I couldn't
walk. Local hospital, apparently
I had a 50/50 chance. They filmed
me for evidence and I killed them in
the process. Cancerous. I was shipped to
Moscow, my wife being left in the dark.
Confidential. Contagious. Dangerous.
The ones who died were lucky, we were burning
alive from the inside out. My hair fell
from my body. My skin wept after the
false calm of nothingness. The dead skin fell
off in clouds of black dust, my flesh being
eaten and turning a violet black.
I can never have sex again, in case
I contaminate my wife. No more children.
Chromosonal damage. She was afraid
to touch me when I saw her again in
case she would die too. My skin will weep forever
and they call me one of the lucky ones.

~~ A poem about Sasha Yuvchenko's experience in the Chernobyl disaster. ~~

Colour me blind
Rip my heart
The devil in my ear,
"boy, what have you done?"
a broken bottle
Peering through it's bottom
The taste of wine on her lips


If the mind could reminisce
and find satisfaction,
in the seconds of yesterday
But not borrow from tomorrow
The rush in the veins
To bury me alive
With an end into a lapse


torment and regret,
Love the way it hurts
This inferno
With hands glued to the bottle
A centuries whisky
A mind eraser
And a pain engraver


She lied to me
"Forever an eternity," she said
But just a flare in the sky
And myself in the sea
With my head barely above,
My feet and hands,
Numb in the cold waters


Am a slave to the glass
It's crystal walls,
And the scarlet liquid,
Contained inside
"Pour me some more,"
Need to breath
With a poison, in my mind

Doodle v 17h

The time still turns slowly, as I fade into this darkness I believe I'm leading on to something,

Gripping the pain, as it paints my love with colours of me and u…

I leave my mask, from which I can’t hide anymore, a kill i craved all my life for... death of me but birth of something that even He could not write…

Maybe tomorrow I will see this world as i see myself in you, but only if I have the courage to see the true me or lie to all that never existed in me

just as this empty canvas painted the love that killed me...

Do ghosts exist?
If they do
they exist in me

Cause If the past is dead
then we are just ghosts
inside memories


You walk into my mind
Forcing me to run towards
what is no longer real
And your fragmented touch
I can somehow still feel


I will always see you
in your purgatory
that’s bound to me

To haunt all these places
our bodies use to be


Sometimes,
I hear your ghost speak

I get the chills
when I hear you say:

"don't leave me"

This is a redo of my original "Ghosts Inside" that I wrote around a year ago. This version I thought was more personal, being that it's relating to a loved one
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