Pick up the phone for a dial tone
While alone for the first time
With a knife to your neck
You express how echoes affect your life
Never once do you hear from the other side
I self destruct you press your luck and replay lost time

There's no break in the wake of my silence
Now you hate that I'm late to the violence
This mistake, our new fate has crossed through
What is lost, what it cost, but ain't really nothing new
Nothing new

Oh! Cara, Cara baying blood
Cleanse yourself from tracking mud
Hear me out, I think you should
Crying never did no good
Take the blade from your hand
Throw it up and take a stand
In between the lines you read
Rooting vines can't hide your greed
You deceive all the tricks
Laughing as you get your fix
Turn around placing blame
Shivering from all your shame

It's been almost a year and I don't love you anymore. But I can't help but remember you showing me The Wonder Years and I don't think of you when I listen to them, but I will admit you still come to mind when I listen to Aaron West. It's bittersweet, like grapefruit. Both ended up my coping mechanism.
You left when I had the most faith in you I would ever have and it's not that I'm not over you. I'm not over what you did. I fear putting that much of my faith into someone again would be like handing them a loaded gun with a faulty trigger, as cliche as that is, and praying they don't shoot. I fear it wouldn't matter whether they try to shoot or not. I fear it'll happen when they don't mean for it. I'm afraid to love.
I don't hate you, but by no means do I love you, I just hope you're happy and you don't think about me when you look around that apartment, because I know I helped you move in-- I was there when you brought in your couch, bed, everything on that road. I stopped thinking about you every time I stepped into my room. I hope you did the same.
I hope she's happy, too. The girl you're with now. You did everything you could to hide the fact it was /her/ of all girls you ended up with, but it wasn't in my control that my friends told me. I'm happy you two are together-- you always talked about your connection anyway. I knew it had full potential, I just always hoped it wouldn't.
I've picked up bad habits, but haven't we all? I hope Ezra happens for you, and I hope I didn't ruin the name. I hope she treats you right.
It's been almost a year and I don't love you anymore. I just wish things didn't end the way they did. And I'm sorry.

A hint of blue lit up her hair
Who was this dark beauty
Who just stepped out of nowhere
Who was this punk creature
A pierced face, so fair?

She tries to look mean
But she doesn't know
What I have been
The things I lost
The things I have seen

My gaze passes hers
And a moment I am paralized
As I know
She too realized
I'm in awe

This secret we now share
Me and the beautiful,
Punk, mean looking girl
And her blue hair

Cursed by technology
Born to be a prodigy
Roamed the earth to become well versed in ecology.
Broke the dirt with the farm hand’s anthology

Made a stony hearth from the girth of this broken land’s economy.
Pitched my yurt where the man can’t bother me.

On top of luscious greens,
In the field of dreams,
No more do I pull the weeds of society.

All my proceeds grow seeds
I don’t need deeds just look at these feats
Grab an ear of corn if you haven’t heard of me.

Burn what you don’t need,
An idea of greed, the illusion of necessity.

Brought to you by bold thieves
Who trade lives but don’t sleep
Hold banquets but don’t eat
Grow food but don’t feed.

Ripped from your roots.

Dropped on the streets
in the sweltering heat.
Drying like souls of the ******,
every last one of us lost lambs.

What they want for me, it’s not a part of me

I won’t take place in the injustice that’s been bought for me.
But what I brought for me is a hypothesis,
Tranquility so deep a Buddhist monk couldn’t offer me
More than what my coffers could proffer me.

I’m not crazy but I have started the uncoupling

That’s got me to this mental brink,
Out of this poisonous sink,
No longer do I drink- from this sea of doubt
Where the irradiated mind has its teeth pulled out.

I put my knowledge of “earthology” into this horse and plow
I raise sow in the north for truffles of course
Sell them for hundreds of dollars an ounce to chefs in New York

I make herbal oils richer than kings from thorny things and rosy beings
Contemplating the meaning of life while looking at my fig-leaves

And I will pick the fruit and share it with you
Confuse me not with a more treacherous youth
Whom only seeks to toxify you with some new indoctrinated truth
Give you some of their lead paint proof, glyphosate too.

Their cell phone hooks filling your time with
Facebook looks,
And a MySpace laze
With honeycomb glaze
There in your man-made maze
Where you don’t speak for days.

I have seen the ways good people choose bad things to happen due the deceit
Of the industry they’re tapping’
Where is the Chaplain?
He’s got this book , and his grubby hands are in the pocket of the fat man
Who takes the holy waters and turns them to black sand.

Tossing grains in the air it’s unclear “whether” we can breathe it in
With no name and no face one rigged rat race,

We look for those Rebels M.I.A.

It's quite simple really.

Months have passed since the day
I've fallen for you.
Such a shame that you couldn't tell.
Sorrow and hate fills me.

Yielding to the emotions of hostility.
Only the broken could've empathized with me.
Understand that I'm imperfect and forgive me.

Silence is the stake in my heart.
Over the months, it stabs deeper into me.

Maybe I've made the wrong decision.
Until I've seen what it reaps,
Carrying the burden of doubt is my trial.
Haunted by memories of you is my masochistic pleasure.

All this must have been quite a surprise.
Do realize that I'm just a man...perhaps lesser.
Imaginations are what feeds my needs now.
Told you I'm evil.
I love you, darling.

Honey-sweet blasphemy, touch like ****** poetry
Scratches, bites and ecstasy - look at what you do to me!

Sweet Devil, my love
Sweet Devil above
Sweet Devil below, come unto me
Sweet Devil , oh my
Sweet Devil, so fine
Sweet Devil, are you in love with me?

Feline, non-divine, I love the way I make you shine!
Kiss me briskly, you frisky little ***** of mine!

Sweet Devil my love
Sweet Devil above
Sweet Devil below, come unto me
Sweet Devil , oh my
Sweet Devil, so fine
Sweet Devil, are you in love with me?

Bloodstains on my bedsheets
Clawmarks in my back
You're a savage - I'm a beast
Have you ever been ****** like that?

some punk rock band on the radio
plays transparently hopeful echoes of some quick romance
while she lounges on the couch in a see-thru dress
smoking expensive french cigarettes
her dreadlocks spread round in the morning sunlight
but her sunglasses out of context in the small room
she is the definitive architecture of **** cool
tapping a painted finger nail on the wood in time with the tune
her lips mirror the the lyrics perfectly
its a weeping time tale to hear her past out from
the start of her humble jungle of a childhood
to her trips along the nile river photographed so well
she's an open book translated from street etiquette
to manicured lawns of the greasy richy riches
and back again
the room holds many scents
roses from her bedspread
stale leaves burning from those parisian cigarettes
and her delicate and elusive perfume that my mind
wraps itself up in with such intense images of
my lips grazing the nape of her neck
i walk across the uneven floor of the small room
and land myself slowly up against her warm body
we talk softly
the hour drifts by like dust falling in the still air
disappears like the punk song
fading into echoes

By Nabs

Have you ever heard
the sound of the wind dying?

It sounds a lot like your hoarse crying.

Broken moons, stifled sobs
smell of cardamom and pain.
Angry strokes, lightning brush
across this singed canvas.

Paint me with a storm.
Paint me with a storm.

Guttural rumble of disagreement,
muted in its pallor.
Second hand embarrassment
is lethal to the skin.

Broken bottles, broken souls
stuck in a machination of malfunctioning systems.
we never had control in the first place.

We put energies in our sorrows,
forgetting to store them for our backbone.
No wonder we can't stand straight
and look up to the sun.

"Amnesia", we would plead.
Cause all we remember is how to bleed.

Have you ever heard
the sound of the wind dying?

It sounds a lot like the day we went crashing.