I don’t believe in a god,
But for some reason I still pray to one.
Promising I’ll change my ways if he helps me,
just this one time.
But he never does,
So I don’t change my ways
I don’t believe in a god.

I

Men must slumber in the darkness
In order to be truly awaken
Men must be desperately lost
In order to look up at the endless stars

The young love to sing about death
While the old worship life like the sun
The young are hopeless on earth, dreaming of flight
The old fear to be parted from the land without a raging fight

II

Who wants to be from War and Peace
The Fly against the loft sky
But we are all just flies
Traceless, each life in a dream it lies
Always to be awakened, bringing nothing and taking nothing
Why must we seek truth in a dream?
If we will forget them when we finally open our eyes
With joy, with sorrow
We witness death
Just so we would strive to stay alive
But why are we alive?
To prepare us for what?

III


Is it just for that half asleep, half awake
Shadowy, faint, and veiled memory?
Is it possible that when we truly open our eyes one day
We would still feel all that we’ve felt in the dreams?
Yes, in my brief nightly drowsiness, I have felt
Despair and happiness
And existed so profoundly!

Slumber or Awake, Illusion or Truth
Reality or Dream
There never was any true death or an end
I was always
Alive Alive Alive

I

Life is the only route
Between nothingness and the endless
Our birth on earth, and our perishing to dirt
Are both equal ends for the existing

And fools will simply rejoice in the illusive brevity
While sages prepare for the everlasting dance
And fools will take comfort in the darkness obscuring his sins
While sages prepare for the brilliance of the yonder light  
By already shining and basking in this life

II

I want to be from War and Peace
The Bee of such trivial and insignificant life
For we are all just bees
Unnoticed, but must exist
Why were we ever born to fly,
When true height is beyond this life?
Just for the pollen and nectar, taken and given?
Till bees return to the impermanent or the forever?
We will regret their absence then, bitterly and barrenly
Witnessing loss, just to learn to cherish
The existing.
But we exist, for what?

III

Is it just for that half asleep, half awake
Shadowy, faint, and veiled memory?
Is it possible that when we truly open our eyes one day
We would still feel all that we’ve felt in the dreams?
Yes, in my brief nightly drowsiness, I have felt
Despair and happiness
And existed so profoundly!

Slumber or Awake, Illusion or Truth
Reality or Dream
There never was any true death or an end
I was always
Alive Alive Alive

Conclusion:

Being alive
Is not just so we can die
That is completely meaningless
Being alive,
Is the only route
From nothingness to endlessness

Only having been once alive
Can you be resurrected
Only when you walk this road to the end
Will you find and continue the pave to the
Neverending Land

Money protect Me, for i am of money
Power protect all your children who love You
may it be always, that we remain one
till’ all accounts settle, and we transform into none

passion for poem, wanton weakness in words
I am nothing
like anything
you think you have heard
chaos of rough draft
order adds on each edit
I give bread, and give breath, and you give me no credit

my father, my father, tell me why did you leave me?
the lust of a dust castle
seduced, she bereaved me
she robbed me of every singed hair, I remember
she left through the cold chimney late in December

I struggled to speak, in a world without ears
I sought long for weeping, but never found tears
I the day, I the night
I am time before years
I the moon
I the sun
I your most hopeful fear

Me is not I, unless words could deceive us
my bitterness feeds on the truth that you leave us
you leave and have left, and are leaving again
Me equals Us, and you leave us my friend

not leaving or coming, see
I’ve all come and left
I have no where to go, I have no where to nest
no bed and no pillow
no blanket or tree
you refuse to accept that my rest is with me

don’t tease me
or mock, with your promise of wages
you, the dumb-deaf demise of our weak-minded sages
you, insisting we work seven days of the week
you leave my hand empty and return me to the streets

it is for want of a road
you must sleep in the streets
I offer you rest, but you are always asleep
I ask you to walk
Your sun crumbled your feet
I ask you to walk
so you severed your wings

Has Anyone Every Noticed That god Fills In The Blanks?
-If We Only Use him For The Holes Does he Exist?

hate is as strong as a blade
yet, you throw it around like it's a debate
your religion is the false foundation for your hatred
you hold onto your false morals like a trophy
that trophy is not holy
you constructed that as a shield for loathing
killing true religion
creating the theology of hate

I looked at myself through an oracle’s mirror;
At the person I was, have become and one day could be…

I saw a little seraph girl with a crooked halo
Resting on her devil horns.
Her tired heart and brave mind
Were curious yet guarded.

That day I saw myself  
With every scar
Every fallen tear
Every smile
And every milestone.
I peaked through my wings
And saw the devil They never wanted
But the angel for whom I still fought for
On the darkest nights
And loved on the brightest mornings.

I have become a paragon of imperfections and flaws.
Transformed into a tesselation
Of loosely sutured calamity weaving
Through the complexities of my benevolence.

And yet…

Beyond myself,
I saw the world in its blackened beauty
Reflected so wondrously
In shades of good and evil
And wrong and right
And wrapped ever so tightly in adventure.

My golden apple waiting just outside of Eden’s gates.

Shall I take it?
And be locked out of my garden forever?

The cherubs will be forlorn,
And the demons may even shed a tear,
And the hell whose flames I’ve kept so tamed
May reach out and dance across the garth.

God is above
Of all and other things
Adam bit the apple,
Who had all this vision seen?

Follow the Lord or follow the horde?
Even one was heavy then,
Chastening in a trembling Eden;
A coiled serpent yawning in each head.

Thanks for the drop
So Seemingly accidental
Kicked like a pebble along this gravel-road time line

I turn and glance a mirror
How introspective.

My ***** cragged shell
My thoughts tainted by my odious flesh
Mississippi catfish have seen better days

I can only swim backward if I’ve  finally seen the danger
And the warning signs come a flooding
Crawdads taught me well.

A clam diving headlong into the sludge
Detritus never felt so comforting

Sand in my eyes
Sand in my eyes
Exfoliate your corneas boy!

Rotten fruit never tasted so good
Spoiled milk and flies
A dog to its own *****

Thanks for the shock collar
The pound
The castration
Hand that feeds
How sweet and tender-hearted
You cherish your convenience

I am a cursed man
Born dead
Alive and dead once again
As time is slowly ticking

I gasp for air
Salt water
Light to relieve me of crippling water pressure
It’s too dark down here

Why is the end of the tunnel above the surface?
I can’t breathe up there

Throw me a line
Yank me away
To an abrasive serenity at the hand of a fisherman in the kitchen sink

A plastic ring will do nicely
Might as well sink and feed my brothers
Might as well think to myself
Rather than lead others

Might as well smudge my words so that no one can read what I wrote
With the needle in my side

My thorns are innate
Yet I wield them as stripes
My fillet is laid
Across the plate at the last supper

My time as a bottom feeder is through

Our lives are the space in between
The war of good and evil
Darkness and light
on opposing sides
And we’re the dusk somewhere in between
The gray we see in black and white
On the static of an old tv

Here i am to be influenced
Or mislead, I decide
As I stand where the West skies meet the East
There I see my sin,
Sitting right Where God left it.

Would he even care if I took it back?
So I could make myself feel condemned again
****** if I do if I Don’t

To hell or high water where I’m just looking up if I drown
Down to Sheol in a Creole mix of vudu or hudu, and “who did You say that you are again?”
Yoo-Hoo! You who breathes out ******* stars, gains the faith of the humans just to send them out to war
It’s a double-edged sword
These lines hand-drawn, into sand, thrown up by a whale, and out onto land, down by the bay to the gates of Hell
It’s the day and the night
With Blades drawn for the fight

Where the dark meets the light once again

Here I am to be influenced
Or put under influence
Or crushed underfoot
Like the serpent I’m grinning but losing this tooth
For the healing heel of my chosen Christ
As it taps into the god’s vein of gold
I see gray,
since I live under a rock made of slate
From old chalkboards
That that were never quite cleaned all the way
Dust lining my nose, Coke lines down the road, and a chalk-outline in the gutter

Where the body you made, to break only to fix again,
died so you could give it a new one
My brain is made of metal
Metal is gray
Gray matter and static
And the cobwebs in the attic are grey
There isn’t one color
But only the black shade of gray
And a white tint of day
Could peel me away from a life of which colors to see

If I don’t decide, live a monotonous life
And stare at the eyes in the screen
I live on either side of black and white,
Where I’m only ever to be seen by the faces lacking shading to be anything more than 2-d, anything thing less than deep
They’re flat like walls, screens, phone calls, steel beam conspiracies, and white girls before a wedding, the starving living in Haiti,
they’re all ******* flat and it’s bleak

I’m having to answer to cancer, and vandals, and rebels, and low profit margins
But I’m just advancing, the random and dumb scribblings of pencil, from a self-proclaimed celestial
And lack the knowledge fit for kindergarteners

And they’re still...  GRAY!.

But if I lean towards artists
And arson for grills made of sulphur and charcoal
The fire consuming a trail of addicts and some chain-smokers
Sinners in chains left like food for the vultures

And cities made of concrete and sin are still gray!
And so is the smoke they breathe out when they burn.
And drill bits dig as they turn into the thoughts, as my brain turns to gray, the gray pickaxes of seven dwarves
as they mine for ores or nether-regions, either or.
leaving God but still believing, ashes are not black in the shadows of factory smoke-stacks
Ashes, ashes, ashes, are ******* gray.

Even the diamonds we see through, to find the dried, white **** on the other side,
Black diamond slopes for the frequent skier, stretching into to the sky, even higher
Than the Everest in your viewfinder
Which still made of gray, is covered in white,
But when **** meets the black and snowballs down the other side, all you see are grey stars as it turns out your lights.

All that we see through is fake
anything less than opaque,
all that we through is clearer
As charades disappear into mirrors
You realize the line between darkness and light
Is a great work of sculpturesque figures
Made Of gray clay
Lodged in history of the gray clouds that rained out the world
A rainbow appeared but it was gray
Because god is not the color we see
And not picking a side is a travesty

So this line I walk doesn’t exist
Blissful in my ignorance
I choose bad or divine
But cant see down the line
But if I could it’d just be ******* gray