Isn't it ironic that
Silence screams so loud
we drown out the sound
and pray the voices pipe down
" they don't sound like me anymore
  they won't go away and each day
  a demented voice pulls me under
  and now I wonder...
which way is up?"

Isn't it ironic how
playing cards can cut
like a razor blade
and red dice rolling
become an evil eye that winks.
Does that cloth
on a tricky table
feel as soft
as the lining on a nearby coffin?

Isn't it ironic
when love's soft touch
devolves into lust
and broken hearts
disintegrate into rust,
when a silent embrace
becomes an empty bed
but that void only deepens
when we cheapen
our body and soul
to feel whole
for a mere moment.

Isn't it ironic
we want a world
so far from reality
we blur the one we have
as we snort, smoke and swallow
our problems away
only for them to return
on a much darker day.

A hundred vices
**** a thousand men
and in solidarity we stand.
Let one brave soul say
I have been bitten by these...
and more
so many more!
Let me lean on you brother
Let me comfort you sister
Let us stumble forward together!

Done living double life,
Done executing half-hearted attempt,
Done playing safe game,
Done lying inside safety bubble,
Done scavenging through illusion and mirages.
Finally, I am awakened, I am done drifting.

Now, that I know I am not special,
I am just a common man- a mortal.
Trying to live life in present;
hoping to leave a dent in the process.

I am part of this filthy world
Laden with perfect imperfection.
I want access,
I want to witness,
I want to experience things;
Forbidden.
I want to indulge, effacing innocence
With the licentious.

No! No! No! are you getting an idea?
I am not a demon in making.
Least of all- Devil.
You are yet to see the other half of me,
Which I think you will ever see.
Or, perhaps deserve to know.
So don’t come hard at me.
You are nowhere near to judge me.
Don’t call me a savage.
I’m not.
I am just being true to myself,
a bit generous-giving exposure to my alter ego.
Don’t call me sordid- a barbarian.
For being honest, admitting thing or two-
So to say confessing.
I know, for you are no different.
For sure, no exception.
You are nothing but pretending or perhaps unaware of.
I better cherish heinous crime consciously than abstaining
Myself with moral scruple.
For I know now that abstinence will **** us unconsciously anyways.

Giants lived here, we collected their bones
in museums, their spirits in myseums
of status and power, pride and desire

We are the shining oil lamps
in which the spirits live on wishes
that we sometimes cannot control

Then one escapes
and he roams the earth
that gives him weight and makes him heavy

a giant who is way too big
for our world and people
are challenged by him

to unite
against him before all hell breaks loose
destroying everything

Helicopters roar across the country
and turn crazy
in fearfully hiding heads

Time is ticking louder

Meadows of loving emotion
Jostle us kindly away
From cascades of swollen ire
That guide our desires astray.

Dear Lord,

I know their earthly bodies find comfort in its smog,
in the brine, and in the actions that keep them sane

and I ask you, Lord, who is the pinnacle of comfort
to ease their minds and souls and lift them out of pain

in Your mercy, by Your light, by Your loving holy light
so they may never need to smoke or drink again

Amen