#heathen
No place for me to fit in, sometimes not even my own skin
The 65th crayon on the floor next to the 64 count special edition tin
The two dollar DVD bin is even out of reach, at a loss as to where else to begin
I guess it's back to the drawing board to start over once again
Not a chance of bein' normal as an outcasted heathen
But that's never been a why for me, to fit in is not a win
I've been sittin' in this same place like a mannikin with a phoney grin
A clothespin holdin' together the fabric of my being with such discipline
But a strong gust of wind tears through like blowing your nose into a cheap napkin
Patched together like a quilt of sin read like a story board of which I'm a star in
Stitched together by not giving in, givin' it all I can, taking every shot to the chin
But life's not getting the win by KO or even by decision
I'm gonna need to be taken out the ring on a stretcher with blue skin
But the goal isn't really to win but to survive this doomed zeppelin
I start thinking maybe I can take this aggression and passion and turn it in...
...to a winnin' combination and spread it through the nation
Empower an entire generation, awaken an entire population
But all they'll see is Frankenstein's monster
©2018
Feb 16, 2018
Feb 16, 2018 at 12:27 PM UTC
Only God can help you now and and I don't see him here, do you?
I asked you a question motha plucker!! DO! YOU! SEE HIM?! He's certainly nowhere in my view
What's he gonna do, bust in her on some kind of divine rescue?
Kick the door off the hinges and run through, swoop you up and save you?
As a grown asss man how does that idea not perplex you?
If he exists he's forgotten all about you, he's forsaken all but a few
And the slough of sins you've happened to accrue became an issue
He's turned a deaf ear to every sincere word you've ever cried into that pew
Oh but you've never been alone, the devils there for us all
To answer the desperate call for help when our life's in a free fall
When we pledge to give anything for that one thing we believe to be a cure-all
Turn to an inadamint object for a sec for a possible answer to it all
"Oh magic eight ball...is there even any hope for me at all?"
"Not a chance" reads on the small dice, that's when you offer up your small life
Hand over your soul and heart packaged nice in a Ziploc bag full of ice
And at that percice moment he hands over your dreams but at a price
As eventually the good days splice off giving way, showing your sacrifice
A new nightmare trasnforms from your paradise, what once was used to entice
Turns to a vice that's twice as powerful when used as an evil device
And of course, by then, it's far to late to stop this from happenin'
The Lord's furry captured by a heathen stolen through the Golden gate, taken from heaven
Good heavens, where's Chris Evens? We need the captain
But a heros shield held by a broken zero is a domed zeppelin
Soooooo...I win, dark beats light again
I've racked up so many that we should change that old time sayin'
The one about how light always trumps dark cause I leave no question
Leave no doubt in anybody's mind that good doesn't always come out the champion
If you've ever watched any wrestlin' you've seen that the heel or the villian
Gets his hand raised often, over and over again and god willin'
I'll can keep continuin' this stylin', profilin', limousine ridin', jet flyin', kiss-stealin', wheelin' n' dealin' with a little added blood spillin' till my will 'n passion come unfastened or to an abrupt end
That's your only hope so I hope it doesn't ever happen
©2023
Jun 22, 2023
Jun 22, 2023 at 2:30 PM UTC
I see so many people,
Who carry their dread,
Like concrete umbrellas,
Up over their heads.
No time for sunlight-
Preparing for rain.
Ready to fight-
But not to feel pain.
All wrapped up in themselves,
Discontent with their lives,
Like they’re owed something else,
Than a good day to die.
Awareness floats on an eternal sea,
A glittering instant of consciousness ,
Vibrating between unrealities,
On a firmament of impermanence.
For no reason deciding to spring up from the ground,
As we careen through an exploding universe.
We spend our time trying to tear each other down,
The hue of our flesh sacks determining what we’re worth.
The earth is our mother and my ancestors are there,
I’m not scared to die as I was born- screaming and naked-
To love life as a moth loves fire is to live a prayer;
I am terrified of the moment being wasted.
Hope and freedom are not found
Behind the illusion of truth.
Look to Prometheus bound-
Who cares little to nothing for Zeus.
Nov 1, 2020
Nov 1, 2020 at 2:11 PM UTC
T minus minus 40 cents
This rocket fuel runs hot
Like blasting ****** through your veins
Its worth its worth a shot
I did i did a 40 shot
It rung my ******* bell
It ****** it ****** me up so bad
I lost my sense of smell
My eyes are twitching outta sync
My guts my guts are clenched
I think five oh is on the porch
I hope we dont get lynched
Im absent, gone, in outer space
I wrecked my rusty rocket
I know tho know tho how **** go tho
2 spares are in my pocket
I'll take one and I'll take one
I'll stay in tight formation
And pick up pick up dime line hoes
From down in Choctaw Nation
My back my back aches constantly
From breaking rocks, I guess
I swear I swear one day one day
I'll settle down, do less
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 4:36 AM UTC
Do I consider myself a heathen?
What is the definition of a heathen?
A friend?
A Loved One
Or Enemy?
No,
Why?
We are One!
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 4:09 PM UTC
In the pit of snakes lay Ragnar
Son of Odhinn
The King of Kings
Father of Legends
Blue eyes look to the sky
Snakes bite into his flesh
Saxons Cheer
“Death to the Heathen!”
Hatred in their eyes
As the King smiles and dies
The war has just begun
Feb 9, 2020
Feb 9, 2020 at 9:53 AM UTC
The air is wool
It is the shavings of innocence
It is the blood of atomic love
It is a momentary transience
I am a ticketeer
I own nothing but slips of paper
popcorn between the seats
rotting into kernels of knowledge to sleep with
She was and is the secret sucrose
a mysterious chemical, dreaming of becoming
Something that means more than just syrup
or unappetizing things
The earth was a open casket, nothing to hide
the soils and dreams of a ancient soul that had nothing to abide
She and I, lost amidst the widows
holding onto a dream of new life
Coupling together, we sought the stars
We stared through mirrors at ourselves in rings
Saturn and Mars
They the abodes of future eyes and ours
Not ready to see these things, chosen by god the in-between
Lost in the leaves and the lungs of her tree
I spoke to her, asking her what was
She replied rather callous that there was no love
Let's go on and shear the stars
let's take of their light and share with what's ours
Alight the funeral pyres and bait
God to give us the gifts He had never taken
Darling, I know I'm not the most beautiful thing
but I have gifts to share that don't hold in skin
they are never wrinkled, never tired, never lost of their youth
They are sweet simple liquor that will intoxicate with truth
Enough!
I am a tired Deseret dreaming of a new faith
I seek a maiden in which to build the estate
We can make the paradise of Eden on this plane
We can touch the golden calf and make it obey
Give to me your love and trust
I will give my ****** lust
My eternal heart, my corpse of dust
And push towards the solemn Eden of husks
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
Sugar of the island;
crystalline.
Seclude thyself from
the fingers of the men of The World.
Birds of flight;
softened against the earth; hardened against the sky.
Avoid rest beneath
the head of the men of The World.
Fresh water of the brook;
serene.
Bubble, toil, and rush away from
The mouths of the men of The World.
Trees of the forest;
magnanimous.
Stand tenacious before the frailty of them;
fortify the earth as it is gouged by the men of The World.
Mountains that challenge the heavens;
stoic.
Hold thyself between them
the men, and The World.
Salt-water of the sea;
viscous.
Run thyself down the gullet
of the men of The World.
Cattle of the fields;
naive.
Hold thy tongue and stomach;
do not slave to the men of The World.
Fangs of the exiled hunters;
voracious.
Bare thy teeth against them;
consume the meat of the men of The World.
Children of men;
ambiguous.
Remain at play; thy memory will wither of
the men of The World.
Men of The World;
insolent; gluttonous.
Sit idle and fat;
thy follies shall decay beneath the history of The World.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
the highest is where im headed
gotta go through hell to get to heaven
lights glaring feel so loud
popping pills like im proud
felt good a while then i fell
turns out i never even reached hell
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 1:01 AM UTC
What kind of fool am I?
One that shows no motion
Even though he thinks himself alone
What kind of fool is that?
A soul searching blind man
Who converts sight of facts to fiction
What does he perceive then?
He sees something in nothing
As a fanatical zealot would
What does he believe in?
Nothing, but he still looks
Remnants of God are still with him
Well then he is crazy, insane, a madman even
To search for something he knows isn't there
Yes,
He is only human
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
The unworded truth lay twisted,
Where teething creatures stir.
Caught in the cobs of forgotten crevasse,
The doomed but dormant menace.
Thy beast shall be relieved of such burden,
Set free to light all darkness in flame
To extinguish all, til no brightness remains.
Putrid air from foul corpses, permeate the living.
Forsaking unfit, weak forces; creating a race of productive courses.
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 9:07 PM UTC
I believe in humanity.
I worship at the altar of peace.
I pray for salvation from within.
I have no faith in human gods;
Just the minds
That dreamt them up from nothing.
Yet I falter, and I doubt
And even if it’s just for tonight,
I admit my gods are as false as any other.
I am a heathen.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 6:15 PM UTC
when I say the wind blows
you already know
but how do the leaves portend
emerald on the end
or grasping to the limb?
If the Love is Lost, when?
feelings were ample
yet, when unplugged they limp lame
sentiment in lieu of visceral slanguage;
Who needs a Heart when a record can be Broken?
i think therefor iThoughts
Depress into cracked lead
and bled red into inkwell;
gun shots have more potent stocks
tragically hip to be so square ingots
what gracious melodies and languid lives
battered idioms with only one just is to bear
how Sad their flirtatious Ness affair
with Pain must fin' ish and putrefy,
those believers in Death will die
hail a Hashtag worthy of
Octothorp
for phoenixes are found everyday
prostrate your Poetry for posthumous
consumption
apply the alembic of alteration
and
Heal our Hashtag heathen history
or
**** It
Hate the Hashtag
that's Life!
#love #life #sad #pain #depression #thoughts #death #sadness #heartbreak #lost
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 8:28 PM UTC
The peace pipe that has
two sides -
zoom the monsoon clouds,
summertime-bizarre.
Choices,
pieces of the peace puzzle:
Biblical, them both.
Pasts alive in
binocular introspection.
Smoking the hashtag#, now:
A hundred colour
abominations around.
Comrade, policeman,
look, our
daughters go abducted.
The last rain is dying
and the heat soars again:
Wand-love or rod-fear:
It's a battle of the faithful
in a heathen heathen world.
#hash's so-sixties.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC