Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
729 · May 2013
quarry pick
tread May 2013
The forest and my sadness flow
like seedless cherries- the mystic
is musty.

the mist is mosaic.

I have a beautiful problem.

I have a very beautiful problem.
727 · Jun 2013
paddy-cake
tread Jun 2013
light the loony

                up and smoke the copper


it's a 11 years until the window             shatters like the ice




                                      and all the photos sheer
                            
                                              every shepard with a hand-me-down robe marching through a mall



                       in the left of center demograph making millions crawl




through a stop light.
an old poem I discovered in my documents.
tread Sep 2013
so blatantly alone---
everyone caught
up in their own
affairs they can
only offer me
'sorry you're
sad.' so blatantly
alone and my
parents are far
enough away
that I know I
need to face
this on my own.
so so so alone.
I ride busses
hoping it's
therapy, but
I am torn apart
inside with an
empty hopelessness
about the world---
I want to die and
come back a
happier creature.
or maybe not come
back at all.

so blatantly alone.
717 · Sep 2013
cashing in
tread Sep 2013
encouragement was a
bottle-neck broken
bottle-picking ***
you dropped the
bottle from the
blue bin. the
clerk denied
you the
deposit,
told you
not to
tear the
labels,
told you
it was
shattered,
told you
to take it
all the
way to
the depot
south of
town for
disposal.
you
glared
at him
a moment
and lit a
cigarette.

the
conversation was over
like the
monarchy-
it no longer
had
any
say.

it
had
to
answer to
public opinion.
717 · Sep 2013
at the only
tread Sep 2013
life is an autistic boy's
shining blue eyes
of childlike innocence

incoherently slapping
the bongos

like God saying,

"and?"
he's beautiful. bombastic.

immortal.
716 · Sep 2013
dialogue with death
tread Sep 2013
"so you're okay?"

"well, no. not really. not at all. And I apologize for the absolute mess in my place.. fruit flies and all. I've been in a state of depressed apathy at dishes for the past 2 weeks."

"it's a little gross, but nothing I haven't seen before. Listen.. you're gonna be fine. As deep as you're hurting, you're gonna be fine."

"I'm just not sure if I believe that kind of rhetoric anymore. It's almost political; 'you're gonna be okay. don't **** yourself, don't **** yourself,' it'd be an inconvenience to the whole structure of what keeps us alive.. how do we explain this fellows misery to the point of self-inflicted death? how can we keep things flowing if everyone's looking over in anguish at this little ***** corpse?"

"it's always been your choice.. to live or die. it's a spider-wed effect in the way it impacts others, though.. it gives them something heavy that some become anchored with for the rest of their lives."

"then you're telling me to live for everyone else. that's all I live for sometimes; because I can't stand to think how the people who have hurt me would feel about themselves if I took my life. The endless blame game they'd play in their heads.. and the questions those who loved me would have.. not regarding my death.. but regarding their lives in the wake of my blood-stained absence."

"I'm not quite sure what to say to that."

"Listen.. I've considered drowning all of my misery in a nihilistic dance with life.. ***, drugs, shameless self-promotion.. but I just don't think I have it in me to stop loving. And that means I don't have it in me to stop feeling. And that means I don't have it in me to keep living. Not forever. Not for long. I'm just waiting for me to save my life, but I'm not coming, because I don't exist. I'm at the hotel counter waiting for the clerk to come out from the back office so I can check out."
715 · Aug 2013
Bukowski
tread Aug 2013
I'm walking through a grey zone
everything a dull ache
everything a dull ache

you haven't texted me back yet
you're probably driving
everything a dull ache
everything a dull ache

searching Bukowski quotes for ways to cope
sent you a Bukowski quote that reminds me of us
everything a dull ache
everything a dull ache
708 · Sep 2010
Equilibrium
tread Sep 2010
Your forward notion;
It's a living emotion;
And the winds will guide you,
As the forward,
It finds you.

'*** the world will stand blind,
As an idle young mind,
It will think of your kind,
And trust you to find,

The planet we've lost,
To the greedy and shallow.
Bring them their justice,
From the knot of the gallows.
- From The Friendly Inferno of the Everyday Only
tread Feb 2013
Patterns in the leaf jacket,
Nature plays Jackyl and Hyde with the weather.
I wouldn't mind if light didn't light me like a sun-candle, distant star to others, and dark didn't mean I didn't mind death.
Preferred it, even.
Somewhere in the Dubai of the modern mind, the good still dwells,
And so does an earthy spirit.

I fell in love with a girl who holds me when I'm  crumble-glass and when I'm rock,
No image institutes the angel in her coronary thump,
Poised to be the psychic reading cards inside my nuerons,
The UVic hoodie she's draped in is what I'd like to see her wear nothing but
On a warm Northwest beach,
And more than anyone she is a dream come true
I just hope I have the strength to believe
That dreams really do come true.

As of late I've been dead, but she woke me with a start
Translated into poems
I would usually never read,
Let alone write with the confidence of an overdose gone fixed.
6 days.
tread Nov 2012
hasn't been long
has it?

or
has it?

- - -

why is it that
everyone who walks in here
looks so
*******
beautiful?

- - -

why is it that
everyone who walks in here
looks so
*******
concerned?

- - -

I like the idea
of organized crime

reminds me of
well
organized crime.

- - -

I've learned enough
but I can always learn more.

I've learned enough
but I can always learn

m
oooo
re.

- - -

sometimes
I notice
someone
peaking at me
from
the
front-counter.

curious?

why, yes, I am.

- - -

I don't
know
if it's arrogance
or love

that drives me
to hope
someone else
will be just as excited about
my poetry
as

I am.

and it probably
doesn't
even
matter

really.

- - -

sweet half-smile
from a girl
or
woman
woah man
with really friendly curls.

I'd chat
but

well

- - -

my dream world
consists
of being able to yell
at everyone

how much I love them
and how

beautiful

I think they are.

- - -

there's no line
in the sand

so
shut the **** up
about separates.

- - -

Sisyphus
you are a nice metaphor
but

you're still a metaphor
and if I read you enough

I will forget that
and you will win
a battle you had no idea

you even started.

- - -

am I still writing
about a cafe?

no

but I am still writing
in a cafe.

- - -
690 · Apr 2012
Block Bay
tread Apr 2012
Serendipity had be trickling
Down to the bottom of the well.

Rise and fall and rise and fall
Inseparable like Heaven and Hell.

The peaks and valleys,
Miscounted tallies,
And words that seem to spell
"L O V E S disguise"
My lack of words is the loudest I yell.

Speak to trees that see through me
With eyes so blank, yet full;
I run my fingers through my hair,
The wind pushes and pulls.

A rainy day down at Block Bay
Feels nice, despite the cold.
I am one with the lake and mountains;
I am infinitely old.

The industrial wharf is bobbing
Up and down again;
Rise and fall and rise and fall,
The All and Every in it's zen.


The peaks and valleys,
Miscounted tallies,
And words that seem to spell
"L O V E S disguise"
Everywhere is where I dwell.
tread May 2011
How do I give traction to this estranged attraction?
Do I put my thought into action, and gauge her reaction?
Or is looking to date, for me, a risky transaction?
I keep pushing these feelings into blatant abstraction,
And I'm sorry.

I'm bad, at this point, with our interaction,
It lacks a consistency,
Yet withholds sporadic satisfaction,
And I'm not all that sure on how to approach you,
Every time I'm around you, it seems the uneasy stages a coup inside my head,
And proves it don't pay to be well-read, if the words you have learned seem to remain unsaid,
How silly.
687 · Jan 2013
I'm tired sometimes.
tread Jan 2013
Yielded to the toast on plate,
it's a quaint morning but it
began in boredom. I closed
my eyes and kept them tight
because I knew I had nothing
to do but keyboards and screens
with a side of cleaning. This is
freedom? I suppose freedom is
the choice to this multiplied
one million, but when you
wake up bored, now what?
Someone once told me that
motivation is like a bath-
recommended every day or 2. I
suppose they're right. I really do.
683 · Apr 2013
simple
tread Apr 2013
Clear head clear cut,
although you mean
well most of the time,
it lost a certain zazz
with a hip hop iPod
consolation of fill-
osophy (fill me up!
I'm a black hole! A
void in the space-
time continuum! A
suave dance move
performed by drunk
tracers!)

a

heart
        ache

and a

    bottle
               of

                          nun.

           sip and dip.
682 · May 2013
dr
tread May 2013
dr
so exercise is the logical conclusion.
illogically, my matted lack-of-a-
shower and my swollen lymph
node to the point of painful
swallows speak nothing in
the way of 'yes' or 'no.'
At this point,
I'm just lonely and jealous of the worlds
'okay,' and can't be bothered with little
touchies like- oh, perhaps she meant it?
we meant it, by any measure. concussive
doubts rain on my soul like laughter,
intention; lymph node aches as I chew.
time to call a doctor. time to call a dr.
678 · Sep 2010
Not To Be Commanded
tread Sep 2010
There are nights when sleep evades,
My tired eyes; yet thought invades,
To make my hallow head howl loud;
Tonight, you will not find a crowd,
In thronged masses; city streets,
Tonight, no DJ drops his beats.

There are nights when sleep comes soon,
Under the brightly-lit full moon;
My thoughts, lie strewn throughout this mess,
I call my brain; the cut-slack caress,
Of my gift in which I care,
So little for the systems 'fair,'
They tell me structure has it's place,
In this chaos we call the human race;
Yet the guns and guts beg to tell,
A different story, of others hell.

Now I'm not one to run from black;
And I'm not one to move off track,
Yet the beaten trail, I find used,
And along it lies the bodies,
Bruised,
Of those who chased the distant dreams,
Of alcohol and slot-machines.

The TV blares, until nights end;
It tells us fame sits around the bend,
That we do walk past,
Everyday,
Like I can't see the gullible sway,
Towards such lies;
They grow so old,
Around that bend,
Lie's fools gold.

The beat, upon it's own does change,
From black to blue,
And red to gray;
The ones that fear such backlash say,
'Does color matter anyway?'
Is there a separate end,
To night and day?

To say the least,
Time is a lie,
A lie which tells me when I die;
Please, when I die, you can cry,
But not because we won't speak again,
Instead because throughout your veins,
I pulsed like blood, seeped like sweat,
And now all I do, is beset,
Your head with thoughts of then,
Which envelope for the moment, now;
Yet I am still the sweat on your brow,
I am the words you speak,
And moves you make;
I left you empty, in my wake,
And as of now, you must fulfill;
That is my last wish, my last will.

Full of hatred, be mankind,
Yet now the light they've dodged,
Is there to find,
In others words,
There thoughts, in kind,
Twist fervently forwards,
The future in which I won't be,
Our actions made this new man free.

I am, yet then I am not,
For my partial head has caught,
The virus I asked to infect,
To find within our souls; collect,
The universe is large above;
Do you think stars fall in love?

Glassy eyed,
I look at you.
I'm tired, yes,
And so are you,
Yet upon our faces,
We both wear,
Projections that we both do care,
So much for what we both are;
When we're with each other,
Our minds meld,
Like molten iron,
No thoughts withheld;
They say that kisses seem to weld,
Forever stronger than industrial bonds;
Of you, yes, I'm dearly fond.

The King upon the mountain screams,
You must all see, I, too, have cracked seams;
I to am just as flawed,
And now to that,
You must applaud.

For through these cheers,
The truth is shown;
We all have at least one charred bone,

And there is no such thing as being alone.
677 · Sep 2013
tew day
tread Sep 2013
there's not enough of me
to let you have. if we are
together, I won't be.

in other news, the world
looks brighter through
this working motivation
and I owe Telus $255
in long-distance fees.
675 · May 2013
carrington
tread May 2013
can't litter facets-
love masked cold.

can't litter facets-
put the Herse in
neutral & wait for
us to pass the finish
line; fuel economy
like 2 looped circles
loosely grasping each
finger as newborn flesh
to pan-fried / breaded
chicken.

that's the advert I was
clickin'.

figured I'd be dead by
now.
tread Sep 2013
intrepid young explorer! where
does the river take you? heart?
mind? soul? toe? jasmine green
tea leaps out the cup in the form
of steam. it was always easier to
sleep than to stand and face the
massive concoction called your
mistakes. mis-takes. retake? we
wait like money to be spent. we
*wait like dollars to be dropped.
673 · Sep 2013
my body is a border
tread Sep 2013
terrorism found my heart
and decided it was time
for a lesson in
Syrian geo
-politics.
civil war, sectarian violence
tread Nov 2010
May you be blessed with,
Much laughter; deep love.

May you bear witness,
To the bright stars above.

May you see brightness,
On the darkest of days.

May you not settle,
For that which just pays.

May you not find,
You're required to fight.

May you allow others,
To carry the light.

May you see what is,
As opposed to what's not.

Feel blessed as you cry,
For you're alive, as you feel your tears drop.

Feel real as you kneel,
In modest respect,
For those who have seen,
Who have sung,
And who find no need to neglect.

Feel the freedom endowed,
Upon your innocent shoulders;
As it will make you guilt-ridden,
Or crush you like a boulder.

Remember to remember,
Forget little, and let
The world play a game of picks, screws, and death.

You are as real to me, as real can get.
668 · Oct 2012
Two Gods in Bed
tread Oct 2012
the music climbs like a mystic rummaging layer by layer upon steps of wood leading to the mundane middle of a bedroom
'meditation leads to sleep, we are in the perfect place!' he smiles
Christ, you're like Christ
I think.

all of a sudden he is lying on my bed, sleeping, arms outstretched,
and I climb into my side of the bed, he pulls closer
wraps his arms around me and says
"Christ, you're like Christ,"

I turn to him slowly and smile
all of the sudden God falls asleep.
tread Nov 2012
The best way to honour a passing or passed loved one is to go through every feeling naturally, and let it all unfold as it must. But do not let it paralyze you; do not let it destroy you. How do you think your loved one would feel should they see their death, ultimately, caused your death? They'd feel pretty guilty; they'd wish they hadn't passed and they would become angry and upset and destroyed in the thought of its inevitability. As such, the best way to honour a passing or passed loved one is to passionately pursue life; enjoy every moment and accomplish with the thought and the memory of them in your mind and imagine if they could see you and say, "my death did not **** them, my death helped to bring them alive, so now I know I can truly rest in peace."

That's what it truly is to let a soul rest. To move on and let their flame fuel your essence, not burn it to ashes.

That is true love.
I love you Auntie Debbie. So much.

Your memory will fuel my love and my life, as Nanny's still does.
664 · Sep 2013
V Minutes
tread Sep 2013
I can hear you two wrestling in
the other room. she says 'want
some grape-fruit? it heals bruises.'
I think of the hickey, I think of her,
I think of you- - - and I begin to hate
all three of us. I'm as confused as your
lack of regret. I'm as confused as my
sizzling heart, and the key to the lamp
-shade begins to melt away as I think of
you and our repeating cycle. what keeps
running through my head is an old Native
American proverb I once heard in Sid Meier's
Civilization:

"Chase 2 rabbits into a forest, and you can
*expect to lose them both."
663 · Nov 2012
Hello Angel
tread Nov 2012
I can't even begin to know where to start about life.
The depth of beauty and intricacy is this great big incredible- an infinite, infinite, infinite incredible. Sitting alone at home on my computer, trying to strike inspiration from one place or another, I always end up with a coffee in one hand contemplating how beautiful the wine glass to the left of my kneecap looks in the hue of light beaming in from the rainy grey bright- or I gaze outside and contemplate my warm protection from the cold and wet outside, wondering what would truly be better- this warmth? or the thrill of living and forced recognition of every step given by the airy forecast of the clouds wisping from my breath, breaching me from the shoe of my pants and the kneck of my shirt to caress the bare-skin of my spine and the calfs of my bony ankles?
and it's as if I have to choose, but I laugh when I realize they're both great big incredibles in themselves- the fluff of a book in my hand and a hot drink at my side as the floating water decides to come back to Earth- the melancholy of still-in-my-pajamas-and-this-is-one-of-only-two-days-off; the poetry of love and the poetry of loss and the poetry of all I desire to do but hold back- all of this brings me a comforting sadness. Life, life, life, life, life... thank you for loving me.
663 · Mar 2013
en francais
tread Mar 2013
I sleep
sitting
speechless.
all my
sounds are
just movements
in the air.

so are theirs.
657 · May 2013
am-er-eh- k uhm
tread May 2013
surreptitiously managed
like an underground
casino.
650 · Feb 2013
munch
tread Feb 2013
Language speaks. Sandwich eats. Mandrake roots.
648 · Sep 2013
Babylon
tread Sep 2013
between the cushions, there's
nothing but a black hole.

smoke another bowl and
contemplate the facet.

underneath that world map
lies a part of the world- - -
unmapped.
unmarked.

left to the brave pioneers
who remove the push tacks
and gallantly name the space
after themselves- - - soon you
will find my wall next to
Vancouver
in the atlas

and my head will be a city
long forgotten to history.
647 · Jan 2012
My beautiful girl.
tread Jan 2012
It's hard to sit alone at home
And wonder where you are.

I trust your safe and comfortable,
But why are you so far?

It's hard to lay to sleep at night
And know you won't be there
For me to love and to embrace
In winters morning air.

It's hard to wonder when I'll see your face
As close to mine
So kisses are not tugging memories..
But all the time.

It's hard to think that
During these 5 months of loving you
I've seen you for, at most, 3 weeks;
Inside my heart, you staged a coup.

I cry a lot
Because your face is rarely close to mine;
I neglect to mention all these tears most of the time

Because I chose this
And chose you
Despite the constant pain

Relief is only ever, at the most, a month away.

Yet I also hold out hope that you and I
Will someday be
Close to near-inseparable
And in love
Yet always free.

But.. for now
I've sentenced both my body and my mind
To missing you
Yet feeling it's a soul-mate that I find

Within your essence and your everything;
Yes, I love more
Of you than you could ever know exists;
Please know, that I am yours.
642 · Sep 2013
footnote
tread Sep 2013
stay up till 6
sleep in till 2

realize..
not once
was I thinking
of you.
you fade into my past like all of the others
soon you'll be footnoted like previous lovers.
641 · Sep 2013
self-perspective
tread Sep 2013
the closest
thing I have
to an enemy
is my
ex.

forgiveness is
pain, so I
think
of her
less

day to day
to day
today
I tell her
to move
so I can
clean-up her
mess.
yes, I'm being petty. but I'm sinking into the feeling as it is honest.
I don't like making enemies. I don't like watching lovers become strangers.
I don't like holding grudges- but the only way the grudge will fade
is if I express my anger fully.
641 · Feb 2013
loud.
tread Feb 2013
Semper Fidelis
Semper Fidel
Semper Fiddle
Sumper Fiddle
Sum Fiddle Plays
Sum Fiddle Plays Jazz
Sum Fiddle Plays Jazz

looouuud

man.

Care to listen?
experimenting with a new style inspired by my sweetheart.
639 · Feb 2013
pop
tread Feb 2013
pop
the cool kids, moping, stenched and
stenciled eyebrows, miserable and
paralyzed in try-hard poses, thumbs
strategically stiffed from pockets;
miserable to be noticed. glad to be
an album cover.
639 · Feb 2013
the fog of where.
tread Feb 2013
Drunk as a candle, sober as a slice of cheddar cheese, incarcerated in a fridge like an onion in San Quinten, I wonder whatever became of you.
639 · Mar 2013
eternally 17
tread Mar 2013
All my dreams have
kicked me in the face
lately. in the best of ways,
but I still lie on the ground
awhile, shocked to be growing.
Like a flower in spring grasping
grass;

'wait a minute!'
636 · Sep 2010
Today
tread Sep 2010
Today is the first day,
Today is the last,
Today is the future,
And today is the past.

Today is a good day,
Today is so bad,
Today is so distant,
Today is so sad.

Today one has died,
Today one comes alive,
Today one has failed, but my God
How he tried.

Today someone chewed,
Someone spat,
Someone fell.

Today someone is living,
In their own man-made hell.

Today someone laughs,
Someone smiles,
Someone cheers.

Today people relax,
And buy a new round of beers.

Today is the only day,
Of the rest of your life.

Today can be a good day,
Just avoid all that strife.
631 · Nov 2012
back aches
tread Nov 2012
head
brain specific
feels heavy

a little too much slouch factor
day in
day out

I marvel at the very weirdness of existence
to the point that I will wonder
if it's so weird, I am sick in existing

likelier,
I am sick in thinking existence so strange.

in the bliss phase of a hangover
I can march like a sage
no, I am a true sage
ready to let the bottom of the pale collapse from the weight
of the water

nueronal reflection
each atom in my head attempts to stare at itself
thus freaking its essence
right the **** out.

calm the **** down.

you can't bite your teeth,
with your teeth.
619 · Nov 2012
impatience in-patience
tread Nov 2012
counting days can be cozy
so it's not so shagged like bleeding shot man
dragging himself through sewer about to die
but can be a case of days
here and gone again

like a million little murders.
tread May 2013
33% on your physics test
but somehow you understood
the laws of motion well enough
to climb aboard a bus, move
your legs in such a way to
create repeated momentum
until your arrival in a class-
room where you arranged
graphite particles in such
a way as to demonstrate
a clunky understanding
of what you get perfect
A's in when it comes to
practice.

Intuition, maybe?
you walk better in practice than the physicist does in theory, darling.
618 · Apr 2013
Alsacian hounds
tread Apr 2013
it's strange to enter
the world and realize
you're not quite who
you thought you were.
I thought I was a traveller
of vast spaces in all times
but life poked me in sleep to
say, "it's not that easy and
you have to wake yourself
up to do it, you beautiful,
******-up fool."
616 · Sep 2013
maybe in the present
tread Sep 2013
a lover is supposed to make
you gaze at the world with
wonder- - - and spot all the
beautiful prognosis of life.
why is it that, instead, you
make me gaze at the flowers
and wonder how they, to,
will end up crunching my
heart in a mindless
ggggyration
of hips

I blessed the flowers upon your
dispersal, and you tell me I should
have sunk into sad indifference- -
that feelings hurt your feelings.

my eyes glaze over in reckless abandon
to whatever sanity I once achieved.

you did this to us.

*you did this to us.
you were a mistake
tread Mar 2013
slasher films always had me wondering
if I was capable
for no reason.

play with the
head-rush thought
of distrust in myself
over ******.

could I ******?

could I could I could I could I
cold cold cold cold cold

it was a
dark
and
stormy
night.
614 · Sep 2013
glenoak
tread Sep 2013
you make me wet
with regret

(star spangled banger
*star strangled stammer)
612 · Jun 2013
readylin
tread Jun 2013
Unreciprocated; it's
understandable the
kiss aches most of
the time. She loves
me, she loves me
not. She loves me,
she loves me ***
she ought

too.

sometimes I feel like
the ball she drags on
the chain of 'love.'

she chose this for a
higher purpose. in the
name of love. the ground
is a dusty place and life
can contain nothing else
if the soul is never watered.

perhaps I should just ask
her if she wants me to go
home? that's the air oil
water that is pulsing me
nervous through my
luminous blue. I'm
glowing in
confusion.

*always.
written during an emotional turmoil as I watched my love wish she could hide me under dusty sheets

everything is okay now though. (for the most part).
612 · Sep 2013
I started smoking
tread Sep 2013
and it works.
I'm not even the same person anymore
611 · Jan 2013
slouch and smile
tread Jan 2013
God once told me
                                  that evil
exists so good
                                                                ­can prove
                    its virtue.

I'd agree,
but that's too
                                                                ­                                        utilitarian.
I wont let
                        ******
                                                  prove I'm

                                                               ­                                       no murderer.
611 · May 2013
burden / float
tread May 2013
Anvil / feather
complaints, critical acclaim
a sleepy beating, and life floats on again

but the list
had written
a letter
and left.

secretly
we all thought it best.
610 · Sep 2010
Someday, Today, and Forever
tread Sep 2010
It's over,
Time to move on,
The world you once knew,
Is almost all gone.

The way you once saw,
The who you once had,
The one you once held,
His chest, no longer clad.

The heroics are dead,
Lost to a large frey,
The pillars did shake,
On that cold, fateful day.

The lions did roar,
Heard throughout the Savannah,
The Earth began to shake,
Heard from Japan to Montana.

T.S. Elliot's words begin to ring true,
It is not just me,
But also just you:

"This is the way the world ends,
Not with a bang but a whimper."
It is not over yet,
But resolve falls much limper.

If we just all forget about it,
If we all turn away,
We may be safe,
Who knows?
Someday.
607 · Sep 2010
The Final Solution
tread Sep 2010
The hardwood, oh how cold it is,
On my frail , aching back.
Denial of the simplest things,
A perpetual state of attack.

The damning screams of Germany,
Sees the end of so many lives,
From France to Luthuania,
The war machine arrives.

Enough can't be enough,
For the man who wants it all.
The clueless blue eyes of Bavaria,
They all heed the false call.

The Gates of Hell swing open,
Admitting old and young;
'A dead Jew is not a working Jew,'
The taste of cold metal on my tounge.

The smell of blood and iron,
Mixed with intoxication,
Oh how damp,
'The child is no use to us,'
So he's sent to seperate camp.

The last thing I remember,
As I stood above that pit,
The crying of old ladies,
As they finally cease all belief and quit;
Is the whispers of my father,
As he said 'you'll get them back,'
The crack of bullets tear the calm,
As he drops atop me like a sack.

Preying in simple disbelief,
I sooth my beating heart,
As I realize I'll get revenge,
And this is but the start.
Next page