A platform is shared
By bigots being scared
By change in the air
In range of what’s fair
So they callously pair
With arms to bear
To harm and tear
Those the meek spare

Weapons will be used
As factions fuse
Their hateful views
To give me a bruise
And lie in the news
Or blame the Jews

They go through a bitter tunnel
Acting as the wealthy’s funnel
Exploiting their grumbles
To get them to rumble
And not act humble

Arcade style fights
Illuminate the night
With exploding lights
Shining very bright
Signaling the plight
Of losing our sight
And relying on might
After shifting far right

They want the throne
For their own all alone
And their wants have grown
So we’re stripped to the bone
By a hound and his gun
In town with his son
Who drowns us for fun
For his money has won

So miscellaneous  
Missiles maiming us
With no training rust
Cause raining dust
That’s draining trust
In its radius

No compassion or mercy
They’ve lost the church key
Thoughtlessly hurting
Those seen as *****
Mortars strike angels passing above
Trying to disseminate their love
To those with bullet in glove
Who just push and shove
The transcendent ones
So we can’t be absolved
As the nations devolve
Into a racist right wing resolve

The proud and stupid
Team with the putrid
To **** Cupid
Because he ignored them
Creating the problem’s stem
Creating the bombs we send
Creating the lies we defend
For the extent
Of excess
They expect

An empire’s implosion
Will bring atomic explosions
Yet we watch the erosion
Completely frozen

Your beauty
Shot through me
Assigning a duty
I knew I'd be losing
So I made an advance
And you declined
I knew I had a slim chance
But I was still losing my mind

I felt stupid
I felt weak
Why did Cupid
Make me weep?
From behind the gate he keeps
He shot arrows penetrating deep
That made me fall for the elite
Only to be trampled by feet

I saw perfection
Feed me rejection
I cursed my reflection
And avoided detection
After losing the election
You could tell I was bitter
So you left me to wither
And call you a sinner
For not eating my dinner
Feeding damage inner
Rotting my liver

I was gobsmacked
By the odd lack
Of contact
With your fond laugh
Sitting there seething
To white noise on the TV
Sounding like the rain heaving
Or a pack of coyotes eating
My still beating heart
You're the fleeting spark
That leaves me dark

I wished there was no one on Earth
So you could be as lonely as I
After you took all my self worth
And left me to die
I reached for a piece of the pie
Then you made me reach for the sky
Using the pistol in your eyes
You made me reach for the sky
It hurt then but looking back I know why
God put you in my life but not by my side
You made me reach for the sky

God gives me tests
By sending me pests
Without a chance to rest
Or equip a bulletproof vest

The idiots around me
Tell me I shouldn’t care
That advice I’m doubting
Because it seems unfair
I don’t want the blank stare
Those same idiots share
On this planet where
Everyone’s scared
Hiding in lairs

God sends the worst
Until I’m about to burst
Feeling cursed
In the steely hearse
Of this universe

They poke and ****
In a barrage
Saying I’m flawed
Based on their laws
Using their claws
I can’t pause
Like their applause
For a malicious cause

Their lives are purposeless
They’re obstacles to navigate
I’ve become a hurtful mess
Trapped in all their hate

They change a chipmunk
Into a nasty miffed skunk
Placed in my swim trunks
These senseless dim stunts
They actually call slam dunks
Though they’re ****** runts

I get so angry
No one can tame me
They just provide training
On aiming
At the blaming
Pests so draining

These tests I fail
Surely as Jesus’ hands were nailed
My heart goes stale
Searching for my white whale
I’m impaled
By my own harpoon
Because guards loom
With a marred broom
Sweeping dark doom
Into my heart’s tomb

There are a lot of sleepers out there
They need to wake up
But that task requires tremendous energy
Because when one tries to wake them
They sleepwalk back to their community
Of snoozers that salivate sleeping
To confirm the choices they’ve made
And browbeat you into a slumber
So you’ll join the rest of them in a lifelong nap
Sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie

Parody of Squeez®  by Shawn Wasabi and Raychel Jay

The legal code been looking kinda murky
If you want it I can shake it
I can stir it
I could gore you some

I can make it kinda *****
Put some trim upon your body
And I bet ya I could get you cuffed

We're the vultures that'll take your future
You're lookin' like you're black
Let me take your picture

Wake up in the prison and I'll still be with ya
With ya, with ya, wi- wi- with ya

We can ****
Then get praised
We're for sale

I can't wait
'Til you taste
My **** pain

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Committin' crimes for pension

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Let me show you inside prison

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop (Cop!)
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop

If I'me being honest I can barely pay the rent
So I'm meddlin' in crime
And I'm meddlin' in ****

And I think I want your money like a million percent
So I'm meddlin' in crime
And I'm muddlin' your
Ha

Lick my lips of donut syrup
You're lookin' for a crime ring
But we ain't that serious

Take a sip of power and we get delirious
-lerious, -lerious, -le -le -lerious

We can ****
Then get praised
We're for sale

I can't wait
'Til you taste
My **** pain

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Committin' crimes for pension

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Let me show you inside prison

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop (Cop!)
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop

The legal code been looking kinda murky
If you want it I can shake it
I can stir it
I could gore you some

I can make it kinda *****
Put some trim upon your body
And I bet ya I could get you cuffed

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Committin' crimes for pension

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop
Let me show you inside prison

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop (Cop!)
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop

It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop (Cop!)
It's the cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop cop

Cop cop cop cop cop cop cop cop cop cop (What?)
It's the cop cop cop cop cop (What?)
Cop cop cop cop

Freeze
It's the cop cop cop cop cop (What?)
Cop cop cop cop

Freeze
Freeze

Christians are concerned with who is and isn’t saved
Maybe they should focus on the road they pave
If they really want to know why people run away
While they persecute those who are atheist or gay
They should try to relate
To the people they hate
But their emotions break
When their notions deflate

No free thought
Or love
Just breed a lot
And shove
The meek you’re supposed to admire
Because they’re not in the capitalist attire
Of a suit and tie to show that they’re higher
The weak are only interested in being consumerist buyers
Even if they have to team up with holocaust deniers
Who are seeking to ignite funeral pyres
It doesn’t matter how many bodies are on fire
As long as their own situation isn’t dire

They say ignorance is bliss
Following Jesus through the mist
But they clench their fist
Once they’re really ******
There must’ve been a lesson missed
Like the ones involving politics
Yet they add their hollow wit
To the country’s rhetoric
While they’re not ahead of it

Christianity develops a nasty reputation
Of being closed minded
Because all they add to the conversation
Is that they can’t find it
No matter how much they’re reminded
They walk around like they’re blinded
To not see what’s unclean
Like Christians who are viciously mean
Tearing society apart at the seams
Missed by the blindfolded team
Following signs as old as He
While ignoring history

I isolate myself in a community
So I can act with impunity
Once nothing gets through to me
I try to get the Jews to see
Their blasphemy
Unattractively

Not wanting to follow these roads
The congregation is leaving in droves
Searching for more peaceful groves
Or thoughtful treasure troves
Where they can follow the flow
Of not being told what to know

Christians must stop imposing their will
They must stop the self righteous kills
And pushing counterproductive bills
And take the red pill
Of peace be still
To abandon royal shills
Who sell toil filled
Oil drills
To follow Jesus’ path
Not enacting God’s wrath
By using subtractive math
That makes Satan laugh

Vestigial limbs of a memory forgotten
itch like bicycle shoestrings tapping every spoke.
One day my brother asked me to visit someone with him
he said the guy was my age and feeling down
because his cat ran away
I said sure, that sounds like a nice thing to do.
After 20 minutes I realized why the cat ran
I was planning my escape route as well
this guy was miserable
completely negative
—it was annoying
and then he said it:
"System of a Down sold out with Toxicity,
which was a garbage album."
the layers of stupidity sent me into a k-hole.
Millions of fans would **** Serj Tankien's ****
if only SOAD would make one more album
but yeah, their sellouts, and your cool.
Clearly, screaming, "banana, banana, terracotta pie" repeatedly
is just telling people what they want to hear.
I tried to change the subject to politics
but he made it clear he had absolutely no interest,
well no **** he doesn't understand SOAD, it's pretty political,
but because art is subjective he thinks his opinion has value
and it does—it lets me know to stay away from his negative idiocy.

Kind of like a car ride I shared
with an older right wing friend of my father.
He scanned the radio like a crackhead
searching for a song in the shallow pool he enjoyed
his lexicon limited, our selection scarce
like a lost cat trapped in a garage
unaware of what is and isn't food.
We came across I Got A Name by Jim Croce
and he said, "Nope. No Jim Croce in this car."
Really? ******* Jim Croce?
I guess I wouldn't like his music either if I voted for Leroy Brown.

It'd be naive of me to think these people
don't work for The New Yorker
calling Ford V Ferrari "empty and hollow".
**** dude, I hate to break it to you
but if you can't find emotion in that movie
that's a flaw in you
and the hordes of imbeciles
approaching art with a "this better ******* impress me" attitude
tearing apart any movie that aims for anything elevated
to be just generally miserable or to show how "smart" they are.
Meanwhile, sniping at an actually empty and hollow movie
is seen as punching down and a waste of time
so a subculture of cynics is developed
infecting others with toxicity
to see art as a challenge to one's intelligence
rather than honest emotional expression
then people miss out on the full capability of art
and consume it improperly
and regurgitate it in front of me like a feeble feral cat.

Deep underwater
we blow unwilling bubbles
pockets of blue air

It’s eating prey
Time of day
Enter fray
Rent or stay
Gents who play
Bent the game
Their dented brain
Centered pain
And mentored shame
As inventors of rain

A mad goon
Raccoon
Attack looms
I’ll crack too
From flak flumes
Under black moons
That lack hues
To track clues
So I stack blues
To attract feuds
With a knack to lose
Looking back to you
I see a path to choose
With a wrathful queue
Remembering old news
Stomping a bold shoe
The way the cold do
Using a honed broom
To get me to fold soon
And grab the gold spoon
From your sold room
That holds doom

A habit teacher
Rabid creature’s
Static bleeder
Rapid feature
Fed me ether
Yet no relief for
My silent grief core
That starts to seethe more
After I have seen the door
To your seasoned store
Closed for sure

A saline
Daydream
Grays beams
Of light streams
So my plight seems
Like a night scene
But my fright means
That my sight’s been
Judged rightly

I’m decomposing
Juxtaposing
My lust with posing
For the trust I’m hosing
Of dust deposing
Varmint nosing

Lost and found
In the ground
Safe and sound
Except for hounds
Who’s sharpened crowns
Lie in darkened frowns
As they roam the town
That exists underground
They belong in the pound
So I can peacefully drown

You say you have chronic fatigue
I respond with so do I
You say I’m not in your league
The difference is I try

You say you have a disease
So you can stay on your knees
And beg and plead
For sympathy
Then you gatekeep
Based on sleep
So I can’t make a peep
Unless I’m curled in a heap

You have problems
But you abuse this
When you don’t solve them
They turn into excuses
You’re a hypochondriac
In a cycle so black
Your mind is cracked
From panic attacks

I’m not here to jeer
Those paralyzed by fear
But once you are near
I meet your whiny leer
As you show a clear lack of empathy
Saying no one else understands depression
I constantly feel it enter me
I just don’t make the same concessions

I don’t mind if you take medicine
For your head to win
Against the grim
But don’t tell me you have it worse
From your self imposed curse
Living in the back of a hearse
Because when I say you should stop running
I see a shitstorm coming
With war drums drumming
Showing energy that’s stunning
I guess it was reserved for hunting

I can still remember going to school
when it was raining
morphing into a mule
for things draining
from the life I thought I would rule
it's enflaming
all of this taming
with no one to save me
when the student meets master
whose whip is faster
than the policeman's blaster
protecting their interests
on the command of corrupt arbiters
so I can't make up the difference
when their money muscles are bigger.

They turn my peers into overlords
I can smell the overtone
of the rear odor grown
living in my motor home
parked at my job
the ark of the lost
heartless and tossed
friends of the frost
counting the cost
of commodity crops
guarded by cops
so I must pay the right price
or get filleted in a knife fight
by members of a different ark
their difference is stark
like they're the FARC
from Jurassic Park.

We once went to school together
until we were unspooled forever
diverging cultures sever
our tumultuous tethers
until we're rats racing
to the flats facing
the cliff casing
of a bullet blazing
through rodents raging
while automatically aging
in a game not worth saving
until our grave is paving
so the rats contract rabies
and try to enslave me
through shameless shaming
their nameless maiming
is grating gravely.

Their laugh of wit
a crack of whip
they slap I slip
in their pool of spit
which is fuel for grit
to not take their ****
until they break my hip
with the quake of work
I'm too raked and hurt
to spank their skirts
so I bank my irks
for another day
when I want to play.

The days continue to pass
as they misuse my ***
their issues last
through the time elapse
I can't seem to grasp
my life from their clutches
I tightrope with crutches
until I break for my lunches
or break from the punches
of a million miniscule crunches.

They break me in
they break me down
I can't hear any hymns
over factory sounds
I haven't been to the gym
since I developed this limp
being their gimp
getting ****** on the regular
my only communication is cellular
feeling so molecular
kicking for a living like Shane Lechler.

I look at the analogue clock
sitting next to my Econolodge cot
to see this is all the time I got
getting high smoking ***
pretending I'm something I'm not
which is happy
childhood friends outlap me
all the while laughing
about old jokes from school
like forgotten jewels
carried by a beaten mule
working for wool
so it can dress like a sheep
so it can get some sleep
to forget the regrets it's reaped.

Chasing darkness
surmising depth lies in the depths
trenches are dug in craters
the holes we dig make us special
so we keep on digging.

Subterranean cranium
head in the sand—soul buried in soil
paying the undertaker in advance
the shovel feels lighter once it's smoothing the dirt
guarding the top of the grave.

Coffin solitude
dormant tears loosen the Earth
         the clay dam breaks
jailbreak mudslide
birthed from a muddy womb
crying, gasping for air.

We cleanse ourselves in the healing waters of time
donning our Sunday best for church
joining the choir boys standing at Jesus' feet
singing a chorus of denial
"I never asked for this".

Last night I was chased by Leatherface again.
Am I liable for copyright infringement in my dreams?
That would be a nightmare
which I’ve gotten used to
coming back around like the blades of a
******* tool misappropriated as a weapon
reminding me I’m safest when turned off
yet being idle means trouble
because that leads to getting revved up
which is fatal
after the faceless killer takes pieces from me
reveling in my pain
while hiding behind a newly found face
from the next victim of the spree
connected to the chain I saw
which was just one link soon to be forgotten
in favor of the next night’s nightmare.

As a small child
I constantly seek any kind of discovery
But things get wild
With what the kitchen cupboard brings

Without my shepherd
I grab the pepper
I don’t know what it’s meant for
So in my hands it’s centered

My eyes start to tear up
My nose starts to tingle
My fingers will clear up
This temporary wrinkle

I rub my eyes
Bringing demise
Violent cries
Follow pries

All I feel is pain
Surging to my brain
In my eyes torrential rain
Burning me until I’m insane

All I see is red
Inside my head
From pepper fed
To my eyes of dread

Father grabs me
And holds me under a faucet
I think he’s attacking
I think he’s lost it

Help he’s killing me
I’m going to drown
With water he’s filling me
So he’ll no longer frown

But he pulls me out before I die
Much to my surprise
There’s no pain in my eyes
And I can see my father is wise

I mistakenly
Thought he had forsaken me
And was murdering me blatantly
But he was actually saving me

So it’s him I trust
Because I must
But I have a lust
For wild gusts

So I am his student
Yet not as prudent
I’m always truant
Ignoring influence

But I pick it up along the way
Just before my life decays
I recall a helpful phrase
Or words of praise

I get lost
But then I am found
The only cost
Is to think I have drowned

Do I capitalize the g in God?
I guess my answer is self evident
I don't think I need to dot my i's
To receive God's love
But he also wants me to mind my p's and q's
So I can know His word
And understand His scripture
But society's an encryptor
Feeding me tryptophan
Until this cryptogram
Leaves me ******
By turning the Bible into a crossword puzzle
My only chance to prosper is muddled

Success beckons like a flippant ******
offering pure triumph
the nectar of glory flows in her.
Attempting to approach I find I cannot move.
stagnant hands emerge from the depths grabbing my ankles
looking down I see they're my hands
holding my craven climbers in place
I look back at my arms to see my hands missing
who needs Kurt Angle when I can put myself in an ankle lock?

I've got a hold of me and I won't let go
escape attempts are thwarted by preemptive remorse
plunging me deeper into the depths.
The knobs on my arms can't undo the harm
of the disconnected hands of the ******
that paralytically punish
tools supposed to help me give me a belting
while the lady in red leaves disappointed.

Tired of struggling against myself
my third rate fate accepted
I'm learning to love the view from where my hands plant me
no view of outside
at least I can see a window.
                                                         ­                                             
A siren's song echoes in the wilderness distance
beautiful serenades are muffled by walls
muted singing is enjoyed in solitude.

My dismembered hands dig into my brain
until things are rearranged
there's a paradigm shift
a paradox gift
beauty becomes ugly
so no one is above me
I can look in the mirror in the eyes of my peers
and see myself standing alongside them
when they're beauty makes them uglier than me.

They don't know pain
they couldn't understand
plutonium thoughts decay vision
replacing it with radioactive judgment.
I surmise negativity is just part of my personality
I surmise success is a ***** who picks the undeserving more
life goes unexamined
while wondering why insanity swirls.

Nagging depression firmly scratches the back of my brain
all that was avoided punches from the past
an explanation of my condition is given to my mistakes
like a father excusing their son's bad behavior
words fall on deaf ears once deeds have been done

failure doesn't care about my excuses
excuses completing a self-fulfilling prophecy
by hands from the depths burying me stationary.

Metallica is my friend’s favorite band
I had always dismissed them as generic and repetitive
But that arrogance and indifference eventually faded
And recently I started going through their music
Discovering there was a lot I missed out on
Adding new songs to my life’s soundtrack
While teaching me a lesson of humility and empathy
Conversations with my friend have grown deeper and more specific
Helping me relate to him
Strengthening our friendship
Through the vast and surprising benefits of consuming art

I heard the best way to hear yes is to ask
but that’s not such a simple task
when the chance for yes is last
behind taking off my mask
and considering the past.

****** treadmill
run fast
life of dead will
can't last.

Druggie dreaming
money scheming
problems teeming like goblins screaming for honey feeding.

We play the Duke and Earl for employment
we're tarred and feathered for enjoyment
cracking our avatars of annoyance
we learn townspeople avoidance.

Drifting like a raft on a river
the Mississippi becomes the Ohio
a bridge extending from Kentucky
enters Cincinnati over dormant currents.

Addicts wander like an incomplete
translation of a foreign language
unable to understand their anguish
society deems them brainless vagrants.

A card to use
play dumb
light the fuse
draw gun.

Treadmill running
looking for something
hedonist hunting
life is about one thing.

I've been warned for the first time before
I'll be warned for the first time again
just trying to ignore what's in store
death is not a matter of if—but when.

All movies are predictable
after I've seen them.

I analyze the plot
and think of all the different possible outcomes
and if those outcomes are wrong nobody cares
but if one of my thoughts were correct
then your movie is predictable
and therefore bad.

I may be missing out on key subtext
like themes or symbolism
but I can't miss a chance to virtue signal
my own intelligence
which is higher than that of the filmmaker.

Maybe I shouldn't go into a movie
with a "you better impress me" attitude
while constantly trying to predict what's next
because maybe having a negative mentality
might affect my viewing experience negatively
or maybe amusement parks are more for me
but I still want to have an opinion
even on things I don't understand or care about
so I treat art like a math test
rather than an empathy building endeavor.

Predictability is a valid criticism for a movie
but every movie that's found a large audience
has been called predictable by someone
but when I say it it's true because I'm smart
or perhaps all movies are predictable
especially after I've seen them.

I've never made a movie
but if I did
you wouldn't be able to predict
exactly how ****** it would be.

You’re a shooting star
Disappearing afar
Once I realize what you are
From inside of my car
Traversing the tar

In an ocean of dark matter
The monotony you shatter
Then just as quickly scatter
Leaving my world flatter

Your aerial displays
Through varying ways
Are like bullet strays
That leave me phased
Missing the sun’s rays
In a delirious daze

You’re like a lit cigarette hitting the ground in space
And your embers fall like freckles upon my face
Burning my view of the entire human race
After you disappear without a trace

You’re a diamond on fire
Flying somewhere higher
Somewhere I’d expire
I say you’re debris in the air
So I don’t have to care
You won’t allow my stare
Towards your elusive flare

My understanding of you is slippery
When you’re always in my periphery
Acting like a total mystery
In an atmosphere differing
From mine here on the ground
Living in my desolate town
Looking like the moon all around
Inside a vacuum of sound

I yearn for the beauty
Of seeing you shooting
It’s somehow soothing
But also dooming
With no one clueing
Me in on how to find you
Or even how to define you
But I imagine the divine choose
And that’s how I know I’ll lose

The best way to change someone is through love
but you can use force at the price of resentment
or you can **** that person to eliminate their issues.

I wish I could love Jair Bolsonaro
the fatally unfit fascist president of Brazil
one of many idiots who benefit from anti-intellectualism.

He enjoys imposing his will—telling people how to live
so naturally he doesn’t enjoy being told how to live
like a child making rules to a game to benefit themselves.

Jair Bolsonaro doesn’t like using science or logic
so of course he doesn’t like using a face mask
saying protective equipment is “for fairies”.

Jair Bolsonaro contracted COVID-19
and shared videos of himself taking hydroxychloriquine
like a shameless snake oil salesman.

How am I supposed to love this man
when he fills me with resentment
to the point I start cheering for Covid?

People like him had me resorting to ****** at one point
until a rehab counselor brought up a Malachy McCourt quote
“Resentment is drinking poison and hoping the other person dies.”.

At the height of your hunger
you settled for a snack
eaten between actual meals
convenient sustenance
consumed on the go
and easily discarded as waste.

If you're so good at acting like a good person
why can't you just be a good person?

Is it because you don't feel like trying
or are you trying not to feel?

You need to get out there
so out there gets you.

Others will always have things to say
as you will have things to say of others.

I hope you prove them wrong
before you prove them right

and show them who's best
without becoming the worst.

There are so many people
And they’re all so different
So I can’t treat them equal
Which makes me distant

I try to be aerial
But all the variables
Create a scary hole
Of impairing cold

So I simplify the equation
To just understanding you
But you find your elation
With the rest of the zoo

The parabola in my pants
When we prance
Is not up to chance
It’s like a leaf on its branch
I’m the DuBois that’s Blanche
Left in a trance

Through interrogation
I find variation
That spares relation
Causing alienation

Changes in your mood
Range from rude to lewd
Which isn’t something new
Just something I outgrew
Like America and Spiro Agnew
Or Fox News and what’s true
I no longer want to be with you

But I don’t want to be part of society
They’re always judging my propriety
By saying my kind acts sloppily
So by transitive property
They’re actually mocking me
Hauntingly

They’re all angels and demons
They all have different reasons
Depending on the seasons
Determining their legion
Or excuse for treason

They say variety is the spice of life
But to me it’s more like lice at night
Making me itch from light little bites
Until I’ve lost my sight
And can’t fight this fight
On varying heights

A hurricane
ensuring pain
churns our way
yet I choose to stay
through bruising rain.

The storm approaches
like a swarm of roaches
with the scorn of locusts
like the plagues of Moses
with nature as our hostess
we find ourselves voteless.

Locals weigh survival against finances
making them liable to take chances
until they’re dodging giant branches
that fly like crying banshees.

Irene, Katrina, Andrew
chaos on land grew
when they ran through
and our dams proved
that they’ll slam you
if you can’t move
stubborn plans lose.

We thought our sanctuary
was a temple
but now that place is scary
as it starts to tremble
water rises above sea level
then rises above head level
so we can’t hear the treble
of disintegrating metal.

The windy water
simply slaughters
sons and daughters
as sinking fodder
not a skink or otter
they drink the water.

Can you run faster than the wind?
God pays us in bulk for our sins
with water spins
the Father wins
and those of us on the ground
are left to turn around
and run in the other direction
after a water wall’s *******
our brick and mortar protection
doesn’t pass Mother Nature’s inspection.

Wading in an eddy
waiting for edification
outside a rampart levee
lamenting lack of levitation
seeing my sedentary station

has me swimming stationary
where the mud is kicked up
spreading a murky brown mist
anywhere I happen to touch anything.

The white water rapids look pure
—at least from where I'm floating
turbulence is welcome at this point
yearning to leave my mudslide broth.

Estranged from strangers
I call out for help
only to receive hell
until I'm tangled in kelp.

A barrier towers over my totality
pedestrians travel on the other side
traversing toward the other sidewalk
avoiding contact—or maybe loneliness

none of them approach the water's edge
they build walls as a protective hedge
shielding them from the precarious ledge
and those that float in the eddy beyond it.

Friends forever
Doing drugs together
Until I pulled a lever
And tracks were severed

****** barreling
******* caroling
That would make pharaohs sing
Now memories embarrass me
From negativity that shined
I thought fit me fine
But I crossed the line
Of wasting time

End of wits
Tracks were split
Dodging a candlelit
Snake bit
Break pit

Years passed
Pain amassed
Trampled grass
From feet so fast
Things don't last

Now I'm gay
And he's a ****
What can I say?
Maybe it's our posse?
The change I did not see
But pain it has brought me
My sinful past has caught me
Returning shame that had fought me

Show and tell
Sowed in hell
A golden well
Sold then fell
Into two paths
One of laughs
One of wrath
I need a bath
To undo this math

This guilt built
Quilt kilt
Tilts
My mentality
Of congeniality
Back to reality
And functionality
Which devours me
Powerlessly
Struggling to get free
From this depression disease

This bullet train
Bull of pain
Calls my name
From the grain
Of the game
Of my blame
For what remains

Take my lifeblood
And my night flood
Be my right bud
Instead of plight mud
Become invincible
And principled
Not instant mold
Born from cold

There's a track mark
Left from the dark
Of my regretful ark
That seems so stark
It spreads through my body
Making me feel so naughty
Doing mental karate
To say it's not me
It's not my fault
But my complicity
Opened the vault
Filled with salt
Festering inside recovering scars
So even if I'm discovering stars
I'm still locked behind bars
For crimes committed on Mars

Back cracking
Backtracking
Packs stacking
Tacks lacking
Any relent
To my lament
For what I meant
Versus what I sent
But tracks were set
And stations were met
Now I can't pay this debt
When the only way is death

For a company, an economy, our species to succeed
everyone must work together
but not literally everyone
just enough to perpetuate sustainability
so some feel free to burn bridges to clear their own road.
Professional wrestlers use the phrase
“Going into business for themself”
when someone has to get all their **** in to display their move set
or no-sells their opponent’s moves to make themselves look tough
like in improv comedy
when one of the performers doesn’t go along with any of the jokes
it can be very funny, just not in a collectively beneficial manner
the audience laughs recognizing the performer as the standout
while the performer steps on their colleagues’ jokes
going into business for themself.
Capitalism indoctrinates us
to go into business for ourselves
like Bill Gates
driving companies out of business through economic hostility
then buying back his soul through economic charity
a tribute to those fallen—it’s a fractional penance
the apex predator keeps the lion’s share
adhering to the jungle mentality ingrained in us
telling us to go into business for ourselves.

People live on the ground
That’s not where I’m found
My head is up in the clouds
Looking down on the crowds
Circling round and round
Until they slowly drown

The vertigo
From the hurt I know
Punches my nose
Crunching my bones
Snuffing like snow
My candlelight glow

I’m the saddest here
In the stratosphere
Where only bad appears
But I say status clear
To my static peers
Avoiding cactus jeers

An airplane’s
Scare game
Shares blame
For spare pain
In my bare brain
Ensnared in shame

So the sky is my home
That’s why I’m alone
Up high and unknown
A guy on his throne
That flies over tombs
That hide all their bones

I can see space
In front of my face
Slowly erase
The Earth’s trace
And God’s grace
As I waste

I’m floating away
Hoping I stay
Stoking a flame
Choking in waves
Of water that rains
Until I’m insane

I can’t hear love
I can’t hear God
I steer above
To see I’m a fraud
No one will applaud
The hovering flawed

I see you at work
I see you at church
I want to flirt
Yet I stay perched
When my only worth
Is to be hurt

I've been burned before
Yet I yearn for more
While the spurns are sore
In this hurtful war
I never learned to score
So I earned the door

I fantasize
About your feral eyes
That paralyze
My carol cries
As I stare and sigh
You gouge my eyes
With fingers that pry
Into my singular life
Bringing a plight
Of losing all sight

Our relationship is unlikely
Because I'm unsightly
Anxiety fights me
As I die rightly
Without you knighting
Me politely

I'm full of fear
And apprehension
I want to steer
Away from the tension
With an inner invention
Of a dour dimension
Fearing an election
Where I'm not the selection

You'll act like I have hep C
Or some form of leprosy
Meaning we won't be wrestling
So why put myself in jeopardy?

My heart will be constricting
Once you're done whipping
And my blood is dripping
So I bring a shield with me
So I'm never really living

I'm so scared
And unprepared
I approach your lair
The idea you don't care
Is too much to bear
So I decide not to share
The image of a pair
With you and I there

I feel *****
I feel guilty
It gets stormy
As I **** me
Loneliness is my home I guess
I know I'm an absolute mess
When the decision is no contest
Even with no context
You can see I'm a dog vexed
By the odd hex
Of your god flex
When you call next
So apprehension protects

I'm a facsimile
a fake
emptiness filling me
I think
I don't know
it sinks
in a heart of stone
protected by gnarled bone
creating a hollow home
for veins carrying a mannequin's blood
so I can be Zap Brannigan smug
with no plan to win love
just fill a hole in my heart
when I draw and discard
avoiding any form of vulnerability
so I can act cruel willingly
and shirk my responsibility
to my fellow man
I'm well off ******
overestimating my self worth
to save me from getting hurt
by people that act like myself
this can't be good for my health.

When people say “it’s ok to be different”
what they mean is “you have to be different”
in the ways they want you to be different
which are pretty similar to everyone else.

Living in the moment
Is where I gain my power
This is my hour

I have interesting thoughts
In the shower
This is my hour

I look outside
And see flowers
This is my hour

I have no time to cower
When this is my hour

This moment
I must reckon
Just for a second

I feel life beckon
Just for a second

I start to feel in it
For a minute

I feel queer
For a year

This lifetime
Builds a tower
But this is my hour

Submarine sailing
subaqueous submersion
floating through darkness
resisting radar
circumnavigating sonar
avoiding armada armageddon
torpedoes armed already
silent running stealth mode
eliminating unnecessary sound
surveilling would-be attackers.

Submarine suffering
sapphire scenery brings beauty
obscuring obsidian vanishes viewing
blinding black proximity paranoia
observing the unknown
behind titanium walls
contending colossal tentacles
extending from my kraken mind.

Caterpillar crawl
underwater undulation
supplies sparse
a city is needed
shore seems nice
party port
reconnaissance recognized
rejection redeployed
pebbles tossed in the ocean
sink to the bottom
but never die
and start submarine sailing.

Through those elected
deceptive meets collective
tearing down monuments erected
to deny dominance projected
but the counterculture
hounds and vultures
shroud the souls hurt
with shouts of sulfur.

The goblin fray
waddling parade
ballista barricade
sends us on the path of the dodo
dipping cheese in the snow cone
as we freeze for our photo
of an apocalypse in slow-mo.

We break by blade
so we brake by day
they break like they're paid
to brake in the way
which adds thirty minutes to my drive
because two cars collide
on the median's other side.

Battling babble
rattling rattles
adding addles
to paddling paddles
fighting against the current
of the unobservant
dumb obscurants.

They only want to confabulate
to *******
the master state
and master race
obfuscating the rhetoric
using anger to redden it
once you get ahead of it
they ask you to take a sedative.

I'd like to live in a grassy township
instead of this trash heap brown ****
but I'm massively bounded
to the ones who found it
from the other side of the bath
they brought their wrath
to set our path.

The blasted puppeteers
laughed for ******* years
now collapse in sudden tears
projecting their own worst fears
on their imperiled peers
who are scared to steer
near the flying spears.

They want to annex the city
of the loving and living
for their own selfish bidding
using obstruction for corruption
like injunctions against inductions
for interruption dysfunction
at our most pivotal junction.

Assaulting offense
halting progress
absolving nonsense
as purely God sent
is fought with reason and logic
so we bring them their audit
but they use thick ink to blot it.

We found the virus
but we can't cure it
until we've silenced
the obscurants.

I went to the rodeo with my friends
It seemed like a fine way to spend
A wonderful weekend
There were fun and games
As ways to stay entertained
But I wasn't content just holding my belt loops
So I decided to escape the chicken coop
For a different group
That was most uncouth
And saw a bull with the horns of Satan
And the torso of an Abrams
Its power and majesty mesmerized me
Treating my friends' advice too lightly
I had to take the bull for a spin
Becoming a slave to its whims
I lost my grin and urge to win
Inside the bull's conjured wind
My actions I couldn't rescind
Before it threw me in
A garbage bin
Landing on my *** in St. Judas, Misery
After leaving my friends in a hurry
For a bucking bull's fury
That had my words slurring
By the end of its scurry
All I could do was dust my boots off
And head back to Kentucky
To join the pigs eating at the trough
And consider myself lucky

There's a giant disparity
No economic parity
Or intellectual clarity
When they're scaring me
So I'll collapse invariably
Under coins they're barreling

They nickel and dime me
So I'm pinching for pennies
No peace I'm finding
Working at Wendy's
For the money lending
Capitalism bending
Sharks that are trending

We coin those with stacks of cash
As successes
Even if their heart's black as ash
It impresses

Money doesn't grow on trees
But it seems to float in the breeze
The direction these people please
Or happen to sneeze

I scrape
And claw
But those apes
Are frauds
Playing God
No sin absolved
Without their call

Because I don't put up with their torture
I haven't made a dime this quarter
Because of dollar hoarders
Ruling through law and order
Creating tribalistic borders

Nobody's paying my bailout
I'm too small to fail now
My life's become stale, how?
The **** of a male cow
I tear apart my only couch
Looking for a coin pouch
To get me out
Of this drought

I cut my fingers
And bruise my knuckles
My fatigue lingers
Until I buckle
My stock tumbles
As I scream uncle

We allocate all our resources to a few
While the rest of society turns into a zoo
Where people die to pay their dues
And are given a pocket of coins to use
Which ignites their fuse
But their obfuscated views
Are swayed by the news
Teaching trivial truths

Change starts jingling in my pocket
When I get on a revolutionary rocket
So they buy a gun and **** it
To preemptively block it
They use marketing to stop it
Like it's just another stock tip

They have the guns
They have the money
I have to run
If they start hunting
Because those that say something
Are the edges they're blunting
With coins they're dumping
To protect one thing:
The profit margin
Like social Darwins
They say the hard win
With unholy marred sin
By collecting the coins of their foes
To help economic hostility grow
Until coins are all we know

I observe and record
The undeserved discord
Implored
By dim bores
While indoors
Sins are born
I was warned
But I formed
A sin scorn
Once forlorn
In the storm

The abhorrent
Sent a torrent
Of torment
To the dormant
Informant
That went through my mind
To become realigned
Into something that rhymed
To take up my time

The extension
Of the tension
Met the unmentioned
Intention
Of detention
By hedonism
To see the schism
That reads like a prison
And bleeds with the rhythm
Of a needle's incision

The exclusion
Of my collusion
With my delusion
From night's illusions
Ended their nuisance
By taking a new stance
Of a mute dance
Of loose chance

This war I wage
By turning the page
Has me burning with rage
Learning this cage
Is churning my craze
Yearning to age
To master this maze

This paper cut
Safer hut
Replaced my rut
Graced by trust
On pace for bust
I trace my fuss
To place a plus
On this race to dust

Surprising lane
Transcribing pain
Describing shame
Arriving like rain
Inside of my brain
Extinguishing the flames
With a grammar game
Of a semantic strain
Making my refrain
A poetic plane
That acts as a cane
Instead of a crutch
Removing the mundane
That's why I love it so much

I’m unraveling
In a grave gravelly
Light speed traveling
From the judge gaveling

They’re trying to persecute me
Like it’s their divine duty
Like desperate pigs rooting
For their rejuvenating truffles
In my dying screams muffled
By the executioner’s muscle

I’m paranoid
And it’s not the ****
I stare into the void
That makes me bleed
Only to see
Humanity
Staring back at me
With ****** teeth

I maintain my vitality
By matching their morality
Conforming infallibly
To society around me

They try to peek through my window
Every time the wind blows
So I keep the lights dimmed low
To cover my sin’s glow
And quietly tiptoe
Through the big show

They see through my disguise
And start to despise
They ask me to die
And I ask them why
Have I hurt a fly?
If they hate me so much
Why don’t they **** me?
Instead of avoiding my touch
With abandonment chilling

I can smell death in the air
When they say life isn’t fair
Before they try to not care
And attack me on a dare
After many hateful stares
From their disdainful lair

God uses pain to teach
So they use pain to preach
Giving me grief
Over the life I seek
So my eyes will leak
As the sky turns bleak
From lies to the meek

My sins I confess
As an SOS
To bless my mess
Despite its pests
Of demonic tests

God doesn’t answer
He has forsaken me
Giving me cancer
He has mistaken me
For someone who gives a ****
My wrists He’ll slit
If He feels it fits
So why match wits
With almighty spit?

When it comes to creating art
And somebody starts explaining
“All you have to do is...”
I can always count on the reductive advice that follows
To be only worth discarding

They see me wearing skirts and stilettos
living my life in falsetto
which they claim a false meadow
and all call out hell no.

They call me godless
when I crossdress
in this frost mess
of lost guests.

They call me a queen
just to be mean
I am what they deem
what they instantly gleam.

Some don’t like what’s different
so the townspeople pick up their pitchforks
they want to diminish my imprint
I guess that’s what they call me a ***** for.

They despise the flamboyant game
coming from my derelict frame
they ask if I feel no shame
I ask them the same.

Every time I’m on the verge
of a dirge
they swerve
from my verve.

While I walk on the air
they watch and they stare
envy ensnared
jealousy scared.

I see myself as ethereal
and try to be pure
they see a disease venereal
in need of a cure.

They say men mustn’t be feminine
even if it is genuine
and there’s a place they’ll send you in
to die with the men who sin.

They order me to mask my grin
and act masculine
but I never asked to win
so I bask in sin.

I search for connection
turning in the direction
of those interested in my *******
not my introspection.

They’re so ******
they’re so catty
they’re just wishing
for a daddy.

The lo-fi
don’t know why
I go cry
and don’t pry.

Excruciating wonders
tear me asunder
until all of my plunder
is a magnanimous blunder.

My throat gets a mite coarse
from the blight force
of their high horse
on my white porch.

My tonsil gets scratchy sore
once they freeze my core
and I sing no more
exiting the door.

I can’t speak
let alone sing
my body is weak
and so are my wings.

They want me in their baritone
narrow home
where sparrows go
to carol no.

I see the slinking bass
ruining this stinking place
engendering a sinking face
whenever I get a thinking taste.

There’s a sharp staccato
in the places I will not go
where the race of evil taught notes
lower than my shipwrecked boat.

I go underwater like the Maldives
silently we all scream
living in our small dreams
rooting for our ball teams.

Once they see I’ve drowned
they hand me back my crown
and tell me not to look so down
after I’ve been gagged and bound.

I respond to their monotony
noddingly
plotting the
same odyssey.

I adopt the stature
of Margaret Thatcher
I’m the student’s master
like a brimstone pastor.

Now I sing as low as I can go
and my flow is extra slow
because I could never grow
living my life in falsetto.

I live inside my shell
In a world I will leave
So I feel compelled
To live my romantic dream
But people tell me it's not Adam and Steve
And what they really believe
Is I'm going to Hell
Well they can call me Eve
And this is where I fell

In all mediums of art
There is a give and take
Between the artist and their audience
Both sides must give everything and take everything
They’re two halves of a whole
In a reciprocal relationship
Where they must give 100%
To meet each other 50/50

The artist must pour their heart and soul into their work
And the audience must reward the artist by doing the same
Consuming art with an enthusiastic, optimistic open mind
Yet many people don’t consume art this way
They enjoy the weight of their own opinions too much
So to try to give their opinions credibility
They become overly critical and jaded

The audience starts to adopt a “this better impress me” attitude
But their criteria is always different
I met an example in a film discussion with a cynic
Who only complained about the plot or CGI
Because they didn’t know what else to look for
And ended up hating plenty of movies
They didn’t know how to watch in the first place

Yet on the other side of that coin
These people convince themselves they like total **** to seem smart
I can never predict what shotgun blast on canvas they’ll call brilliant
But it usually relies on the power of suggestion
A famous person made it or other people like it
Usually explained as “raw emotion” or something along those lines
While thoughtful and interesting work is shot down

This mentality turns artists away
While attracting frauds
Who develop a pretense to impress those idiots
By acting like an artiste
They contribute to a culture devoid of depth
Where critical thinking is used to find ways of being different
As asserting individuality trumps emotional connection
For consumers trying to avoid appearing superficial
Yet they just end up unique and shallow

As countries continue to be more interconnected
we need to look forward and develop a plan
that eliminates our disconnections
working toward one language
one nationality
one culture
and they should all be mine
so I don’t have to change at all.

Yin/yang
order/chaos
discipline/freedom
cops/robbers
inescapable paths are familiar routes
subjectivity shrouds relation
reciprocation obfuscated by morality
relativism is an ocean the lost can drown in
but those who are properly equipped can see below the surface
until industrious capitalist tycoons spill oil
then it's a matter of faith swimming through blackened waters
oily ripples turn into waves
continuously crashing into itself
the sludge mixes into a consistent composition
the ocean gets a little darker.

Oh God, here they come
thirty to fifty wild boars
I’m quite stunned
so I slam the door
and look for my gun
which isn’t there anymore
the liberals took it away
not because of bullets sprayed on concert days
but to make me gay
which is why I hid my AK.

Thirty to fifty wild boars are attacking
while my children are in the yard
I can already see their bodies stacking
without an assault rifle to guard
so I find the weapon I’ve hidden
and say to the swine good riddance
the assault rifle made the difference
it’s not just a recreational interest.

Wild boars have only killed four people in US history
because they’ve been plotting
so to me it’s no mystery
these wild boars I’m spotting
Are terrorists
that share a fist
with liberal wrists
so I must defend my country
with assault rifle hunting.

These razorbacks
find ways to smack
those who firepower lack
leaving destruction in their tracks
their leader is wearing black
he’s the harbinger of doom
wielding a scythe
like a broom
to show me eternal night
in my tomb.

My armor piercing rounds
defeat the rotund hounds
their bodies fall to the ground
my family is safe and sound
but that’s not enough
my survival was luck
I go to the government for change
to get weapons in a deadlier range
because my assault rifle can **** thirty to fifty wild boars
but what if I’m attacked by thirty to fifty more?

They fingerpick on the guitar
while I toe pick on the ice;
my equipment doesn't fit as well
as each note in each composition they write.
After building brick walls in front of the net
their slapbass slapshots destroy my defenses
until their goals plague my crease.

While trying to set focus on my own game
loud cheering emits from various venues
for Mozart writing his first symphony at 6
Orson Welles directing Citizen Kane at 25
Johnny Depp originating that last line at 31
and Patrick Mahomes, whom I'm older than.

Competition is healthy, functional
until the unstable heat of boiling envy
releases the steam of resentment
building pressure in the machinery
until the screws pop out like marbles
knocking each other out of bounds.

Daftly defining ego as the self
and success as superiority
and achievement as relative,
I race against relatives;
each pace they gain
is a slap in the face in the rain
stinging while slipping while
blaming the elements
precipitating my demise.

Gripping graphite too tightly
vulcanized rubber goes wide
shattering through plexiglass
and into the rib cage
of an innocent bystander
dropping his concessions
to climb the stairs to the sky box
while I wait for repairs to be made.

Some people say every life is priceless
And that abortion is ******
Then they tell me I’m worthless
And ask me to **** myself
What the ****?

When I was younger
drugs were something I wanted to do
and as I grew older
drugs became something to do
and as I grew even older
drugs became something I had to do
and now
drugs are something I used to do.

Some things are just meant to be
but they’re also meant to have been.