We call them the enemy, those we have to fight
But they to are just young boys
They also bleed for their beliefs, for what they think is right
And as their lifes blood leaks away their loved ones also cry
Are they so very different from our young boys so brave
No, they bleed, laugh, love and die
And wives and lovers and parents cry
Just as would you and I if a loved one died
No matter what the colour of skin
No matter the god they believed in
They to are just boys

Hi.. hello..

My life's Not good

Without You

Just Called

To know

How  Your's Minus

Me :)

I sit alone
in a box marked, "fragile"
and knowingly,
you threw me on the ground
and walked away.

It almost wasen't reality when it happened.
It was like those Hollywood movies when everything happens exactly how you want it.
When i met her i knew then that anything pure i had left in me she could take and keep.
Most of the world was a reflection of itself but she walked by those mirrors without a reflection.
She changed the way the world spin's and what it means to me and how things were.
A world where no song,art, or poem can describe truly who a person is.
The real truth is behind the little time you can spend with them and realize that a cruel world deserves such a beautiful kind spirit to make up for the all the lost and misunderstood people it contains.
Then your back to the beginning with a broken heart. Left behind by the spirit you once knew and loved, But don't worry they say "All good things must come to an end".
So let your heartache for this brave new world until the time comes its your turn for your spirit to be free.

Shes's got her work cut out for her
She sells patio furniture with a hairline fracture
And puts the pain aside
She eats pulled pork sandwiches for lunch
But stays neat as a pin

It can get repetitious for her
So some nights after her shift she gets down at a bar in town
Amidst the drifters and prodigal sons
And tickles the ivory's
The whole bar gets to a stand still
When shes tells them all to get with it

But then without mention she stopped showing up to work
And no one at the bar hadn't seen her in a long time
She left for North Carolina
She left went to search for a new life
As the people she left behind simultaneously searched for her

Making dinosaur egg oatmeal,
maggots in the kitchen sink,
ants on the floor,
flies in air.
How did I get here?
Žižek on the counter,
and you're trapped here
by yourself, kid.
Trapped again.
Here we are.
Communal
bankruptcy.

We went to the park to sit on the orange bench and devour ripe peaches
And sweet olives
We saw the man who would always be out on his deck admiring his own yard work
And the kid with the bulbous head who sat on his stoop and stared at passersby with a deep-rooted curiosity
The sky became pink
As a girl with a septum ring walked passed us
Is that sanitary?
Then we saw the mother of the boy who was just put in the sanitarium
And wife of the man who works in the bio dome planetarium  
As we're leaving we stepped on a manhole cover that read "CoMmUnIcAtIoN "
And unbeknownst to our backs and behinds were now colored orange
People began to ogle us, whisper to their friend and laugh