Studies have shown that corporal punishment
at a young age
only results in learning disabilities,

God smacking the grey matter out your brain...

So the cycle of self, ego, perpetuating abuse, goes.
It is a series of footsteps, streams that become rivers;
and we are composed of these chaotic streams: energy
Dreams.

And my brother is a perfect window into "America"
He has a five year old boy, a Girlfriend with a boy and a girl;
They both believe in tough love and hitting;
On Sunday, as they were entering my mothers house,
his son hit him with a snow ball near the crotch, so he hit him
in the stomach, and I saw the boy lose his breath.

"You're a terrible father."  
I picked him up as he started crying.
My brother said he was bad all day before that.

What am I to believe?
That you are raising, caring for, and loving unconditionally,
or you are ******* up as a parent by hitting your child?
What am I to believe? That glimmer of light is a deamon
or that the deamon is you, my brother.

When you slap your child, or any animal, you reduce it
its brain, its body, and its mind. That's why alphas ****;
they just want to reduce the other males around them.
Its an evolutionary trait that carries through to today.

And so do fools, my nephews mother wants to medicate him...

when science meets spirituality, mind spirit
we replace the box with a tree, a galaxy.
We replace the pill with therapy, and community;
petrol with the sun, burning a hole
in the unity of our dreams and the whole of our destiny.

The misunderstood deamon
Glorified through deadly fear
Judged too soon as
Fallen Angel
Pawns shudder
Deny him his name
His cloaked form
And glittering scythe
Eternally burdened- a fate
Worse than death
Forced to spend his time
A-scheming
Immortality confines him
To his frozen cell
The question burns
Our tongues and ears and eyes
Will he conquer this epic war
This deadly game
Of Chess

i layed in my room on my bed,
i only wished to die in my sleep
fallen appart,i was nearly dead
cause of a promisse i didn't keep.

i couldn't eat i couldn't talk,
i was hunted by my past,
barely having stenght to walk,
i've put my all to the test.

i couldn't smile with pain in my chests,
then came fears, i became paranoid,
followed by the darkest fleshbacks,
until the gap in heart became a void.

i fell as low as person can fall,
there was only up i could go,
missed the death, had to crawl,
decided never to let myself fall so low.

it's been a year i'm alright,
i still recover,my heart needs some rest,
i know my strenght and learning to fight,
a crule deamon called ''my past''.

When you're walking through my head all night
(See what I did there)
My body becomies paralized
Undead
I embraced your selfish kisses
& kept you from the ocean
White deamon, are you still holding onto me?
Our minds hold the same memories
Know the same lyrics
We get tangled equally like bread-ties
I'm still twisted
& we both know that isn't fair

Across the wasteland children roam
Across the ashes and the foam
Across the parents and the friends.

Trough homes and houses children march
With ignorance and arogance
Across the parents and the friends.

Across the highways and the schools
And their immagination rules
Their thoughs their deeds, their parents and their
freinds.

And in the mind of a desert child
There lives a garden of flowers
And so, he pours the water on the sand.

Across the wasteland children roam
Roam with no reason - to see the world
And so, with morbid look they forward step.

With shining blinks inside their eyes
Walk past dead people - dying souls
The people who ignore a wasteland's child.

And in the mind of an urban child
There lives a legend of the wild
Somewhere between the ruins Deamon lives.

And so in the mind of every boy
There lives a world - a realm unknown
And when we dont believe he runs away

Off to his own world with a sword
Across the wasteland with a word
Of "please",  and tears he hides.

Across the wasteland children ran
Away from ruins and we cant cant
To bring him into world of ours.

So listen parents and the friends
Dont **** those worlds, dont bring the end
Upon the children who the wasteland roam.

A canvas
So lifeless and Empty
No feeling nor emotion
You Take your paintbrush
forceful drag it over the pale white
Weep and wipe as the red flows down - down
The canvas is your skin
The paintbrush is the deamon that lies deep within

they all suround me
calling me a villan
a freak
a deamon
a monster
just because how i act
my personality
my insaneity
and i realize if they waunt a moster ill give it to them
ill unleash my rath
just because they waunt a villan
but i realize that villans dont get happy endings
but no matter what i do
IM A MONSTER

The boogey man is not a man,
But a monstrous cavity in the minds of the men.
Black corners and shaded wardrobes,
What deamon, boggle, hobgoblin the bedstead-dark holds?


Eyes are sticked on the darkness,
Noble nowhere: the wide pupil is seeing far less,
While the truth is under your nose:
Thousand lies' eyes lie upon you that no one knows now.


Spiders? Rat snakes? What's hidden there?
No one knows and no one cares by-chance you barely dare;
It's you and your mind - your demons
Who barely care - its self-destruction deepens itself.


Dark room, wardrobe and under-bed;
Darkness dwells in none of among them, but in your head.
Empty-headed pics of crassness,
Made by no boogey, but an ignorant's recklessness.


Put away your holy water;
No need for illusive Jinn-conjurer Gin-tonics.
Darkness knows one weapon: homage;
Nightmares can be killed only through the light of knowledge.


Black corners and shaded wardrobes,
What morbid poison, what fearful drug your brain cells hold?
Embrace no torch, no crucifix;
The thirst of knowledge dries out every grim-naughty pics.

All conflict fade in light
Of what is yet to come
I fear muself sometimes
Destroying all i’ve done
Confused by feelings, old and new,
By deamons i create
My love, i wish you only knew
What rages in my brain.

One second passed and all had changed
I am not ready still
To just enjoy the things i gained
The bliss i yearn to feel
Feelings of Love obscured by Fear
Of all that is unknown
Of monsters dwealing in the deep
Of deamons i had known

If you to ask me weeks from now
About my deamon friends
Ill lauth and tell you that right now
This deamons have no chance
But in this constant solitude
In castle made of Ice
I lock myself so far from you
Stare into deamons eyes.

I remember feeling happiness.
What a cruel thing.
It was the moment I loved her.
Hit me like the viper's sting.

A moment of purity.
How painful it had to be.
"This feeling will last forever."
But it did not...

As the punishment of life propelled me forward in time.
I asked the Divine to love me
But No-one listened.

And as she stood there her eyes too cold to see
And the fire of her words burning me
I thought, "I just want you to love me
Let me hold you and prove that love is eternal."

The words still echoing in my head as I ran home to my parent and called them out of bed
With tears in my eyes I cried mom and dad please don't be mad but she left me alone and I have no home so please can I stay I'll gladly pay my way

And with a loving hand they reached out and said stay as long as you like.
We love you dear son, you are the source of our happiness.

The thoughts in my head are now gone,
Its silence in here.
I learned something important that day,
Something you should hear.

Happiness is not cruel or evil,
It doesn't not come and go.
It is there for the taking.
When you look at your deamons,
Remember that happiness is a deamon too,
And can fight the pain along side you.
A soldier,
A weapon in your arsenal to combat the cruel passing of time.
And if your happiness is too weak
You can have mine.