"directionlessness" poems
how the **** can i be angry when
you help yourself to what's left
after all love is
always the closest thing
to death
bethlehem is restless
terrorist holograms of mary teary unblessed when
death is living every day of your life forever breathless
breathing is all that is left in your chest when the stress hits
regresses to compressing aggressive obsessiveness
********** in pages to confess unspoken messages
the lightening and quiet screams promise me
they'll light my step through this
green grass in it's morning dress
uncaressed by pestilence
beth/rest
you're possessed by this
and the ghosts flitting between the trees
direct me to the places i must have seen in dreams
before i lost the connection to the earth long since
to the directionlessness of adolescence
every vibration left a crack
enough tremor to slide a pin in
and erzebet would visit my skin every night with rumplestilstkin
and they'd spin another needle through the muscle soft as linen,
they promised it would turn to gold, so long
as i stayed hidden at the loom in this prison
shoulders tightening as they thread it away
i look at the money in my minnie wallet and pray
everything safe always seems to go away in a flash
so perhaps it was just that nothing was ever safe
maybe they will leave if i say that i don't
believe in any of these ******* fairies anymore
but maybe i am older than the world is different
and they were just never fairies at all
it seemed to be such a small small place back then
when you could always cheat at LIFE
and run away and play pretend
in your imagination
didn't have to listen to anyone
now cops and parents hate you
and everyone wants to know
what college you've been in cause
surviving is neither irony nor blessing today
just simple catastrophe and endless dissarray
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 1:33 AM UTC
I see regress in Mankind -
escaping through the backward tunnel of self inflicted destiny
Running rampant amongst the Judites, the elders too old to be alive
Printing cash coin empty of value ceaselessly into the empty abyss of night,
Oh, pity no fool for each man thinketh himself into action (reaction) -
So may the nightmares the souls of war suffer
torture the maniacal mind of these villans
and make them taste the blood of their fallen innocent prey -
Alas, history rules fate until history is let go of -
each day anew, yet strung together into eternal daylight bliss bang
Yes, and the fountains in the gardens soar higher than ever,
With peace in the ranks for conquering vibration
Lest say the suits then freedom shall be,
For the suits are the devil in disguise, selfish aliens of Mankind.
Never be nothing less than gold, they say harsh and bold
For the ones of dirt will be poor eternally, body after body -
So bow down to creation and civilization and rampant war supierors.
But the underground speaks loud, louder than air in silent transition from still movement
To an ever-evolving force of unpenetrable doubt beyond foresight or useless chaos,
The underground breathes heavy,
And exhales the toxic filth of first-world hedonistic pleasure domes of futuristic down-fall,
tasting the ****** drive of youthful generations seeking salvation from directionlessness,
And like rabbits, they take to their naked truth of love and lust,
and they bring forth a dissilution of boundaries -
They divide the seperateness of "You" and "I" into a unified personification of God called "We" -
As in "We the people", and so freedom is never more than a lover away.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC