what gives you new life?

- the underpinnings of the artist
- mischief (and hellishness
- (becoming friends with nothingness)
- devotion to (healthy) destruction
- becoming friends with nothingness
-----------------------------------------------------­-------
hellishness (being hellish)
(the shadow)
exploration of the shadow
the unconscious
rage
callousness
violence
killing (things)
crudeness
crassness
- healthy outlets for destruction
- becoming friends with nothingness
rage

wbu?
its an important thing to know
------

mischief and hellishness
becoming friends with nothingness
the underpinnings of the artist
-------
memories of musing privately
(good memories
of musing privately)
---
(waiting) to be moved, egoically
--
confident ignorance
i try to be unconscious and let things shape themselves
(things shaping themselves unconsciously)
---
the familial greif inbetween my teeth
----
i cant control this beast
the beast that is my creativity

There's a nemesis on the premises

watching through the crevices of my hellishness

watching the precious homage paid to my delicate testaments of corruption and bitterness

yet to know observation is venomous if hesitant

the evidence is irrelevant while you wait on a settlement of peace from a benevolent king

back stabbing sentiments have no precedence over the decaying elements of my eloquence

not one finger can touch the decadence of my mental inhabitants

with whispers of shadows within their em-battlements

some go celibate from the spiritual experiments

in villainous line scrimages

consumed

with images of pillaged villages

baffled

in the battle to dismantle the soul scandals

manhandling rambles through foolish gambles

we each blow out our own candles

Left for dead

Strangled

writing is my ******* bane.

jeweled paws of inspiration
dangle that carrot to keep me running.

wring out the baby with the gray matter,
spool it like spaghetti, slowly get fatter.

i was under the distinct impression
that this habit was too large a vent

until i left it somewhere in July
between the Yuba and a car ride

and never quite calmed down

it's my solace, my oak-tree,
haven in the hellishness,
clarity to ugliness,
Gilead balm,
panacea.

why
should it
take such tolls--
to push too hard
is to turn a deaf ear

my ear ain't so sharp
and my brunt is still strong

Welcome to the bottom of the rabbit hole.
Here lies Babylon dead and gone,
but you can have it all if that’s what your after.
Though I don’t think it will matter when it shatters on the ground.
Never have I, ever, made or heard a sadder sound.
Still, to the victor go the spoils so I didn't uproot and move
I ripped my brain stem from the soil.
Now with little to no relevance withering pedals of pestilence represent my intelligence, I fell against this hellishness to find myself comfortable and content.
I wonder what it all meant, as I sit amidst the madness I had this vision of slinking back into the blackness, like the light is too bright for me, but it just so happens the darkness wrongfully longed for me.
Alas my past filled up so fast; Hot breath on cold glass.
So I continue sitting in my throne of obsidian tapping my pitch fork on my thick horns and rubbing my reddened skin.
Searching for something to say to them and then, all thoughts of this onslaught stop when a voice rings
"Thank you, for all the tar and featherings, you have given me my angel wings."

I guess it was all my imagination
I thought he might pick me over them
Crazy to think he'd ever digress
and pick me to be his princess

I put on a face like it doesn't matter
like boys are all dumb and immature
But the truth is that it'd be really nice
to melt into him when I don't suffice.

But now I'm not sure if such a man exists
that can deal with all my hellishness
So onwards I trudge, lonely and scared,
and hope that one day he will be prepared

To come in and sweep me off my feet
like a fairytale where we're destined to meet--
both of us will know it's special
and we'll mold effortlessly into one vessel.

There is a tear
TEAR
From the heart... a compassionate tear
For
The child
That is born
Into
Unstable circumstances
For instance:
Where
War and Famine exist...

How disturbing it must be for that child, how
Frightening.
Why!
Why Is something SO beautiful, innocent,
Born into,
Subjected to
Such
Hellishness?

I run it by you, humankind!!

Will
The government, Monarch, Church, respond?
Yes, they will,  when THEY want to
And
Express it
In a way where they
Look the better for it!



But,
More seriously,
GOD,
How
Can You see this without intervening?
GOD,
I ain't no saint
But Hurt
When a life
Is extinguished
And
That means
A
Fly
That is a pest
In homes when cooking
And dead
Bodies are around.

A
Fly
Is a wonderful creation!

****** myself, I, for deeds done and not done!
Cursed that horrid deed.
What would have come to be had you pre-deceased me?
Voiced in visualizing a rise of the dead in dreams
The power is death passing suffering in seizures of nineteen nights
Take away the veil of the evil in this nightmare of no awakening
Come, this way, I will show you hellishness seeping in thru cracks of the mind

In this bind I have to you I have been made deadened
Alone to follow the demons in this world
Hark to the angels to sway my actions and lock my lips!
With benign forces on a cosmic level
And all the unnatural deeds
Compassion and forgiveness lie upon us, unto each to the other
If anyone is listening, tell me now, who summoned this chaos?!

Given to women and taken the child, oh joy and ruthless cruelty!
Born and unborn.  Done and undone.
Taking my future with the end of yours, oh retched moans.
What is the hint of that to come?
Where are we in this existential void?
A sovereign flower plant seeds for regrowth in a new time.
The smell of sickness lingers
Can what’s done be undone?!

The cutting blades of thoughts
Swaying one way only to swing back this way
Again, for another ****!
I’d thought they’d be duller after much use
Instead, they swing faster as if my brain is the sharpening tool.
The gauges are becoming deeper and with better precision.
“Please STOP” I yell.
“Please HELP” I cry.
I don’t think there is anyone here.

Am I the protagonist?
I am frightened in my shaken center.
Who is in charge of the new order?
Can I be made limitless, safe, healed and whole?
I beg you, make me free to forgive and free to save the world!

Tale to tell
To a frightened bird one day
Salt and guidance to a fire make comfortable
But the cold of silence in the tree's, of disdain or dismay?

Ought on unity's chin?
The talk and the seclusion we expose to unique...
Airs and driven knowledge, the count of wins
And the spurning of hope, as a friends gift to a table, a clique?

Of sincerity to consider gone, with a might so done
The ruse of vice, is in the bespoken hands of courage
To continue with a reach, we sate and realm with sanity, home
Is a catching health, to couth; a misery ours for a wagon's wage?

Beckoning hellishness?
Time to well upon the naivete or needs of a stone, the breadth of shadow
And its becoming inspiration, the cold corners of ambiguity, bastion and death?
Are for any of a mix, that has the same in mores, we predilect and owe...

Common practice, if not method in a dread triangle...?
So sweet, so enamored, so entangled with a coping house
That has seen the future of the truth, the tale to tell...
A handshake of call and cooperation, that knows life is thou...