Match, match forward and go, you heroic sons of America
Reconnoiter into the strongholds of boko haram,
And restore our captive girls from the foul  custody,
Lawlessly held hostage by the connoisseurs of terror,
Go on and recover poor souls from ribald of religion
Impishly created by Moslem from the satanic verses,
Regulating foray of terror on the poor of the poor
******, mahyeming, looting and executing massacres,
Match on and on yee angels of democracy,
Don’t stop in any haste or in any wonder,
To help in the sham flabbergastations,
About  the  Igbos who fought the Biafra,
And the Yorubas who federally defended,
Under the aegis of Obasanjo the Sandhurst
General, where are they all to save the girls
Of Nigeria from the Islamist terror
Excuted by  boko haram the handmaid of evil.

The insane live forever,
lust lawlessly over all things conceived fascinating
to the validity and gluttony of the mind.
Brain feasters we live to strive,
exist to be,
all things so mundane to our gluttony,
we hunger for something on border lines,
the limits of human mumbling over morality.

Cease your everest squirming,
your infantile homage bearing,
you find so viscous an evil,
so vile a fiend in us the broken chains.
Godless we sing the marching banter of forlorn free will,
we have no conscience to bear,
no after thought found alive anywhere.
The psychopath lurches out about child like smiles,
lives a second agenda basis before any infant experiments sin upon innocence.
Born divine this mutant knows free will without restriction,
closer to a limitless ever enveloping power than any mortal.

Breed me a man slewing monster,
a shape shifting skeleton reaper,
those that fear this untouchable being,
this godless singularity,
fear the very will we wish to contort,
constrain,
control,
but a demon answers only to that of it’s own greed,
no man may quiet its roaring,
its heartless contortioning.
It’s an angel without a heart beat,
a cadaver with a taste for its own flesh,
make me a monster manufactured under every roof,
we’ve got too much human to feel.

I'm going to take a shower and then, this day is mine.
It may be 2 pm and yes, maybe I only woke up and hour ago, but that's fine.
Time is of no essence, holding no power over me and my kind.
See,  we hold the power to counter act fascist politics
While the media scours to keep one step ahead of the times
But keeps slipping further and further behind.
I may not know everything there is to know about the GOP nominees but
Believe you me, I'm doing better than 90% of the pop culture fiends
Who know everything there is to know about every song Lady Gaga sings.
That's not to bash all the little monsters, see I know a bit myself
As I like to stay abreast on all kinds of music, television,
Internet memes, university official ****** stings,
And a plethora topics categorized under the moniker "various other things".
Between you and me, I'm not sure there is a Heaven
And if there is a Hell we make it daily ourselves.
But that doesn't have to be the case.
We can rise up and grab onto the clouds, pull down the sky
And bring the idea of Heaven a little closer than simply reading a book
Found in the drawer at **** near every hotel ever could.
Now, that’s not to say I don’t believe in the Word
and that the word isn’t Good.
I’m only making a case for a proactive age and for doing and living the way that we should.
We were never called to preach to the sinners that they‘re going to hell in the first place.
I’m only stating that there is a mass information bank
Being lawlessly and shamelessly misinterpreted and misunderstood.  
What I am saying is we need to put a stop to injustice parading itself as truth—
In our schools, in the church, and in the hearts of our youth.  
Read with fervor and a bit of passion any book can hold the keys to a life worth living.
The Good Book is a good book, but…
God the father and his son Jesus would have got on well
With Bilbo Baggins and his nephew Frodo,
Who both understood that the war they fought was so much bigger than a silly ring. '
They would have seen the passion and pain behind the eyes of Wilber Larch and is protégé Homer Wells,
Who only wanted to help and had to make some tough decisions in order to do so.
And they would have been able to appreciate the selfless devotion of Severus Snape
And commend Harry Potter on his willingness to die for those he loved.
Because...
In the end—what’s the difference?
It’s the same story over and over
From the cradle to the grave,
From Genesis to Revelation
To my walls lined with posters—
They all contribute to the loops and the corkscrews
On the same roller coaster.
This whole charade called existence resting on the shoulders of nothingness is everything that we have,
So the quicker we learn to take the good with the bad the quicker we’ll realize that the things that we want
Are exactly the same as the things that we had and the things that we have.
Maybe all the moms and the dads of today are displeased with the direction we’re heading because
(though they’d never admit it)
It’s no different than where they were going and for some reason they thought it would be.
Open your eyes.
All I’m asking is for a little time.
A minute or so more, tops.  
I’m pulling out all the stops
And I’m laying my heart on the line in hopes that one day you will return the favor in kind.
Not to me. Maybe not even to anyone other than yourself, but that is enough.
I've seen some things I wish I hadn't.
I've been drunk and I’ve done drugs but I’ve never voted in a political election.  
I’m 20 years old without a clue of what it means to be a good person
But I refuse to let that stop me from being one.  
So I’m not going to get high tonight and I’m not going to sit around by myself in my room watching ****,
Which I’ll admit without shame I do sometimes when I’m bored.
Tonight I’m breaking the illusion and crossing the line
That separates me from who I want to be and who I was at one time.
I’m inviting you along, so come on, put away words like “was” and  “will be”
And replace them with “the present”, “living”, and “free”.  
Because that is all there ever was or will be—
We've been given the present for living and in that we’re free.

Big gulp of gluttony
of pride, of jealousy
I relish to see
the perimeter

the perimeter of intrigue and obscene
cleanly baited and fated by the hook of curiosity
fumbling lawlessly

Though then I see the awesome power
of the great creator at work
it's berserk!
manifesting perfection as I tumble through the murk

Waiting patiently
moving cautiously
Leaping quickly
to the edge

Running briskly
Moving swiftly
heading towards
The edge

Moving violently
Words tangling
Screams valiently
To the edge

Creeping flawlessly
Lying lawlessly
Smirking tragectly
To the edge

To the edge...

Radiant, beautiful, orbs of grey,
one look infinitely, brightened my day.
Strands of red-gold, falling flawlessly
my mind dreaming, wildly, lawlessly.
A sound I hadn't heard in too long,
that confused my heart, spawning this song.

Hands awaken! Speak out! Answer to sacred shouts,
subterranean whispering, to stars above rooftops—
thread sunlit branches with the chattering of a thousand leaves.

If flux and urgency of confusion or death
should drawn you into the self-box--
remember when one constructed prison fell away.
However you helped this forward,
do more of the same.

Be rain-hands, laughing, steeped in earth fragrances.
Be fingers in blossom, loves innumerable, rough-cut and bedazzled—unafraid to be splayed wide open.

Be pocketed hands, released to the welcoming wind—
multiplying there in mid-air, they ride the four directions.

Be hands of smoke and of fire, descending and ascending
like ragged bird-song—effulgent, charged with surprise
and now even with mock surprise.

Start at the beginning, exactly where you are.
Not satiate with loll-lolling recede wave’s tide,
not retreated back and back,
until grown utterly intellectual and lumpish!

Now, Human Being—you come awake also!
Sweep furnishings from your table.
Upend the table lawlessly.

Bring the muscular, fleshy, feminine to the masculine and muscular.
Likewise, bring the masculine to feminine. Bring friend to enemy,
estranged neighbor to confidante.

In a dance of pressing hands,
let subtle conversation play.

Ring all the tiny bells.
Stir the King and Queen of Remembrance.

In over-arching restraint, hold back one iota, so pure notes sound—
bring sunburst, sphere and harmony.

Make your entire body a listening board
forming therein—tender shapes around which love
seed unfolds its infinite spaces and then…

Spring awake! All to better dreaming
where your faith is undashed, not with this dying.

O, hear me now! Hands, every which one of you,
with every human—never again sleep,
never abandon!

Can you watch?
As the pain consumes me
I desire a friend,
A warrior of light
To end this forever night
Much less to be desired,
I will, too show you the dark side
I will, too show you your own pain
Lavish in the glory of the pain
Let our demons be melancholy
lawlessly leading you to the night.
It's a trap, and perhaps
I'll let you think you've trapped me
I wish to show you my pain,
Steal away your light
You pretend to be afraid
I pretend to care.
Nobody will know you're there.
The joy of pain is so great
Now let us celebrate.
I am the end to all of you demons.
My demons so mighty and tall
I'll take on them all.
I feed my demon and take much joy
Watching them destroy all who try.
Your demons will become mine,
They have willed it to be
For I shall offer them what you cannot.  
Do not fear, leave it to me.