I Hear America sniveling
A nod to Walt Whitman,

I hear America sniveling, life of hardships
Those are the nurse’s aide, each sniveling
looking tired and worn out
Petrified of being on the morning shift
The Porter sniveling as he drags
the fifthly mop down the corridor
The “Don’t walk signs.
Which everyone seems to ignore

The cooks crying as he wakes up early searching for dietary old ladle
Just to meet the breakfast rush, with sleep still in his eyes: his life seem to be a lie

The doorman sniveling as the workers rush through the doors
The looks on their faces, his hands stay closer to the company Tasers
The foreigner taxi cabs drivers speed a headed of each other for two dollars ride
As they tries their best to form a complete sentence..
Knowingly, that his spoken words is grammatically incorrect

The babies sniveling as they mother drop them off at the sitters,
  Poor babies wish they could stay all day in their mother’s arm
The poor man sniveling, can be heard through the land, America
The rich man broad smiles as he killed another elephant for their ivory
Takes images proclaiming victory

The sadness of the hardest workers, or the elderly folks in pain
Shows an undivided world of tough hardships and poor leaderships
Each one to his or her own self, like homeless man Robert in the rain
We wakes up each day under the same sun, the same cruelty and injustice
the testing nuclear weapons in the atmosphere  since 1945 and just recently another test
And we continues this repeat, and the more we feel and see or smile turn into frowns
I heard America sniveling:

*Even in hardship, God’s goodness prevails.” E
― Todd Stocker,

I

In eras weird with old mythology,
As if asleep the fabled country lay:
Her wave-like hills and faerie forests dense,
Her thorny brambles budding curling claws,
And ivy circling all the woodsey way --
The far swan's cry came soft and woke them not.
Forlorn, that selfsame call upon the gates
Did break; those gates of Britain's long-lost keep.
She too slept fast, the weary weathered stones
Of fairest Caerleon. O pulsing stream,
Thou vein of life in woods a-slumber, Usk!
Alone are you in knowing castle's face,
From years of timeless burbling at her feet.
What tales are told by water over stone?
What lark or wren can sing of sadness come?
Aye, answers are the beach-wet sand, yet hark!
Rejoicings spilled, proud hails, from Caerleon:
They cheered the ****-frost's melting with the Spring;
The holy Gwyl Fair y Canhwyllau
Had come at last, in foliage of dawn.

Within, their goblets sailed, wassailed, and crashed
Like growling Jove, their boasts and toasts like wine --
They drank it spiced and over-strong. Indeed,
Some stretched exaggerations: 'twas Sir Bors,
That spotless sheet, who tried to contradict.
He quoted purifying texts and spurned
The wine that nature raised and crafted sweet.
Yet "Loosen up!" uproared the host to him.
"The time has come to celebrate," said Kay,
Beloved knight, step-brother to the King,
"Aloft thy wine, below thy gills! Drink! Laugh!
Your stomach is a falsehood-spewing fool,
It must be drowned for you to feel a lord.
I speak a sooth, you need wine's fleeting bliss!
Know thee that man's tomorrows bleed him dry:
A wade through death and depths as sure as pain
That shall tomorrow light your brow. Laugh! Drink!"
Bold cheering spread with Kay's advice, though yet
To no surprise Bors turned aside the drink,
Unblemished bore, so celebrates alone.
Weep not for him, for soon he'll find a cup
More suited to his strange of chaste and grace.
And none to waste: his share was drunk by all.

Engaged in feast Owain ap Urien,
Engaged in tale now Bedwyr and Kay,
And Lancelot made eyes at Gwenevere.
It was a feast of great success and joy
As fitting of the season's robust gleam,
Yet two there were with shallow-rooted smiles.
Prince Mordred one, though ever-somber he:
Accursed spawn with bone in place of heart
And dreaded incantations for his blood;
His brooding perched like crow on him. Alas:
The other joy-bled man had beard aflame,
A bear-skin drape, and crystal eyes, the Lord
He was of Caerleon and Mordred both.
'Twas not the gleam in lover's gaze that vexed
Though it was seen; he had no heart in him
To chain his Queen as if in dungeon steel,
For Arthur lived believing to be fair
Was paramount, to even paramour.
It wreaked its toll, yet caused small grief this day.
Not even serpent son gave cause to mourn
That greater was than missing nephew's spot
Among the feast. His chair was naked bare
Returned though he should be from faerie quest.
At Calan Gaeaf they expected him
When winter storms had racked their shoddy hall,
Yet since, the months had rolled to Gwyl Fair
The milder season come, but not his kin.
The image of his maiméd corpse did taunt
And haunt the agéd mind of Arthur, King,
His phantom nephew slain anon by knight
That of no flesh was made. In year that died
This green-mailed knight arrived a guest and called
Infernal challenge. Trick it seemed to them
And trick it was, for subsequent the blow,
This seaweed knight did lift his severed head
And from dead lips he cried "Well struck! Now come,
Fulfill me of my game. The year to come
Shall see thee in my home, and as agreed
My turn 'twil be to answer with my axe."

So rapt in recollecting, Arthur missed
The growing clamor that beset his hall.
His ******* cleared the grief from him with taunt,
To bring him into grief. "What say thee, Dad,"
Dripped venom from his mouth, "No love for us?
Your hail we called, but disapprove your eyes.
Methinks that far away thou seest a dream
That visits oft the elderly: a place
Thou knewst when in thy prime, with love
Now filled to burst. Yet fear us not, away!
To land of youth far more beloved than we
Whose happiness with thine own heart is twined."
"My fellow, soft!" the King began, distressed,
Yet Lancelot rose to his feet and spake
"Blackguard is he who mocks our Lord to face!
Thou palest hide, thou Mordred, sit thee down!
This sniveling craven knight should be replaced."
A sounding of the table met his speech,
Again was hailed his toast, and Arthur glad,
Though burdened to his breaking point, and sad.

"Blackguard is he who mocks our Lord to face,"
Had spake his bravest champion and friend
With no regard to Blackguard wrapped in stealth.
See how his roughspun fingers coil in hers
And how some sweetened whisper 'scapes her lips?
The beams of color-stainéd light slip down
To play upon their blissful sin almost
As if King Arthur's King approved on high.
Sovereignty is ruthless, Arthur thought,
Well-wishings of my God grow ever-faint.
I must believe in good though I am ill,
Just as I find my countrymen displeased
Though I did calculate my every breath
To see that it did stand with God's own will
To help my common people from their murk.
I fear I am not what I wished to be,
And now my only solace peaceful death.
If up to me, I'd wish it in my bed.

What horn's blare? Hark! King Arthur roused from thought.
Court gatekeeper Glewlwyd Gafaelfawr,
Dressed plain in brown, took down the horn from lips
And loud as elk called to the hall "Have cheer!
Sirs, drink another beer and wreath your brow
With springtime blooms, for lost knight fair is found!"
Old Arthur trusted not his feeble ears,
But came a hush and Lancelot confirmed:
"What **," he boomed, "our brother has returned!
'Tis grey Gawaine, aye, Gwalchmai! Drink his hail!"
The uproar was enourmous: "Gwalchmai! Cheers!"
Was like to wake the sleeping wilderness
That hung suspended in the myth and mist.

II

Astonishment had come like breaking wave
Upon the thirsty sands of monarch's face
So long consigned to reap the low-tide's grief.
When Arthur's ursine hand clenched round his cup
And hailed his nephew's presence with a roar
Long lost to hibernation's hoary spell,
The hearts that beat in armor under him
Did swell to find their lord with cheer at last;
The toast they drank so hearty as to give
Sweet Dionysus pause against excess.
Though only two there were who did not drink,
And one of these were Bors, a sadness fell
Once more as tangible as any wrong
That chose to haunt a hall. 'Twas Gwalchmai grey,
The conqueror now home from quest to rest
Who would not lift his eyes to meet the King's.

"Has cheer so fled from you? Your life remains!
What black has inked you in?" the King did ask,
And silence overtook the hall to hear.
How strongly then did Gwalchmai wish to leave,
To blend once more his form to root or branch
Or soaring river. Wind, the songbird's muse,
Had been his fast companion on the road,
For known to him were many things. He was,
They say, some god that stalked the minds of man
In young enchanted places of the world
Though all his magic helped him not at court:
His shyness was a leaf obscured by rain.
Yet even gods of silence know to speak
When words of pain encircle heavy hearts.
He let them fly, birds in the sky, he said
"I failed. My quest was long and arduous,
The seasons changed while I in heather lost,
The moon its phases shed as fen-frogs called,
I floated through the endless cloying mist
That flows, a ghostly sea wrapped round our isle.
The path had nearly drowned me when I found
The chapel green enough to spell my doom.
When entered I, methought "It cannot be!"
So kind and courteous a host met me
That would have been disgrace to call him green.
He feasted me, and warmed my wounded bones,
Yet I betrayed him in the end; I failed.
I stayed his guest, and friend, and swore to him
That for his hospitality I'd share
Each thing I won while underneath his roof.
And all was well -- I'd rest, he'd hunt -- until
His wife played hearts with me. I did refuse,
But by her final trick was tempted and --
So lost all knightly honor and renoun.
Her lusts I spurned three times, but on the third
She offered me that which my heart desired,
Instead of love she begged me take her boon:
A silken girdle sewn with charms, and green,
Deceit I should have seen. She said the spells
Would keep me safe from harm and spare my life...
When on my rugged journey all I'd feared
Was twisting face of death that loomed so near.
I could not help myself, it seemed so tame,
Yet when the time had come I could not share
That gift, or else expose the husband's wife.
Beneath my armor tied when left that place,
My secret wore me down upon the bog.
It seemed the mist grew thicker, wind grew swift,
I now know under spell was I, but then
It seemed some vengence coming to a head.
My tale grows long, and past the point am I.
The Green Knight and my host were one in fraud:
An airy insect's dream. His "wife," a witch,
Had formed him out of acrid moorland soil:
Homunculus to carry out her scheme.
The blow he owed me carried little force,
Though still this scratch is plain upon my nape.
And so you see my folly plain as oak:
For though I kept the life I feared to lose
My lie grows in me like a cancer bloom
That in the span of time shall **** me sure.
I failed; I'm gone; to revelry return."
The silence, vast again, gripped all the knights
And king too dry to cry, who drowned his heart.

III

"Is there some madness come to roost herein?
Thy folly is ridiculous," said Kay.
"I valued mine own life past honor's flame,
A sin of selfishness, and blame, and wrong.
What of the world, if all would act as such?"
A weeping noise he made, but choked it back
And turned to leave in shame, and might have done
Had not the stout Sir Kay gripped Gwalchmai's arm.
He raised it in the air and shouted thus:
"Percieve our stunning champion stands nigh!
Though of a frail ennobled heart, we know
Thou art absolved. This trinket given free
To aid in quest I wager was for thee.
And as for sacred broken vows, this man --
You said yourself -- was conjured from a bug.
You owe him no alleigance Gwalchmai, sit!
This serious you need to be for wine:
Come sit with brothers now! We drink to thee!"
"Dispel the failure all you can, it stays
As weighty on my brain. It was a sign
To signify the kind of soul I am,
To me it showed my grimy ills and plain
Did tell my shaping, shape, and shape-to-be."
King Arthur to this nephew spake: "My child,
Is there no antidote to questing's woes?
What has become of jousts and silver swords?"
The anguish in the old man's eyes so keen
To those who knew him. Gwalchmai did reply
"Your majesty, there's not a grief can ****
My bird-like love of questing through the trees,
For only questing can redeem my shape."
"Then let us have this quest!" cried Kay beside
Him at the table, deep in drink he swore.
"Come with me, brother-knight, to clear thy mood!
You do you wrong blaspheming at yourself."
The wine was quaffed by Gwalchmai, yet he said
"I first shall stay, I need to rest my ills."
"Your ills are that which keep you ill, good knight.
I bid you come and we shall quest as birds
Who savor springtime berries in the mist."
"I shall not go, I seek my quietude."
"In sunlight you and I must bask. Comply,
Or else I challenge you by burnished blade."
All eyes on Gwalchmai, under pressure cracked
Into a grin and downed his kykeon.
"In stubborness persisting, Kay, you've won,
A river such as I could not keep stead
Against a boulder. When shall we away?
When come the summer blossoms, fair and red?
Or else not til the saps have lost their leaves?
Departure yours to choose, my brother-knight."
Kay beat upon the table and their ears
When called triumphantly "This very day,
This very hour! To help those who need aid
On holy days shall surely fix your heart.
No time to wallow in the swamp that's gone,
We now away, to break our swords with day!"
"You mock me or you heard me not, Sir Kay,
I wish not to away, I wish to rest!"
The fairest Guenevere, like silver bells,
Chimed in "You must forgive your heart's despair,
Or emanations of its guilt will plague
Your mind. I have a lunar garden if
You wish to sit in soothing calm and think."
"My queen is holy," Gwalchmai spoke in grace,
But Kay had cut him off with "Hear her not!
She will ensorce your mind to not explore,
To sit and think and mold with lunacy;
Beneath the sun we'll tred. It's known on quests
I favor Bedwyr, 'tis true, yet you
My fairest Gwalchmai, keep your wits -- and arms --
Two things in need of we shall be.
I mean you no offense, dear Bedwyr,
But I and Gwalchmai share a severed soul
And shall succeed; two sides of selfsame coin.
So come my cousin grey, to right our wrongs
We must away, to break our swords and say
'My heart is glad I did not stay at home!'
Consume your drink! We go," he trumpet-called.
Thus Gwalchmai was convinced, and so was forced
To nod politely to his Queen and stand,
Declaring to the court "I shall away,
This gloomy mood is dried beneath the sun
Though dearly do I wish some lunar grace
To lose myself in mysteries anew.
To bear this flesh is weighty, yet I've found
The strain to be rewarding in its way.
Think nothing of my former woes, they've passed
Like summer storm or wisp of misty cloud."
The hall at large did drink his hail, and then
Did thrice more drink for quest to which they went.
And Mordred scowled and drank the foulest wine
For his monsoon and fog would last his life.

So summoned then Glewlwyd Gafaelfawr
To hearken unto birds, as was his gift.
He said to all, "I shall now call my friends
And see what worthy tales of quests they bring!"
"There may be naught on Gwyl Fair," said Bors,
"A holy day, all wove with peace. Nor Gods
Nor men would stir their strife this day of days."
"We all shall see," the gatekeeper replied.
Beside his King upon the dais came
And played a serenade upon his horn
That rang throughout the keep and lands beyond.
A time did pass with no response recieved --
Slain silent was the raptness of the court --
But then through open pain in stainéd glass
A thrush did bob and weave in melody,
On finger of the Queen he briefly perched
Before he flit away upon the air.
His song so sweet, but then - what fright! No more!
A hawk had entered, just the same, and swooped,
And now the thrush was silent in his claws.
The cabinet of augers all took note
And sketched their calculations into books,
Though none, in this, more wise than Gafaelfawr
To whom the hawk said "Hail, you man of rank
Who speaks the tongue of wing-in-air. Now hark!
'Twas not in hunger slew this thrush, but fear
That what I have to tell might go unheard.
My family, we roost near Cornwall's sea
And late, the noises off the coast grew strange
As if some evil kraken raged at love.
My chicks; my wife and I; we're simple hawks.
We eat and some of us are eaten, yet
Beware the thing that slouched from out the waves.
His shape is something like a boar, but huge,
He dwarfs his kin, and hill, and oak,
This hall is large, yet he'd be stuck inside.
He does not eat what he has killed, instead
He smears the bloodied flesh on stones and trees,
What man could face a fear that bears this face?
If you could hear the rutting squeals he makes!
I swear this sooth by wind and waving plumes:
You men who craft with metal, hark!
Destroy the beast!" And then he flew away
Still calling after him "Destroy the beast!"

The court at large had heard the warbling hawk
But did not know the tongue, so only watched
Glewlwyd's unease upon his face
Until with stiff and rasping voice relayed
The content of the predatory news.
Unease began to show among the knights,
For many there recalled a beast so shaped
And all the blood and guile he took to drown
The first time. Arthur, grim, forbade Sir Kay
And Gwalchmai face these perils by themselves,
But recommended regiment of steel
To bolster ranks against the fearsome boar.
"I know this foe from days of old," he said,
His years of rule etched rough across his face,
"And so do most of you, though many gone
And this monstrosity not even slain."
But Gwalchmai said "'Twas hard indeed to win
Those relics that he bore. Remember I
That Trwyth was the name he chose, and we
Shall best him fair. Though not for trinkets now,
But with the zeal of mother guarding young:
This foe, Twrch Trwyth shall not raze the land
Nor wage a war against some peaceful ilk
While rounded table can beco

she has prized credentials
where grovelling is concerned
and many a brownie point
without merit she's earned

******* up to management
is something she's good at
her activity is as undistinguished
as a gross gutter rat

she crawls all over the high ups
like an uncontrollable rash
her sycophantic behavior
causes our teeth to disdainfully gnash

to observe her inching
up the head honcho's ***
makes us all snigger
at her sniveling farce

I say unto you with a sniveling snarl,

Will you go on and be friends with an owl?

Why, YES! I said boldly with a pompety grin

My new owl friend will be lucky and win!

He will hoot and toot a most beautiful song

He will win a singing contest and sing all day long

We will take all his winnings and spend it on mead

We'll sing, drink and be merry, indeed!

we'll capture a horse and dress it in tweed

then ride to the sunset on our horse named, "Sardine!"

Sardine might get hungry so we'll feed him some hemp

We'll lay down to rest on a bed that's unkempt

We'll wake in the morning to see Sardine's fate

Sardine has died from starvation this date

The sorrow we feel is so hard to beat

So opon his flesh we started to eat

w'ell pair it with taters all mashed in a pan

we'll eat up our dinner as fast as we can

but hold on a second, how silly are we!

We tripped on some mushrooms we found on a tree!

our minds started swirling and twirling; so dizzy!

my owl friend shrieked and then started to tizzy

he gouged out my eyes and laughed at my pain

I fell to the ground and made peace with my name

for I never did say from whence I came

cause stories like this are not easy to tame

I lay here in misery, my friend's not to blame

It's all in my head, this silly word game

where am i?
how am I to write when
I am no different from
those gaseous ephemeral words
who lie prostrate upon
the pages of my dictionary
carved plainly into
those battlefields strewn across
the wartorn country
my heart the despotic dictator
whose primal drumming
carries no tune
and no rhythm
and throws of explosions
grenades that
black out the world for
a brief moment
until it careens back and
slams into me
disorientated

i should have been born twice
for how could i have
both my body and that
intangible inexplicable
something inside
it stirs at the molten core
of me
that chasm that forged
those graven images
that first gave way to
a pictographic language
and offered me
a voice
to explain that immutable
all powerful
urge
lust
to throw myself on that
red button and
detonate
burst into a million pieces
and finally relieve that
nauseating pressure
of adipose smushed between
holy bone and
saintly skin
interloping in that space
and separating two lovers

barriers create madness

walls box me in
and yet i grow
an expanding balloon girl
macy’s day parade and
candy littered streets
and razor sharp edges
to steel walls pressing harder
against me than
my supple skin could
ever possibly press
back

i can’t breathe

there is no room
for my lungs to expand
and feel the
fresh sun filled meadow
of crystal air
delivering oxygen to
starved alveoli
and i can’t find your chest
to guide me
in impossible respiration

i’m suffocating in my own skin
from no outside force
but my body itself
turns inward and
shouts its dominance at my
cowering self
sniveling in the corner
of my dusty half used heart
where no blade could possible
land a blow deep enough
to silence the torment and
particular personal poison
a torture to course through
every part of me
activating every single neuron
and making me
hyperaware of my
shame and noxious
venomous corpulence
a reality i
never wanted you to see
but is written plainly
in fiery script across my forehead
and in every fold of fat.

Wonderland, Wonderland
Why do I keep coming back?
Is it the giant mountains
Or the flowing streams?
Wonderland, Wonderland
Why do I return?
Is it the people there
Or my love for Wonderfood?
Wonderland, Wonderland
Why do they hate me?
I walk, they scream
I talk, they beat
Wonderland, Wonderland
Why can't I be perfect?
With pretty hair
And big doe eyes
Wonderland, Wonderland
When did you become a twisted place?
Was it the screams
Or the nights of crying?
Wonderland, Wonderland
I don't know you any more.
With your ferocious monsters
And sniveling thieves
Wonderland, Wonderland
This is the end for me
I'll jump the bridge
Or pop the pills
Underland, Underland
I hope you welcome me
It was a quick ride here
I hope they know what they did

I beg inside my soul to have you.
I don't love you.  
I want to feel passion, desire,  and the warmth of another body pressing against me
I could grab any man I wanted, but I want you.
I see your brown hair
let me run my fingers through, just once
Your eyes
soft earth
Your lips
pink lilacs
And all I want is your body
Which is very saddening.
To only want to use someone, then toss them aside like trash
How can you?
And still fall asleep at night without thinking about a face wet with tears
your fault
I simply want to do to you
What you have done
To All the women before me,

The same song as a trickery

I want you to fall in love with me
an instrument meets the music
I want you to hold me close and kiss me, as you share your fears and truths.
a melody plays softly
I want you to believe in love because of me
Think of me,  breathe me,  and miss me when we are not together
accelerato tempo

Until one day you meet me in a corner booth at our favorite restaurant, and I rip your heart to shreds

Look,  I never loved you. I lied.
I used you to get what I want.
You are a pathetic, self-serving dung heap that only thinks about himself. You wooed me, I pretended to like you, so I could dig under your thick facade of masculinity, and discover your sensitive side. I know what you are--man *****--and I enjoyed using you. You can lie to everyone, every woman from this point on, but ten years from now,  when you are married to wife number four and you are waiting for her to come home and she never does,  I want you to crawl into the bed you made and bawl like the whining,  sniveling baby you truly become at night when no one else is around you.  I hope 'lonely' presses you down so hard it hurts to breathe. And maybe then you might turn into a different man or at least your miniscule brain will have an inkling of true heartbreak. Doubtful though--I win.  You lose

Then I get up and walk away from you,  ignoring any pleas and ****** slurs.

*Caesura

As whisker-twister pauses, tho’ journey lingers on,
Sniveling and sneaking as he darts in shadows long,

And the Gallic peace; tranquility.

No food, nor sleep, no drink and no refuge, found anywhere in France,
Nowhere to run save forests, upon which he’s forced to take a chance,

And the Gallic peace; tranquility.

Scampering in shadows, with the hunter’s distance being closed,
Rodent Ambiorix, -little mouse, is paused and panting in repose,

And the Gallic peace; tranquility.

Frightened little mouse, run, yes run away,
Frightened little mouse you’ve come to rue that day,
For frightened little mouse, -Caesar’s on his way!

And the Gallic peace; tranquility.

Destined to never be satisfied, that is me,
I will swallow the world and purge,
Wiping my mouth of the spittle, off too comes the grin,
Momentous occasions amount to invisible entrapment,
They'll try and tell me that it should be enough,
Sedated and post-op lobotomies on pedestals,
Formaldehyde jars packed with vernal reward,
Plopped on sofas staring at the **** tube barrel,
Fancier and well built imports,
**** measuring contest gone wrong,
Debt built up and drowning rats,
Tunnel vision scoped Dharman,
Wicker trinkets, frail mistreated,
Lunatics that love for the wrong reasons,
Insanity epidemic gross over-exaggeration,
Billy clubs fly from hands of misguided lawmen,
Prayers knelt under the bus benches,
***** corroding the underbelly of the social glance,
Blind blues moutharp in the corner still playing,
Trains running on time, taking the life from the patrons,
Steel breathes burnt crimson,
Foggy cauldrons from medieval nightmares,
The haggard ***** dangles her ***** precariously above,
Just an inch or two in the wrong direction,
And all this meaningless mess might be forgotten,
Books burned, learned forgotten, buildings from the sand,
Starting the sick cycle over again,
With an even wider **** eating grin,
Chartreuse Cheshire cats with inviting eyes,
Taking the breath from the first borns,
Replacing motor oil with sugar canes,
HOWLING what history has shown,
Making a prophet from the scammers and thieves,
I can't believe that we don't all see,
What my path of professed malnutrition,
Gambled stimulus, Golden fleece lined nimbus,
Never enough for the scabbed *****,
Never enough for the howling idiots in the sun,
Never enough for the lunatics undistinguished,
Surely never enough for you and me.
Continuing on snickering underhanded,
Snide underbreath worried about repercussions if found out,
Maybe even too ignorantly blissful enough to not give a ****,
Head down looking at your shoes,
Or ready to inflict a flat tire,
Graceful or oafish,
Humble sniveling whelp, prodding pious peacock,
Dividing rod stuck in the teeth of our teeth,
This is the loner society,
At least tolerance is taught in our schools,
Has anyone really learned anything?

The day crept by; we all held
our breaths.
Tip Toeing on egg shells,  
doing our collective best.
Attempting only forced
politeness and meaningless
small chat.

While avoiding the family elephant in
the room, our father's painful history
of attacking his kid's many faults and
failings, with his long history of aggressive
verbal abuse.

The tree was lighted, the room gaily
decorated with all the colorful Christmas
props of our childhood. Mom cooked her
best guess of each of our, once adolescent
favorite foods. My two sisters, my older
and younger brother and me too.

While Dad bit his tongue and tried to stay
hushed, as Mom had pleaded for days for
him to do.

Half way through dinner and a few Hot
Buttered Rums, the small talk turned serious,
and just like that, we were all truly back
home again.

Grown adults quickly reduced to sniveling
petty children sitting at their curl and
domineering Father's dinner table.

Old wounds opened and bleed upon Mom's
best-treasured table cloth. Food grew cold
for lack of interest, eyes flared and oaths of
profanity mingled with cheery Holiday Music
on the stereo.  Belligerence ensued and the old
man raged as one by one he verbally listed his
disappointments, at each of our many collective
faults. A string of loud insults and accusation
were exchanged and flung liberally about in
both directions. 

Judy's new husband took a swing at Jason for
reasons unknown, and the women protesting
their loutish behavior, separated them.

Earl and his small clan fled out the door and
drove straight back to Emeryville with not one
word of goodbye having been uttered, leaving
his kids Presents, behind unopened.

In tears, Sandy ran back up to her old room as she
had always done to escape, only to discover, that
it had been turned into a "Home Office/Sewing Den."
All her things gone to the Goodwill or garbage bin.

Dad went to the cupboard and got his bottle of
Scotch and the rest of us all quickly adjourned.

Mom started to cry and never quit.

The Dog Days of Christmas had recommenced,
and all the Kings horses and all the Kings men
could never put our broken Castle together again.

I donned my helmet, swung a leg over my Hog
and headed for the mountains, leaving Christmas
and all of them in my rear-view mirror.  

"Peace on Earth and Good Will Towards Men",
does not work for everybody friend. Hopefully,
maybe next year, we'll try it all again.

Hiroshima Poems

Let Us Be Midwives!
by Hiroshima survivor Sadako Kurihara
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Midnight . . .
the basement of a shattered building . . .
atomic bomb survivors sniveling in the darkness . . .
not a single candle between them . . .
the odor of blood . . .
the stench of death . . .
the sickly-sweet smell of decaying humanity . . .
the groans . . .
the moans . . .
Out of all that, suddenly, miraculously, a voice:
"The baby's coming!"
In the hellish basement, unexpectedly,
a young mother has gone into labor.
In the dark, lacking a single match, what to do?
Scrambling to her side,
forgetting themselves . . .

It appears that my translation above has been used by Hiroshima University in a new field of study called International Peace and Coexistence. I found my translation on the university’s Peace and Coexistence Facebook page. Being a longtime peace activist, I am particularly happy with the name of the course!



Now the remaining Hiroshima survivors are aging, and they must wonder what the world has learned from their harrowing ordeal:

See: whose surviving sons
visit the ancestral graves
white-bearded, with trembling canes?
―Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



We should always consider the fates of innocent children:

I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
―Michael R. Burch, "Epitaph for a Child of Hiroshima"



The intense heat and light of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bomb blasts left behind ghostly silhouettes of human beings whose lives were erased in an instant:

Hiroshima Shadows
by Michael R. Burch

Hiroshima shadows ... mother and child ...
Oh, when will our hearts ever be beguiled
to end mindless war ... to seek peace,
            reconciled
to our common mortality?



Poets remind us that we all share a common destiny:

Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt
―Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Something
by Michael R. Burch

Something inescapable is lost―
lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight,
vanishing in a gust of wind toward an expanse of stars
immeasurable and void.

Something uncapturable is gone―
gone with the spent leaves and illuminations of autumn,
scattered into a haze with the faint rustle of parched grass
and remembrance.

Something unforgettable is past―
blown from a glimmer into nothingness, or less,
and finality has swept into a corner where it lies
in dust and cobwebs and silence.



Frail Envelope of Flesh
by Michael R. Burch

Frail envelope of flesh,
lying cold on the surgeon’s table
with anguished eyes
like your mother’s eyes
and a heartbeat weak, unstable ...

Frail crucible of dust,
brief flower come to this―
your tiny hand
in your mother’s hand
for a last bewildered kiss ...

Brief mayfly of a child,
to live two artless years!
Now your mother’s lips
seal up your lips
from the Deluge of her tears ...



Lucifer, to the Enola Gay
by Michael R. Burch

Go then, and give them my meaning
so that their teeming
streets
become my city.

Bring back a pretty
flower,
a chrysanthemum,
perhaps, to bloom
if but an hour,
within a certain room
of mine
where
the sun does not rise or fall,
and the moon,
although it is content to shine,
helps nothing at all.

There,
if I hear the wistful call
of their voices
regretting choices
made
or perhaps not made
in time,
I can look back upon it and recall,
in all its pale forms sublime,
still
Death will never be holy again.



The day the Cloud reigned
by Michael R. Burch

The sky was clear on Hiroshima,
sealing her fate.
The report of the weather plane,
neither early nor late,
was certainly plain.

The few innocuous clouds did not refrain
from abandoning the city.
Only the silence, monstrous in its complicity,
regarding man’s error
acknowledged the horror.

Only the small, astonished victims
understood the immaculate heavens:
the inconceivable light
igniting their bones;
the Cloud, all of a sudden,
billowing unbidden,
and then the apocalyptic rain
descending again and again.

So that where white chrysanthemums
had once whispered with bemused tongues
instantly only ashen ruins remained
the day the Cloud reigned.



War Close Up
by Hiroshima survivor Kurihara Sadako
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Stirring bugles! Rousing martial music!
The announcer reporting "victory"
like some messenger from on high,
fanning, fanning the fervored flames of battle!

Masterful state magicians materializing
in a wizardly procession,
spreading cleverly poisoned words
to bewilder reason!
Artistic expression abracadabra-ed into state-sponsored magic!

The sound of boots, guns, bombs, cannons
as our army advances, advances, advances toward the enemy!
The thunder of our invincible tanks advancing! Alleluia!
The sudden, sweet gurgles of drowning enemy ships!

The radio broadcasts the sounds of battle:
A war hymn resounding to the skies,
sung by courageous men and women
who worship this cruel idol, War.

Oh, so powerful the merest whiff
addles even the most independent spirit―
the ***** of patriotism!
the religion of race!

While on scenic islands
scattered like stepping stones across the globe,
and on farflung continents,
driven by boundless avarice,
the landlords rage and rave again,
instilling hatred in indigenous populations
then prodding, driving them into battle.
Full of high-sounding pretexts
inevitably adapted to expediency
they raise indisputable banners―
God is on our side!
Righteous war!
Holy war!

"Right" becomes the password of thieves.
They square their shoulders:
"To secure world peace
annihilate
the evil opponent!"

They bark commands:
"For ten years, a hundred years,
fight to the last man, the last woman!"
The master magicians' martial music
resounds magisterially;
fanatic bull-mad patriots
roar and run amok;
completely bewitched, the people carol in unison:
"O, let me die by the side of my sweet Sovereign!"

Keywords/Tags: Hiroshima, Nagasaki, atomic bomb, Japan, Japanese, translation, nukes, nuclear weapons, nuclear war, epitaph, child, children, mother, mothers, father, fathers, WWII, apocalypse, Armageddon

you stand among us,
as though we were not shattered when
you took apart all that we made
to give you...

and i become that seething
sniveling,
mess on the floor...
when you tell me that you are leaving again,
as if i didnt just
create love to place in
your hands,

a kiss and a blooming rose, you
are all that i am,
and yet
still i feel lonely,

empty,
as you stand before me,
naked and in pieces,

but singing on a stage that i made just
for you.

Maybe I'm not sick enough
Of sad, beautiful girls.

They wear misery so well.
Like pouty lips,
And blushy cheeks.
Swollen eyes,
And little mouth noises-
A siren's call.

I'm a ******* ******* at heart.

It's pretty sick
Of her
To humor me like this.
To let me be the joke.

Doesn't she know
That I would sabotage myself
Just to hear her laugh?
Just to feel wanted?
Just to feel worthy?

Just to make my skin feel bearable?

Doesn't she know
She's the movie screen
I project my affections
Onto?

Sniveling silver.

Doesn't she know
She's my one chance
At feeling normal?

At feeling anything at all?

Doesn't she know
I'm tired?

I don't want to wait anymore.

I'm pretty sick
Of myself.
I need her laughter
To drown out the silence.

I'm so uneasy alone.

Their wet eyes are interchangeable.
A series of lips,
Cooling cheeks.
Blue mouths-
And their captivating sounds.
I laugh.

I'm pretty foolish.
She's pretty sick.

Think you can walk on me?
Think you can walk away?
Think you can take me?
I know your darkness, honey.
I know your corners full of cobwebs and shadows,
The places within you.

Think I'm innocent and pure?
Sure.
I have not torn lace and tasted flesh,
Or sharped my fingernails on the ridges of a spine,
But I have been to hell, sweetness.
Been dragged below a grave,
Gouged wet dirt with mine,
Desperate hands scrabbling to pull me back
To rainy bitter nights.
I have lain bare and ****** on the cold stone floors, stained blue and black,
Burned beyond a breath, beyond thinking,
Beyond hope.
I've been brutalized and torn apart inside.
To compare evisceration to the blooming of a rose,
To say I've had the far away gentler time.
To think I am naive as you suppose,
That I couldn't possibly know the foreign lands
Traveled by your mute experienced hands.

Think because I ask for you I need you?
It is my nature to give, but not to take.
Not to take love when I am not offered it,
But also not to take any more ****.

If you look into my eyes, do you see fear?
Of anything, in their depths?
Keep looking, search away-
You'll not find it here.
You'll see my rise and fall, my grand absurdity,
But you'll not see my obeisance
To someone who will not match me
Mile for mile,
Straight down.

I have seen hell, you see.
Gazed long and hard and deep.
Purred savage in its velvet caress-
The way you have unzipped a dress,
I have unzipped my skin
And stepped out.
So look on, look lust, look IN-

I am no white snowflake, glittering
Fragile and quick to melt and meld.
No sniveling child begging weakly to be held.
I am a rainstorm drumming on my own back,
A rhythm and reminder of the tenderness I lack,
I am a lightning strike,
Sudden focused and intense, the white
Hot touch of the phantasm immense.

I am the song of suffering and of love,
I need no substance to loose my demons,
No dizzy fiery nectar to lose my mind.
I am complete unaltered, and sublime.

I have known centuries beneath my skin,
If no one's touch,
And words of every meaning through my wanting veins
For wanting such.

And you, girl, are not worth my time.

Push her blushing into bed, raise her pulse to reeling heights,
For I have pushed the world beneath my kneading hands, and pulled the sun to night.

Ravage rashly through the silly schoolgirls that you find.
The way into a woman's soul
Is the seducing of her mind.

mediocrity isn’t
something to be strived for
and being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure

it’s heavier than any weight
that could be strapped to your back,
larger than any expectations
you delude yourself into thinking you must meet
emptiness fills
more than you would think

your feeble body on the ground
stirs no pity in me
i hope the steel-toed boots
striking you from every direction
leave bruises that last
i hope the stench of your rotting flesh
gags you and brings up the lack
of what you hold inside
i hope old scabs are ripped open again
and your hands lay weak by your side
unable to stop the flow of blood

let me hear you say that you are nothing,
           that you have nothing valuable to offer
let me hear you say that you are a waste of space,
            an unwanted burden
let me hear you cry and plead for an end,
            although you don’t deserve that escape

i want to hear you say that you’re a murderer

i want you to go back:
             look into his eyes
             watch them dilate with fear
             and then see the light leave them

             feel his blood on your hands
             leaving a permanent mark
             that doesn’t wash off under water

             feel his body turn cold
             as the life inside him stops
             with his heartbeat

your sniveling apologies do nothing
but turn my stomach over
don’t touch me,
i don’t care if the blood is gone

being a nonentity isn’t
a relief of pressure
i hope you never get away
from that weight

this one time
when i was a kid
probably five or four
and i still lived in california
my mom took my brother and i
to meet some kittens

that was when i learned i was allergic
and that i couldn't touch my eyes
or rub my face into kittens fur
unless i wanted to end up
sniveling with red swelled eyes
and scratching endlessly at my skin
where their sharp claws innocently landed

my neighbor
when i first moved to kansas
had a cat i think
i'm not sure my memory is fuzzy
i think i was eight
but it was such a loveable cat
until it clawed up my back
and mom had to clean with
something that burned
to lessen the swelling

but i love cats
i really do
if i had to pick a dog or a kitten
i would certainly pick both
because i honestly couldn't pick

now at nineteen
i have my own loveable cat
all white and gorgeous
so soft like a blanket
and cuddly like a puppy
his eyes different, a gold and a blue
he's the best thing

Hey, I knew you when you had frosted-tip hair
When you listened to The Smashing Pumpkins
When you were lazy and carefree
And you copied off of me.

Hey, I knew you when you aimlessly wandered the halls
looking for a vending machine and a quarter
When all you had was a backpack and angst
When your car had no bumper and chipped paint

Hey, I know you
Not as this sniveling, disaffected perfection-pusher
Not as some right-winged orator of damnation
Not as this devouring greedy pencil pusher on a pedestal

I want to go back and show you the new you
You, the coward.

What would the you of then think?

You dropped my faith in the gut bucket
I thought you were to be trusted
I was sadly mistaken once again
a dependable friend is a commodity
your perfidious words slayed my credence
the testimony can be found in written word
inconceivable after what I've been through
intentions of loyalty misconstrued in your head
never fed the fire, never asked to be rescued
a fraternization in need was what was spoken
my hand in friendly alliance was not enough
crumpled trust wrecked, strewn bits pen'd on paper
i may be broken but these cracks are uniquely mine
in the meantime i nursed you whilst in desperation
should have known you were radioactive
by your past nefarious grievous verbosity
you corrupted every sentiment set forward
a bitter fire to light for public consumption
hard pill to swallow being openly ripped
aspersions cast within my treasured love of words
it was always about sheer joy of shared poetry
the lunatic in your head took a giant leap
landed in my cup of realistic doubt
bitter taste took a dive in my elixir
yet another painful lesson ingested
you drew your sniveling sword unjustly
then cowered amongst those you spewed upon
little do they know the wickedness of your ways
far be it for me to come to rescue any
who'd listen to the likes of your grotesque tongue

put your big boy pants on, you fight like a girl...
who the **** do you think you are?

A poetry site? Really?
My words and thoughts are so much more inappropriate
Than the others?
Fearful that I might subvert the poets?
Tear them from their pain and longing
Steal their happy moments
With my words
Really?
You have no idea how your cowardice ****** me off
You in your fear cannot stop words
Or thoughts
I spit on your sniveling censorship
POETFREAK
POETFREAK
POETFREAK
I will take my things and leave
My closet full of wrinkled poems
And all you will hear are my footsteps
Out the door

People are still driving
To work
In their cars

I got a bagel
With locks
The place was busy

The bagel place

Facebook seems pretty upset
But so far the morning
Looks like morning

Bright
And sad with sleep

But I guess the government stopped

I thought I wouldn't feel as gross
With my greasy hair tied back
Fermenting in my gym shorts
Sniveling in line
At the bagel place
What with the government not working
But I did
And I felt bad for being smelly
Around all those people

I wish the stupid cat in my apartment
Would shut up
I wonder if he's hungry
Or just nervous

You still cross my mind more often than I'd like
Like today
I want to cry
for want of you

It makes my heart squeeze
Have you been warm enough
these past cold nights?
Or have you been driving, always driving
in your longed-for leather jacket?
Does your subconscious [heart] ever turn the wheel toward us?

Then I think of who may have kept you warm
That makes me flush with anger
and a bitter taste fills my mouth

with the metallic twinge of blood
I spit out your name

It is not my care anymore
How warm
Who warms
You
Are
Not
My
Concern
[Care]
[Possibility]
[Hope]
Anymore

the next day

Time
it flows
Today I am more distant
I know I should give up on you
You are not as magnificent as I thought you were
even Yesterday
Or you wouldn't have hurt me
us
you
so
Yes I know you must be hurting too
Or... at least I hope you do
Selfish thought but
I don't want to seem so trivial in your mind
though I wish I could make you trivial in mine
Then I might be able to
Move on
But today I know I should
We'll see if that happens

the day after that

You were never really mine
And Yet I feel you were stolen from me
By whom?
By him?
By them?
By you.
I know it's unhealthy
but still
I curl up in bed at night
And sigh
What some might think
Relaxed
but with a deep Sadness
All I can think is
"It was you tracing hearts on my back
with your fingertips"
Not the other way around
And I wonder if I'll ever feel your touch
Again

after three gin & tonics

I am an adult.
I will hold myself together when you walk in
I will not manically plead with your best friend
"why doesn't she want me??"
Fluctuating
Breaking down
Being mature
There is no reason
my
... discomfort
should bar you from fun.
Except I still want to break down
Typing this and putting a fake smile on my face
Like all is right
Going to **** the dance floor with
My heels
My pain
My tears

and later

I hate you
No
I hate me
In a voice more raw from
Smoke or emotion, I'm not sure
Wipe away your thin black tears
Go home
Don't be a sniveling *****

She wasn't meant for you

five days later

Silly, silly me
Thinking my Life empty without you in it
We spent more weeks Without you
Than with You
I hope you're happy
Wherever you are
And with whom
And with who you are
If ever you feel
A You might mesh with an Us,
Come find us
Until then, this pity party is over
Teardrop confetti dusting the Floor
Balloons, and Heartache, released [relieved] into the Atmosphere
My Life is full, even when my eyes couldn't see it through the Haze of my tears
Blessed be, dear one. <3

Silence

That’s what you wanted
Just accepted silence
Just desired crying
Just no more defience

So why the **** do you want my voice
The ironic song bird wedged down my throat
You just want to hear your name screamed out
Whimpered out
Begged

I’d say ******* but you’d take it the wrong way
That or it won’t even reach past my new blue gloss

You want me to speak up now? Well you’ll get it, yet don’t blame me if my voice goes hoarse. My eyes bleed tears of forgiveness when looking disgusting and captivating as I screech like a banshee . With snot dribbling down my chin. With split ends visible in my wooden mane. With eyes turned muddy the unplanned forecast for blood thirst and depression

Like how about I talk about those long nights at McDonald, or when you sung lullabies that implanted insomnia, or the icy touch of your frostbitten hands looking for warmth and all you found was me. How about those whispered words of , “ I really like you.” Cuz four words are worth so much more than three. Each held more meaning than the last as if they were your last breath as you plunged inside me with dagger-claws. Yet I loved it, ****** I loved it! I loved being your barbie doll.

But were they even true

Were all the nights we stared at one another with clamped together hands just the darkness in your coal eyes wanting my spark. My bite. Was it just so you could see if I could be yours. Only yours. I left so many scars on you and you to me, and you told me you loved them. Your fingers would trace my stories I engraved upon your temple. But none were proof enough of how you ****** my mind up with yourself. Made me worshiped like a false goddess undeserving of your praise and love and soul and eyes and ******* I’m back your your dead ******* eyes even when you blinked to show you lived.

You knew I never loved anyone before you. Never held hands before you. Never had any lips besides your cracked ones trying to imitate a desert to trick others of nothingness that you’d whisper only to me. Never told a man nor woman that they were my first of everything before you. I was a tiger lily and you a ****. And you took it all away you ******* hypocrite!

You knew before I could even say wait. And I loved you for it, I still fuckning love you for it cuz I am a *****. My heart never beats when you aren’t around. I never needed to speak, you were the source of my puppeteer voice I used when other’s worried about something.

Yet now you want me to tell you lies. Tell you who hurt me

‘You’

Tell you who used me

‘You’
Tell you who ******* broke me down to a sniveling, worthless pile of ash

‘You’

But instead of telling what was reality I played within your almond flavored fantasies and blamed everyone but you. For no, never you.You, you, you, you, you. Rigamortus won’t stop my hands from grabbing your shirt as I slowly sank to the ninth level of hell.

BECAUSE IT WAS YOU GOD ******* ****** MAN
YOU DID THIS TO ME
I WAS AN AURORA SUNSHINE YET YOU ****** ME DRY
TILL ALL THAT WAS LEFT WERE MONOTONE CLOUDS
YOU'RE THE ONE THAT SHOVED YOUR HAND INSIDE ME
AND REPLACED ORGANS WITH STUFFING

YOU DID IT
YOU DID IT
YOU DID IT
YOU DID IT

You're the reason
I slit my throat
******* my vocal cords.
Sewn shut my lips
It's no surprise I was thrown away
Like a broken doll

It's funny you see?
When you're choking you should see the irony
Ain't I the one that needs to hush up

When the first boy who leaves
goose bumps trailing your skin
plays your favorite Death Cab for Cutie
song on guitar--stop him.

With the notes wedged under
his fingernails, stuck
like they are in your head,
you'll never be able to listen again
without cringing.

It's 3AM when you're clawing
bones to hold yourself
together, you wonder:
"Is the memory of me a light
peppering his ceiling,
keeping him awake?"

"Love" should have stayed
a word, not a fight.  Loneliness is a date
spent sniveling into the sleeve of a
different boy because Chili's played
your favorite Death Cab for Cutie song.

But if he comes back, asking
for a poem--don't write one.
It won't be any more appreciated
than you were two years ago.

The moment it suddenly hit me
that I’ve met a shedevil equal to mine
I growled,
temporarily put into a dark dungeon of torture.
She!
A much more mature woman than me,
(kindly speaking)
with a voice raspy like rusty screws
drilling into my brain.
Droning on and on, repeatedly…
Don’t you just hate people that repeat themselves over and over again to make a point?
I could literally see my dark widow wings flay in sheer rage at her persistent but utterly boring rants.
I got what she wanted… I really did.
But I would not and never will share her elitist thinking.
Hell no, and **** it to obliteration.
I’d rather walk away in brimstone and fire.
Slashing everything and everyone in my way to ash, dust and dead atoms,
before I lay my body down on their altar of stupidity.

And when I turned my tormented gaze toward that sniveling, coward of a man hunkering down beneath our war table.
Daring to smile in smug triumph…
I felt crimson violence take me over.

War is upon you all,
and you’re already dead.
you just haven’t realized it yet.

I want to paint it
this plaint
I've worded
one thousand
unrecorded instants
only to see both
the deep and tinny
syllables I thought
vibrantly tinted
dissolve into
pale, gooey-bottomed wails

I should pitch it
this paste
to patch an unfrocked
eye searching
puffy tears for atoms
escaped within
abandoned margins
as narrow as
the difference between
my white canvas
and an emptying hand

I have to plug it
this post hole
bored by my frantic
inattentions
and stencil a sign:
bold letters below
a starched cuff,
its pulseless finger
pointing out
there's one way
round sniveling sounds

A steady stream bellowing out my nose
i wanted to play today sniveling staring at my toes
why now must i feel so, voice hoarse cannot go
cannot speak, cannot sleep, even force of will fails me.
Stuck in bed enjoing a *** head eating at my brain
as zombiesaurus might know, i too am going insane,
crumbly delight, a ******* helps fight with crunchy grain
ahd and aaaaand now i, sqhinting, can barely see.
Even so i roll with it, my thoughts and me, we are
desperation to derision, derivition a bit far
the demons within trying to be free i sternly bar
God help me, i'd feel good though if freely they'd be.
Coughing hurts again, feels i'll never win, never win i say
but through the delerium, i cut through a foggy bay
whats this i see, mom with soup, i might survive i may
warm feelings abound, a smile in my face, not the worst day.

Youth has killed them all,
the lunatic screams,
bemoaning his plight
to all who will ignore.
those who cry for their
mothers at night,
THEY are the madmen,
whimpering and sniveling
'I don't want to be responsible'
only to realize at some point
later in life that no one
gives a **** what they
want just as long as
they keep their mouths
shut and shovel their
**** to keep the system
as one, man!
All this bull about free will
will take them all of nowhere!
The more they try to capture
youth, the older they
will get and the quicker
they will die!
Don't they see it?*

And even though he
warned himself,
he died the same way.

You know man, living the life of an artist
it's not an easy thing to do, it's true
what they say, there's so much pain
entering in conflict with your soul
no matter how much you desire it, it'll never be whole
You try and try to escape the cruelty of your fate
you can't, it's all been decided before
So you suffer, hoping one day the veil shall be lifted

Come on now little man, you can do better than that

I've lived a thousand lives under the empire
of my pen
I've seen a million deaths unfold before my eyes
on a screen
I die every passing day, I lead my thoughts astray
further and further away from reality
To justify the notion of how my emotions
give birth to stars painting scars on the veil
of time and the cosmos

That's a little bit better, you're getting there
go on, tell us more

I wear a thousand mask for a thousand personalities
each interesting in their own way
to protect the boy I selfishly
locked away in a corner of my mind
A boy tormented by visions of Hell,
darkness, fears and insecurities
to give myself a sense of security
I write lines furiously and cry to my muse
hoping she'll have pity and fuel my addiction of words
I writes lines haphazardly to try and make
sense of the Universe which is life
I write lines to justify my meaningless existence
because broken promises of Heaven and
afterlife won't satisfy my unending thirst
for freedom of mind
I write lines to deny the existence of a ******
reality that crumbles down every day and to
prove to everyone I am my own God
if not over everything that is, was, will be
than over this tiny little world encompassed
in a tiny little brain

Good, we're almost there, do go on
loving the anger

I want to be understood
that's not to much to ask for, is it
I don't want to be forgotten
rotting in a coffin as time consumes my rhymes
until inadvertently no one will know of my existence
no children, no family to carry on my legacy
of broken thoughts and badly written lines
Remember me, remember us
That's how this odyssey should have ended,
an extended ode dedicated to the random
stranger living his/her life
A testimony to the gruesome beauty
of our ultimate God, time.

Ah, poo soul tormented by pain
don't worry your efforts are not in vain
You're far more than the plain
simple-minded folk running around doing
their menial and petty tasks
Look at you, only 26 years old and already
so wise,
It must be gut wrenching to live with
your parents while not being able to maintain
a job
Oh, how I pity your tormented soul
when you do nothing at all, sitting in front of your PC
lamenting about the absence of your muse

But, but I have personality issues, I suffered
from depression and had suicidal thoughts

Whoopty ******' do, poor you
you're a ******* disgrace to the human species
watching your own mother work from 8 to 8
just to support your sorry white ***
Oh, but don't stop now, tell us more
about your extremely difficult life
charm our intellects with your witty rhymes,
your view changing, ground breaking, mind shaking
life altering poetry

What are we...

If not leafs blown by time
brave soldiers fighting crime
in the empire of life
all the never-ending strife
carving our skins with a knife
forged by scars worn and memories torn
from our darkest fears
So on and so forth, see?
It's easy spewing **** out of your ***
when clearly you have no understanding
on how to live, on what life really is
Don't you think it's about **** time
you take your head out of your own ***
and start using your brain?
Heaven forbid someone dares to upset your all so
fragile balance
Heaven forbid you spread your wings for a little
while and experience flight before
you come crashing down
You deserve no sympathy at all, self righteous,
money ******* pseudo-intellectual ****** leech
Go now, cry to your muse and girlfriends about
how cruel the life of an artist is
Sniveling little **** -

That's it, I'm putting my pen down
I don't need to listen to all this hateful
mind destroying *******

There we go, the root of your essence
the core of your soul, this is who you are
a coward.
Whenever someone, God forbid, decides
to challenge your foolish ideals and talk some
******* sense into you, you flee faster than a
rabbit scared of its own shadow
Go on then, shoo
back to your exploding pixels, locked away in front
of a box where your toon is a hero
back to your wanking and occasional girlfriend
you'll eventually get bored with, get bored of how
she dares demanding you open up a little bit
back to your castle in the sky
where there's no one but you, and who can confront you?
No one!

**** son, you just got wrecked, bahahahahahaha

Now that I'm stripped of all the masks
standing naked in front of you
do you still value me?
I imagine it would be childish to play
"Oh, I'm just another human being
filled with flaws, I'm in no way perfect
but can't you see, that's what makes us
so beautiful? Our imperfections" card

Surrounded by darkness
Shadows after shadow
All in stealthy movements
Looking to devour the unknowing,
Cataracts of murky waters unfolding
To cultivate an abysmal knowledge of possession
Laying in wait

Surrounded by shadows
The unknowing gullible prey
Gallivanting in the coolness of the shadows
Traveling on unpaved roads
In company of the unseemly
Glorying in a flowery mask of gloomy interactions
A facade capturing the mind of a dunce

Sounds of laughter in triumph
Emanating from the shadows
A perfectly planned possession
With full-on persuasion
Fastidious dressing on a palatable decision
Congratulatory claps and smacks
At a job well done
Oblivious of an impending failure
Coated in a ray of light

The sun rays stands at attention
Catapulting its existence
Into the murky waters
Shooting its rays through a pinhole
With boundless powers
Seeking a limitless entrance
With the unknowing gullible prey at the door
Holding a key, in a game of indecision
Salivating over the promises in the shadows
And the fulfillment of lascivious desires

The sun awaits your attention
Banging at the door gently
With healthy promises
The high heavens can checker
With words spoken larger than life
Saturating every nook and cranny
With light, life and love
And a thundering presence
Annihilating every shadows is its path.

Doors open
A pinhole becoming a tearing limitless ****
The sun rays stretching forth
Inciting a dance with its panther like gait
Over-powering the sniveling shadows
Punctured deceptive walls left behind
Emptying shadows filled up with light
On its face a triumphant grin.

In the shadows
I opened the door to the light of the sun
I was the unknowing gullible prey,
Now, I AM THE SUN.

all chumps and chimpanzees gathered
round the fire roasting rotten meat
we are our ancestors no new species
evolutionary hubris we still drag
clubbed mongoloid feet
bashing out sabre tooth wisdom
on rocks in our pathetic
primordial little caves
hidden in these layers of abstraction
the alpha males still ****** the world
but now with bombs and jet planes
banks and bankers and atms and credit
thinking why bother but to get ******
i take tiger over sniveling banker or
manager who wont hire for
i lick not his bootheels
nor crawl up his
gaping ***
wound

If I ever knew what to say
I'd of said it long ago
Just hopin' that
someday
you'll let your beauty really show
or didn't I know you?
Please say it's not so.
Oh,
didn't I know you?
It goes to show


that "somedays"
aren't always spent alone
and your favorite mondays
always ended in snow
when the bus took you home
when your father let you go
anywhere you wanted
but what do I
really
know?


Simple little thoughts never slept
just crept and crept
along the gate
- of my bad dream,
of this bedsheet
and I wept
like a sniveling child
with only a few thoughts to carry
on my back
through the dirt;
none of me
two of you
but somehow,
you know
-
i'm content with wishin'
on an empty old well
as long as my feet work
and my hands can stay still.

Oh I love crying....
For
Different calibers,
With
delicate moods.....

Oh I love crying...
Weeping for empathy,
Whimpering with ache,
Sobbing for despair,
Sniveling with pain,
Howling for anger,
Bawling with regret,
Wailing for griefs,
Whining with complaints,
Mourning for death,
Mewling with craves...

Oh I love crying.....
Wings of cry
floats me up
over the river of
sorrow & delight
Freeing me away
From
All.

Oh I love crying.....
Shoes of cry
Keeps my feet
On the earth
With freaking control
Holding me away
From
All.

Oh I love crying.....
Spiral & twisted
With shoes & wings
In middle of trauma
Swaying on swings
Away from
All.
Oh I love crying.....