Sunday, July 27, 2014

swimming sands

the sinking
again
something about floating
above it all
and the hammering sounds
like a trumpets cracking bones

how should this feel
not like the last time
i'm underneath
above it all
and i can see the tiny flecks
like grains of sand
smiling at me from below
above it all
again, i'm rising
into the abyss
if i miss
shoot me down
under the dirt

here i am again
lifting slowly
in the misty mud
caked under the nails
in the sky

believe in me
just this once
and calm me
under the waves
floating toward the sky

help this inside me
before i drift away
again under my own reproach
guiding the hand through
the bones that break me

hold tight as i scramble for the clouds
shrouded in the light of thundering darkness

i am this again
building in the fire
that washes away the silt
and the ash
and the holy water
rinsing the sky in the blood
of fallen heroes

lifting above
beneath it all

here i am again
lifting slowly
in the misty mud
caked under the nails
in the sky

and the ash buries me again

but there's always smiling faces
in the sand that smothers
from above

Sunday, July 20, 2014

black, black night

i once held my breath
for so long
that the stars
began blinking
in the sunny,
sunny
day
and the blue,
blue
sky
withered away
so that th3 whole
of r3ality
took on a hue
that told me
i couldn't stay

i wanted nothing more
than to swim ashore
in the turbulent flames
and wash away the countless
day by day
memories
that emblazon a mind
gone awry

r3ality wakes in a stream
of magma
that cleanses
the soul
so soulful
demons weep

i once held my breath for so long
that i woke up
screaming
in the dense fog
of forgetfulness and fatigue
that comes when the sky
breaks open
like an egg
leaking out its life
so short
that names are all
but forgotten

i held my breath for so long
that the windows
broke free
and i was staring at myself
through evaporating tears
lounging in the starless sky
where the sun
blinks shut
just long enough
to remain unseen

i held myself
holding my breath
and wound up
into nothing
the blue,
blue sky
went to black,
black night
it was quite a sight
if you had seen
what i mean
by the sun without sheen
and the frail blanket
of fright
when i held myself
too tight

sunset patch of gray

there's a break in the weather
and the clouds are parting
across the sky
the mourning is the same as yesterday
and i
need to feel something again
like i did once upon never
so much left unexplained
and unknown
as if i drowned
once upon a time
never before
i never was again

the faces are jumbled,
confused
and drooping in the morning air
mourning and despair
is a commonality
like breathing acid as it rains
and tomorrow is coming far too soon

running so fast that the wind disguises you
makes you into a puff of smoke
blown away by a hurricane

we're here for a blink
and i think
of other things
besides living

once upon never
and there were no clocks
to tick away
the shadows

there was a break in the weather
and the clouds parted
but nothing came into focus
it was just another morning of mourning
when the wind tried to devour us

i often wonder
of how many lies are told
in a given day
i often think of this when
i forget about living
and the sun
blurs the shadows

staring off into the sunset patch
of gray
as a stray
crosses my path
and i wonder if it's thinking
the same thing too
i wonder if it's wondering of you
if it could smile,
i bet it would
maybe give my shadow a wink
before the clouds
burn away
into nothing and never

call it freedom

the time is just draining
i'm straining
to see
how to be
like the greed
that i see
from the meek
who believe
to be free
they must bleed
for the deeds
and feed
on the need
to be seen
by a
machine
that deems them
unclean

it's a mystery
to me
the way that
they grieve
in this thing
we call love
we call hate
all above
it's too late
to relate
to a fate
that's come on
too late

the hour is gone
and the traps
are all sprung
when it's over
it's done
and there's no way
to run
from the sun
when it's melting
the skin
from your face
and it's always too late
when you're running from fate

the night
and the day
they are always the same
it's a shame
when there's
no one to blame
for the game
for the change
that's deranged
they
keep us all tame
we are weak
we're maim
they'll promise
us fame
but deliver us
shame
a life for the lame

there's no way
to gain
in this game
gone insane
another link
in the chain
feeling nothing
but pain
from the strain
like splitting
the veins
in your neck
in your throat
it's a joke
a yoke
from the egg
born of rage
in an age
torn of a page
in a book
that's
set the stage
to develop the cage
called imprisonment


Sunday, July 13, 2014

dead gods

"I am flame and furnace,
burning the innocence from
the broken tides."

"I am hate and Hell,
the gnashing of teeth,
the fear of gods."

"I steep the blood in
vats of murdered sheep
so they may whisper my
name in death."

"I am the skin
torn from dismal faces
screaming the names of angels
as they wretch forth the crimes
of eons past."

"I am the savior of the weak,
blistered and burnt upon the spit
as their drippings ignite in the flames
and their tongues melt from pink
puckering lips of wanton decay."

"I am the bringer of forever death
as you are reborn in the light
only to perish in the multitude
of darkness behind my eyes."

"I am the seed of everlasting life
torn free from the plunders of divinity
where life has never gasped before."

"I am the scourge of Legion,
the dripping hand of fate,
the Messiah of the lost
as they tremble by my name."

"I am the killer of gods
and by my tears
all shall weep
in painful joy."

where life has never gasped before

the magic of his hands
as the flames rise
from upturned fingers
and glide along the air
to bring voice to suffering

stout tongue brandishing words
long forgotten in this age of ignorance,
words to turn and tumble the waters,
quake the oceans,
and bend the earth to soup

his face is the face of all that have stepped
before him and fell to humble knee
for but a glimpse of the surreal perceived
through his nightmare eyes

as the multitudes fall at his feet,
he brings the magic once more
to lull them back into oblivion
to serve a greater cause
and walk as the dead
have walked for countless eons since

an army of the rancid dead
to plunder the innocence
from the living,
to render the fat from
quivering bone,
to tear and tend the passions away

the magic of his hands
as he turns the air
to dust
and gleans the life from
tired stares
troubled with breath
and bound by blood

he casts a sermon from cracked lips,
willing the flesh back to life
to serve,
to be served,
to tumble in the rot,
to never falter
as the skin peals as fresh
as plucked fruit
from dying trees
and timid vine

so he stands now,
twisted spine,
cankerous mouth
shouting as spit upon
the faces that turned from him
which now serve and only serve
for the cause of debauched
blood pumping hearts

and the Devil cowers at his name,
this man with magical hands
that has come to set the birthed masses free

the demons shrink away from those fingertips
glistening with purpose and prayer
for death to come swiftly
o' so swiftly as night upon shadowed cave
where life has never gasped before

Saturday, July 12, 2014

i need a new TV

i need a brand new TV
that shows me shit i want to see
gives me lessons in tragedy
and takes away my humanity

show me symbols of
mass communication
full of love
and
psychotic manipulation

i need to be shown
how to be
how to live
how i should have grown
how to be free
how to give

all this and more
on a twinkling screen
made just for me
scene by scene

i need a brand new TV
that shows me shit i want to see
gives me lessons in tragedy
and shows me this thing called humanity

show me symbols of
mass communication
full of love
and
psychotic manipulation

if i had a bit more power
i could watch for countless hours
all the death moving in foreign lands
without a drop of blood on my own hands

give me something else to buy
like water or drugs
or the bright blue sky

give me something new to see
like emptiness and vanity
or self righteous calamity
show me who i want to be
from the flickering screen
of a brand new
TV

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Pinem'e ~ an act of kindness

“But we try,” 
      Jake said. 
“We struggle to improve ourselves. 
That is the human condition.”

Pinem’e bunched his lips into a pucker. 
“Awe, that is so adorable. 
Do you believe it is science and reasoning, 
or spirituality that improves this 
‘human condition’ 
you speak of?”

“Both,” 
      Jake replied. 
“We learn and adapt to our world by confronting our souls, 
by confronting our intellects.”

“But you’re all flawed. 
Your idea of science is only proven until it is proven wrong. 
You’re idea of spirit is based on arguing 
until someone gets angry enough to declare war. 
All of this you do for us 
to keep you bothered about questions 
that will never be answered. 
All the while, 
we are running your businesses, 
and grinding away at foreign affairs, 
pretending we have solutions to keep you in check.”

“There are still some who know what’s happening,” 
      Jake said. 
“There are people all over the world 
who go out of their way 
to make it known 
that this type of corruption exists.”

“And they are declared insane,” 
      Pinem’e laughed. 
“They are seen as lunatics 
because everyone is more concerned 
by finding the next star to shine, 
the next top 40 hit, 
by murder and violence 
the like 
we have seen countless times 
through perceived history.”

“Perceived history?” 
      Jake asked.

“Do you honestly believe 
what you've been told 
is true? 
It has been said 
that history is written by the winner, 
and that is as honest as it gets. 
Since the dawn of Christ, 
Christians have destroyed anything 
that could harm their interpretation of Creation. 
Science tries so hard to make 
calculated guesses 
based on evidence that has been tarnished 
or simply doesn't exist any longer 
because it was destroyed centuries ago. 
To even out the fight, 
we created money so you would 
have something else to squabble over. 
It has been truly miraculous. 
Now the poor have someone to blame 
when they cannot afford their simple pleasures, 
and the rich have someone to blame when 
they are taxed at 2%. 
It’s quite laughable, is it not?”

“So you enjoy it when we’re at each other’s throats?”

“I would only enjoy it more if you began ripping them out.”

“You’re disgusting!”

“That’s relative,” 
      Pinem’e said. 
“It all depends on who you ask.”

“Who could possibly enjoy what you and your kind do?”

“Those who follow us,” 
      he said. 
“Those who create laws 
to keep poverty high 
and job growth low. 
Those who sue one another 
over trivial incidents. 
Those who worship the deities of fame and fortune. 
Those who flock 
to our way of life 
in a Hell 
that is only another step closer 
to another Hell, 
just a breath away.
“You live, 
you die, 
and you live again. 
Over and over through eternity, 
Amen. 
It has been this way for eons 
and yet you still believe 
there is a promised land when your heart fails 
to beat 
and the sleep takes you into 
another birth 
where you come back so we can beat you all over again.
“The nature of humanity 
is to help the individual first and society last. 
You see it every day and yet you pretend that it doesn't exist. 
Let me ask you, 
Jake, 
how many times have you passed 
a homeless person on the street 
without even glancing at them? 
How many times have you looked 
the other way when someone 
was being bullied? 
How many times have you watched 
the news and seen people murdered 
in the name of democracy 
and progress 
only to flip off the television with the understanding 
that you can’t do anything about it?”

Jake remained silent.


“And that is my answer,” 
      laughed Pinem’e. 
“You have done it too often to even recall, 
and that is how it will always be. 
Because, 
you see, 
as soon as someone decides 
to do something beneficial for mankind, 
we’ll turn the channel and distract you. 
We’ll give you Evolution versus Creation. 
We’ll give you Pro choice and Pro life. 
We’ll give you gay marriage, 
birth control issues, 
and fabulous new wars 
to keep you huddled in the dark forevermore. 
And that is just the beginning. 
We have so much more suffering to give, 
and your hands are always open to receive it. 
As much as your kind wants to be happy, 
you all feed on the dark that we supply.”

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Pinem'e

“When we fell from the good Lord’s grace, 
where do you think we fell to?”   
     Pinem’e said.

“Popular belief is that you went to Hell,” 
     Jake replied.

Pinem’e laughed and raised his eyebrow as if at the cusp of a question. 
“No," he said, "that is a special place, and it is reserved for you 
and your kind. 
Us, on the other hand, 
we inherited this.” 
He waved his hand about. 
“We inherited this lush, 
wonderful world, 
our own special Hell 
to damn you all before you die.”

“Bullshit,” 
      Jake replied.

“And that is exactly why mortals amuse me. 
The signs are everywhere, 
but you refuse to see them. 
We gave you greed 
and hate 
and misery 
and you use those vices so enthusiastically,
with such vigor. 
It truly makes me proud.”

“If this is Hell 
then why do I see such beauty in the world?” 
      Jake asked. 
“Why do people help each other, 
why is there good in this place 
if it is Hell?”

“Am I not beautiful?” 
      Pinem’e asked. 
“Have you ever seen a man as attractive, 
as well mannered, 
as true to form as myself?”

Jake looked him over. 
It was true, 
he could only compare him 
to the most exceptional people he had ever seen. 
Movie stars, 
musicians, 
models, 
they all fell horribly short 
of what this man 
represented.

“Your silence is all the answer I need.”

“Then why are we born into this?”

“You were never born,” 
      Pinem’e answered. 
“You died into this 
from the very start of you. 
From the first suckle 
at the tit of knowledge, 
you were all damned.  
You see, my boy, my kind … 
we’re everything you’re not. 
We are successful. 
We are timeless. 
We have been Kings and Noblemen 
ever before 
we became 
lawyers 
and bankers 
and actors 
and politicians. 
We control your greed, 
your government, 
your music, 
your art. 
We are everything your kind will never be. 
We make sure of it. 
If you were to get too close, 
an accident would happen. 
Perhaps you would be in a car, 
driving along with your wife in Texas 
and someone would shoot you 
from some secluded grassy knoll. 
You would be mourned for what you tried to do, 
but hopelessness would soon return 
and the world would forget what it was you even stood for.”

“God damn you!” 
      Jake shouted. 
He couldn't control himself, 
the words, 
the anger built with every syllable
that foamed 
from the devil’s mouth.


A subtle smile crossed the lips Pinem’e. 
“That is what I have been trying to explain to you all along. 
I’m glad we’re on the same page."

Friday, July 4, 2014

admired from afar

sometimes i think about you,
what you're doing now
since i am not there
as often as i would like

i remember the way you used to smile
when i said something silly

i remember the way you took
command when you entered
a room

i was there on Wednesday
when you were washing dishes
and dropped the glass,
breaking it in the sink

i watched you cry
as you cleaned up the mess

i often wonder if you're thinking
about me,
but i'm sure of it when
i look into your eyes

i pulled the blanket over you
the other night
while you were sleeping
because you looked so cold

i made sure you found that letter
i left for you

even through the tears
i know you were happy to find it

if you look at that picture
you took of yourself in the bathroom
you'll be able to see me off in the
far left corner
in the shadows
secretly smiling at how beautiful you are

i know you miss me
i miss you too

i can still keep loving you
even though i'm dead

Thursday, July 3, 2014

dinner for 2

so goddamn tired of the talk
of the speak
of playing
hide and seek

tired of big mouths
spitting,
talking shit
like they have something
found that
no one else has already discovered

everyone is great
until they're proven wrong
by somebody better

all these opinions that don't
make a damn difference
because we're all still
broke
and bothered
by the same lame ass shit
that we've been dealing with for years

no one is more important than anyone else
and if they try to tell you they are
they're making it up
for their own mental health

there are some that make it
and others that don't
some that're served with
silver spoons
in their puckered little mouths
and others that choke
on the leftovers
stepped over
for some other motherfucker
that's nothing more than a joke

we're all in the same boat,
choking through the same throat;
the have's and have not's
those who're humble
and those who gloat

it's all the same old motherfucking thing
spun in a different direction
and it all depends on who
wins the next rigged election
without direction,
we're a doomed nation
of nothings
and not-agains,
indistinguishable mutations
from all the shit we've been fed