Post on 30-May-2018
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Scardia
The Death of Despair
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Copyright 2007 by Scardia
No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, ortransmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,recording or otherwise without the written permission of the author.
ISBN 978-1-60643-282-2
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This isn't a book of poetry, its a comingof age. It was not written, it was lived and
bled. These words are of lessons learned,hearts felt, and of thoughts and concepts en-crypted through metaphor. Within you willfind wisdom and folly, love and hate, pleasure
and pain. You will not come to a better under- standing of the person whom wrote thesewords, you will merely become lost within hisworld. He no longer exists, yet always will.
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Contents
1. Direville 1
2. They 2
3. Drive In 3
4. Innocent Mind 4
5. Obscured Vision 56. Moments Mask 6
7. Whats the Problem Here? 8
8. Deep Defined 10
9. Conditioned Reality 1110. Fools Proclamation 12
11. Recollection 13
12. Stubborn 14
13. Astro-Illogical 15
14. Crucified 1615. Seven Miles High 18
16. Between the Lines 21
17. Orgasm 22
18. Flesh and Blood 2419. Remorse for What? 26
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20. Another Night 28
21. Skies Above 2922. Neo Catastrophism 30
23. The Sun 31
24. Bucket of No Ones 32
25. Worms 33
26. The Silken Veil 34
27. The Thir d Pillar of Eternity 36
28. Bloodied Canvas 37
29. Shedding Skin 38
30. Dead to Rights 3931. Self Retrieval 40
32. Tambourine 41
33. Necrotic 42
34. Bastard 43
35. The Violence of Freedom 44
36. Dearest Friend 45
37. The Lovers Kiss 46
38. Thine Enemy 48
39. C yanide Cyclone 49
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40. What Remains 50
41. The Crimson Evening 5242. The Wash 53
43. St raight Jacket 54
44. Plight of Light 55
45. The Lonesome Isle 56
46. Circus Maximus 57
47. Roadside Oblivion 58
48. Subscription 59
49. The Science of Sanity 63
50. In the News Today 6451. A Parasympathetic Moment 65
52. Vice Versus 66
53. Slow Death 67
54. Dysorexia 68
55. Nostalgia 69
56. Brasileira 70
57. Radharani 71
58. Ear to Ear 72
59. Premonition 74
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60. The Fall 75
61. Charlie 7662. Skyluke 77
63. Such the Case 78
64. Copernicus 79
65. Room with a View 80
66. Thirteen 81
67. Saint of Killers 82
68. The Artist 84
69. Rise 85
70. Destruction 8671. Pumpkin Seeds 88
72. The Hermit 90
73. Bled Perspectives 91
74. Plastic Windows 92
75. Pathological 94
76. Pawndom 95
77. Preliminary Self-Accusation 96
78. Definition 97
79. Temple Octo Vulgaris 98
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Direville
Standing in a small one room pine lined house, a fire ig-
nites and consumes the wall opposing a sole door. Within
this blaze laughs haughtily a painted clowns face. As the
flames lick and blacken the ceiling, the Mother then Fa-
ther, casually remove their coats, so neatly hung upon the
stained wooden dowels of a coat rack to the right of thejarred exit. A small child jumps frantically for his own
coat, while fearfully peering back at the jeering face
within the inferno, his grasps fall short. Abandoning his
effort, the small child rushes out of the smoky doorway
onto a concrete path and up a slight hill. Running along
the path which is met at its edges with seas of bright green
grass, he slowly catches up with the parents. He then seesthe two greeted by a short brown haired man in a dark
blue suit, white shirt and red tie. Facing the three, stand-
ing on the path in shiny black shoes with the grin of a
salesman. He appears to be welcoming them to the para-
dise behind him. Continuing on to the stout buildings, up
stairs and through glass paned double doors. Heels all
clicking over the wine and white marble checkered floor.From this the child would frequently awake drenched in
sweat and fear, relieved in a cool dark room, moonlight
peering through a bullet rippled window to the sound of
screeching crickets.
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They
The impervious word, how it remains applicable to those
whom ascend us. The reasonable momentum in which we
confine our fleeting dissatisfactions within such bounds,
and placard them about the necks of such fortified ser-
vants. Universally, condescending in nature and tone,
righteous in our placid blinding pose. And in prose, ele-gant and justifiable. Nonsense is the mark, seen only with
open eyes, free from the delusions of selfhood. Truth be
known, we are our own shadow casters. We create and
display, rely quite heavily upon, that which we remain so
fit to detract from, our wistful little evils. All the while,
what would we be without them?
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Innocent Mind
Can you catch the shadow
Along the broken wall
Can you bear the silence
It may be easier to fall
Quiet side of windowsPeering through the glass
Gateways of timeless thought
Will this battle ever be fought
For the dawn its seeing hollow
And the moon may always follow
But not unless the wind has risenWhen all will hear but no one listen
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Obscured Vision
Moving forward at a tremendous rate
Am I the master or victim of fate
Can I know love if I do not know hate
Should I have faith and lie here in wait
Or trust in pleasure and crash through hells gate
Where is the hope here, I feel its too lateIve no choice but to devour the food on my plate
I was created and thus Ill create
My death is the dust, which is blown from my slate
Thy seed is my essence
which slips through times grate
Though soon he too will surely dissipate
I beg to secure me in the loins of his mateWhat is this awareness we seem to propagate?
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What you have heard sounds absurd
Your vision must be obscured
Time delayed
Thoughts unweighed
I believe you are afraid
Your luck has run amuck
watch out before you self-destruct
So, my friends
Here we are
Laugh with me awhile
Say you know
Abandon your beliefs and superstitions
Come close
warm yourself in the glow of possibility
Breathe deep the essence of polarity
For here among the unobtainable
Anything may be obtained
I am not what Im thinking
I only know what I mean when I do
I would like to be there when I die
I do not want to be dead already
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Whats the Problem Here?
Its the spics and the niggers
The white men in power
Its the blood thirsty sinners
and the flesh they devour
Its the politicians running this townThe pollution seeping into the ground
Its hard ons and fuck lucks
The beggars and weather
Its the media, the mafia
Its every endeavor
Its the chaos, and the orderIts in the food that you order
Its whatever your choosing
The lie that your using
Its what your eating
Its every beating
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Its the police
The corporations
The head lice...
Itsyour expectations!
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Deep Defined
Quaint revolving purified infusion
Oxygenated individualization
Forward spiral dons confusion
Altered egocentric creation
Briskly bitter soft or sweet
In marshal order famed the mistressTo costly question the righteous flame
Delectably contained
Yet softly merging
In all order and chaos
Like fallen feathers
Conceptually vast and vacant
One miniscule momentI wed delight!
Convictions all follow lucidly
Risking the doubly blamed
Devour sanctity and observation
Subtly fired by all its currents
Waking found the breaking lure
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Conditioned Reality
These dreams mold the seams of this conditioned reality.
Boxed off and carved out of the deception of time and
want. Multiplied and fragmented, an elusive explosion of
a dark cloud of nothing. Cloaked in a memory lost, some
things became ill conceived, some things inconceivable. To
the size and point of view, certain factors eliminate them-selves in the expansion. The numbers roll on like the fall
of a young girl down a rabbit hole. Dazed off in a trance of
unforgiving spectacles, with ritual the feeding root that
pumps nutrients through the bodies of such organisms.
Now machines spew smoke and snow through a hidden
forest to hide the path to freedom. The small creatures
who once raced lively through the scene lie now still intheir last actions, decrepit corpses. Lost to their senses
and will. Silence numbs and darkens you.
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Fools Proclamation
We sit here baffled on the throne of madness.
By our wonder we are clouded in sadness.
Our every action is by standard untrue,
to the masters who sleep in tainted seas of blue.
We crawled up out of our watery grave
with slow progress.In our learned ignorance we made a home of bliss.
This mass of baffled pretenders
hold true to laws unseen.
I will hold tightly to the silky robes of my savior,
Lord Zero!
With steady hand and tired eye,
I keep a place in this land obscene.All the while,
gestures of madmen quicken the minds decay
And hold the mass captive with visions they portray
So I keep my proclamation
I am but a fool!
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Recollection
I will remember when I wake up from this dream, the
ones I had to tolerate, and one by one obliterate, the black-
eyed bastards whom crawled like insects beneath my
flesh. If my recollection serves me well, Ill double the
blood and drink to my mortality. Ive found no reason to
stop this season in my relation to its somber cycle. Myunconscious now flutters like the R.E.M. of my slumber.
The sun gleams off the sea and blinds the eyes of the
monster. So I rest! My being projects images of the bloody
tortured souls, crucified upon telephone poles, staggered
along a winding hellish road which leads on to the ruins of
ancient cathedrals, gathered together by my constant re-
pugnance. In the center of the dusty graveyard lies athrone where my savior sits, high above the scattered de-
capitations and maimed bodies unclean. My anticipation
numbs me, slowly I become essence and merge with the
foul stench which hovers like distaste above the elusive
scene.
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Astro-Illogical
Could it be a matter of science
Could it be up in the stars
Could all this where and why for
Be the placement of Mars
Could there be a recollection
In each and every moleculeCould the answer lie in numbers
Is it soul the what that fuels
Could there be a holy father
Or a feed for only fools
Do you need an explanation
Will it settle all your rules
Will you fill it up with moneyWill your stature pay the toll
Can you find it in your company
In every pleasure wholly deemed
Just to find another answer
That at best is only seemed
There's no silence in your caravan
No place that dust wont settleThere's a heaven for the cowardiced
And a hell for those with mettle
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Crucified
All come from one divided and multiplied.
Bound to a cause, like Jesus was crucified.
Life is rhythm, a cycle unleashed.
Your heart beats on and the days roll by.
You are bound and gagged and bleeding to death.
Rise up and suffer with pride, for you sin not in vain.
Corrupted and helpless your shoulders bear the weight of
every lost soul, damned to the chaos of pondering empty
promises made by mad men long dead, whose laughter is
heard through the vibrations in tears that roll down the
blameless faces of babies, screaming their way into a life
unreal.
Let the light of dawn unleash a scream in you to shatter
the glass panes of the cathedrals which house the rebel
demons. They devour the sanctuary of solitude, their teeth
sharpen in your flesh.
Become thy Strider, whose bloodline is rich in stealth andcunning. I call to you, brother, to step forth and deliver the
evil ones from the goodness they posses.
Blind are the masses to the meaninglessness of this game
that will cease not. Nor will the vultures fail to fill their in-
testines with the rapture who calls itself humble.
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All your wishes are contained in themselves.
Your holy grails are mere mirrors that reflect deceitful-
ness. I detest you, your mind is so vain and shallow that it
could not handle the limitations of your existence. Unsat-
isfied in knowing a cease will come, you created fiction be-
yond living. You cloaked it in white and called it almighty.
Take a lesson from the lion.
Woe is to you and all who tumble in the aftermath. You
who are compelled, will be compelled. No one wins, we all
fade and return to the knowledge which justifies our igno-
rance. Laugh now and heal the wounds of the slaughter,
your limbs will not regenerate. You are elemental,You are a vibration!
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Seven Miles High
Im sick, and dying. I know nothing of this disease. Not of
its name, nor its symptoms. I am not eased into knowing
its course of action or length of effectiveness. No digni-
fied diagnosis eases my curiosity as to what is killing me.
But please, let me assure you. I am sick, and I am dying.
Im lying on my back on a mile high rooftop where theedge is so tempting. I can see so far out into nothing until
it fades into everything. And I dont need this. This isn't a
curse, or a nightmare, Im not a role in a story. Im no-
where and nothing all at once and its lonely. Power cor-
rupts, what sick deeds would I lead myself into if I con-
trolled more than my own hole and cage. I can gaze and
growl and effect all that is in my sight, but my hands arenot free to move that which matters. Im at a loss, in a
hell, and a prisoner of my own mind. That is my box, my
strength and weakness. I am me as I am I, this and that
and all and naught. Let us disappear. Go faster into black-
ness, deeper into pain, haughtier into laughter, and
branded by the sane. How does one cope? You sicken me
further, all those whom ease yourselves with breakfast ce-real delusions. You who can stand on by and take the noth-
ing, the ascent into a morning alarm. The riot for that
quick fix and faster razor march. Subsiding one to spite
the other These end spectrum mirrors, they devour us
deeply and deeper into the slow cold fade of icy unaware.
Give them the dope! The instant satisfaction of blood and
hamburgers, the plastic bliss inside the happy meal. Flood
their minds with the bubble gum that everything truly is,
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something to chew! There is no distinction between a clas-
sic work of literature and a ten cent romance novel. You
and your art, you can see more beauty in the frantic etch-ing of a child and the sidewalk chalk that bewilders his
feeble mind. Whose feeble mind is it? Who truly laughs?
Its nada, its bunk, its veil upon veil in front of your eyes,
but without the ignorance, you lose any reality at all, and I
cant decide what is better. I am the cure and disease! I am
the pleasure and the pain. Is concern for nothing a waste
of energy? Is masturbation right when the orgasm is so
brief ? Its misery and rotted flesh, and Im stuck with the
rerun. Everyone is a separate entity, yet we are all one ex-
panding contraction/contradiction, one all at once. It is
this division that multiplies. A damned grand distraction,
with no real satisfaction. Lets pretend further. Lets be so
serious about the absurdity. Religion and Politics and cuntgirlfriends you'd sooner kill than fuck, yet fuck sooner to
kill! You dont get it, do you? We ask questions we know
the answer to just to ask. We kill ourselves to live, and
quicken our deaths to enjoy what is brevity in itself. How
does one become satisfied, and what is this satisfaction?
Give me the cold hole to crawl in. My belly aches and I
hate. I will starve to prevent such nonsense. My rule is ofitself. My throne was not handed to me, I only constructed
this seat. The ground it rises up from was there when I
awoke, it was here when I came-to. It will remain when I
perish. When it crumbles, and a new god I become, a more
wicked god. One with the power to infect the end game.
Omega is just another shit heel, a lie and deceiver. A sym-
pathizer of rhythm, a polisher of door handles! Where is
that black powder recipe?
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I will show you art!
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Between the Lines
What idea binds blindly beneath fragmentation? Where
seeks the eye free of interpretation? A vast and imperme-
able wisdom is known to only the clutches of the self. Fal-
tered is the ego beyond the light of perspective. Illumina-
tion is the sultry passion of the vile and reasonless. Vast
and vacant are the stumbles between the wise. Our Eonperpetuates only wrath between feats of greed. Feed ego
the will to compromise beyond carnal atrocity. Blackened
collections of potential progression. For the safely
hoarded cultivation of control. Bonded permanence
within the confines of secrecy. Necessitated meanings of
reason chained. Deemed are the scepters of knowing, su-
premacy. Fragile is the shell of innocence, no revelationdare threaten. The puppetry of justice grasps the intoler-
able within leaden clutches. While feathery fingers linger
beneath keys to the truest vision. Blind we remain, be-
tween unutterable peripheral. You turn the pages, you
read the lines, you carefully consider each fragment. High
above the tunneling limitation and collapsing shards,
screams your holy specter. Worshipping the pages of li-ars... Love lies between the lines!
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You are not real.
This is not real.
It matters not.
Dreams are not only dreams!
Carbon copied schematics.
Employ your demise!
A dream became reality
He put the pistol in his mouth.
Dreams become reality.
And prayed for forgiveness...
The record player skips.
The dog barks.NASDAQ drops one and a quarter!
the comet etches closer.
Breath deep.
Billboard hits top.
Frenzy inflames the riot.
I laugh myself,
to nimble completeness.I,
think.
I,
just...
came!
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Flesh and Blood
Looking down between us, through the sweat and flesh,
seeing the blood smeared up her thighs. It almost made
me sad that she had to leave. It almost made the tears
worth the blood left to let her go. And as they reach up to
haunt you, the way these molded memories we seem to
build upon fade, up from things forgotten.
All in all, with reason and logic projecting forward. Its
always the wise decision; its always the healthy move to
make while keeping our stride, an eye on pride. They sub-
side, they settle down to the bottom like filth in a river.The sand creeps over, the bodies decay, the flies and mag-
gots pick the bones clean and youre able to move on.
Youre always there to break your back with the hill before
you.
Rewired and upgraded, blades sharpened and objectives
redefined! Bringing new distances from the armor to
flesh, from acid to blood. Mercies are the claim stubs to
vulnerability, they tell me. Call to will the one whom greets
you, the voices echo. Ive been trapped down there before,
a maze not to return to.
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The cold and water, the stench and rats. The insects to
greet you. Never! Never we declare, yet somehow youll re-
turn again. Its human, its a part of the infection. You love
it just to allow yourself to hate. You breathe it just to choke
a little longer. They wont find the bodies! They always
stop looking. As long as you keep feeding them new ones,
they dont have the time.
Swine and wine, just like swine and wine. They are not
different from the holes and caves, not so much an inch
deeper then the rotting corpses. You bleed them all to
death the same. Onto suffocation, onto new and informal
breeds of hate and hound. Its all thats left, the Emperorwhispered as he retired on that faithful eve.
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of luxury homes and vehicles, marked up at 100% cost
waiting for you to owe your life to owning! Dont forget to
have children along the way, we always need fresh meat
for the grinder! None of it matters! None of it carries me
up out of knowing that we are gods. Knowing that the col-
lective unconscious is god! Knowing that each of our
lives is a point on a great star, and that we are all inwardly
connected. We know the truth within us, we know all that
ever was and will be. We are a model of god! God divided,
experimenting with possibility, entertaining our self, mas-
turbating if you will. Every myth has truths! Uncanny little
metaphors that give you this feeling of exaltation when
you realize them. They were made by man, but they comefrom god. True god, infinite, snakelike and endless.
Theres a rhythm between creation and destruction. Eve-
rything is everything, and it lives and breathes at war with
itself. Self-centeredness is the basis of our existence.
This dream we dream.
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Another Night
A blackened window
The wall all around tainted shades of white
Chips and holes and blinds not drawn
A brief echo from an unknowable world
The safety of the glass
Why pass by any longer?Why sit in anticipation,
While reflection interacts and bounds
Soft wings flutter in and become trapped
By another sweetly similar comparison
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Skies Above
If I could wear my sorrow like a mask it would reach the
sky above me. It would be terrifyingly beautiful, and you
couldnt look away. It would take you up and halt your
blood in its path, your heart would freeze but you would
not die, youd be sustained.
But I wear my pain like a smile, and I grin ever wide, as I
reach the sky above me. With a laugh and quick wit, Ill
show concern, and I care, and you always look away. As
near as I could hold you, as love as I would show you, it
grows ever hollow. While in the moment your troubles
cheer me, they distract me, from my own.
But theres a million masks of bearing, a trillion burdens
bared. With crying eyes and shimmering smiles, haunting
the skies above us. And it takes me up and halts my blood
in its path, and I cannot look away. For every empty condo-
lence, there lies beneath a river of tears.
And once in a while, I smile for real, I laugh a little anddie inside. And when the moments follow, refreshed by the
bitter wallow, embraced in self. I gain my breath again,
the hearts chip and warm and beat once more. For all the
shattered fragments reflect the same broken mirror, and
its all the same again.
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Neo Catastrophism
There in the prism
Upon primary colors
There is a principal
A mathematical sequence
Formula or convulsion?
Will you die to live... or live to die?Heed the composer
Orchestrator of delusions
The market of willful apprentices
Complications of computations
Mirrors for the clumsy fisted
Your decision was initiated
Easy trigger, however clear the aftermathLong live your blue blood!
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The Sun
Resting so neatly
His head on the cross
Dangling
Dementedly untested
While a love so temperamental
Trickles downwardWith last left breaths
While bled to death
The father and the son
As the whole of the tempest
Expands with dawns unrest
The mother wept beneath
To better keepYour bitter sleep
From dreaming of the whole
As fragments shelter
The truest vision
The blood even
The holy son
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Bucket of No Ones
No more whispers of prisoners
Whom dare not decipher
Careless listless listeners
Far distant pretenders
I seek not to know you
As you beg in your mindlessnessVacate and dematerialize
You apparitions of being
Born dead you barely breath
In all of love divine encountered
You are none deserving
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Worms
While the seams seem unbroken, not a stitch may remain.
With a fist full of Jesus, it's old Luke keeps me sane. For
the eyes of the children are the bellies of blame. On to
necks godly broken, by the justice of fame. When the op-
erative chosen, is the blunt of the bane. For a mindful of
hopeless are so eagerly maimed. Its the box full of hocusthat has centered our wane. And as the progress delivered
is the greed that we claim. Not a regress even slivered, as
our minds feed the chain. Now no cages are needed,
though our binds will remain. Through the token un-
needed, we will sorrow our drain. While the warning un-
heeded is the death of your brain.
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Shadowy whispers while I walk at night
Every crack in the wall screams and demands
Behind a veil held by hidden hands
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The Third Pillar of Eternity
I am as perplexed as clear sighted.
As divided as united.
I think,
and I feel...
These are not the same!
You are as shameless as exalted.As endless as halted.
I destroy,
as I create...
These are quite the same!
Its been as amusing,
as confusing.
I know,while I forget.
These do not separate!
I am as creative as destructive.
As honest as deceptive.
I live,
and I bleed.
These things are quite separate!We are as foolish, as blind.
As forword as behind.
I forgive,
I must be forgiven.
These things are life and death!
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Bloodied Canvas
When the lights come on inside
As I wake my bitter side
In the morning by the sun
Will it be a better one
Its all so tragic in the fire
Wanting all that's not for hireI can see my careless game
Will it always be the same
Is this moment there to see
Will I watch it while I'm me
I have faltered just to fall
I don't see myself at all
I could have you take a rideSo you'd face the deep divide
But every canvas that I bleed
Seems to know the face I need
Just to bargain for the day
That I might stop and find my way
Through this distance in between
At the cost of all Ive seen
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Shedding Skin
The moment gleams in its perpetual oneness with infin-
ity. Love of life and of living, and the exalted acceptance of
reality in hues of truth and gratitude. The twins unite as
reverberations of brief realizations of thy own connect-
edness with the all. Whilst a knowledge of the base and in-
fantile self-deceptions we dream within, an unearthed dis-crediting of the morose and spite driven lunacy, that
hands base and guttural epiphanies out on silver plated
perspectives. Caution sheds self delusion, all the while the
paupers tread the same golden spiral. The wind burnt
seekers still pursue the unattainable through the beckon-
ing of ancient deceptions. Outlearn the master magicians
and be ignited in the peril of knowing. Bliss corrodes likewhite metal flashes, so progresses the blind woman's hand
The scales of justice remain nil and void. Radiate this love
and bleed its permeations within you. Their lies no ties to
paths of escape, seek not freedom, it lies within, and will
not appear to a slave.
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Self Retrieval
This moments bliss engrained in pain
Atoned a kiss no longer chained
Forced to find myself again
That sad smile in ripples kneel
The only while worth knowing feelThe gently mad will always heal
No stone to skip the ripples fade
While on his hip the last parade
In spite of make for one whos made
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Necrotic
The Third mask of the triad reveals itself
As a dread card is turned by a trembling hand
A step is taken into the living black hall
of a peculiar new dimension
There remains only true self
within this enclosure of blackened airThe smell of death and fear
encroaches the moments of submersion
Traces of sulfur painfully sear the memories
with horrid disillusions
Visions shatter his breath and fill his lungs with dust
as he crashes to the floor
Flashes of being buried beneath the piling of rotted fleshby work of unseen hands
Only the distant sounds of a painful sobbing
bring him to consciousness
A frail sallow voice that warms a black and frozen heart
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Bastard
Spitting at the rotting flesh of the weak dead.
Knees ache in the floor of the coffin by forsaken hips.
Stare into his eyes,
bleed the last tears of forgivenesses.
Grace the face of pallid eternal rest.
Tracing fingers over the jaw of breathless past.Reflecting eyes stare back in hollow contrition.
Letting the dust settle,
the worms set in.
I say goodbye to a beast that stole my soul.
And though I loved him dearly,
despite the misery he caused,
between little lessons far and few between.Sunday readings through highlighted text,
that never saved him.
How could they ever save me?
I slam the deteriorating coffin shut.
Smear the dirt over the ancient etchings.
Such a distinct sound,
the dirt covering those painful initials.
Ironically...
WAC
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The Violence of Freedom
First you must fight
Shed materialistic delusion
Preoccupy oneself with advancement
Relearn discipline
Realign your course of action
Here is now and yesterday is goneOnly the present dictates the future
You have been awakened, yes
But you are falling back asleep
There is a figure in your mind
A bomb to be exploded
Walls to be torn down
And plans to be spokenIt is nothing personal
No delusions to elude this possibility
Just a round in the chamber
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Dearest Friend
Once upon a head of mine
I could take you for a ride
Bleed you dry and set you free
In a second left to guess it
If it's in a fault of mineI'll blame it on the inside
Of all the moments left in me
The action leaves disorder
Let it in then let it out
Lose your will to swallow
It's not a second guess to testNo cause to wilt or wallow
On the day I lost my mind
I kissed the face forgiveness
Tried so hard but to deny
I found a friend who let me face it
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The Lovers Kiss
Good sleep, woke up late
Swept the best, a test of fate
Ritual concludes, a moments rest
He smiled while thinking, all is best
The dawn of bleeding, sad conclusions
The disenfranchised, self delusionsAll is one, the prime beginning
This realization, is free from sinning
We flee from horrors, cold and shallow
All alone, we tear and wallow
Freedoms beast, is vision learned
With none another, were slowly burned
The fire is hollow, shared with noneSeared and broken, a devils fun
While paired and holy, we seldom see
The blatant cries, of wings that free
From salted wounds, we cringe yet fade
One holy moment, through time we wade
The pain is weakened, drowned in bliss
The art of knowing, a lovers kissThey may be far, from understanding
To doubt known best, is under handing
The hands to hold, to push when needing
The mouths so bold, are also feeding
The bond is weak, needs comprehension
To expect it fully, is apprehension
My doubt is nil, I'm given truly
Youre not alone,
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I need you dually
Un-comprehended, each at times
Forever tasting, different wines
There is not one, a bitter sour
Those grapes are sweetest, cries the hour
To walk in hand, and learn this knowing
It is to me, privy to showing
Those bolted faces, with wants and needs
Secret agendas, from which I heed
It's you I trust, I seek to encounter
The truest knowledge, a lifetime to foster
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Thine Enemy
Somebody's going to die somewhere
Someone's got to die
Death doesnt have to try nowhere
Death dont need to try
Somebody's going to cry somewhere
Someone's bound to cry
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Cyanide Cyclone
Vitamins and minerals
Solids liquid gas
Consequence and criminals
It all will come to pass
Carnivals and seminars
Wormwood and despairWars and doors and genitals
With or without hair
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What Remains
Woke up today on this mourning
With a dawn in the light of hope
I wrung free my bloodied hands
And cast the scarecrows off my back
Wrenched down the bile for the last time
Liquid pure and sold to soothI washed myself away
Like a clearing in a valley of thick wood
Dusk in the heart of salvation
No more swine and wine
No more bad times
Just molten lead and hungers fed
Cause and motionConsummations
Freed the burdens in my head
You cannot see the dread Ive left you
You cannot splinter your broken crutch
Lapse not nor enter mine upon you
Foreboding sounds that only taint me
Crash upon an empty earTarry not nor dance nor linger
Dare yea naught contain while bitter
Unmask your ash to spill my blood
While once the frowned hast hid their daggers
Once the traps had all been set
Your thoughtless winter bears upon you
Bleached and burnt by a beckoned sun
Your fuel to be filed and forgotten
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Your cold and ugly all as one
And none but only you could save you
With fragile fingers pulling nervous triggers
The hole is the one, The bleeding son
The crucified with poisoned Father
Bred to bask a dream lit noneBled to carry an empty cask
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The Wash
Once is lived though once alive
While once she lived he once survived
The feeding fed the shame that thrives
Like shadows cast reflect comprise
And one betrayed had trust once lies
When once dismayed now cut those tiesAs games of pain inject like spies
The shadows live behind such eyes
While once the lack no question tries
Now every crack will spell demise
Then lived in cloth so staunch reprise
Has wrapped its wearer to despise
Not trust nor faith no love to raiseSuch whore is but of meat and glaze
As once your world of flesh and praise
Binds deconstruction of your maze
As all of this is left to craze
The writing of our final plays
When once you touched as once your days
Became as numbered as the raysThe sun has shone and shown such ways
To warm himself as fires blaze
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Straight Jacket
May I ask of your desire
Where does lie your empire
Say you privy to a shadows cloud
There within the sun aloud
Knee deep in futures pastYou do not keep the slowest fast
Mock this present currents fate
Lock not this essence... putrid gate
Are you burning
Stars are churning
Careful to cultivateSpare full to humiliate
Sing a song my dearest boy
Clinging wrong your fearful ploys
Dare the orchestra project a pattern
Spare the fool, protect... and madden
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The Lonesome Isle
A long time ago, on a lonesome unpopulated island in the
South Pacific, there lived a single human being. He had
become weathered by the lessons he had to learn to sur-
vive in the environment he had come to call home. When at
last the people whom once knew him had finally come to
seek him, they were but strange invaders, and aliens to hispresent world. And as he hunted the strangers, and as he
cooked them alive in his beachside fire, they understood -
but only while breathing their last breaths, their flesh
crisped, blackened, peeled back, and devoured. So with a
full belly the man lay on his back peering into the heavens,
and was lulled to sleep by the familiar sound of
crashing waves.
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Circus Maximus
Neophytes, blinded, line the clay brick sun-drenched
walls, and fearful. Coming judgment tenses eyes and
tempting cleanses through pretenses. Blood enclosed cir-
cumference, soldiers flood the staggered arenas im-
menseness. Screams rage and cry as vengeful eyes tremble
the earth and reaching skies. Plasma pierced rusts themoments lust. Steel moans a jagged convictions fierce-
ness. Wet sand marches past content voyeurs. Amassed
and parched, gaunt breaths breathe last. No sin through
deeds, heedless judge thy threadbare mores, no witch nor
whore.
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Roadside Oblivion
There's a hole in my head
Where out bled all the things that I've said
And there is just no proverbial knowing
From which all provincial standpoints are showing
But if it means anything to you
I'll fly my flag at half mast for you tooAnd when you find that your leg of the road
Leads back to the same fork
from which you carried your load
Just know that I too will be
out there resting on my cases
Surviving on the laughter in between the heavy spaces
Cause every now and then a man will realizeHe has to loose his heart to know just where it lies
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He was expanding
The trail of blood behind him
Blue and yellow poisonThe blue jay on the tree branch
The paint peeling off the wall
The brick revealed from beneath
You'd never notice
You'd never subscribe to such beliefs
Milk and Honey
Its not the devil
there is no devil
Blamable scapegoats
Instincts exist
Nature proves
Self denial
Self repressionCausing psychosis
Preachers and alter boys
Bible belt Atrocities
Violence persists
Society verses tendencies
Buried in psyches
Reality versus fantasyIntelligence versus psychodrama
Dogma loses
Fear loses
Murders happens
Rape happens
To good people
By gods people
Where is the devil?
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Where is god?
Hidden behind symbols
Refusal to recognizeBlissful ignorance
Slothful logic
Spoon-fed beliefs
Questioned nothing
Evaluate nothing
Examine nothing
Filed in lines
Tickets to paradise
Chanting hymns
Sinful confessionals
Blood and bread
Holy wars
Death GaloreOver belief
Dogma
Persecution
Dogma
Genocide
Dogma
MoneyDogma
Power
Dogma
Greed
Dogma
Dogma
Dogma
President
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Dead!
Government
EvilOutwardly
Christian
Faux
Facade
Shadow
Lies
Accepted
Change
...
Never
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The Science of Sanity
Cut to the clean
Carve out the doubt
Left to the wasted
Would you still cry if I stopped laughing?
There is no validity
No room for lingerers
Languid and cheerful
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In the News Today
Headlines are head lines. Like the starling face you use to
manipulate your desires. Deep down there's a well of per-
version and complexity. Alienated ideas held hostage by
bitter ideals.
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A Parasympathetic Moment
Despite peace or turmoil
Winded creaks lined by sunlit shimmers or hidden stars
The relevant bodies all spinning and vast
Peculiarly reverent chance
Painstakingly calculated mistakes
Spanning centuries and agesHowever darkly apparent
However falsehood the fuselage
These gravitational centers we sail bound to
What is an ocean?
There in my cells and skies
There in our collection of antiquities
The mass and mindful moments we reach fromI envisioned other buckets
Fresh pales of pools and Newton's
Wherein we fell upward
Chased and hunted the problems of bounded nothing
The triumphant steeds bearing the tightest blinders
Like childhood revelations
The freeing of burdens and losses of innocenceFeeling your back in the mud and eyes flinching between
fiercely falling raindrops
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Vice Versus
If I could get around this world
On all that's proper and impossible
While just coping the unfurled
With every pompous and implausible
Then I'd be happy as a ratSwimming off an oil wreck
But I'm not
And people keep showing up
Like billboards on this highway
Though I'm half as stranded as insaneThere's just no telling them from angels
At all the right angles
From the demons
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Slow Death
Everyone came up from the basement for some air on
break. Tweedy, Paulo, Heron and the bunch. All sweaty
and grease stained in the moonlight and cigarette smoke.
Heron bangs his oversized wrench against the metal rail-
ing, breaking the silence amidst the glowing nicotine orbs.
Paulo kicking the gravel. Fuck, Tweedy screams. Ireally cant take this miserable shit hole for much longer,
he says. What are you going to do, bad ass, join the fuck-
ing circus? Heron rasps, as he drops and stomps out the
remains of his smoke. Paulo swings open the heavy rust
ridden door, taking a last drag and flicking the orange
glow into the night. Youre trapped like the rest of us and
were all fucked, Tweedz. Lets get back to our gallows be-fore devil dick notices were gone and has our asses, he
says and steps heavily down the steel grate steps with the
thick heel of his boot echoing rhythmically out of the door
to the stairwell as it slams behind him. Tweedy stares at
the stale yellow light coming through the small square
wire grids of the smash proof window. He kicks the door
open from the bottom, and steps grudgingly down thewell.
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Dysorexia
Cautiously quick, within most sullen fires
Compelled in and by dreams, lurid desires
Withered and torn, between leaden attired
Drawn out and bled on, scarred and conspired
This warfare of purse strings
complacent misdirections
Though moments of combat
displaced these infections
Have brought here a sadness, unshakably confected
And slipping in crevices, disdained and misdirected
Completions through seasons
Dawned as defiled
Whisperd and lingerd
So nauseously compiled
Noxious and wrenchingDesensitization
Illumined or delusion
Solace or brazen
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Nostalgia
Poised intentions within Ominous Co-regulatory junket-
ing benefactors. Pressman all wavering hallucination
within grips of black and ash runoff. Smearing poison-
ously upon its flinching finger flags. Pious puppeteer
stumbles from catchy jingle hailed associations. Wanton
memorabilia boxed and shelved onto plaid new neurosis.Skirt in wind like those disposable second chances all
flushed forgotten. Reasoning with seasoning two hundred
and fifty slow cooked bastardizations. Complete the
means to speculate such frolic onto adrenaline saturated
crystallizations. Embalming fluid might sweeten ambigu-
ously sought after sugar wafers sad submersion. Co-
pacetic cheeses pungency deliberating a cream cushy coat-ing of yeast lipped puckering. Smells all floating a breeze
to seethe the rotting tides of winds and broken limbs
reaching. While outreached the hand now trembles to the
signs of friendly crouton crepitates. The potent underes-
timated understanding of the cucumber to become the
pickle.
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Brasileira
She had sarcophagus earrings
And a red letter pendant
She drove fast in the rain
But held faster to remnants
I had to overcome a few impossibilities
Many worthwhile precautionsTo endanger possibilities
She came as enlightenment
Raw and as light in life as living
She was so young for me
And I so sad and tragic
Black as chard and overly dramatic
But she was fresh and fervorAnd so eagerly pleasing
While as bitter as broken
And hopeless to hoping
She breathed down my thoughts
And ended the choking
Little saw we the folly
Through and well untilEventual folly becoming so little
Learned and we mastered
War and poisons all plastered
Alongside no immunities created
A perplexing remain of unseparated
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Radharani
Blue bird black bird
Slack and purple hearts
Wind blown tree tops
Nest all torn to parts
High perched, song searchedNestled in a row
Beaks blown squeak known
Ruffled to and fro
Wretches reckless
Fly away in song
Go sell in a bordelloThe haughtiness that you long
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Ear to Ear
Mesmerized by the sound of the hot air
Meeting the cold in the dusk ridden sky
Trees peer in through the window
The shade is drawn half open
When I walk home from the trainWhen Im riding in its cars
Peering at skylines I realize
Tainted it may be
I wallow in a mist of positivism
The bitter kiss of realism keeps my feet in the filth
Piss and shit stained peripheralsDragging my feet through it
Wringing out my socks in the evenings
Im just a seed in a garden
A baby in a play pen
Roasted peppers and pacifiers
No ray of sunshine to squint toMaybe a chameleon
I might not like your ways
I certainly dont need your euphemisms
Yet I can tell you how to sell them
In a pretty bottle
With just the right label
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Ill assure you, youll find the target market
As I return to my footsteps
With anticipation of Autumns children
Carve me a Jack O Lantern
Bleed me a sonnet
I look again and the suns gone
The breeze rushes through
And the cool air meets a stiff grin
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Premonition
Walking down thirty six
What is this my vision fixed
He passed on my left
Love in my hand on the right
My periphery digesting the side of his face
Heart sped and visions racedThe young girl he violated and misplaced
My left arm chilled with hair on end
He left her no right to defend
Perhaps Im as mad as tall
But looking back his walk said it all
What could I have done or said?
A blade to mend her empty bedOr was it all just in my head?
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The Fall
I can feel my beloved Autumn in the air
The chilly mornings and gloom
The dying spectacles
Pumpkins carved
Sweet indeed
The smellsDeath
Life
Zero
Solve
Waning
Revolution
Like train doorsSomeone must get off
To make room for fresh riders
Tides of lives that balance our existence
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Charlie
Yellow on brown, the fool was no clown
A pension for pain and a fist full of knowing
Seen it all through a crack in the wall
The musk and muck in withered dusk
Limelight all tangled in despair
The hair that tipped the scaleTarried blame bled in pointed fingers
Hes there but will not linger
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Skyluke
Have you fulfilled your destiny?
There is no differentiation
As is life
Death is as much illusion
If you have not made the realization
You are dead alreadyWhen in truth
Perhaps only in death
And breathe again for the first time
Until you tire
One stale breath upon another
Breathe!
Only when you lose something completelywill you appreciate it fully
Deviate the I from your own dimensions
Complacency may elevate your apprehensions
All the while not wanting
Can you sigh and smile
From the dreams that create them
Can you elevate your visions
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Such the Case
Confusion, being
My Epitaph
A rattle in my cage
Has never lead me anywhere
Save a war to wage
These trysts and ListsConfined me in
A latch hook game of tag
Was I before or quite behind?
Always I seem to lag
I shant assume
Save, I'm a loon
A birdie in a binFor curtains ones camaraderie
That I shall never win
But if I knew not brevity
Than I would never sin
The lofty listless hegemony
The teetering of I
Has festered my allegoryAnd left me such a sty
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Copernicus
Alleviating judgment and evaluating dignity
Where is the folly of flight, day or night?
But what is this you deem in day
You dream at night you say
And none at all
Are as oneBoth forward and behind
Within Rhythm and its principle
The beginning, the end, one in a breath
In a sea of translation, we drift meaningless
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Thirteen
Look, oh look!
Its a cat on a bedspread
Writhing his toes and twitching his nose
Is that a grit of kitty litter?
Patter and purr, lifes such a blur
Is it cold outside? I hear the wind howlingA lack of warmth to leave the heart yowling
Come inside, look a bit deeper
Theres always a glass, but the wines have been cheaper
I see you there in creepers
Standing outside my house, in that blouse
Turning my pages, like the gentry of ages
Im just a mouse in a houseSqueaky and carouse
What a louse, but Ill be here
In proper misery and fits of cheer
Whether near, or however far
Reading grimoires and peering at stars
What a lovely world it has been
Full of ravishes and a healthy grinOh the joys I find, in this head Im in
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Saint of Killers
Blood red rose beds
Drippings of withered crimson
Drying within weathered cracks
Etched and Eternal
A veil for every mind spell
Nails and monuments in rowsClouded gray skies rolling
Howls of wind breaking the nullifying rains
A trail of boot prints in the puddled mud
Somewhere a bride cries
A mans head folds in trembling hands
Children splash and laugh unbeknownst
Train smoke stretches across a dreary horizonDeals are made, men are broken
Drunkards stagger through the dirt
Shots fired within ears range
Blood is shed
Documents are postmarked and sent
Carried in hemp sacks on galloping backs
Weary eyes fallScreams echo through tiled halls
Suicides and secret meetings
Plots reaped as sown
Confessions in hallowed boxes
Ivory trinkets franticly buried under a willows branch
The thread of time wavers on
Dust settles
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Young bones grow old and creak
Lovers swept off in forbidden trysts
A stalker lurks in a blind alley
Sharpened blades dulled in flesh
Missing person parchments tacked
Moonlit gazes into bare branched silhouettes
Black before a starless night sky
Shivered and distraught
Wick lit floor boards
Bones beneath
Uncovered beyond the century of search parties
Youthful unuttered discoveries
Morbid beginningsVile upbringings
A new killer is born
A Saint is made
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Rise
The rain and wind and coldest breath
Lest I not defeat death
No sun and scorn
Lovers born
Deviled and torn
Within a sullen lured pyre
Despotism cures desire
Disenchanted in each fragment
Letting go of sentiment
Embracing rudiment
Frozen boned to subtle curesA pirate within lofty mores
Carcasses starkness staunchly drained
A martyr drowned, defamed
Abatement as it rained
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Destruction
You asked and shall receive
A penance for your ways
I have no guilt, no shame
I will not hold remorse nor regret
Your destruction wilunfold
Cursed as the bile you areFilth
Grace I have shown you
Undeservedly
Blindly
Now I can see
And I will watch
As you unravelAnd disintegrate
Into dust
I am not broken
I have grown wings
And I shall fly
Beyond the shame you have chained me to
Above the plummeting you doomedCrass and despicable
You can worship lies to mask your shame
Gone Ill be
The same
Cleansed and deranged
Estranged
I have gained the self
I betrayed for you
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I am risen
Enlightened
You are hollow bones
Deceased
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Pumpkin Seeds
Slit wrist pricks and the Crucinflicted
Your heads are dipped
Boxes and cages all the rage
Life on a leash
What a peach
Razor cuts soaked in lemon juice
Broken bones and needled nerves
Bleach in eyes through a dropper
Youre given to be battered proper
Calloused livered severed retinas
Defaced, literallyPiteously
Fit to be careened
At the end of a rope
By a primer black 56 Chevy
On fire
If I had a castle
Thered be a dungeon
A wall full of death beds
Strung up and still bleeding
Barely breathing
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Id keep you livingPin holed and Bile soaked
Twitching
Im so grateful
See past the hateful
My little pumpkins
I adore thee
Id gorge thee
Twist off patellas
Pull string intestines
My little puppet monsters
Let me love you
A nail bed to shove you
Fumed rags for meat bags
No one above you
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The Hermit
Who left the fool chained in a small bathroom in the cel-
lar? There was no one to be found in the house. Everything
left as if the place was simply vacated all at once. Dishes
in the sink, food in the fridge, clocks stopped on the walls.
All covered in dust and time. A frail old man frozen to
chains on a wall, in a decrepit old cellar. The scent was ofbrine. Particles dancing in beams of light streaming
through the tattered windows. A cold lone house buried in
trees on a mountainside.
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Bled Perspectives
Behind the cannon fodder
The wick lit burnt and churning
Faster into alabaster
Caught on down range
Isnt it strange
What lies in the details
Flies with wings frail
Sentiment deranged
Hard wired attire
This waking audition
Not every moments a testThere is no intermission overload
Shadows and flame may bleed
Heeding the wrong image
Within porcelain percentages
Con games and quick lips
Death deals and spent chipsArmed to the teeth within sullen allure
How fragile the spiders web
Were all so cautiously content
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Plastic Windows
Willed as in movement
Subliminally disenchanted
Prone within convalescence
Quieted like sullen children
Bourn of the dismembered
Concealed in a fold of woolPassing blame like crack pipes
Resilient resolve
To humble then confine
The motion of extremity
This robe of common don
Entailing such undertones
Of captious preliminary virtuesReeking down amongst the mundane
Purposeless and bled bathing
In this crimson basin shining
Screaming into the smiling void
Bashed hypothesis
Give them then no motion
No inch to scratch the itch
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Pathological
Its the weather
And the seasons
So much for our own reasons
Complications
And the heathens
We create our own diseases
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Pawndom
The greater good is an ugly burden to bare
Outrage on foreign siege
Please
Hug a bear and wish him well
You really cant tell
Me otherwise
A law to paw and trickle tease
Prisms, mirrors, gasoline
Lined up like wired down
Reality just doesnt freeze
Stay on your knees
Impressions freckle, taunt till dire
Dangle spangled funeral pyre
The food, the money, game of chase
The kitten and a lace
You willed it, watch it, let it be
Had to want it, set it free
Dont come complain to me
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Preliminary Self-Accusation
There are many testaments to self tyranny. Whether
found at large or in Singularity, my goal here is to remove
myself from such idiosyncrasies wholeheartedly. Some
have found my methodology in this attempt abrasive,
crass, and even despicable, on more than one occasion.
This will undoubtedly continue, and increase. I am nothere to assure you of your relevance to my own emancipa-
tion. Nor do I hold remorse for those whose interests con-
flict with my own well being. You are all ultimately dispos-
able. The fire within my heart blazes green, and shall not
consume a molecule of impurity or distortion. Though my
flesh is warm, my blood runs cold. I have tasted desola-
tion. I have traversed into the pits of our collected psyche,from which too many hide. I do not remain unchanged.
Though I revel in my weaknesses, I am assured you are
weaker still. Your eyes bleed delusions I have mastered.
Ever Foreword is the mantra, and much of our mass has
been selected for removal. I will not die for you, only for
what sentiment remains for my beliefs. But even these, I
do not trust. I seek not absolution beyond my realm of
creation, my intrinsic resolve. I will not be harbored,
though I will remain unkempt. I fear only resolution, and I
will nurture my own misery as the blood of my essence.
My words are poison, seething beyond even my will. I have
long accepted your misinterpretation. I do not bleed for
you, praise does not comfort me, but writhe me in myflesh. I will not cry for your demise, think nothing of mine.
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Definition
How do you define a thing
That can feel so secure yet remain so vulnerable?
That which exists separately on different planes.
That takes one form when observed from one angle,
And another from the next.
This rock against which we batter ourselves so fervently.
How do you trust reality?
A willingness to embrace illusion,
So constant.
From love to atom,
Molecule to organism,Biology to astronomy.
This isnt a plea for disaster.
No,
War on piteous self loathsome suicide.
Who is self righteous?
Who is the martyr?
Sweet combatant!
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Temple Octo Vulgaris
Thy grand throne within the center of an Empire
Plunging its depth and exploring its glory
Thrice my wavering circles sketching
Stretching through strands encompassing its center
Peering from my western perch
Collecting, absorbing, encroachingFour faces looming distinctly
Gripping this plot of evils grande
Clutching a globe in its grasp
Great siphoning plexus
Deep inhalations of absorption
Exhale and expand
Growing enormouslylooming
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