Monday, April 22, 2013

Desire's a chore

The stain life leaves is but feversome yet.
I've only just begun and already I hate.
Used is the powerful word I cannot restate.
For it is harsh on the ears and much more on the faith
Of living passed all that is hard.
A memory in progress
Is presently fogless
It's current and fresh
But this isn't a plus
It falls under a plight
A darkened room with foreign doors and keys that seem as foreign or more.
A possible way of escape does exist
While a vague implication is made and insists
It's sealed in pain
In lust
In love
A false lore of such
Can't result in much
But dust on the mind
And dirt on the floor.
It's left me with nothing desired.
Desire's a chore.

Friday, February 22, 2013

A lawn so green

Everybody's having kids
Everyone is taking shits
Nothing seems to ever be
Seemingly so obvious
Saying things that need be said
This class is fucked
My heart is dead
A violent phrase
Poetic enough
To violate space
Perimeter snubbed
Cut into halves
And into fifths
Diminished sound
Turned into shit
A harmony
Not quite in tune
So dissonant
Just like the truth
Abstract essentials
Creep into this
Mind of mine
A waste of time
And space it seems
Disregards me
This poetry
This life crazy
At times I think
How nice it'd be
To never think
Or ever be
It calms my nerves
It helps me breath
New life into
But that's not me
Ands that's not truth
Truth is I'm
nothing like you
I'm not through
With life and it's
Sense of humor-piece-of-shit-
Way to make things somehow fit
Reasonably meant for something more
Owner of green lawns galore
Just over the fence of self-doubt and dismay
Runs the stream of consciousness ill never embrace
Or so it seems.
And so I breath
So I'll believe
One day I might
Own a lawn so green.

Thursday, November 8, 2012


Revel in your majestic ties, the knots that binds us tight into the fabric of time, spilling blood like love pouring out of a sieve. Nothing feels so right, like the abundance of flight giving birth to second sight. Wetting our hands in, whats seems to be life, an illusion of the blessed night. The story-less vagrant upon his horse, and enchantment might be something of importance to a mindless, horrid, vicarious life.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Exception #1

Philosophy. Something people have forgotten to instill into their personalities.
A constant reminder of what its like to live a dream-like reality
no emotion, just business and entertainment.
Of course this is only one of infinite opinions led by a generalization of thoughts
but without the daily grind, the hustle and bustle of work and life,
a person reverts to thought. The most convenient, accessible, most portable and smartest device you'll ever own. No dependance on whats in your palm but whats on your mind. Thats what we need as a whole and as human kind.

Sunday, November 27, 2011


You sing songs like a bird builds nests
structurally sound with the comfort to match
But having such skills can lead to such stress
thus jeopardizing you quarters of thatch
It'll blow right off with the slightest breeze
gently abrupt without warning or sign
But shelter will be the last thing o'er your sleeve
as you drink up your limited barrel of wine

Wednesday, November 23, 2011


So cumbersome too
is the weight i carry for you
along with the songs I've sung
and the rhymes I've spun
like turn tables I scratch
the tiny surface of one.
The gobbledeegook of ones soul is to me
like the faintest discovery, revolutionarily agreed
Cuz I too can fake a lie
and no matter what you think, no matter how hard you try
your mind inside this universe is but a hair on a fly
wing it like a co-friend
the one who stands right near
cuz you'll never be able to wield this weapon you call a spear

Thursday, November 17, 2011

#6 II

A tribesman,
all withered and strange
wanders the forest for food 'for the rain
he challenges even the most fierce equations
and seems to get nowhere for his weight isn't gaining
He hears his tendons stretch as he placidly combs the plane
While his heart sinks deeper through soul, his mind stays balanced, whole, and tame