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Marmalade PandaA little finch
Is chirping by my ear;
Spills out it's life story,
And all the things I've never had.
The bird tells me this,
A tear rolling down it's feathers.
We share our tales,
This tiny finch and me.
And all the things I took for granted,
All the things I've never given second thought,
Are hovering in front of me.
I can see my mistakes and
It all seems so clear.
This adorable finch,
Hasheesh is his name.
Hasheesh sees light of everything.
He's tries to make every situation
Chemical BurnI burned my fingerprints;
Proof of existence,
I seared them with the lye.
Tried not to think of
Flesh in flames and
All the suffering.
I burned them off with lye.
I know you did the same,
You took me in all my vulnerability,
And pressed your lips;
Raw and bitten
Against my chest and then
You poured it.
To leave a mark.
Scarring of your kiss.
Ignorant.My words fall short
Landing into your empty hands.
Slipping past your grasp and through your open fingers.
Writhing on the cold linoleum floor.
My demands are useless,
My requests neglected.
The letters howling and screaming
Blame it all on me, blame it all.
We leave them there, kick them in the dirt.
We leave them and continue our angered silence.
It's pain-staking, the things you call me,
But I listen.
I suck up your two cents
With a bendy straw.
Reality vs Script"I'll love you forever."
Forever isn't far from here.
"I'll always keep you safe."
Yes, my sweet. Tighten your seatbelt.
We're crossing the bridge and heading towards
Palpable despair and proud oblivion.
"I can help you with anything you need."
Prepare and train me for the end
When I could be making the best of now.
"Hold your tongue, sweetheart."
I've been biting it for so long,
I'll soon be chewing on rubble.
"Don't say something so stupid."
Someone has to say the things
That brew in our minds.
The phrases that burn,
Sentences you won't speak in fear of
"What are you, anyway?"
Is this love?
I'd rather swallow cyanide.
CertAinty.Plaster a smile on that
Stand by your podium,
Fist shaking with righteous
Fury. Fight your way to the top.
Parties filled with sophisticated
Drawings of portraits.
Masks stapled to the skulls of your loyal
Followers, who cling to each word you
Shout. Hold your glass full of
Piss and importance in front of your
Facade. Super glue that reassuring grin
Across your old and wrinkled skin.
Shake the hands of anxious society,
The people you meet but can't recall.
Who are you? Your suit is dry cleaned,
Sir. Who are you?
Your surgery is over, sir.
Glance into a piece of glass,
Who are you?
With your nose so high you provoke the
Clouds. Who are you?
The man in the suit who craves
For a vote. The man who needs constant
Confidence from people who barely matter,
Who are you?
I see your name on signs in yards,
Clashing with all the decor.
Who are you?
Cemetery SongLazy lovely day..
Eyes closed and head
Nodding to the heart warming
Sound scratching inside your mind.
Keeping the world at distance,
Dangling it with a bright green string.
Corners of mouths
Curling and peeling.
Giggles and breezes,
Leaves scattered all around,
Yellow rays have turned them brown;
Brilliant bushels of scarlet, citrus,
Let the wind carry them softly,
Let the wind bring me away.
SankChewAiry.Soaking in the
Grains of the Isle.
Trees and roots,
Webs of earth and
Soot and warmth.
Delights in the green
Land, hovering above the
Shrubs and casting shadows.
This is where the myths would be.
Lights of the fireflies
Sparks in the night sky.
Trailing through the thick
Clouds of dust and
Grass, only to be
Rewarded by beauty,
Crashing onto the shore.
It beckons with a roll and a
Dive; headfirst onto the rocks and
Sand. Singing all the while.
This is where the myths would be.
How we were,
Enjoying the nature,
Grasping onto it all with our
Consuming the honeysuckle and
Raspberries, as if nothing mattered.
Reality is immersed in the
Puddles that we so happily ran through.
Radiance beating down our backs and
Waves crashing over us,
Too blind to be consistent.
How I miss
Where the myths would be.
SakeRed.Bumps on my skin
Grey and dusty vision
Shut inside this hole
The whole existence
It seems unreal.
They fill me with
Dents; marks; scrapes
Bruises of every sort.
Picking away at
Tired and worn down
To nothing but bone.
Inhale only to choke
Exhale only smoke.
Sickness grabs ahold.
Ripping me to shreds.
I swear one day
I'll shed this thought.
And all the glory of sacrifice
Stabbing in my stomach
Each time I look into a
And then there was hope,
A glimmer infected me
I rusted my shell,
Inflicted the shine on my
Suddenly I was floating
All the troubles,
Spoils of my life
Thrown away, spent writing
Bad poetry in the
That glimmer soon faded..
Dulled it's own roar.
And I promised myself..
We'll meet in Hallelujah
Fight Fear with FlameHe stands there.
Hands in his pockets,
Wind through his hair.
He smiles through cracked lips.
Wishing his thoughts were great acid trips.
She plasters ideas
Hidden behind walls.
Based upon fears,
She builds her reasonings.
Hoping he can help her spread her filthy wings.
Their tainted lives,
Her dwelling in dread,
Him completely naive.
One day she will turn;
All her mistakes and fears nothing to learn.
A Legacy of WisdomYou have scribed your words,
wealthy wreaths of wisdom,
on paper never torn or worn.
You have etched your passions
on my brow.
You have left this wallowed world
victorious; eyes resplendent
with the wisdom you wrote and wrought.
Your passions shall echo in my ears
And should I stray into some
sullen storm, or get caught in
the torrents of the monsoon, Ill know
that Lears been there before, and
Ill not swoon.
And if Hades doors open up
before my stranded soul, and scorch
it with the heat of hell, Ill recall that
I am not the first Dantes been down
there as well.
And if on my death-bed I mourn
the life I wasted on wine and stale
chocolate bars, Ill recall Wildes words and
hope that, though long in the gutter, I did
glimpse the stars.
NonexistenceI pray to a God I have never seen,
who lives in a world that has never been,
to save my heart that has never felt,
from eternity's failures, eternity's guilt.
My feet step on grounds no men stepped before,
my lips taste the poison, bitter and sore,
yet it does not kill me,
does that mean,
that I am immortal,
or that I've never been?
I pray to a God that may not exist,
while the iron shackle tears up my wrist,
to tell me the difference of being and not,
to show me the memories that I forgot.
My mind flies to places nobody has reached,
to learn that the stars are nothing but bleached,
spots on the dark, they're not even light,
I think that's 'cause real light brings nothing but fright:
It's bound to discover
all crimes, neatly covered.
I pray to a God because maybe he is,
unlike me and the world,
in them I miss
something to reach.
AnarchyScream the anthem of the anarchist!
What is it? Exactly.
I won't tell you; make it up.
Go away. Blow it up.
Burn it down. Deface the town.
But don't give in,
Never -- no.
That's the song we all love so.
Freedom past extremity.
Far away, in my backyard
I own the world; I am a bard.
I wear a beard and shave my head;
All the normals want me dead.
I won't give up; I ramble rave.
You'll never make me behave.
My brother, loser, freak, meek geek
You know-- the beatnick, hippy, punk--
The rock bands my parents debunk--
We treasure what we cannot have:
No allegiance to any flag.
out of Gardenwhat sea
how it is welling your eyes a wet mess
where urchins of the ocean will spill to howl their elegy
where mermaids will turn widows
once brine has swallowed whole their sailor babes
stewarding the land instead
is why i never set sail with you
but to lay in gardens, oh
a bed sheet rotten by the ultraviolet
and our laps full of stars
what black soil will pervert your knees there
where moonlight will mirror out from your teeth
to run fanatic toward cosmic space
after bathing in the space among us
where walking air pushes every dust
one of sun-dried butterflies
one of beaten rug with broom
one of honey bees minus harvest
one from sands of human crust
when traced is an orb monster, Jupiter
around your left breast, so that nipple
a blood storm just under the skin
and asking where you sowed the marigolds
is only to hear you choke the words time and water
in the same sentence
to hear you say there will be no rain for a week
while an ocean is
the plasticized quantum theory
une voleur honteux
slip of the tongue
in each saturated pore
spectrum rehearses its symphony
crooked whispers of a flute
a glimpse of blue infinitude
quiets the confines of los alamos
¿quién es él? eso piensa
paralysis in the peristalsis
jewel in the vitreous humor
until it watercolors
the poison of psyche
papillae the plagues
oxidizing ash and ember
a quivering effigy
splinters the moon
the mirrored hand exhales
swept the epileptic ceiling
dissolving tendrils of mahogany
detached from the retina
tranquil, the deception
the film frame fades
captured in the mercury
Perspectives of a Hallucino...Comfort. The softness of the basement couch. Misery loves company.
Trickling through my fingers. Whispering across my face, her disappearing
lips trace across my cheeks. The smell is sweet, but she is rough against
my throat. Her smell isn't so much intoxicating as it is suffocating, yet
the smoke paralyses my senses and touches my soul. Her street name is
undeserving of her effect on me. Forever, she shall be known to me as
Mary-Jane. I will never know her beauty.
Snowflakes fall, blood is in the air,
Covering white figure of pride,
Lying forceless on the ground,
Having no strength to fight with the snow,
Nor even with reality,
Which drifts down from the empty sky,
Where the moon cannot be seen,
Where birds cannot be heard,
At which wolves can only howl.
PieceI pictured it so beautifully,
The cold embracing me,
Smothering my skin.
Streams of fog covering scattered streets,
Obscene and well known phrases carved in buildings.
Writing by the warm orange glow
Of the only lights that should be on.
The only bright-eyed creature
Staring; wide awake,
Into a grey blanket,
Fuzzy and wrapped tightly around atmosphere.
Droplets, footsteps, vehicles...
All have gone and shut their doors.
No leaf rustles.
No animal scurries.
No television blares.
Tendrils of frost devour every home,
Defying the high cost of oil and all the complaints.
For once, I've found myself calm.
Hiding behind the quest to
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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