Shadows of Me

The worst enemy is inside.
The darkest shadow becomes powerful with age.
When I find myself inside,
the depths of a disheartening me,
I'll know there is no better place,
than in the arms of this most
terrifying enemy.
When I say "I'll love him",
I say "He does not love you".
So to and fro
I will go,
between what I choose
to be real
and the endless potential of failure
than my other half propagates.

This choice we all must make,
to embrace the one we hate
within ourselves,
and calm our own unsteady seas,
or be forced to deal
with every unpleasantry,
our mind will readily refuse.

The Ibis and Death Itself.

As I, the one who can see,
the forlorn faces in front of me,
behind the rosebud hips I must be.

While, they ooze and reek,
I hide behind my beak,
with the intent to sneak.

The wailers groan in pain,
all my efforts are lost in vain
to see life in their eyes again.

The shadow of death arises,
to foe and friend alike,
their death, a heady type.

I push past their mutated mimes,
look upon their vital signs,
I, the symbol for trying times.

In the piles of carrion
I see before me,
a long and bleak path,
past the corpses that death has so vigorously imposed on.
His invasion is necessary,
but I am not his adversary.

I work to fight for life,
life that God has so precious made.
I bear the task of selecting the dozen,
while death does not bear pardon.

While he does the reaping,
I do the seeding,
preserving the crops
where the few dozen grow,
in God's goodly glow.

And so on I must go...

Memento mori

No Comm. Ship Detach.

This place is my tomb,
within a carcass,
cloaked with composite power.
The machine that men pride
Is the graveyard of a thousand
drops of tears.

The beast has consumed me,
and I've become it's working part,
as I was so destined to be
when I made the choice so foolishly.

Every day is exactly the same,
more misery
shrouding the yet to be,
tearing me apart gracefully.
With no shame,
only the same from day to day.

When I met him it seemed to be,
a place for my heart,
but then the beast tore him apart,
and now I sit alone
in the cloak of this composite machine.
Wistfully washing away every day
in the scalding shower
of my paranoid emotions.

"Will his soul return to me?" I spoke aloud,
as I bobbed like a buoy
on the effervescent shore of longing.
"Will his blue eyes grace me,
as they promised to do for eternity?"

Inside this machine,
I sit and wait,
noises rocking the tin can
in me, reverberating
at hyper sonic speed.
Shattering the peace within me.

So in this beastly thing.
I must wait to see,
the one who came to me
when choice had not
been as clear to me.

As the future is the present
and as decisions are made at the minute.
I see my fortunate flower
grow for him alone
among the salty sea
of the beasts made abundant
by man, a selfish dozen.

Even-tempered.

When roads meet
And I've taken my turn,
Where will the turn lead?
Further to you and farther from me.
What if fear overshadows the yet to be?
I've thought about where
Shadowy roads bleed,
And how I've turned to stubbornly,
With a will to move hearts suddenly.

But this road has changed
The will I had has been lost between bedsheets,
And with no small effort
must I ask for the help I thought wasn't needed.
The help to build a stronger me,
The risk is ever-present.
Endangering the thoughts
That with your help
Can once again make me feel like myself.
The soul intangible.
Making thoughts understandable.

You see this soul once lost,
Was traded with greased palms
To a devilish sort.
Leaving the hermit lost from the shell,
Wandering in a sort of hell.
Where love could win it over,
Indifference had flicked the cold shoulder.
In pursuit of growing older.
And perhaps wiser.

Wisdom is a submissive mistress,
When you think its there,
A cold replica persists.
So you duplicate
the subjugate,
The subjugate is gone,
And the wiser has fled
And your wisdom has not won.

Heal my broken soul,
Since the weak hands could not do
Where pride sheltered the pain
It also left a bruise.
I'm an empty lot.
With no joy to be had.
Your pain is my pleasure
I'm your lovely cad.

Untitled.

So much for the weary end
And all the hurt it takes to begin.
So much for the last one in,
Shedding tears; being lost in sin.

No more time to bathe in guilt,
Allow the days to bathe you in gilt,
And the sun to pour into the fragments,
Stir the blood you kept so stagnant.

If mankind were to know
How wonderful days
Begin to show.
Would the predicament
be reluctant
to rear it's ugly head.
Perhaps not,
Nor would it mean anything.
You can finally be something.

Mankind, the sublime!
Is the right mind
Ever focused in metric time
Measured by the underestimated
Sentience of a life
Slowly drifting by?

Could you be the one in all
At the ending call
With no worth on your forehead?
No love to be said
Because the sun wouldn't show?
Any heavy-hearted man could understand.

Make me feel.

This is a disturbance,
of deeper proportions,
and in this way.
I mean enlightenment.
Take in me
the delight of my life,
and share with me
undulating strife.
In this,
deepest disturbance,
may I grow older,
and wiser,
so my beauty is amplified.
Joy is a wealth I can rarely afford
But simplicity
is that which can be found,
spawning in it
a different kind of joy.
A joy to be had
between us laid,
a path we must journey,
together,
with deference
and holy bliss.

You're the Illest.

You!

My AE!

A victorious swing

from senseless being

to a lover supreme.

I'd never be untrue my Darling.

Never be seen

acting intimately with another

being!

There All Along

Oh yes,
I've won.
And won again,
and tamed this beautiful mystery
so much soul I had spent.
It makes sense.
At the fruition of it all
to leave everything behind
and answer your call.
But with a careful diligence
I must decline,
to keep your lust and attention
at a straight line.
Offer me your hand
as a way to read my mind.
So delicately you spread
your heart,
in front of me
such a work of art.



Tell me you love me openly.

Overestimated Errors

With a fresh outlook
despair is all I see.
Changing perspective
may be easy,
but at the end of this transformation,
I am always constantly me.

So,
I've split my decision,
lost my religion,
become a beast of
another means.
Even though
the revelry
is killing me.
Driving a hole in my heart
so deeply.
And, I've lost all poignancy.

Countdown to the lucky year.

Seventeen:
This verse being read
Starting from my heart,
Where childhood light
Breaks apart,
The indecisions of many a past memory,
And relives the cruelty of ones own enemy.
To myself be true,
Fake not
The dimples drawn
On the face which becomes you.
Where dreamers will not tread,
This source is my bread.
For even as sweet
As the dreamers truth,
Adventure abounds
Past the fountain of youth.

Nineteen:
So many times I wish I were
Not so much him, but a little more her.
Her beauty to which manly tides flow,
Yet my fate has a more peculiar glow,
Past the trees, and shadows of dismissiveness.

Twenty-one:
AND NOW!
My beauty divides your soul,
Like a lawyer
I never settle for less
than what I want.
Peer into my eyes,
See where the threat to your heart lies.
I run with reckless abandon.
My darling...
Are you prepared?

Twenty-three:
With fair winds and a following sea,
Jesus sent me to the west,
To absolve my seven sins,
And incredulity forms
The waters of that
Which I must happily dive in.

The Confession of Misplaced Grace.

Death by awareness.
My heart hurts with delight
I refuse to ask forgiveness
When I know that the caverns
of my head are disintegrating
With the joy of dancing in sin.
Because redemption feels
Delightful....only when i've
Been dirtied by the delights
That drive my soul to the devil.

In being torn apart,
and mindful of the consequences;
Absolution in deathly drunkeness
Is indulgently devious.
So perfect in it's imperfection.
I'll sacrifice myself to the darkness
Because the light has no place card
on its table for someone as lost as I.
I'll follow the piper because the
piety of the innocent is a distant dream
my subconscious soul
can no longer comprehend.
My beloved saviour,
I cannot fess up for my name
For which I have so dirtied up with doubt.
The questions you answered have left me
longing for the deeper infinite.
A path I shan't journey.
A bridge I cannot cross,
For my feet have splintered and split
walking on your testy trail.
I am not worthy of your light.
Not qualified for your absolution.

Duties of a Sentry

These are ten thousand heart beats,
Each one a life a piece and a sentry
Of pride in someone's eye.
Silence becomes these,
And in these a sly,
Shy moment sighs.
But then again
The badgering and bickering begins,
And we plunge into ten-thousand sins,
With a thousand more a piece.
And our mouths spew insufferable words,
Because our sins cannot cease.
We are the elite;
They preach at least.
But we are commoners,
And steady guardians of an
Insecure peace.

I believe

That is is all falsified.
That my conscience is the foundation of my choices,
Even if it has many voices,
Which do not tread with ease,
Over my overanalytical mind.
So you tell me one thing,
But I'll actively choose another,
Just to pull one over on you,
Get the ruse?
I knew you would.
Carry on.

0630

I saw on this morn
the clouds...
they were bursting with orange,
bleeding with reds,
singing a chorus
inside my head.
On this morn I saw too,
the purpled sky
that once was blue.
The sun was cradled
by the misty morning billows,
its sky is the heavens
as it laid on its pillows.
That sky being my heaven too
serenades my approach
as I walk into
the waves of an ocean
so far and wide spread,
never ending miles,
none ever said.

None ever being said
my friend.
On this morning I could
die a happy woman.

Glimpse into Personal Oblivion.

With these confines,
comes the challenge of a lifetime.
Who knew taking the last few
breathless steps might lead
me to paradise.

OR at least to a new path
on which I must step.
But stepping had become
less easy, with every
rich milestones. And
for my body to face
adversity,
its indignant opposition
was unsatisfactory.

So what dwells in me?
Nothing less than there was before,
nothing new for my memory to store.
So where does the displacement return to?
When the bow of my soul
heave to sway of the darker storms
of my ego.

There would be no place
for my hope to go.
Optimism is a fire
which demands constant tending,
and my despair a wound
which needs constant mending.

When I cross the
threshold to my own
deliberate path,
words of discouragement
will be the one thing I lack.

I want to take myself aback,
and expose my apprehensiveness
as an elusive virus,
with no real substance.
So the cure can come in due time,
only faster.

I ask thee, God,
to illuminate the darkness of doubt,
which eats my conscience,
and unhinges my conviction.
And turn the wine of disparity,
into water of delight.

Dreams for T.A.P.S/TATOO pt. II

The clock chimes, it's time again,
to speak the day in words my friend.
The girls gather round
and colorful letters from home abound.
The mothers, brothers, and aunts;
they write
words of comfort,
to the girl's delight.

These ample dreams the stretch from home,
make us all feel less alone;
make our food taste so much better,
give us hope with every letter.

Dreams are flying home in moonlight,
they make port, unraveling the bights.
And with little disdain for the drudge of days,
our hearts become stronger in so many ways.

So dream your dreams from ship to shore,
believe in something so much more.
Life becomes more than less,
something better than a fucking test.

The Great Run

You better get out of my way now,
or I'll roll right over you.

Lips pursed.
This is my day.
Calves stretched,
this is the way.
Rushing ahead of time,
is nightmarishly enlivening.
Every molecule participates.
This is my day, dear.
Two legs forward,
rolling steam machine.
Built to endure,
built to withstand.
This is the way.
Hold Fast,
with one leg in front of the other.

Forward at a double-time! March!

Take Advantage

I suffer through,
as those of me who do,
to make a mark
upon a heart
so beautifully true.

But fate belies that
the heart of ten million
could not realize,
these desperate claims
I struggle to.

Oh round and wondrous muscle!
Give me peace at last.
Do not let the pain of the past
block my desire,
It's unsteady so fast!

I say no
let them go,
and then my heart dies
when I see them love another.

How I wish my discipline was different.
My judgment not so clouded.
My heart would be sturdy and ripe.
My desire never unfounded.

You cannot expect my head to go blind,
when another woman comes to mind,
it eats slowly away
at my irrational fears.
Till they come to fruition
as endless dusty tears.

Love is not something I find
I can deal with at the moment,
but any affection I do pay you dear,
will go completely unnoticed.

The Mark

We're drawn down a road we cannot escape from.
With the greatest of intentions,
the greatest of heads
decide the rights and wrongs of all mankind.
The earthly ones, that is.
The medium is the music
the intention is power.
They take from us
that peace of mind we so desire for ourselves.
Everyone knows the story
we are getting taken
without the sight to see.
The oldest story in time
the war of right and wrong.
They degrade us
convince us we are nothing,
subliminally.
The uprising is inevitable.
Our fate is sealed,
allowing ourselves to carry
the yokes of our own demise.
We've been beaten down for resisting.
They crown their kings of TV
and princes of music,
the piper seduces us
and the marionettes dance for us.
This NWO I've heard of
unites us,
incites us
to obey far and wide
the order that has been given to us.
OBEY, SERVANTS!
They deprive us of all the
liberties we gave away slowly,
without a fight.

Better Than a Party

With imagination,
you can make your body glow.
Your legs move smoothly with the speed
of break beat technology.
Every joint
is a pivot point.
Life is best understood
after you've done your body good.
So fast are these times
when it hits you,
it's gone by.
But every second counts
in the world of the wild;
where music is the only sound you hear,
and the only thing you see
is its multicolored veneer.
I don't need anything but this.
The light and the noise
fuel my body,
give me poise,
an inspiration I never had
in the totality of day.
Come with me to the false lights,
and electrical sound waves.

Ego

me em
I could do this with you
uoy htiw siht od dluoc I
and somehow make it by
yb ti ekam wohemos dna
we see,
em fo owt eht
with massive ytiralc
our udneittiendu being
divided but wh0le.
I know myself as I understand me
and loving my own profundity.
!ees nac I
...eb ot lufituaeb os
I sigh with me.

The Blindfold

This blindfold,
wrapped around my skull.
Taking away my sight in duality.
the same place,
the same house
in which I was taken furtively,
pushed past my knees
in almighty burglary.
I come back here
suspend my drunken skeleton
and feel my way through the darkness of doubt.
The senses heave and sigh
and slip through the reluctance of sight.
You two, the two for the win.
the same two that protected my sanity
when it was about to cave in.
So dark are my intentions,
it seems to have twisted me,
turned me into a beastly being.
I'm looking for illuminating sensuality,
but instead find guiltless infidelity.
Yet, I proceed shamelessly.
Watch your husband fuck me,
make me feel guilty,
even though your denial treats
you to a pleasure of losing stability.
The body you want to be,
imagine you could take from me,
so your husband would have no need.
I rise above this mentality,
for I'm aware I'm axillary,
my body being temporary.
I moan satisfactorily,
in the darkness of the moist blindfold.

Nostalgia

Let us be the say all
the be all
the see all of ourselves,
with a sort of translucent might.
The past holds up spectacularly,
idiosyncrasies our mind left behind.
we twisted and turned with doubt
at our heedless failings,
yet the failings have not failed me.
They, representing,
a greater piece of being
a sword in consciousness,
made from all the crystallization
of cognitive recognition,
and countless mistakes.
These mistakes are used to battle
greater losses, and ignore
the pain of our precipitated past.
I do not carry these
as a burden, outweighing my body,
but as a box which my
mind decides to open at
any given situation.

Restricted Desire

Roundabout
My hips have become weapons
and so massively intimidating.
Why such a stare my darling?
Do you remember the plump personification
I used to be,
hidden behind the amazon you now see?
Silly!
I thought the years might have
changed your perspective,
perhaps not without a fight from you.
These hips I do now own;
own your eyes in sensual abandon.
These legs you touched,
with dark, maladjusted sensuality,
have slipped your callous fingers
and have slighted your twisted intentions.
I have become such a beautiful thing.
Some ONE you cannot have,
maybe you didn't need,
yet you tried to leash.
None of your chains can bind me.
I have become something better.
something with will power,
as I always hoped to be.
You have my sentimentality,
it is all you will receive.
Everything else is free,
but please,
tempt my seasoned body,
with your immediate jealousy.
Every man in me, took something,
furtively,
held in the fruitful imaginations
of their boyish beings.
And yes, you; most of all,
wanted to be,
inside me.

Where I live

time moves slow, as seen in rational light,
But the existence of space is inevitably engraved in our shallow first sight.
This sight allows most of our decisions to be immediate,
Disregarding the secondary consequences.
I see this time as my life,
A life which ought to exist in the spherical conundrum of infinite memory.
The love which binds me to outward consciousness will never be wasted.
Never be wasted.
It would shame me to waste it.
I find through illumnation,
Addiction to the reality of these concepts is irresistible.
I wish to delay the hurried existence of the initial for a little while longer,
So i may bask in the tender sentiment of a moments passing.