The Sun
[tab]Written to Yanni’s “Enchantment”, youtube.com/watch?v=sNVRObZImms
The sweet dame. The lips. January’s rare.
The rest of the year.
Thoughts all often rest outside that, too.
The moon that glimpsed off my window all those years.
Brought it back when I cared to look.
My soul in repose, in dreamless rest.
Rarely dared to look out at it.
Its shine brought back those overdays of underdays.
Its crest those rare moments not for me, rarely for me.
Its yellow face those have not have nots.
Rarely hads, lately nevers.
The smell of the outside air I sniffed.
The sweet sent that wafted in pared my nose.
Pared my mind, my love, my dear.
Long time love.
The yellow breeze, circulating my room.
Thoughts lone those long nights I woke.
Those long days of stone respite.
My eyes closed to the searing light afrom my window.
Not from the sun, appreciated runner of those days.
But from the sky, blue flames of heat.
That had seared the blue melancholy of yesteryears.
Early days of life.
The sky, cyan stove above me, I hate.
White fluffs floating by I fear.
I dread those balls of drain, those ambers which drop.
The clouds tear me, my stomach onto the floor.
Always above me to the right my window.
Yesterday I covered the window.
Tonight, tonights I uncovered it.
The slow glow, everpresent, effervescent.
That timelessness which lit my earlier underdays.
Running amidst sharp grass into the hilly story overdays.
To a trip across the valley.
The valleys I drove, moon shining in my windshield.
The moon my friend, the blue sky my enemy.
And the sun my longing.
People who spend their days, lives, in its glow.
Always outdoors, don’t realize it.
I would lay in it, on the beach.
Crouched on the dessert floor.
One times, two times, twenty times.
This scorching heat and the light it makes… The sky.
Not off violet… Blue, no white.
The sky was always white in those dreams.
I would be the light’s king.
My realm below from my chest to my feet.
Made in this ephemeral gate, case.
Life to me here is not mine.
Mine is the sun, the moon.
Not all I recognize, all I see, just all I am.
The moon I can crawl into in the end.
The sun I would go towards with open arms.
My gaze would never be the night glow’s empty final caress.
Even to be it, the suns open arms seems far.
My life’s structure looming into narrow open cracks.
As when you open the door a nudge in a shaded room.
My soul would crack through to the sun’s embrace.
If not the cradle of the moon.
I’ll never feel the rocking, but the hug might be me.
Me… ME.
The hug might be me, me with her in the sun shine.
She’ll hug me, my newly reconciled friend.
The sky will tell you, we love… We love.
The sky will tell you.
My life was appreciated.
I’ll appreciate those last days.
All of them alone.
What life can love?
What life can love those high overdays?
Sun beams, green grassy hills?
Without knowing the underside? The underdays.
The underdays of my youth.
They didn’t tell me. Negligent underdays.
Late days taught me what I didn’t learn.
That lonely room’s everpresent walls.
I might have loved if my heart wasn’t already full.
They told me the story of regret.
Epic tales and repose, they wept.
The condensations from years of dropped tears.
People always love their home.
Theirs that they can’t return the more.
And theirs that they can’t leave the most.
Story repose and the years have no length.
Like I said I stare at the sun, moon, wall.
And a narrow tunnel emitting light beams.
But it’s a still, it’s a still I represent to you.
All those years of life.
Time, time ruins. It sits, I sit.
I love the way we would walk together.
In story repose I lived, a time I wept, a time limit.
Years shut in left the moon to call out with its cradle.
But I was here as a stone.
And one day I walked out.
To the grassy lands at the city’s outskirts.
If I was to find her it would be in the sun.[/tab]
Smith Spring
[tab]Written to Thomas Newman’s “Angels in America”, youtube.com/watch?v=QxpGusSQNVA
AAAaaaaaaahhhhhh
Smith spring
I see it the Smith Spring
Coraleery Keeper
Kadrudadeer Sleeper
By the Smith Spring
Take your time my friend
Then jump in
Take your time my friend
When you’re alone
By the Smith Spring
Look into the droadorluminary waters
Take your time my friend
Look into the droadorluminary waters
Like you see clear reflections of truth
You Coraleery Keeper
You Kadrudadeer Sleeper
Take your time my friend
No other but Santalalay seeker
Jump in
I washed ashore many years ago
Strayed anext luminary waters
Smith Spring was on my mind
When as a Kadrudadeer Sleeper
I the Coraleery Keeper
Rivers lead to the sea
That which you find and lose
Laswordaday trecker
Laswordaday trecker
I climbed the highest mountain
Laswordaday trecker
I fell and rolled
Shining spinning flux
Drunacoryfor sweeper
Down the mountain side
Drunacoryfor sweeper
Into a river
I found the Smith Spring
Streams and rivers
Drunacoryfor sweeper
Coraleery Keeper
Kadrudadeer Sleeper
Jump in my friend
Jump in[/tab]
Smith Spring Part 2
[tab]Without music.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Take it away Take it away
(I found it) (I found it)
Trallululay Trallululay
(I found it) (I found it)
Was it always here?
Was it always here?
All I had to do is go there
All I had to do is go there
Draining Draining
Then the heat soaked embers
Take it away Take it away
(I found it) (I found it)
Drip Drip Drip Drop Drip Drop
The dripping drum beats of time
Were they always there?
Click clack click clack
Click clack click clack
Were they always there?
The clicking clum beats I climb
Me sort of Me sort of mine
I go to the ocean tide
It spreads its saline butter
Across the shorebread
As a second in time
As a second in time
The dracunacoryfor sweeping
Spreads lifeless saline
The dracunacoryfor sweeping
Spreading sprouted saline
Lifefilled days
To the sweeping of saline[/tab]
Smith Spring Part 3
[tab].
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
…
Sweeping
Spreading
Sweeping
Spreading
Take it away
Take it away
The sweeping of time
I’ll take it away
The sweeping spreading
Sands of time
Spare it It will drip
Still for long
Oh my Oh my I see it spreading
The drip drip slushing
Of the seeking sweeping
Of the ill sorted sands of time
Oh no I say
I saw it
Spreading the
Drip drop
Dripping
Seeking of time
Alloom
Alloom
So you saw it
Still! feel it
The click clack
Click clacking
Stairs when you climb
See it there
Smith Spring
The clang clang spring
That tells time
In draws
Aponse the
Corusansaying
Clackadaying
Drawer of me
Mine
Irr drawenst
Solitering
Me too sent to mine
Acorackadaying
I too sent
In falls will me
Truth sayer
Gentle rays
Of the sublime
Tick tock darer
If I dare sink into the
Sweeter
Butter
Me sent to mine
Aaaaaah Smith Spring
The lore lore lore smalling
Mile mile mauling
The sent sent soaring
The sender which says says sanding
Sands sands are … ew … sunners
Of me … th … are … still
But STILL … not me … me
T …oar … sails … s
E … oa … aahh … hh
Haha … a … ha … ha
Aaaa … it … SAIN … el
I knew … I … you … san
Sander … if … I … knew
I … I … I know …
I k … the s … a … sent
Sw … sweet … senders
of … mine … Mine …
… Mine … In …
… TIME … TIME …[/tab]
The mist ariser
[tab].
.
.
The mist ariser.
.
.
Taps upon frozen green…
.
.
.
The chamber doors lie shut…
.
.
.
Lying awake all night…
.
He fears when the grey light…
.
Will trample in…
.
.
.
Burn down, he calls…
.
.
.
.
The morning peels at him…
.
.
.
In the new day the vapor gasps…
.
.
Grey light soaked days do burn…
.
Through his old white curtains…
.
.
.
Blue light…
.
Sometimes in the summer…
.
Seeps in…
.
.
It sears…
.
.
.
Long summer days pass through him…
.
.
Like a thresher…
.
.
.
The night’s mist…
.
.
Lovely as if in sleep…
.
.
He would never…
.
.
.
He may lie in bed…
.
With the lights on bright…
.
The night filtered through the curtains…
.
He may close his eyes and drift…
.
.
But he lurches awake…
.
.
The night must be lived…
.
.
Camping shallows in his room…
.
.
He dwells.
.
.
.
.[/tab]
The Duck in the Moonlight
[tab]The duck in the moonlight
I take it it glows
Ranging sleeves
Asleep on the lake
Heralded dog in the mass beyond
Edging slyly across coarse grass
I follow when it moves
Ordinarily, it sleeps
I follow it then, too
I follow the dog
In sleep and awake
It moves of accord
Dog in the mass
The duck in the moonlight too
Follows upon the dog
The broken glass
Counting to four
The dog, the mass
The duck, the grass
To sleep I count sliding masses
The dog and the duck
Sleep on the glass in the grass
In the moonlight
Barking and quacking
It drones then quits
When I awake
I glue the glass together
A dog shaped glass vase
A duck in the moonlight[/tab]
Living in the Great City
[tab]The times I would pass the old brick buildings, and sometimes I would stop and go into small shops upon the street. I lived in that giant town upon a bridge way completely drained. Each day it would take hours to go my way. The ocean of deplete that would run on those crowded walk ways. Storm drains were empty in that near, far city.
I move a lot when I was there. I moved into old buildings always. Their proximity just away from well traveled walk ways. So many vacationers spread across wide open pavement. They wondered the side streets, below my room’s window.
The time would come when I would leave the city’s edge and go into the country. I usually took the train. There were many stops of interest outside of the town, and gold and green fields colored overly brightly and shapes of hills not normally seen. I wouldn’t stay long. I would go back to that city crowded in its emptiness, with long passing lanes and maybe the occasional rush of water down a gutter where I was sitting.
In my days in silence, a step in a loft on a side street, I would rarely leave if I wanted. I did go out everyday, to work I’ve forgotten. I still do remember though the long commute through the tiresome main street. Waves of activity surrounding the archaic structures. Dryly lit feelings would rarely brush against me.
This old city and its cold saturated air. Saturated my lungs, my sense of isolation past the trodden sidewalk. Still, the town historical and wary. Long fields of streets grew in rows. I was lost in the maze. Metropolis looming for miles each way. And the saturated continental air, it left me gasping. But still, a slow stream, a slow current of happiness could evade the desiccant roads. A feeling of light heartedness could pass through along with me while navigating the complex.
Everyday for many years I traveled the same route, past shaded trees, green grass, the gridded streets, narrowly pressed shops and apartments, to the occasional circus, parading cars. I don’t remember what I did, how I spent most my days to live. I do remember being happy to be there. Old tombs, distant conversations among others. The suffocating pressure from cigarette smoke and holiday air. Life to me there was far, but the flooded streets spoke to me as something close.
Vacation days I would sit at my window, arms spread across the sill. That city now. Also I would go into shops. In a dimly lit one I would sit in a corner on the floor. That was the best the city had to offer. The contrast of a cave to the glistening fields. Night and day, inside and outside.
My time there was coming to a close. My last week there I would sit in cafes with my hands holding up my face. I would take all it had to offer. A glance to the east where the train would take me in the country, something by then I had almost forgotten. I would breath out the choking soap scented air and turn around. An ocean awaited me.[/tab]
Let me be lazy, let me work, damnit.
[tab]Written to Pachelbel’s Canon in D, youtube.com/watch?v=hOA-2hl1Vbc
When you’ve reached the southern barrier you can stay
You can stay there, white sand and the shore
I did, many days, many nights, on white sand
Dreams sprinkled in the night of the shore
There too when I awoke
When teetering in the front of the southern barrier
Feel free to sway to each side
You are there, don’t lose your balance
It was too much for me, the sea’s rowing waves
I turned from the southern shore
It was the hardest thing I ever did
I looked northward and back
I could tell you what I saw then
As I walked away for the final time
My head turned back all the way
Sometimes you steal away in the night
In your dreams
When before you were on the shore
I can’t fathom that, tell me if you know
I walked away, head turned back
Sparkling waters did not cease to dance
They didn’t cease to charm that final moment
As the pass stooped over the bend
Please look at what you are leaving
Look that we have accommodated you now
Never had the water been so green
And they would whisper from afar
These waters are now yours
You only live once, white sand green water
Maybe not to return
I thought the hills were what I always wanted
I would take them
I thought they were what lied in the southern barrier
The hills were elsewhere and they weren’t what I wanted
I wanted the shore, damnit
But, I left it because I must have,
Don’t laugh; I must have knew something that I didn’t
Maybe a smile’ll be ok
Damnit the shore’s waves still haunt me
Sometimes I awake in the morning
My dreams flowing in the rhythm with the shore
I’ve never experience the physical pain that some have
But, curses don’t do justice to that morning aching
My life, I’ve known hate, I have, I do hate
No one ever deserves this though
To wake with the salt water still in your mouth
The desperate rush of the summers in your youth bleeding in your heart
I am now too dull a person to enjoy them, why must they bleed me
Tell me you’ve experienced worse, tell me that I know nothing
Let many years on a burning stake quench those fires, those waves
Don’t tell me they lie ahead for me, don’t tell me you would dare
Let me lie, let me wake, but never, never tell me they will return
Just please, tell me… tell meeee… those dreams
Those mornings will stop
Tell me I’ll never wake up with a sunburn on my cheek
Let me live, damnit, let me live without them
Memories so aquataneous they seer pain from my pours
Let me be crass, let me never wake up to them
I write this now afraid to go to sleep
Bastards, they go in cycles, I can never anticipate them[/tab]
Stagnant
[tab]Stagnant
It was so Stagnant
And the approaching Eve
Smelt of Stagnation
River was in dull Express
They are when they are Stagnant
A Stench that radiates from within
The River
Stagnation overwhelmed
Under the Periphery
Or hiding under the murky Waters
There was the Suterlinaverlon
Since now it illuminates underneath the surface
Since then it was obscured
Not obscured to all
The obscuration of the Suterlinaverlon
Wasn’t complete
Who, all over the Extant Ridge
Noticed the Suterlinaverlon
Suterlinaverlon, Suterlinaverlon too rich to miss
And though even It could languish
It could not, it could only grow, then die
Then die if it did not have the Pralafiteded
Stagnation and swamps with the Suterlinaverlon
Suterlinaverlon made the River flood at times
Sitting, eyes staring downward
And back to the day
Sitting, eyes staring downward
Back, then Suterlinaverlon
Realize, realize, Suterlinaverlon
And that from Stagnation
Cries and head shaped walls
The open world, inside
Outside obscured by the Suterlinaverlon
Not entirely, just the slow murky Waters
They did smell the Stench of Stagnation
They as in Them, Them, Those, The
They couldn’t have missed It, the Aroma
A thousand hand shaped walls
The Room draftless
They, They, They didn’t
Didn’t You, You, You, that is You
Not Yourself, You, didn’t You
Didn’t You smell the Stagnation
The River in dull Express
Didn’t, not, did, and then why
Hiding, too, beneath the Banks of the River
Or not so much effort, just a periphery image
Was the River
Pralafiteded after the Lake
Not the Spring, let that be for Later
Don’t jump into the Lake
Suterlinaverlon found the Pralafiteded
Sitting eyes staring forwards
The Pralafiteded
And even eyes staring Upwards
And it was a long night the Pralafiteded
Dwelt in the sunny Lake
Air so cool and sharp
And the Banks filled when Teradinerlon
Eyes wished to stare downwards
To Suterlinaverlon outside is Pralafiteded
Nothing elsewhere, eyes are closed
And other rivers flow into dim dawn
Dark blue waters, sun reflected off
Yellow grass and scenery[/tab]
Stagnant Part 2
[tab]The state of rest, it’s being has ended
It has longed edged, the shape of a river
They have now moved, shifted
Shifted to the North
Only before a long edge, a new flooding
A spring pours it forth
Let me tell you of that later
The long lake didn’t reach it
Thank god
The long lake didn’t reach it
And the section of river that I swim
Will swim… ?
Is not, never at the origin of
Smith spring, my faith
The source
Ahhhhhhhhhhh… damn IT
The source that pours forth faith
Adjacent to all dim rivers…
Snaking lakes
Missing it… settings, notions
Grounding
Thank god, god, God
god
The Smith Spring was so clear
It’s waters so acidic
So baseless!
They permeated into skin
I only guess, in my dreams
I imagine a dark lake, endlessly deep
And endlessly wide
And sinking
Never sunk, Smith Spring
It has a radiance… Meaning from it
Swarms rush towards it
Swarms, watch them, I’ll describe
Later I’ll describe what I heard
As they passed
A notion now, a notion so dim, dreary
Dreary Lakes
Now Blue rivers obtaining the earth as they pass
Chest dropped, the current left
Foregone indecision as the raft speeds away[/tab]
We can’t triagulate the post ways so we drop them anyway.
[tab]Light and dark
These oversimplifications
I take the dark, life is dark
Light is death or it seems
To only smile
It’s not within the seams
These oversimplifications
The meadow lark
Sum up the parallel
A loft is dim
A den is lit
More likely the reverse
Soon upon torn pieces
Toss them about
What to choose
Life dim dark
Death light lit
In winding songs
That’s the tunnel
The tunnel takes to the death
We as humans know enough
To see a light
It comes natural, within
most concepts of death
When have we sit down
Go to your happy place
Humans are happy
I promise you that
We all love and weep
In joy, we love the dark
We never watch the moon
And the stars
We use them for contrasts
We have an overjoy in the dark
There is only pleasure with
Stars of pain and the one
Pain
The moving Pain
They are only for contrast
And we admire them
The luminescent vibrant glitter
The ecstatic flightiness
Splashes and horizons
We can miss it if we are away too long
Lift and drop
Cassssalinimosily Looreythltret
nnnnnnrrrrrrrrrrrrooooootilate
We are all here together
One world and peace
We are happy enough already
And will be happier
That’s why the miserable
That is why they…
(Sigh)
That is why the miserable
They, they…
(Weeping)
The miserable can’t ruin it for us
And they are happy too
TTTYyyyyyyyyyylllllllldddddddlddd
laughter and dizziness
lemmings and dragoons
We’ll find peace
And first it will be through jesus
jesus was miserable and he didn’t
Ruin it for us
I care deeply for Hhimn
It was he who first showed me
What it was to begin to die
The sun was shining
And us Christians, christened
Such as the christian name
sscttooo aaaaaoooaaaarrrrrddddddtttt
We never stop knowing the light
At the end of the tunnel is the good
Death
Our happy place
Our sanctuary
Jesus loved the animals first and foremost
He did not die for them
Every ray of light that passed through
The atmosphere was left with the same
Applause
Leave well alone, don’t die
Let me go into my happy place
As I drown in music
HHHHHHHHtttttttttttiiiiiddddrrr
YYYYYYYYheeeerrrrrrrrrhhhhhh
WWWWWjjjjjjjdddddddddtttttttttt
It’s as if you couldn’t read it
Life, darkness and the setting sun
It leads to utopian sunrises
In our hearts
Noone is unsatisfied with happiness
I weep for the lost rays that the knew tectimint
Taught me
I knew then what happiness was
So to it be then for you as for us
When things pass more so for us
As while and motion passing
They were winding always
Be that more and sense of oceans
To the calm
Everyone deserves a chance and so they shall
For interjecting notions that have integral
Sentences always in approach
It’s simple the way I see it, we are all in rhythm
In cloud or maze
In a house or haze
And we sink and laze
gggggggggggggttttttttttttttttiiiiiiiiiittttt
Light and dark
That was the beginning and we will begin
Again
Up and Left, that’s the choice
Left is always uplifting
Try it
And Up leaves longing
Lies it’s afternoon unraveling
Textures italics
Always integrated always ulterior
And I forgot
(Damnit Damnit)
(Slams fist against desk)
Usher action leery, teaming torn cries
affffffffffillllooor iiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrryyyy
ddddddddiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnn dddoooooreee
Just take one last seat
(All humans are happy)
The world can be solved
Cry Damn You Damn You
Damnnn youu…— damn you
damnn dammnnnit damn you
We can have the kkkknnnoooo teeeccctttimenent
one more time
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I’m sorry let’s leave it in Hell
Noone pleads
We cried one last time
We wept damn you damn you
We are not all brothers and equals
The aninomees are our betters
Better for them
“Call me brother one more time!”
“goDdamn you.”
“Say it.”
Can I wreck the halls here, will I be
ForgiveN, jesuS even wouldn’t
jesuS knew the art of dry wall first
In the kneeeewwwer tessstttimmmennnt
He taught us it
I drink the blood of a ram and then
Disinigrate the drywall
jesuS inherited the deatH so we could inherit
thE eartH and He was a drywalleR
And I’m lowlier a carpe…
t cleaner, I’ll inherent it one way or
another’s’ way[/tab]
The mysterious notion of the return
[tab]Since when was it that way
That we could return
I don’t see it that way
not anymore
but, that’s why I want the return
… so much
Goddamn notion of the return
I see pieces of brain matter on the wall
The brick wall!
I thought it was the gate way to the past
–
Goddamn…, stupid!!
Take a piece of it and mold it, have faith in it now
–
And!..
…fuck it…
…you goddaMn shit
You dennyyy … it
you want it to change
pitful fucking fiend
motherless swine
Motherless Swines
And then when we all knew it was other
and we forgeten it, we forgeten it
it is deeeeeeeeNnnniiiiiiIeeeeeeeeed
dipshits dying to do denying
they deny, they eevin would
.
.
.
.deeennnyy
–
…
…
There mothErs!!
-It’s over, motherless swine
you weren’t born to a mother
you are free, free of…
Pelicans
I’m picking up the pieces and…
Goddamn it,… you know…
I won’t bother to sort them
I must stop this for now
I’ll get back to you after I flip the bill
Goddamn moonlit ducks
it’s as if you couldn’t read them!
Rightly so,
even the dead are past
we must move on!!!
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.[/tab]
Celebration of the dead
[tab]The dead have died
and so have earned our respect
they should have been dead sooner
and neither born to this world at all
But, dead they are, and that we respect
Take up my air!.. that…
is the prevailing notion we give to the living
Quit breathing in my space… what? (a sly grin)…
What is my space!?.. just keep walking… I’ll tell you when
All saints day,
but really all dead day
they have achieved sainthood through being dead
it started with jjesuuss who showed us:
watch, I’ll summarize it
“give unto others what you don’t need, your last loaf of bread,
burn in hell for certaint for several reasons, deny god;
certaintly, deny the holy ghhhoossssssssttt;
certantlyer” jesus was no hypocrite, he took
his words seriously he couldn’t just keep…
eating lofes of bread for his needy
stomach when other stomachs
were needyer… he fixed that
and he is a saint
How many years
can one life spend
in respectful mourning
for the dead?@@@@@@!
Well, let’s make an educated,
guess, based on antidoteal evidence…
one says “im soorry i havnt th time for yoo m frnd”
one syas “so mcchh t doo s lttle tyme” and m favorite,
“im too bussy”, But, thy allways leave tyme for the dead…
…days, days, days, chrisTmass, all saints day (for whomever was left out)
I sleep well in graveyards at night
so where can i go to be frightened??
malaaaiiise, that is what is frightening
will you bury my malaise in the dirt???
you motherless bastard[/tab]
Celebration of the dead Part 2
[tab]A creeping waryness
An ecstatic calm
and notions well past dawn
hell is the most of the notions
A dismal feeling
Dimspent dark
and falling spirits lark
to hell they belong
Acreeloration minds me
Calyeint dreary
sintilorscof is leary
hell too, you guessed
Associated numbness
dead, lifeful
sintilorscof, spiteful!
born in hell, as it couldn’t not
Putresent agony
Vile and soar
running to nor
hell that is, as well it should
Pumpkin’s flame
scorches inside
skeletle hand that pain denied
a first impression of hell
Was it as you expected?
No, it was fine
As hell can leave room to pine
heaven is where the flames are
heaven is where the flames are
that’s what hurts
damned to causeaction it asserts
christ and his fork
Christ and his fork?
and satan in rags
sintilorscof still here, but lags
sintilorscof, i’ll call hieritmh sint
sint with the fork in tatters
glass everywhere, shatters
heherit, my sint, loves
he loves to sdihyeeriltwog
guessed too, itherhe will jtioeeriltwog
glass and a fork
sint and christ and satan
what is that make
as simple noise slake
and drank blood
toooooooooorrrrrrrkkkkkkkkkklll
eeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrr
set set yeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaar
which one
aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh deeeeecayyyyyy
before which check lfe’s ledger
let me, check my deadger
sint, m sint, m sint, so
sint sint sint sint
is heerhti, is hirteeh bent
nineth point sixsevensix circle
sint to the sinth in heallenveh
hhhhhhtttttttyyyyyypppppppgggggg
ddddddrrrtttttyyyyyyyypppppppgggggg
and finally
pound the wall
hfafhruevwuarvnuwvn
ehfwuhfuewihfiwarvnuwvn
and more, this is helleavenh
jsfhjkfhskjfhsdjkfh
ehweuifhwuhaygdywqgdywdeb
hvbehvbebvehbveybvybryywqgdywdeb
hell?.. what hell?
hfrefurefurehfur
ewfbuiwehfuwhdfiueqfb
euhfiweufhiuwhfuiwheufhew
fewfwuieh
wefhuheuwu
wefhwuiehf
euyeuwhushdu
ewuhufwh
ewfwoi
wfehfweo
rewrybkjnuhguygyug[/tab]
The Cesspool Outwith From Our Abode
[tab]We can’t live in this world
As it is, there are too many, here
They take from us, our insides
Damn you take the life from me
You, almost all of you
But, I’m here
I’m here to seek
Because I, we are lost, so we seek
This is what we are born into
So we stagnate on the issue
Until we die
We were born to be used to it
It is unnatural to spend eighty years
Seeking, to be born into Found
Would have been
Would have been, better
I will not absorb you all, be absorbed by you all
You cretins, so similar, too many similar
THERE IS NO OBVIOUS GODDAMN CRITERIA TO CHOOSE
Where is the criteria, why do Those who have an idea
Why do They languish? The Realists, those who
Don’t DENNNNNNYYYYYYYY
Theirs is the hypocrisy that kills me
They have Their vague criteria, They chose it
And then They languish, without having Found
They cannot love the other, that veil has been burned
They take on that nature of hate for those that
Have been ruled out
Through Their vagueness
The hairless animal has left it’s cover too soon or
Ill prepared, it burns in the light, the light of
Non-denial, and It runs for cover of a tree, where It
Can mock those still in their hole, shaded and comfortable
And then Some will not settle for cover
Will continually run in the light and burn
As if I had a choice
I run above the denier’s tunnels and do not love them
I can’t, there’s too many
I can’t hate them, but burn with sympathy
Or is that the sun???
The Shaded Surfaces are all I can hate if I must
Scurry if the shade fails[/tab]
Axiomatically Formlessness Belongs to the Former
[tab]I may return to the former
And it won’t be a regression
A regress can happen due to
Damage to one’s head
This is forwards
AS the former with form!
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stranger.”
What doesn’t crucify you
Leaves your self-destructive ego pining
Until it’s in a pine box.
Or you may be fortunate enough
To have others’ ego inflate your
Dead one
Most of us still want to be crucified someday
This should be a common form of satirical derision:
“Nail my hands and feet to a cross and
Forget to stamp my return ticket from Hell.”
Just kill me.
Just kill me.
Isn’t that the best response you can give
To anyone’s derisions
“Just kill me.” Sarcastic, but meaning sincerely;
“Marty me, please”.
And to one in a more day to day mood
They may let you know that if you don’t stop
You may face martyrdom
You want to think they’ll later be ashamed!!
The things that haven’t provoked shame…
I don’t want to be cremated
I like the idea of rotting
It is one of the most harkened existential
Things allowed a person.
Even if they don’t awaken in their graves
Nor have it robbed, during a misty night
It will still be there rotting without
Any theatrics
But, nothing compares to crucifixion.
“Leave it until the buzzards break apart the bones!”
Let me continue to
Vomit a pretentious flow of thought
AS if poetry
A plastic cathedral
A flow of death
To get me back to where
I can go forwards
Wait, take back those two lines
I’m getting ahead of myself.
This is about a regression.
To turn back the clock
Until all discernations have died
Turn it back
Turn in back
Almost, until the body too has died
The Ultimate form of regressive death
And if to die hiding under the covers…!
Don’t deny the difference
Don’t return to nihilism
Linger back a ways, only
Everyone and everything equates
So long as it doesn’t…
Hit me over the head like a hammer
And then that might be fine
Blood pouring from my mouth
I’ll discern that hammer
From my soft pillow
And as I, ice strapped to my head,
Try not to fall
Into unconsciousness that night
I’ll have begun to make other
Real discernments[/tab]