Abolish this burden inside
the corpse of the future excised
an unavoidable demise
seeded in me to now reside
Sounds of writhing are amplified
as the roots force the flesh incised
“Abolish this burden inside
the corpse of the future excised”
There is still warmth I must confide
as if one could make heat from lies
this life found to be death disguised
it remains here though I have died,
abolish this burden inside.
Youth was such a storm of progress
shards of life in broken houses
compiled sweetly to impress
Older but still young at heart
I made knives from shattered glass
cut myself from cloth with class
Only time lapse could capture younger days
the ones now burn slow and pass in a phrase
something about redefining success
There is no need for time to keep going
the river flows against our rowing
but the water rushes onward still
despite efforts to paddle uphill
Loud laughter echoes in the night
turmoil ripping through sober thoughts
the tranquil air thus met with blight
to bare the yoke that madness sought.
Beneath this burden I was caught
trying to connect sound with sight
while in my mind a war was fought
loud laughter echoes in the night.
It consumes me with such great fright
threads of sanity frayed and fraught
all the sense and reason taking flight
Turmoil ripping through sober thoughts
the joyous sound reaps what was wrought
as evening overcomes twilight
darkness becomes a juggernaut
the tranquil air thus met with blight
strikes me like a meteorite;
suddenly I am me but not
the truth inside is held down tight
to bare the yoke that madness sought
dim enough to have been forgot
though behind the mind it shines bright
and bricks can birth the Argonaut
just split thine head to release the light.
Loud laughter echoes.
This is not the end, this is now.
A discord struck by a room of honed swords
their calloused dispositions and raised brows
theatrics to hide the malice
they knew the rest of us abhorred.
An invisible card made noose somehow
break the vow and shatter the glass palace.
This is not the end. This is now.
He loved me with an ironic heart
such emotions you could never see
but for what its worth it did its part
He loved me.
Nothing you would ever find on a marque
more a thing felt in the time apart
a gift bestowed on the absentee
Hidden in wisdom he would impart
infused within our morning coffee
buried in machines I could not start
he loved me.
The throm of the bell’s toll calls all souls home
an iron melody to draw us out
lay low the day that brought us to such doubts
When we’ve reached bitter end of this tome
and the waters of life have met with drought
the throm of the bell’s toll calls all souls home
an iron melody to draw us out
No matter how many miles we may roam
or to what causes we may feel devout
there is always the same end to our route
The throm of the bell’s toll calls all souls home
an iron melody to draw us out
lay low the day that brought us to such doubts.
All of us stand lined up in position
stripped and bare like a vacant apartment
cupped hands hiding bits in flesh compartments
as if modesty makes the patrician
but really shame is more the condition
as if we are defined by our garments
without them we are just naked parchments
awaiting some others inked ambition.
We talk to ourselves with fists
a pugilist of reason
faced against years of abuse
the ebb and flow of emotional seasons
Only reason knows when to quit
but abuse will never stop
unloading blow after blow
to make sure no one else lives on top
Anything for that title
we have absently supplied
trading any confidence
for whatever drama we’ve cooked up inside.
With your value undefined
transactional praise given
where else could you we ever turn?
Unconceited, to the fights we are driven.
We can but hope that we win,
our critical self will fall
our ego rise the victor
but victory grants an albatross for us all
Our ego must be tempered
our abuse must die in shame,
either way our value breaks,
time and again it works exactly the same.
Without honesty we lose
the audience inside us
is only there for the show
ring the bell, choose yourself – the rest are treasonous.
Peel
Burst
Citrus – flesh – ripped
the gnashing of teeth
pistons of sinew and pulp
thrust against the gums
they speak loudly of the burning sun
Stifled by a crumbling damn of cotton
fire not tamed
but embraced
made temperate
the fruits of violence
and the seeds of gluttony
surge forth to their end.
A broken rock split by time // Aeons spent apart
The world moves on between them // smoothing out the flaws
Their soft round edges betray // hostile origins
Never to embrace again // but better for it
Grow Gray With Me 