Disjointed and in Disarray
Destroyed with useless feelings in tow
Could i really be?
Away from myself, three days in a row

No goings or comings
Only fleeings
No running, or chasing
Only feelings, ever fleeting

Irony among ironies
Fear never scared me

Everything is cold

But they’ll not die

Fallen to extended sleep

Man’s pets always represent him

Trees being no exception

For like the trees

Man will always sleep

Until at last awakened

By something worthwhile

Pray it doesn’t last too long

For sleep is one step away…

Restoration

While out walking

In a land that loathed reality

But craved it above all else

I was walking nowhere

But still attached to my gait

As it was continuing my movement in the cold

I passed a briskly walking man

His chin extended when we passed

A professional it would seem

Three piece suit

Complete with expensive shoes

This man’s garb said it all

He was raised to be this way

Since his birth he’d wished to be wealthy

Above all things, he was proud of himself

The cord spiraling down from his ear

It was the latest in cellular technology

But he spoke no words, no inspiration from his tongue

As I walked, another man passed me by

Slightly older, however still a professional

But no pride was in his step

One could see, his shoulder’s slumping,

Head turned down,

No strength left,

But who could blame him,

It was obvious, he was never proud

Merely doing what he was told

He was talking to no one

No phone attached to his ear

Merely his own thoughts, echoing in his head

As I walked, and thought

I wondered how many men reacted this way

To simple American youth

Were we all we could be? Perhaps. Were we all we should be? No

Dropped into an ocean
No life vest in hand
In a battle against falsehood
I'm fighting the tide

While enveloped in waves
That are built of temptation
"You'll never lose,
And become one of us"

They say to join the winning team
And I'm being enticed
"You'll not survive,
Out here all alone"

After a second to ponder
I'll simply reply
"To win is nothing,
Give me cement shoes"

Poison exhaust, long gone, fills the air,
Smoke, my lungs
A roaring behemoth of commerce by day
But a respite from insanity by night

Back pressed against the warm concrete
This is peace,
Standing one’s ground against opposition
And holding fast to what maintains your spirit

For me,
This is nothing but yellow, dashed lines…

Fallen Angel

Tattered clothes, disheveled hair
Her home, anywhere, everywhere
Dirt, filth and cruelty, hatred and love
All things have been seen, by her and the lord above

Scoffing noticeably, they avoid her glance
No one to see, or to give her a chance
Sitting on the side of the road
Lighting a cigarette, while alone and cold

Over privileged children will stare
But this fallen angel cannot care
Her home is greater than all of theirs combined
Her home is that great place in the sky

Headlights' Song

The blinding shine
Of headlights
Flying by in double time
The horns scream as I feel like Christ

Just one stick of cancer
And I’ll walk until it burns out
As footsteps crunch, I become sure
The squealing of tires is not unlike a shout


The shout says to me

You must leave, child
Leave this shoulder
Your instincts are wrong, though wild
Though being homeless, you seem older

It is right,
But leave I will not
For there is so much yet to fight
In the conflict, I'll not be caught

And suddenly, the spark dies
The stick has lost its fuel
Much like the struggle for light
Only in the presence of an adversary, can truth ever win

It is ironic, that the only thing that we can surely count on to come, the future, is never solidified until it happens, when it becomes the present.

Paradoxical

Do you wish to go to heaven?
Well of course I do
How do I get in?

You must become broken
Humbled before god
Recognize that he is your ruler

You must know that god
And only god, will save your soul
This is why your spirit must be broken

But sir, what if god did not wish us to be broken?
What if god wanted us to be strong?
To stand up for ourselves to adversity

I believe he made us to be free
God did not wish for a weak creation
We are the rulers of the world, we are headstrong

No! He demands total humility!
You may have been made free
But in heaven you'll not be free

Sir, I must say
By your reasoning that
God is a tyrant

“Like the rest, cold and distant”
Said he
And though this is fiction
He speaks the truth

For who is not cold and distant?
Who’s not been staring into a man’s face
And seen nothing but nothing?
None among us, I suspect
.
Cold and distant
Such meaning but with such disdain
No such human have a met
That did not fill this criterion

The rest of them
Staring into a crowd,
Can you pick one that’s dissimilar?
Sadly, I can not

The below poem is not emo in any way, and merely the re-telling of the events of an event that I am not proud of and do not wish to ever do again, I do not wish any attention for this, and only needed to get it off of my chest.

Heart racing and pulse pounding
Staring at the pills in my hand
Could I really have done that?
A dozen seemed so insignificant

I try to sleep
To no avail
When suddenly like a brick
It hits

I'm perspiring and panting
Dropping to the floor
No concern but breathing
Inhaling has become my only obsession

Hand over wrist, feeling the pounding
It's no longer rhythmic
Now it's beome frantic
As a runner stretching for a finish line

I can't feel pain any more
Can't experience pleasure
The purpose has been served
And I collapse into a sleepless rest

Coherent

Coherent, what an evil concept
Take the words
Make them make sense
Make them fit
Together like a puzzle

Coherency took my mind away
Took my thoughts away
took my hopes away
Coherency ate my dreams away

Words should be arranged with thoughts
Thinking should be arranged in fragments
Thinking shouldn't be given rules
Thoughts and words, no difference
I think so
Coherency killed the generation
It made us all make sense
Too much logical procedure
Changed our minds
Abnormal

Stand in the future
Stare at the past
Fear at the inevitable
Quake at its coming

The pain of your demise
Pales at the compare
It feels of the world
But is overshadowed

The obstinate foe
Is overtaking your sorrow
It's there, everpresent
Never to be taken lightly

Like a mind-guard
It stares you in your face
Like the man in the mirror,
Waiting for your move

Because you have realized
It is nothing of the supernatural
But something so real, it is feared
It is your grimace, staring back

Travis Bickle

A solitary finger pointed at my head
So much has led to this point
Staring across the room
I realize that I have done good

Their blood-stained bodies sprawl
As she cowers in the corner
She is only 13
But now she will live

The officer stares
Wide-eyed and amazed
The carnage wrought before him
It is a gruesome sight

But it will be my last sight
For I will end all questions and doubt
WIth this make believe gun
I will set both me and her free

Fourty Five Words
But in that, lies freedom
For those words, men died of their own accord
Sacrificed their lives, for an idea

The Idea that Ideas should be free
No laws to govern them
A man can be who he wants to be
No one can tell him what to say

This is our human right
There is nothing more important than words
They will not take them without a fight

All natural
You have your wholesome goodness
Haven't you forgotten what's natural?

Killings diseases, rape and murder
Hate, prejudice and blind faith
These are what is natural

Give me the un-natural.

They have withered eyes
As conspirators in their blank stares
With cheap cigarettes burning bright
They're weighed down by worldly cares

But strangely they are not restless
For staring into nowhere
Must seem a solace
From a life that is so unfair

As they sit slouched, nearly asleep
I must stop to contemplate
How will my eyes feel,
After fifty years dealing with fate?