It's always darkest before dawnBlack trash has died before he was even buriedSitting next to scarf wearing girls on the busBut no one can hear the padded rhythm of his shoes before stepping into the devils denRoses in the devils garden I tell you,Roses in the devils gardenI used to tell himWhat is your name because,Angels who I have known climbed high and never came back downSo I left them thereIn the sweetness so coldAnd they stay there sedatedSo will you pray for me, for them, for allBecause you have electricity in your soulAnd it could have a chance to come out playFor once before concrete depositionAnd he says to meWho the fuck are you to sayYou’ve felt a shot in the darkAnd whiningly speak of beingblinded by the sun and stars
May the moon shine bright aboveRed Rover,Calling you over,to breathe sweet monoxide to my lungsleave me black and deadin a cold alley's gutterso I can spark up little purityto prostitutes and pimpsjunkies with lips locked around run-away'sthat pause to pay hesitant respect
Another AbominationNever love your mother.Because you deserved to leave that clawed up house from the start, and no hours of relentless sobbing will turn you back. Do not trade weak spoken slam poetry tinged with lisps for unspoken lovey-dovey ramblings.She was not there with your peeps of suicide, slitting your wrists with paperclips and etching out tree branches to your skin.You deserve to write ANGRY UPPERCASE POETRY on bathroom showers after standing in the shower, breathing steam. Wanting to turn into some abomination to swim away and sink faux fangs into human flesh.Rare moments of shoving freezer burned chocolate ice cream into your mouth is delicate, with laughing your ass off like a crazy man, eyes glued to the T.V. No amount of disappointing desserts foreign to the mainstream eye is worth it.I still think that men who love men who drown themselves because they love the sea are ABSOLUTELY PREPOSTEROUS, AND SCHIZOPHRENIA IS JUST ANOTHER POINTLESS CARICATURE OF DREAMS SPOILED IN THE MIND OF A
How I loved his battle cryTo him, loyalty was the single witness of your crucifixion, and as you lay upon the makeshift cross of decaying metal, maybe, just maybe, she would breathe you back to life with her hoarse words, and the feet to hold up your body would tread once again on this forbidden planet.I believe these were not his exact words, because he was a simple machine, and had been hushed by this mistress for as long I had tried to make him speak.The day I first met him was when I was shifting through codes of binary, and stumbled upon his locks of lavender with green eyes sparking the darkness. I only watched him as he played with his brothers, and then waited for my father to call me home.That night I asked him again, and he said I will never love another man. He said this while I averted to the deer head mounted next to our psalms. His coal hardened eyes made me guilty, and I mumbled a word of recognition for him. I never felt sorrow, but hedeserved my respect.On the second day there was mu
Affairs and other amiable thingsMrs.Mallard sang, a ballad that could make Mona Lisa cry out in both wonder and fear afflictions with the heart you say?... what is this? railroad disasters, it was only an open window! Catching patches of blue skies, flying free,free,free! And to honor a lovely life, I say she loved you sometimes Because she drank the elixer of life,
A Confession of love to a worker of many sortsMonochrome skies with the seekers flying high,What a wonderful day,I dreamed of my beloved and I setting sail,I beg you, take me awayAnd honestly there is nothing wrong with,kisses drunk with passion and the atmosphere of the imaginary land I walk .
Airplanes in armsHeart attacks in a glass, what a wonderful dayBreathing in the blackness of greedWait, what?A moral on its way?Chop its head off, and let the true blood flow,For we live in the land of pure metal.
Puppy dog tears and golden ringsLet words unwrap you as if it was your first raptureAre you breathing in too tight?I may not believe in God, but damn I believe in life.Oh noIn the end we are all clinging to violin strings, where was the grand symphony to play us out?I always knew the cello was the wisest of them all.
Golden seekers are the blindest ones of them allYou are,not so great,Thanks to your blessings,The poisoned hummingbird continues to pollinate till this dayMaybe the proud spider should stop spinning its knotted web,So you can smell the burnt thunderbolt falling from the sky
I would have you do thisHere.this is your prayeryour mantra, your news.I leave it as I found it, papering in the streets.as godless a truth as you will knowit’s still a ghost of a dreamsmaller than theories of infinite resolution. you will believe it because it has no industryno acolytes or storefronts.it’s not an embezzlement of fascinationor confabulation of missing histories.you will not doubt its truth because your design is hollow the space inside your car the adventitious spine that vials through the weeds the ice of march on adam’s needle the ants, crickets, beetles under sandstone waiting in a music box for the catalysts to wake and split them out into the breen.you will speak of your awarenesswithout knowing what inhabits it like a colour that doesn't hum or passing through a future forest of apparitions in bald park meadows a
Colour of voicesas the bow of strings pull my dulling heart to my surprise,your colours were beyond brighter, than they're brightness could dieas buildings shone gold glistening to the sun,whose voices were yet to vibrate, to the lips of one.what was this call that alleviates those quiet psalmsyet to spread-out those lips, to dead this stormwould thou vow revenge or call out screamsfor this to all to end, as if all was but a dream.to see this side to your happiness,as the softness of your half-heart was happy no lessunbridled, if no less harsh, a mirror's halfI saw a beauty not of this flesh.to not let tarnish what time had frozento only be seen by those eyes of a chosen fewso long many longed, the lonely heart,that was stolen, and had grew...so many kept it secret, a desire had spoke it too and fro, as these tears that provoke,so a thousand words to call the wind its nameI saw a mere smile, so wild none could tamesaying goo
Hey, Jesus...Me: Hey Jesus...how come you didn't choose me to be Your Mother?Jesus: If you were My Mother, you wouldn't be My Bride.
Dear LokiDear Loki,Take the chaos that is all around me.Calm the stormy seas of my emotions.I cannot travel this path alone.Christ is the Prince of Peace,and my first love among the gods,but I feel I need someone beside meWho knows the dark.Who knows pain.Who knows destruction can lead to creation.Help me make something beautifulOut of the ashes.
Hope and desperationHope and desperation walk togetherbe strong is to overcome the desperationand hope until the endFaith is believing in the unbelievablelook at the infinitenot having any guarantees, no securitygive up alland hope to findsomething bigger than this gray realityI have hopeand walk in the darknessand desperation is the price paid by the desire for some light
AttractionHell is but a stepwithin redemption.Hate is but a smileamong conception.Heaven is the run,of a fast and wild stream.Love is the voiceof every person's dream.Opposites attracteven the ghosts of a past.Being alikeis what everyone wants last.
caused, not predestinedtime, and the universe...our creators;not to worship,but for us to realize -that without 14 billion yearsof evolutionary process,derived of the random though it may be,we would notnor could notexist.yes, each individual is unique;but it takes a good portion of humility[and deep introspection]to gain a true sense -of the selveswe did not ourselves create.the one who says,"I - am a self-made man",may have unfortunately*turned out to be*(!)among the most delusionalof all the entities evolvedsince consciousness began.llp - apr2012 - dA
Don't struggleMy dear,Don't struggleTrying to get away from me anymoreBecause I'm...You can't hearMy name?Are you not readyTo return to me?I'll let you go...For now, my childBut before you go,I will give you this(a kiss of innocence)And you'll keepIn a form of aNecklace,So now you can go backTo the world you came from.And when you'reReady...This charmWill shine,Letting me knowThat your time is up.I found you,For so long I'veWaited for youBut this timeI'm not letting youGo back to dream world.
Heaven Knows PrettyHeaven Knows PrettyShe walks the streetsalone and afraidthat they might returnto make her suffer again...Worse than beforeher worst fearsget the best of herThey spiral herdown an alleywayShe returns to the placeher own hellwhere they stoleevery last crumbof her dreamsher fantasiesher very sanity...Her eyes twitchand a single tearinvoluntarily dropsdown her sullen faceShe looks upto see a fence that shedidn't recall protectinganything before...anyone...All her demons come backto see her perchedupon a rotting wooden crateAn angel appears glowingfrom the vandalized wallin front of the girl"Where were you...when I needed you most?"She sat in silencefor a momentand one moment only"I needed help...I received none..."Waiting for what seemedlike an eternity"I'm nothing but ugly now"...She gains a certainlight-headednessFalling fiercely downwardsoon caught bythe angel's soft robed lap"Child..."She pauses to look intothe now lifelesshollow eye
Do you hear me?Cracking your knuckles against my teethAnd singing silly love songs to insomniaRoses are red,Lobelias are blue,Conjunctions are just sighsSped up to you