* we forget * 01/04/2015
On the cusp of a breakdown
Because my hand that's fed bitten
My love returned to me destructive
Turned on by everyone I've built up
Its called, in essence, beginning of the end
Because those arounds hidden emotions
Of hurt hidden in their Busch beers
Weed, pills and methamphetamine
Transferred onto me like an acid
Sick. Like a dead mans last gasps
But up. Moving. Doin Everyones work
Buried in your spit that i created
Through feeding and heating you
This the classic ending of the magnificent
One track minded between work and bills
Parlay momentarily with modern love lust
Let down and lettin down like bank accounts
Spent i sit with erratic heartbeat
Curious how much time i have left
Death. Not such a bad thing to the dead
Eyes placed to witness greatest and worst
From pinnacles of galaxies to coal pits
We witness moments yet forget...
Wednesday, 24 December 2014
*Chia Sentence* 12/24/2014
Tenuous realities splattered with blood and shit
Time clocks, gas tanks and coffee mugs
Wondering to illusions if this is it
You fuckin wonder about these revolutionaries
Blowin up painted brick
You fuckin asked for it pig nation
Carryin your weight on your backs
Like an eagle obsessed
With whale meat and mammoth tooth
She monkey that digs holes
In jungle floors
As the troop kakaws from above
Handfuls of golden response
Thrown upwards like peoples
Shattered dreams
Speak spit sentences lippily
Cup ears like hollowed out emotions
Bent and moldy this
Bowl fluid
Work like its death
Live like eternal jobs
Behind toilets punching numbers
On the scum screens floating
Gloves rippling blood clots
Love me used and hate me borrowed
Back twitch as payment for
Chores worked like bank accounts
Of the starving to death
Seeking interest on ten cents
Most if not all buried regretting
All if not almost forgetting buried
Within days
Except for the payments
Or paychecks
Left
Clouds pirouette skies flashing pink
Skirts lifted heavenly skyward
Atom bombs like cocks penetrating
Hymens
Yule tide crashin upon empirific demise
Burial grounds of first nations
Embracing blood droppings and corpses
Grandchildren of genocide grandfathered
Silently
Owls hoot outside as pine smoke drifts
Wet dirt smells passing like pain
Across lips smiling at the largest
Bluest and brightest
Most lovingest and dangerous
Stoved in skulls flowerpottin fascists
Communist dreams watering ceramic futures
Pasted like Chia pets against
Weeping walls
Tuesday, 9 December 2014
* Spit Up * 12/09/2014
Restless riots releasing pent up rage
Pigs policing white supremacist illusions
Corporate killers corrupt beyond belief
Middle class small town, upper class Utah
Your prayers bullshit for your miniscule tragedies
Uppity jacked-up emotions facebooked for likes
Middle finger media sat on like spit up
On sperm covered couches in front of flatscreens
Prison industrial complex embraced or forgotten
Employ your daughter who cages your son
Steady paychecks beside steady delusions
Sign your name on the war on drug game
I can't fuckin breathe or gunned down
Holding BB guns, handcuffed behind backs
Pigs punching a constant in this land of genocide
Blame entirely on the innocent
Like Israel in Palastine or Europeans in Amerikka
Crimes foul like pox blankets
Rockets fired at innocents or troops boots
Dusting religious sentiment with soldiers
Clutching Maxim magazines, pork-lipped
Cowardly pink badged or camouflaged
Street soldiers and sand mercenaries
Death flags stitched on side pockets
Pictures of blonde home honeys waiting
Who hump paroled felons who feel them
For the short seconds before re-setup
A Womans character detecting incorrectness
In occupations consisting of injustice
Released from " corrections " to momentarily
Absorb compassion from the mothers of our species
Only solace for these alpha of the genus
Hands like t-bones after decade clutching
Realities unreality in chains insane
Mind open-season to those hell bent
On proving the basic points of the basically pointless
Labor aristocracy swarming poised over its grave
Unassuming fascists fluorided and bourgeois bleached
Manicured madness moisturized religious
Like lady liberty buttfucked by Jesus
Restless riots releasing pent up rage
Pigs policing white supremacist illusions
Corporate killers corrupt beyond belief
Middle class small town, upper class Utah
Your prayers bullshit for your miniscule tragedies
Uppity jacked-up emotions facebooked for likes
Middle finger media sat on like spit up
On sperm covered couches in front of flatscreens
Prison industrial complex embraced or forgotten
Employ your daughter who cages your son
Steady paychecks beside steady delusions
Sign your name on the war on drug game
I can't fuckin breathe or gunned down
Holding BB guns, handcuffed behind backs
Pigs punching a constant in this land of genocide
Blame entirely on the innocent
Like Israel in Palastine or Europeans in Amerikka
Crimes foul like pox blankets
Rockets fired at innocents or troops boots
Dusting religious sentiment with soldiers
Clutching Maxim magazines, pork-lipped
Cowardly pink badged or camouflaged
Street soldiers and sand mercenaries
Death flags stitched on side pockets
Pictures of blonde home honeys waiting
Who hump paroled felons who feel them
For the short seconds before re-setup
A Womans character detecting incorrectness
In occupations consisting of injustice
Released from " corrections " to momentarily
Absorb compassion from the mothers of our species
Only solace for these alpha of the genus
Hands like t-bones after decade clutching
Realities unreality in chains insane
Mind open-season to those hell bent
On proving the basic points of the basically pointless
Labor aristocracy swarming poised over its grave
Unassuming fascists fluorided and bourgeois bleached
Manicured madness moisturized religious
Like lady liberty buttfucked by Jesus
Thursday, 27 November 2014
* Goose Step * 11/28/2014
Tabulate strength in a spine in comparison to that of a pine tree. Measure your worth dead to that of the living. Staring up at a grey sky whos uncaring of all humanities been through. Wondering the purpose of our wasteful existences.
Its not like saving money will save the world. The do it yourself movement isn't the answer to anything. Seems like we are on a one way trip to nowhere and nobody cares beyond this minute. Purposeless we playact our nonexistent purposes.
Fuckin sittin behind a desk our whole life. Takin money for chips. Bedridden guilty consciouses scratching sick itch as we cough up the expensive habits we suffer with.
Squeezing out feelings we spend whole lives holding in. Dribbling down our shirtfronts in dark rooms nicely locked. Eyes darting for witnesses of sordid imaginings.
Sick pathetic Amerikkkkkkk.
Tabulate strength in a spine in comparison to that of a pine tree. Measure your worth dead to that of the living. Staring up at a grey sky whos uncaring of all humanities been through. Wondering the purpose of our wasteful existences.
Its not like saving money will save the world. The do it yourself movement isn't the answer to anything. Seems like we are on a one way trip to nowhere and nobody cares beyond this minute. Purposeless we playact our nonexistent purposes.
Fuckin sittin behind a desk our whole life. Takin money for chips. Bedridden guilty consciouses scratching sick itch as we cough up the expensive habits we suffer with.
Squeezing out feelings we spend whole lives holding in. Dribbling down our shirtfronts in dark rooms nicely locked. Eyes darting for witnesses of sordid imaginings.
Sick pathetic Amerikkkkkkk.
Sunday, 23 November 2014
* Mirror Givers * 11/23/2014
A year and a half free
Full year employed at the busiest truck stop
Enough work experience now for better employment
Sleep at night deeper the more i exhaust
Pain doesn't X-out enjoyment when the latters
Nonexistent
Wifts of reality wafting up from mirage footsteps
Feeling like a hamster one-way glassed
Peeping periodically past the people
Feeding looped reels like carrots
To glassy, wall-eyed rabbits who've jus witnessed
Parents death at the teeth of weasels
Pissin yourself as you digest
Every face has that which it can't confront
You're this, you're that but like reflections
Gleaming sideways unseeing we continue
With perfection in eyes bleeding of disease
Breath smelling of substances
Makeupped wanton need to be pretty
We proceed
When the jokes on you long enough
You become able to turn the tables
Audience involved unto silence
Like Kurt Cobain clapping
Sarcastically, sporadic like a shotgun
Into faces
Quieted with derision
The destruction of the comedic
Like fucking a partner so long you hate it
Hang it from a belt
Rape it like Black Amerikka
Hey, Robin and Cosby
Fuckin psuedo-society woe-seekers
Destruction of creativity a la
Finale' empiricity
My delusion I've used it
Hurt none in the process of it
I'll proceed with it as need necessitates
Avoiding unto perfection
This
Poetic tetris tic tac toe morass
Ones personal
Insurrection
Dizzy like a mouse in a tight wall
Worsening
Need for the worst stalemated
By some inconceivable net structure
Trap door made of red carpet
Scittering feet across chewed wood
Its only me...
A year and a half free
Full year employed at the busiest truck stop
Enough work experience now for better employment
Sleep at night deeper the more i exhaust
Pain doesn't X-out enjoyment when the latters
Nonexistent
Wifts of reality wafting up from mirage footsteps
Feeling like a hamster one-way glassed
Peeping periodically past the people
Feeding looped reels like carrots
To glassy, wall-eyed rabbits who've jus witnessed
Parents death at the teeth of weasels
Pissin yourself as you digest
Every face has that which it can't confront
You're this, you're that but like reflections
Gleaming sideways unseeing we continue
With perfection in eyes bleeding of disease
Breath smelling of substances
Makeupped wanton need to be pretty
We proceed
When the jokes on you long enough
You become able to turn the tables
Audience involved unto silence
Like Kurt Cobain clapping
Sarcastically, sporadic like a shotgun
Into faces
Quieted with derision
The destruction of the comedic
Like fucking a partner so long you hate it
Hang it from a belt
Rape it like Black Amerikka
Hey, Robin and Cosby
Fuckin psuedo-society woe-seekers
Destruction of creativity a la
Finale' empiricity
My delusion I've used it
Hurt none in the process of it
I'll proceed with it as need necessitates
Avoiding unto perfection
This
Poetic tetris tic tac toe morass
Ones personal
Insurrection
Dizzy like a mouse in a tight wall
Worsening
Need for the worst stalemated
By some inconceivable net structure
Trap door made of red carpet
Scittering feet across chewed wood
Its only me...
Monday, 10 November 2014
*Answer* 11/10/2014
Fresh cut pine pops, burning in an antique 1940s stove with brand new stove pipe. Resting on the floor of the longed for addition to my fathers house i used to listen to my mother and father speak of as i sat on the carpet playing with Lincoln logs. These hands made come true thirty years later. Cracked, cramped and bleeding. I did it.
A cemented hell scrubbed and swept beyond clean hourly as an unshaven, unclean animal paces up and down lookin for dirt. The search for solace solely on the inside when placed in solitary sensory deprivation. Like the princess and the pea, searchingly you feel the discomfort of the smallest. Until you can coddle the pain into a shiny patina of pearly comfort. Either eat away or be eaten. Ten years of pain turned into a unique emotion, somewhere between philosopher and masochist.
You want what you can't get when it comes to the opposite sex and wish to jus sit surrounded by nothing but music after eighty hours a paycheck. The cutting up of venison today crawling with maggot. Yet smelling good and packaged to eat. As long as you cut around the bad parts its all good. The amount spent on meat puts a smile on the face of he who doesn't have to pay it. Another week.
Her dangerous teeth smiling at me behind braces. Tight cowgirl Wranglers supporting a thought more dangerous than crack or whiskey. Comrades forgive me my natural specie tendency to pass on genes in the vortex of a failing bourgeois society. Crimes against peoples revolution in the form of pretty haired innocence. Violent in her virginity. A face reminiscent of a past cellmate and her older sisters decline of my date request. Twenty years spent.
Words randomly splashed on a page as red bull courses through veins coated with coffee. Every fellow captive released and recaptured in tiny paragraphs each week in the local paper. From Kashas slashed wrists yesterday to Troys hanging death months ago. We repeat deaths and tragedies like favorite songs on skipped CDs.
You have to see and make peace with the ugly end before you can have a pretty beginning. And when you hold everything so deep down inside its dangerous when you rub the genie loose. Booze and crystal. Back and forth the army rides. To hell and back. The lower class song of suicide and homicide.
Rich people with fat fingers on the pause button of contradiction. Disappearing a son who holds righteous anger at a shady injustice system into a cell of destruction teaching defeatism. Returning home as an exampled time bomb. Destroying those half remembered and starring fifteen minutes of fame on the ten o clock news. Perpetuating the illusion; crime doesn't pay and pigs and white people are the solution.
Text message just received with braces and an emotion long since buried. Since she resembles my first girlfriend. Would be the worst to experience downfall from a forgotten emotion. The ambrosia of my voice tickling senses like facial expressions of Charles Manson. Its only those that fully finish a revolution that can be all forgiven. The beforehand builders buried skinless in shallow graves smelling of pig skin.
You've got this single moment to do with as you choose it. Spend it in jest if you're not afraid to lose it.
But those afraid of the big death embrace the little one. Whatever rules or laws precede it. Because, what's more, the destruction of a single entity or a species?
Fresh cut pine pops, burning in an antique 1940s stove with brand new stove pipe. Resting on the floor of the longed for addition to my fathers house i used to listen to my mother and father speak of as i sat on the carpet playing with Lincoln logs. These hands made come true thirty years later. Cracked, cramped and bleeding. I did it.
A cemented hell scrubbed and swept beyond clean hourly as an unshaven, unclean animal paces up and down lookin for dirt. The search for solace solely on the inside when placed in solitary sensory deprivation. Like the princess and the pea, searchingly you feel the discomfort of the smallest. Until you can coddle the pain into a shiny patina of pearly comfort. Either eat away or be eaten. Ten years of pain turned into a unique emotion, somewhere between philosopher and masochist.
You want what you can't get when it comes to the opposite sex and wish to jus sit surrounded by nothing but music after eighty hours a paycheck. The cutting up of venison today crawling with maggot. Yet smelling good and packaged to eat. As long as you cut around the bad parts its all good. The amount spent on meat puts a smile on the face of he who doesn't have to pay it. Another week.
Her dangerous teeth smiling at me behind braces. Tight cowgirl Wranglers supporting a thought more dangerous than crack or whiskey. Comrades forgive me my natural specie tendency to pass on genes in the vortex of a failing bourgeois society. Crimes against peoples revolution in the form of pretty haired innocence. Violent in her virginity. A face reminiscent of a past cellmate and her older sisters decline of my date request. Twenty years spent.
Words randomly splashed on a page as red bull courses through veins coated with coffee. Every fellow captive released and recaptured in tiny paragraphs each week in the local paper. From Kashas slashed wrists yesterday to Troys hanging death months ago. We repeat deaths and tragedies like favorite songs on skipped CDs.
You have to see and make peace with the ugly end before you can have a pretty beginning. And when you hold everything so deep down inside its dangerous when you rub the genie loose. Booze and crystal. Back and forth the army rides. To hell and back. The lower class song of suicide and homicide.
Rich people with fat fingers on the pause button of contradiction. Disappearing a son who holds righteous anger at a shady injustice system into a cell of destruction teaching defeatism. Returning home as an exampled time bomb. Destroying those half remembered and starring fifteen minutes of fame on the ten o clock news. Perpetuating the illusion; crime doesn't pay and pigs and white people are the solution.
Text message just received with braces and an emotion long since buried. Since she resembles my first girlfriend. Would be the worst to experience downfall from a forgotten emotion. The ambrosia of my voice tickling senses like facial expressions of Charles Manson. Its only those that fully finish a revolution that can be all forgiven. The beforehand builders buried skinless in shallow graves smelling of pig skin.
You've got this single moment to do with as you choose it. Spend it in jest if you're not afraid to lose it.
But those afraid of the big death embrace the little one. Whatever rules or laws precede it. Because, what's more, the destruction of a single entity or a species?
Tuesday, 16 September 2014
Part 2 "Fore-ward"
Part 2 "Fore-ward"
.... Anything you do or say or ("mental-illy" think) that challenges the present power structure is met with force. Force of the utmost. Generational force that's been built up and studied unto Sadist perfection.
An art form of the most brutal and unprogressive this.
And solitary confinement is the spearhead of it all. It is used in-border and out-border on those that can't be mindwashed. On those that put the species' future (as a whole. The majority. The 80%) before their lives.
I died in it. In that cell all alone all that time. You lose track. You DE-evolve.
Standstill. A standstill. Perpetual standstill.
It's what occurs in those sensory deprivation cells. It's what is occurring in the world. With these machines I outlined, machines developed for this sole reason. Stand. Still.
I'm dead but I move.
How bout you?
.... Anything you do or say or ("mental-illy" think) that challenges the present power structure is met with force. Force of the utmost. Generational force that's been built up and studied unto Sadist perfection.
An art form of the most brutal and unprogressive this.
And solitary confinement is the spearhead of it all. It is used in-border and out-border on those that can't be mindwashed. On those that put the species' future (as a whole. The majority. The 80%) before their lives.
I died in it. In that cell all alone all that time. You lose track. You DE-evolve.
Standstill. A standstill. Perpetual standstill.
It's what occurs in those sensory deprivation cells. It's what is occurring in the world. With these machines I outlined, machines developed for this sole reason. Stand. Still.
I'm dead but I move.
How bout you?
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