*A Step Up* 08/14/2015

Occupational safety hazard
That is
Your life's killing you
Just waiting patiently for the grave
Silently wishing you outlive the others

A non contract signed with life
That so much effort must be set forth
For so much rest inbetween
Tit for Tat
Deathbedded amazed wondering
I did this for that

You know when you see unchanged
It changes you
Maybe thats why the unchanging never change
They can't see you

Why is it that death makes us live
That a funeral makes us feel better
Why do we wish graves
Upon those the closest to us
But pray long lives on strange celebrities

When non buisness becomes felonious
And non cooperation becomes terrorist
The act of not paying idolaterous
The establishment ravishing you into the perfect consumerist

Immersed in bullshit a constant
Damning yourself for playing along
Can't them sorry motherfuckers just get it over with
Die already you bastards

My future family seeks your soiled place mats
Lives full of future and meaning
Verses your smelly alcohol breaths
Full of pain and confusion

Let those who seek less consuming
Replace the consumed
Its the right of the evolved beings
The shoulders of the weak non doing

*Absence of Needing* 08/12/2015

So you think you can dance
Motherfucker
With the Demons enchanting
Solo thoughts in solitary cells

So you think this existence
Has meaning
Like clean shirts and shiny cars
Or is it all just made up
Make believe until we leave
Must to Dust

So she's the one
And he's finally come
And your new toys are perfect
Fit to fit just like it was meant
Sleeping good wrapped up in consumerist delusions

I say so you think you can die
This minute without regret
So you think you can live
Without regretting moments

To leave it all
On the doorstep of the banks
Take yourself to the woods
Rot your teeth as you feed your being

Being nothing
Planning nothing
Getting up
Chopping firewood
Chewing jerky
Falling asleep

Total disconnect from oil roads
The daily here to there
The worry of your smell
Or shinyness or dullness of hair

Giving up you might say
But its not
Its...
Like...
Just finally

Evolving up
To the trees and the dirt
To being a being
Without needing
That which isn't worth needing

Its...
Finally...

BREATHING

*Pretend* 07/31/2015

Temporary insanity pleaded
As you lie kneeding
Illusions of granduer
Of the utmost and lowest

Its happened many times before
This fucking hostage situation
This drainage of your being
Because of total focus on another

What do you do when your whole life
Feels orchestrated from the get
Like the paths you walk and decisions you make
Decided upon. Traps set. Some mathamatic kismet

Fucking shit
Sitting here after so much
My fucking struggle with everything
Plain as day its got me shook up

The givings up
The gotta gets
The need to this
The have to that

Fuck you
And everything

The overdraft credit cards
The gas tanks constant thirst
Bills and ultimatums

Urges urged upon
The dirt we tread forgotten
For the minutes of pop songs
Scratched on ears

I've been here before
Just yesterday we played this
Hiding and seeking meaning

I'll do this again
With the wind as my foe
And the sun as my friend

Peeking blinds
Bleeding inside
The only difference I'm sober this time

Dulled
By mountains surmounted

Darkened by the hopelessness surrounding
The eye smiles I've passed on countlessly
Infected by your sadness

Felled by your sickness of fear
In the coward populace
Of the mainstreams

Prying eyes

*My Curse* 07/26/2015

Free to believe
That you and me
Can see
The edge of eternity

Free enough to live pantless
In a shack
Between two rivers
Underneath the trees

You should of seen my face
That day a year ago
When my parole officer uttered
One more year parole

One more working
More exemplary conduct
Or else
Was almost felled

True. True heartfelt

Been treed by this system so long
Grown tail
Learned the fine art of slow motion
Hanging silently
Alone

I did it
You dirty motherfuckers
I beat you
For the sake of them too
Had nothing to do with me or you

The times you told them never
The moments you snickered at their genius
For your momentary boredom relief

Saying never enough to clever
Creates symptoms of forever
Animosity aimed

And animosity aimed at the unclever
Fells trees on your boredom
Drowns you in your two rivers

The same landscape i retreat to in victory
Will be your apology
Unaccepted yet taken

So hang silently reversed
Oppressor scum
Your worst is yet to come

*Hurry Up* 06/28/2015

Trippage

Like the steel of the shank
Rammed into your chest
And all you can think
Heart ceasing

Is the rain that created the rust
In my belly

Pretty...
So very...

Pretty

Completion

Like the only way of pyramids
Of revolutions
In segments and steps
Generations of deaths
Heads we've kissed
We tread upwards onto

Pretty kisses turned broken teeth
Its this fear of being afraid
This " Time Peace "
Seeking okayness in its ticking
At all costs

Knowing your worst enemy is your friend
And being real hurts but only shortly

Tick tick

Fakeness fatal in finality
In length
So, my friend...

Please...
Pretty pretty please...

Pretend

The machines slowly clear the trees
Cedar forest i grew up in
Robin and blue jay chasing

Alcohol slowly stripping the humanity
From the livers of the bloodsharing
Deaths sought and wished for
By all parties involved

So i uninvolve
Evolved

I'm alone
Basically
But there's she
You've heard of it right? Move on...

Seeking things
Sharing of things coinciding
Momentarily

Its all it was
When gains are obtained
Seekings change
Creating obstacles serving purposes...

Blah blah blah

We begin basing thirty year knowledges
Directed towards two day
Month Olds
When we've taken this long to unlearn
What we was taught
We reteach?

WTF!

Its not today or tomorrow or yesterday
Its all days guiding this day

Its the reasons gave for a fist
Verses the real reason of knuckles
Compared to what witnesses see
Divided by twenty years afterward

And the sun glinting off the scar tissue
Into the eyes
Causing a slight hitch in the breath
A memory
Slight
A determination. Quickening

Of Black Boots scaling a White House

*Trippage* 06/28/2015

"Congratulations", he says, the parole officer, "You're the first Green to complete parole successfully." "And early." Three years early."
Nice. I guess. . .
But we forget.
The years i did. Ten in total. In a solitary cell. The voices and body bags and letters unsent. The unspoken of the missing spokes in my wheel which i rotated and balanced each day. Each second. In order to one day rise above. Crawl above.
But now i just want the choice. The decisions to be mine. Should i work or not? 90 hours in order to just pay the process of getting to and from work with brushed teeth and full belly. I'm ordered to work. Its stipulation. But maybe now I'll quit, be a little hungry and have fuzz teeth. But. Have time. Have energy. For myself.
I can leave the state now...
No more surprise, armed visits and piss tests. No more monthly fees in order to keep bullets in the guns hipped and at the ready if i make a sudden move.
Sudden move... Maybe that's it. I can move now. Suddenly. They'll have to knock now before they kick in my door. They'll have to tell me to freeze now before they shoot.
I guess, what I'm trying to say, is Theres Alot lost. Its just not as simple as a completion of a process because i was " corrected" by corrections.
No. Because i wasn't.
Everything i was told to do in prison... I did the opposite. The parole programs upon release... I criticized. I laughed at. Because if i would of embraced their "Gods" and "relapse is a part of recovery" where would i be now?
Hmmm?
No God. No relapse. No love for those that showed nothing but hate to me for years. No rehabilitation. But bucking. With strength. With the knowledge that the entire in-justice system is corrupt. That to even have reading material or food and water isn't a guarantee when your suffering in chains in this "land of the free."
That you can be murdered by state employees and be sent home as a suicide. That psychotropics are a tool used to break you, handed out by smiling, supposed "care" givers and medical "professionals."
I've worked. I've bucked you you dirty, crooked bastards. Even though you gave me three extra years for "refusing medications."
I've beat you at your own games in order to show the world you play unfair. In order to make known the hypocrisy of your war on drugs. The racism in your freedom and the lowness in your higher power philosophies.
You're either war recruited to fight for imperialist armies or chained. Chain or be chained.
Police force or policed.
Pork producing, cashier register, toilet scrubbing middle men. On the fence. Waiting. Supporting troops and perpetuating the prison industrial complex with your non-attention. With your captive hate.
Fuck your wars and your soldiers. Fuck your badged, coward, P.D. Swat teams. Power to all prisoners. To Jailhouse Lawyers, those refusing meds and compliance. To sprinklers pulled and shit thrown. Rise up you righteous.
To those warred upon. Luck. Knowledge that your cause is true and right and the contradiction is in your favor more each day.
Fuck your system. Set up to control at all cost in order to keep in power your elite.
But most of all.
Fuck those that still believe in this system. That still seek to raise offspring to assimilate into this shitmill.
Whatever happened to resistance?
To those that stand up for what's right even though they know they'll be knocked down again and again.
The fear of being knocked down. The redness of face in he who trips beside his peers. The terror of stumbling and slipping. Tripping.
But what is life, what is knowledge if not learning to be more sure-footed by stumbling? To learn to be graceful while doing the ungraceful?
Its this, this even-road, this "same-same" flat surface emotion and lifestyle. This ability to just take a pill and never feel good or bad but just O.K.
This perpetual war supported, never to be lost or won, but continued just for the sake, the money, of the business involved in war. . .

*Trippage ||* 06/28/2015
For the citizens that need to feel "better-than": the Christians that need to prove their fake religion is realer than someone elses fake religion.
Prison populations stagnant. Even though many die at the hands of the homicidal state. Because Theres always that son or daughter. That one, being groomed for chains, who feels good and bad intensely.
The enemy?
Emotion?
The ups and downs of life looked down upon. The rights and wrongs in beliefs. Proofs and disproofs. Common sense verses the common goose-step which is us. The U.$. Kkkalifornicated.
Kkkamouflageicated.
Seeing stars in homicidal soldiers. Black and white demons in the koncentration kamp khaki blues.
And damn if he or she becomes upset and slams a door or two. Damn if you can't control.
Damn the bumps in your road, please, as we perfect the art of road removal. See the bumps as fixable. Ignore until its too late.
Says he at the hands of this pristine, maintained, poetic jackhammer.
Its nothing. Swear it.
Just a little pothole. . .