The World
The World,
A land where our only defense mechanism
is a gun.
A land Slowly decaying,
because of our own hand.
Soapbox standers preach and foretell
of the coming of the end.
People walk by,
with a coin in there pocket
and silence in there ears.
Which do they relinquish for a common poet?
well,
That one's up to you.

Time goes on,
People still die,
People still lie.
How long before the world stops spinning,
It's just a ticking time bomb now,
and we choose it's tempo.

My Grandmother died not so long ago.
No matter how old she was,
No one
was ready for something like that.
thousands, to millions,
die daily.
How come this one affects me
so much?
I have this picture with her in it.
She's at smoky mountains with her late husband.
Her favorite place in the world.
It seems the longer we are here,
the less favorite places there are.

People Still die,
people still lie.
Racism is the child of ignorance.
How can you hate someone,
so much, just because there not like you?
Believe me,
if everyone was like you,
the suicide rate would dance off the charts.
How come,
people can't drank,
and can't be gay,
because of you morals?
How come i can't preach my beliefs,
because you say there wrong?
How come you can do what you want,
because you can move a ball
across a court
better then i can.
You can believe whatever you want,
but don't control me.
i may be different, but i'm no less then you.

People still die,
people still lie.
I have this picture with my grandmother in it.
she is at smoky mountains
with her late husband.
she was never happier in her whole life.
i wonder,
when i die, what will this place be like?
And
what picture
will i be in?

Blame Me

I see you and you're broken
With that look in your eyes
No smile - Just a frown
Tormented; Torn apart
And I can't help you
Because I'm broken too
It's been months - so many months
And I'm ashamed that we don't speak
Only the hurtful glances
The fire of love that used to be
We're staging our own parody
And we have to see this through
I still want you to blame me
It might be easier for you
So let it fall apart

Flash bang. Chain these feet to the weight of my transgressions, while the clock hands make a mockery of unconscious confessions. My heart beats in rhythms, you're coughing is spasms, the medicine's killing those antagonist pathogens. The pills and the liquor spark unforseen gems when we're sheltered from God until morning finds us again. Blessed contortionist, bring me your soliliquy, I stand for the rights of the half burned-out travesties, and make no mistake that the girl was Her Majesty, but she lied and was hung; now her name lives in infamy. Collisions occur in molecular space, simple death by degrees (all aquired with taste). Taste and see what you've done with my oxygen, sickle cells wars waged in the unseen condemned. THIS BODY IS HOLY- a temple you see, made with clay like the jars that we break contantly, so stop masking the way that you hold onto me, with that look in your eyes as you speak openly, crossing two or three blocks in this lackluster city; "Sleeping with ghosts never came easily," but the night is still young and your drinks were all free. So we hide under street signs and sleep in our beds while the ghosts of our sins dig so deep in our heads, and maybe i'm better off admitting i'm dead, but you cant be too picky when the truth has been said. So move love MOVE, yes im talking to you. just commit to the shit you're been trying to prove. All the drunk, stupid quips and the songs that we write all conspire to run in the heat of the night, leaving two of us buried, and dying alive...

I never could save you, but I swear that i tried.

"Loving you was a good thing, but your leaving was a bad dream, so i'll just run in circles and pretend my heart has failed me."

The Science Of...


Sound travels slower than an abstract thought, but faster than a bullet speeding once the collision's been caught on film, or bits of canvas bleeding from ink-stained sheets.

(the lyrics spoken for the audience will keep them melting for weeks)

And gravity reverberates through our growing need for chaos, new buildings spring up on paper, and mother nature is lost. (loss= a lack of air) hands run through her strands of hair as the lamplight shines around the edges of her profile.

And yeah, it'll take a while for the physics to accept the sort of contact we're keeping quiet like all those secrets we've kept. But before long, we'll be nestled like anxious lovers on vacationing days, of all the things the teachers and scholars will praise, ignorance will truly bring us the best of bliss, evident from that old photograph the night that we kissed; upon leaving the dank and smelly atmosphere of...

(damn, what the hell's the name of that place?)

But i clearly remember cherishing the look on your face, as we combined under a streetlight in molecular space, my hands calmly navigating all the routes on your waist. And somehow I convinced you it was all up to fate; after i stole the show from you, I figured that you would wait up for me in your apartment where we would drink to a toast- Hey- if you could kiss a perfect stranger you could sleep with a ghost. And yeah, i know i planned ahead, but really- what could i do? Cause all of us are bloody sinners- my sin was caring for you.

I'm certain all the scientists and physics majors concur that gravity will bring you back to me, at least thats what i heard. And no, I swear I wouldn't lie, you kinda have to believe, so close your eyes and just relax, and please remmember to breathe.

with the taste of wine still
on my lips
and the scent of cigarette
clinging to our cotton shirts
he slowly kissed my body
in a dark small box room
on a bed that wasn't mine

on his chest he wore letters
that gave him the right
to use misleading words
that tickled my neck and
nibbled at my ear lobes

he coached as i learned
to tongue
and caress
and slowly move
around and over our bodies

he guided my fingers and
played with my hair
he lied with sweet eyes
as we laid together
and stripped away layers
to play dangerous games
till he was done

my hips were his guitar
and he played cords
to an alluring tune that
sparked revolutions and ignited
urge                                                    (in naive girls)

leaving my dormitory
he had gotten what he said
he wanted
but still unpracticed, id listen
to his candy coated words
to feel an ounce of being
desired

Cardiac Surgery

There is neither
Reason nor
Excuse ever to be
Careless or
Callous with
Hearts-

Scalpel or chainsaw
Is besides the point.

15 May 2008

My scarlet-red dressed teacher, in her
relentless drive for complacency,
chain smokes chalk on the sidewalk.
Her tongue traces the shadow of dust and
she feels like old news, spent and tall-tale stories
that pile onto her mind. Bruised by the
candy-life witch and the underwater
kingdom that have been hush-whispered into her ears,
she feels nauseous as her mouth drowns in sticky sweet cotton.
Twenty-three, five til dawn, and her insides spill;
the asphalt is a painting of a non-believer.
She bakes under the sun, she is baked under the sun,
but even then her dreams are only at half-rise.

          Show me 

Caught between yourself,
    And everyone else,
I know you can't undo,
    All those things they put you through,
I don't know what it was
    Or if it was just because.

Why didn't you realize,
    That nobody else,
Would beleive the lies,
     Just tell me why.

Show me how to live,
Show me how it's done,
Show me refuge from despair,
show me that it can be done.

"empty apparitions"

peering out
from behind a crude fortress of firewood
i watched the figure
of love once lost
lift her ivory arms towards the sky
as she stood out
on the edge of the dock
floating
on her own private body of eternity

the backdrop of her world
seemed personal yet surreal
as if created only
by the gentle movement
of her hands

(she kept rhythm and time while her surroundings obliged)

the sky
beautiful sky
melting
into a polychromatic ocean
of orange
purple
and pink

the congregation of trees
looked as if set ablaze
in a fury of fiery color
as their leaves slipped
from the grip
of dying branches

the cold wind
of winter's harsh breath
raced through her hair
giving it a life of it's own
as it danced weightlessly
against the sinking sun

two things. read the first one very very slow

you are the priestess, I am the scene
the dirty little blood that I don't need
mixing with my voice at a thousand degrees
gods a metalsmith and he hammers the trees
you are my existential journey to hell
you are my favorite decision
I found meaning in the soft solid words
you thought that was the silliest thing you'd ever heard
we both broke in to your dads liquor cabinet
I tasted brandy and you still taste like wine
you are the ceiling and I am the ground
we are not looking but things will be found
somedays I bury my heart in the sound
and somedays I dig it up and hope it rewound
you are the fathers and I am the suns
turning the solar system in to drums
you are my existential journey to heaven
you are my favorite, if oft doubted, decision
I knew a man and his name was jack
he said he sought thunder and would bring it back
he burned his hands on lightning and cash
he was a drifter with no means of contact
you are my philanthropic journey to heaven
you are my favorite decision



one day when I was young and dying and thinking like a fool
I was breathing through my nostrils the wind that never blew
in the backseat of a car with all the windows cranked to vibrant
and the dust we were kicking up was nothing short of violent
it was morning, pre-dawn time zone on a highway full of ghouls
I was underprivileged, overzealous and completely, hopelessly cool
and speeding was no option, it was required by the rules
so the road just kept on flowing by like a gunman through a school
there were minds all set upon by distinguished taste and class
and the problems that befell us were just shadows at our back
the love that we created at the stoplight in Beirut
was an example of the mushroom cloud inside us that still grew
there were burnouts, yes, and failures and dreamers in our midst
there was children, not younger, but still too prone to fits
and there were wise men, full of danger and eyes that wouldn't quit
and last of all our driver, smoking hash and cigarettes
the quiet that surrounded us was assaulted by our screams
that penetrated everything like a darkness in our dreams
we were full of rage and music, demons Hell could not exceed
even so, I'm saying to you there was nothing left of me
I was a skeleton of man with open calls for help
I was dying from a gunshot wound while scratching at my scalp
I was obviously a monster, just a madman in a suit
but I couldn't underestimate the blood that filled my shoes
I was thinking philosophically while gunning down the road
reaching ever further to the distant, burning cold
there was no real destination, we were running from ourselves
with no direction, I predicted there'd be no end to tell
so we burned our hands in protest, used our clothes as fuel
we would go until the land caved in and water filled the room
our lungs had no response from us as we emptied them of air
and the road we left behind would tell stories for many years
of a dying car of angels with a billion lives inside
and the time they took the world for an endless chaos ride
and the way they acted beautifully despite the rising tide
that set upon their bodies as they defied their laws and died

Generation

We are the children who grew up wild in the street,
The sins of our fathers clutched tight between our teeth
As we ran through the alleys at dusk, with nowhere to go.

We ran beside the Juiceheads, sugar in our hands
Bugs under our skin, static in our ears and eyes
Wild-eyed, and already searching for the next quick fix.

We learned about the rules, with dust thick in our mouths.
As they lined our options up like crumbling tombstones,
We stuck our shovels in and knew we had no chance.

(Please excuse the generic title for now :P.)  As a preface, this poem is about being physically/otherwise attracted to someone, and that person reciprocating the feelings.

Hot Water

The scalding water in my veins,
Has diluted the blood;
And dizzy as I am at this,
I slip atop the flood.
In the water, all I hear,
Is your husky command;
"Swallow up your pride," you say,
"I offer you my hand."
I'm scratching at your palm, and I—
Can feel your skin is hotter;
This is not a flood for me,
For you do share the water.
With you as my teacher,
I will try to learn;
How to lie, and how to love,
And how to need the burn.

In the study of all that is beautiful
I examine your smile
and the way it lights fires
inside my hazy mind.
In peering into another world-
the world inside
those dusky green eyes
I have found what magic is.
Like whispers in the tide
rising with the pull of the moon
and the enchantment
that lingers in the air
on a summer evening-
what you do to me
is a case study
of all that is worth
calling lovely.

Awaken 

Regret, prehaps, drove me first,
Or maybe it was the pain,
But each time i think of her,
An emptyness remains.

Burried deep inside of me,
This feeling i cannot shake,
I call to her in the distance,
A lost love i hope to re-awake.

Inspired by a real boy. I love him :)

Call one an "Airby,"
A boy or girl you cannot see
Playing an instrument
More than their mind's figment
Strumming, thrashing,
Even just humming or smashing.

I met one today.
Amazing boy
With looks to betray.
He's a sort of decoy
Outside his room
Where expression lies in gloom.
Inside, though...

Playing his own,
Like none other,
Even if it's alone,
Just a fantasy to smother.

Shock Factor

Seems as though i'm stuck in a world of constant worry.
Swirling spirals dance around my eyes.
Knock me down, blow me over i think i just another problem.
Shocking the hell out of me, nobody else can tell if i'm ok.
Shock factor, turn and run.
It's too she can't run in heels.
Screech the brakes boys! We're coming in for a crash landing!
Hit the deck boys! Her mind's sinking into shockwaves from the terror.
Spin around like a drunken little doll.
She can't sit up, it's funny when she falls.
Shocking isn't it when you're me.

This came about from the mistake of bringing a doll to school for an art project and having weird friends who do weird thing to your dolls....I was worse than disturbed.....