6.6

ridiculous rant
each day you sit
in the same wooden throne
actions and words
resemble a drone
but you, you need
need to break free
you need to leave
but chained to your past
you can't perceive
an escape
stuck is what you are
like a felon in a cell
gripping prison bars
wishing your seething desires
were enough to melt the constraints
your glowing heart speaks words
soft and loving
but is muffled by your past
wish that you could set it free
i know
but as a toy figurine
you have no voice.
allow them to drain you
but keep your reserves
for you will need them
when your day comes
and your song hums
along the sunrise of your
awakening

Lunatic

lunar observations
the moon illuminates the clouds
in almost unspeakable ways.
a spectrum of colors surround this
mystical orb, casting intricate
arrays of untold shadows.
moments later the white blanket
is replaced by eternal absence,
hidden behind a veil of blue light.
each second creeps by and with
these increments of time, the gap
is widened. the sea of blue overflows
and our luminous vixen reflects rays
of loneliness.

pohm's

a dare worth taking
everyday
beautiful process
come on in, with a need
we'll charm you with our
greed
into your wallet plant a seed
and from your hard work
we shall feed
push too hard for a
calculated budge
our special treatment
shan't warm you too much
sparking thoughts of security
for you and yours
preaching family time
as we slam shut the doors
Don't worry friends!
We're here to stay.


untitled
i feel as if
i think, that is
that they broke my spirits
in that cold planetarium
i was the largest
burning star
gravity
eyes
again floweth the rivers
notwithstanding the chills
perspiration prevailed


names & games, minds & labels
the masses peer in;
his eyes, they have not changed.
though the looking glass
has been diminished
to a kaleidoscope
one can no longer...
yes, this proves my point.
times have changed,
but
has my brain, sustained?
where will the wind blow
this crumbling leaf?
holes
that reveal;
between the stems are
voids. uncertainty becomes
habit;
tell me what you see
for i need so much to perceive.


ascension
trying to Break free!
ascend away, from me
far from subconscious interrogation
questioning (of self)
on the opposite plane
soar above the paindrops
amidst the coolness of the clouds
condensation and conversations
with the sea's of white
help me understand,
what's going on down there?


accelerated tidings she brought
i cannot think cognitively
without the tide coming up
washing away my vision
weighing more, yet, upon my mission
certainty, there is no questioning
no second guesses.
accretion, reclusive paroxysm

.


blankets
i could stay here, i think.
though it burns,
it's worth the warmth.
i can sink
far as i desire
in thought, the river
she still caresses me, evermore.


dear Amadeus
beauty
oh dear i feel your pain
it's been said
these thoughts do
cross my mind and i
would not have thought it
so soon
if it breaks your heart
i'm snapped in two
for still i shed in my own bed
but at home
eye, mind, i am with you
i could collect my tears
maybe you'd realize
then again your eyes would
never see.
of this i would make sure
but i know, i promise.
all you have to do is ask


Wolfgame
hold me
i'm so lonely
it's dark inside, outside.
yet your arms seem homely.
your eyes are same, silver magnets
green to my timid heart
as are mine.
alas magnets are not,
two of a kind.
hold me for i long to be
with you, i'd love to help you see
a part of me that i can't be
when opposites attract

roborape
project in the plastic
speaks to me
strangely concealed
in a language i most
understand
locally
spiderwebs

ish

nxt
click
ctrl+f: (2869.14)

Kottonmouth Kings, assholes

The repetative beginning from their song called Sub-Noize Rats, that goes "sub noise rats, sub noise rats!" on the album Rolling Stoned sounds just like Word Attack by the Adolescents. To me anyway. I think they ripped it off, I thought they were quite original til now. maybe im wrong but i wanted to post this before i forget cause im doing homework. THOSE ASSHOLES. it is a decent song though hahah. OI!

She

---

the lady
she Is to me a smile
in the downpour of
r a i n
smooth fingers that
bring warmth, enveloping
closure despite the storm
unspoken, Resist
for to release this tension
would be too much to bare
she Can
sporting a simple glance
tantalize lava from the
stone.
she Does
remain stellar, silent, impermeable.
the mystery of my heart does
remain clandestine.

musings, bullshit

I wish, oh yes I do
Wish that I could make you see
Wish that I could disappear
Hours of speculation
Have led me to believe that it is I
Who will plague you
Each moment that we spend smiling
Together
Will be desecrated by you,
Missing me
Alone

---

Where are my angels now?
As I stare into the gray
Pit; void, eternal entrapment.
Vicious chains like dogs
With icy cold teeth they bind,
Constrain
Torment.
Albeit I try to face the demons
Armed with an open heart
Auspicious temperament, suddenly sanguine.
Blood flows from open wounds
Fighting to heal, feeble attempts peel
Like dead skin.
Dying to be restored. Then,
Like grotesque volcanoes I bleed my
Shortcomings, fabrications written in a flash
Swallowed into the flames of nonacceptance.
Burnt like devil books.
Smoke rises from the sullen
Ash
Surrenders to the wind,
The iron fist has been heard with a thud.
A life wasted.

tangled up in excretion

You know that saying, "The best thing since sliced bread," that people so often use to indicate that something is really groovy?

I think it's blasphemy. Sliced bread is not all it's cracked up to be. As I was sitting on the beige seat of relief - getting to the core of said seat's true purpose, I glanced to the right at my sink counter top and saw the Softsoap dispenser there. Elegant - a sleek, palpable neck that sang to me as a crooning coyote would in my wildest fantasies. Dare I say, much resembling a swan's essential beauty in simplicity... A container that would surely fly straight to the gates of heaven if completed with a swan's wondrous wingspread. A device whose suction straw extends down into the depth of her belly - surrounded by a sea of mildly yet invigorating fragrant hand elixir. With an easy, inter-connected and blatant push of the head she ejects her nectar into your expectant palms. Even the surface of contact is chizled to give you the most comfortable of finger-exertion excursions. She will never fail you - nor will she lie or cheat. And she always comes, if this is an issue for you. Just make sure to fill her up every once in awhile.

Okay, liquid soap can't provide a carbohydrate encampment for my cold cut fixin's or other sandwhichesque concoctions. But would you really want your grimy ass hands making a fucking sandwhich? No, not unless you paid a recent visit to the Vixen of Antibacterialites.

And, game-set-match shit right here, I can CUT MY OWN FUCKING BREAD. I have knives, I have hands for holding still the loaf. I have the tools and the knowledge required to complete the mission. And it wouldn't even be sanitary without m'lady. Do you want to get sick and die? Of course you don't, this life is beautiful and full of endless possibilities. I am thoroughly disgusted by the colloquial panel of comparative discourse. But I have faith in my moisturization. I have truly believe in my heart that Jesus Christ used either Dial® or Softsoap®.

Stop using this fucking expression. It sucks. My new realization is, quite literally, the best thing since liquid hand soap. Believe it, you sick motherfuckers.

P.S. Wash your hands.

new lighter, promoting my infatuation with the establishment of the new garden. bridgewater commons mall, $30. fairly ill, no? =0
testing the mail pic/video to blog post function.

something like an sat.

Hello World.