Attachment & Repression

She holds on to what she thinks she’s supposed to

holds back everything she feels

Plastic knife culture 

Harsh judgement hails from narrowest vantage

Those whom envy are those whom blame 

Guilt and blame are perfect magnets

High horse stepping stone’s throw away 

lies built on ire stilts 

Humans create societal paradigms no humans can meet 

It’s a game everyone loses 

Simultaneously pretend they’re the happiest generation 

ever walked the earth 

Someone showed her a picture of a starving African child 

and told her she’s lucky

Ever since then, she’s been repressing 

unfulfilled desires and discontent 

in guilt and shame

That’s not gratitude, silly human-person

Telling herself she’s lucky in order to repress her feelings 

She’s lying to herself

And the person who showed her that picture 

of that starving kid 

was also lying to himself 

Of course we should have compassion for those in need

But this doesn’t invalidate our suffering

The whole thing’s a lie

The humans of earth are all steeping in a particular kind of sadness

Palpable sickness which soaks in shallow pools of empiricism

They lie there in that warm puddle pondering the origin of life

It’s the tower of Babel all over again

Plastic knife culture thinks it’ll find God in technology

Like the oppressive sun which never sets

like an endless breath

inhalation which never exhales

The masculine lie of holistic logic

Remember the runaway train

no one’s at the wheel 

An entire generation of humans building lies on top of lies

Nobody’s asking why

Suffering is attachment and repression

They hold on to what they think they’re supposed to

They hold back what they actually feel 

And then they blame each other

for holding on and holding back

differing aspects in varying degrees 

There’s only one way, silly human-person

Let Go. 

I Want Freedom

Chasing kundalini high 

grog malaise 

New Age nonsense-mongers

they paint spirituality as a tranquil thing

peaceful, sweet godness 

I scream

I die in spite of every goddam day

This is a goddam war! 

I do not know who’s winning

Suicide still sings superficial songs 

of hope in the last ditch 

No, spirituality is not tranquil

It’s a daily revelation that the artist wasn’t actually facing himself

the artist only glorified his shadow

The spirit must face the fucking shadow

And what a goddam thing that is

long, long, long 

What a long, lonesome tail 

gruesome tailbone

cyst in the seat of her grace

hammer to the face

Chasing light is no means

of capturing light

I once sang, “Only marionettes 

Dancing in the night

Chasing their shadows

Somehow they find the light”

I sometimes think my body is beyond reproach

beyond repair

This, in lieu of music, these words

this is my vigilant attempt 

this is my only hammer

useless? 

I don’t know where the fucking nails are

It’s like bedbugs

they’re easy to kill when you can find them!

it doesn’t matter what kind of “spray”

when you don’t know where they are

Demons, shadows, bad energy, these are all dumb words

for some karmic substance we carry

some experiential ire which plagues

mind-emotion, body, and yes, “energy” 

May need a socket wrench to rip open this retched being-ness

this thing I Am hath become manifested as man

Yes, Sadhguru, Yes Socrates, I take responsibility

What I Am now, I Am because of some pastime unknown to my present

I have fleeting glimpses of lifetimes of misery, many suicides 

I never venture too far or attempt to know those fleeting glimpses

I never pretend glimpses are truths 

I don’t grasp onto them

I don’t want to hold this shit anymore

none of it

I want out

I want out

I want out

Every day I pray, “God, let me out of this trap”

this body may be a gift in some sense

perhaps I was even MORE trapped before this

this was the sense I used to get when I came close to ending it

I must remind myself to find gratitude

Regardless, I want out

I do not wish to be a human 

I want freedom

I want freedom

I want freedom

Find Self

The doomsday trekkers 

    who only know themselves 

    on the edge of annihilation

 I wrote for people who hadn't been born 

    so that they may not die 

My own are their own annihilation

My own are their own rat race

    blind mice riding coattails 

When tech kills all that's left 

    of misplaced values

Sons and daughters 

    of the dead generation 

    will look up 

See, not all the stars burnt up

    for the sake of seeing themselves shine 

Some set out to create self-aware

    solar systems 

    which recognize the spinning cycle

    in order to break them 

Worlds spin in order for us to realize

    motion sickness 

Realization escapes 

    doomsday proclamations 

Entropy is a great play of elements 

    whom all desire to expand 

    to infinite proportions 

Stardust longing to shine 

Enlightenment is beyond space and time

I wrote to you so that you may not suffer

    as I did 

So that you may discover 

    the true self

    never burns out 

    never stops shining

So Sweetly Broken

(put to music & recorded once HERE)


Spirit is roaming

Streets of all-knowing

All that I’ve known is

So sweetly broke-

-inside of my bones

A rooster was crowing,

“Time to wake up

You’re so sweetly broken”



So sweetly broken

So sweetly broken now



Arms were wide open-

-joying the show

When God cracked a joke

Which cracked me wide open

Mind, body, soul

Were all overflowing

So sweetly broken

So sweetly broken



So sweetly broken

So sweetly broken now



I heard the laughter

Of ever after

Lighting it crackled

Thunder it cackled

Fell off my ladder

Into the ocean-

All the commotion

Now I Am only



So sweetly broken

So sweetly broken now



Now I’m a floating

Star in the ocean

Body’s just soaking

So sweetly broken

Moonlight is moaning

Riptide is towing

Mind and emotion

So sweetly broken



So sweetly broken

So sweetly broken now



Dark nights of the soul

Where hot meets the cold

The eye of the storm

Is so sweetly open

Light has awoken

I get the joke

We’re all the same ocean

So sweetly broken



So sweetly broken

So sweetly broken now



As above, so below

The spirit has spoken

Poetry in motion

So sweetly broken

Time has foretold (time)

The aether unfolds (space)

As earth’s turning over (earth)

Rivers are flowing (water)

Breath of life blowing (air)

Fire into growing (fire)

Stars into glowing

Though they are lonely

So sweetly hoping

Eyes of the ocean

No longer broken

So sweetly open now

One Who Keeps Reaching

Addicts are spiritual seekers who don’t know it yet. Art is the pursuit of spirit. We’re here to overturn materialism. A society which forces artists to serve three course meals to materialists to pay for microwaved ramen, to wash dishes & chauffeur the rich in Ubers, is a society on the brink of collapse. Society’s killing us by not valuing us then blaming us for not having value. We exist to explore the metaphysical in a society that’s hellbent on materialistic orthodoxy.



Something keeps killing my friends

the artists, creators

Since I was a kid

The ones who keep reaching

keep dying

What is it that keeps killing them?

It’s easy to say “drugs” and “suicide”

and move on catatonically 

Play fake wisdom

It’s much more difficult 

to reach  

for something else



We’re the ones 

who keep reaching 

We’re the kids who look up and say

“Am I good enough now, Dad?” 

“Am I doing it right, Mom?” 

No matter how we reach

We’re not what our family

wants us to be



We’re the ones 

who keep reaching

We reach for community

“There a place for me here?”

“Am I good enough here?”

No matter how we reach

We’re not what our community

wants us to be



We’re the ones 

who keep reaching

We reach into society

No matter how we far we reach

We’re not what society

wants us to be



That limp hand of Adam

on the Sistine Chapel

that’s the voice of family

that’s the voice of community

that’s the voice of society



We’re the ones 

who keep reaching

We reach for each new day

We say, “today I will be the right version of myself”

“Today I will be what society

wants me to be”

“Today I will be what my community

wants me to be”

“Today I will be what my family

wants me to be”



Did our family ever consider 

Did our community ever consider

Did our society ever consider

maybe we’re supposed to be

exactly the way we are?

maybe we weren’t born wrong?

maybe we weren’t born “ill”?

Maybe some people are born

to keep reaching



Those of us who reach adulthood

We’re the walking scar tissue

The bionic body parts

limping through timespace

Carrying the weight

of all we reached for in vain

Self-medicating

a prerequisite to survival

and the irony of early demise



Those of us who reach adulthood

tattered and torn

Nowhere out there left to reach

When we begin to reach

the other way

We discover the vigor

the will power

we learned through sheer pain

As we begin to reach inward

something reaches back

When we reach that way

there’s only one way to reach

When silence falls

the voice of family

When silence falls

the voice of community

When silence falls

the voice of society

Only one voice is left 

It’s far beyond victimhood

It’s far beyond blame

It’s far beyond guilt, failure, shame

It is it’s own medication

There’s nothing to self-medicate

It’s a place beyond right and wrong

It’s the thing we were reaching for

all along



There it is

concealed in plain sight

The artist is the art

Concealed in the silent mind

Feet crossed in the illusory cerebellum

Only inches away

Who’s that reaching back?

Between the bionic eyes of the brain



One who keeps reaching

reaches Grace


Artist reaches through Agna

Artist reaches through Agna

Is Simply Isness

Got a glimpse of God,

God as my witness

God is all that is 

is simply isness

Destiny doesn’t ask

his forgiveness

Curiosity is the tree 

of earthly wisdom

The serpent is the spirit 

of redemption

Karma is the human sentence

Art is his earthly business

His palette of color  

is the refraction

of the prism

of resistance

Which is why mystics

make godawful artists

And artists 

make misleading mystics

The other side of the rainbow

is infinite resplendence

Though curiosity resolved

is simply isness

Death Doth Dance

4-12-21 Midnight, Huntsville, AL

Goodbye Stone Anderson (1994-2021)

Now you know

It’s all a show

See you soon, dream brother




Death doth dance

center stage

Foxtrot ‘round martyred clock

hip-hop 

samba 

slips into ballet

Hacked rot garden backdrop 

black

mamba 

waltzes from the grave

Tempting the spotlighter 

to cast a shade

Crowd cowers in the dark

Sub stack towers 

rumble

Spacetime’s sub plot

crumbles

The story’s Roman arch

Gravels to gravity’s 

masked funeral march



Behind the scenes glimpse

stagehand 

from stage left

“Inner Workings of the Ageless Clock”

stage is set

third act 

of death

As long as life 

is act one

Show must go on

once now 

hath begun

Fat lady sings entropy 

what’s always been sung

Swan song suspended 

mid air midriff 

wings melt

in strobe light suns

Overcome

by the myth of sin

jumping the gun

Life’s lilted echo 

listens through

line arrays

hung by the tongue

Feedback loop cues

monitors

Molten lavalieres clipped 

onto her

Requiem’s ambivalent 

umbilical 

collar 

Reaching out from the brain

the puppetmaster 

Reveals Adam’s naval 

on the Sistine Chapel  

Cynics buried flowers

curtsy to reveal their thorns

French Quarter daemons

bow to reveal procession horns

Hallowed brass billows up Frenchman

En route to another flooded coffin

lost on the whim



Angel riggers in the rafters

belay the puppetmaster

Pyrotechnics firecrackers

Petrified crowd turns to laughter

Cradle rolls from stage right

Baby giggles from inside

Curtain call floodlights

Reveal cast 

crowd and crew

Puppetmaster taps his way

to center stage

Spotlight follows his final cue

He throws his hand over his face

He shows them why the play is named

“A Game of Peek-A-Boo”

I Am

The song which began the transformation 1/1/2021 remains unfinished. This will be its resting place, as a “poem"…

 

I’m the one who breaks the fall

The weight of Jacob’s ladder

I’m the mason’s cornerstone

Who laid the tower of Babel

I’m the one who leaves the tongue

When all the words are scattered

I’m the language of the world

The only one that matters



[water]

I’m a wake washing a wave

Which walks upon all water

[air]

I’m the breath you share

The heir to thrones of your forefathers

[fire]

I’m your Sun who feeds the wheat

You leave your sheep for fodder

[earth]

I’m the earth on which you lead

Your feast unto their slaughter

[& then came energy… unfathomable, unexplainable, unbelievable… energy…]

The Push

I walked through a forest off the beaten path

Turned around to admire the mountain from which I came 

Out of the woodwork came a daemon with a push  

I hadn’t seen the ledge from which I fell

Time slowed falling backwards

Looking up at all I’d lose

Crowd of people appeared on the ledge above me

Screaming advice downwards

Tossing coins and fortunate wishes

Which fall fast towards the rushing water beneath me

“We’ve all been there,” they yelled, “Be as we are.”

“See what we stand for? Stand like we do.”

Voices of fools echoed through canyons

Rippled through time

As I greeted my death with open arms

As if to grasp a ghost

My arms wrapped inward instead

Coiled up like a fetus

I hit the water like a womb

New depths of comforting silence

Sank into a hotbed of apathy

Timeless eternity

Sharp stones from the beginning of time

Rock bottom sank deep into my spine

On the riverbed I awoke

The ghost of my death spoke

“I Am. I Am. I Am.”

Will to power is redemptive

Now as then I Am choosing this

This time without doubt

Within and without

I choose life. I choose life. I choose life.

With the push of a foot

The ghost of my death

Pushed me up off of the riverbed

I emerged with a breath

On the other side of the river

Only a moment I hiked back up to another ledge

Opposite the ledge from which I fell

A few people remained still screaming fortune

Downward towards the water

I knew they couldn’t see me

They were screaming at a ghost

Their backs turned to the mountain from which they came 

Afraid of falling for anyone, for anything unknown 

For the leap of faith, for the push of fate

Fortune and misfortune are indiscernible

Stuck on a ledge

While life is fearlessly pushing ahead

I fear nothing here and now

I Am to resume my ascent

Last Wild One

I’m an island

Evolving all alone

Weird features

Fitly shaped for sole survival 

Huge soul stuffed in hardened shell

Too big to survive on mainland

Too small to disappear completely 

We’re endangered

There’s only one of us that I know of

Our language has been rewritten by fools

Our rituals thrown in cages 

Our history lost

I’m the last wild one

Screaming to a world that could never understand


Dancing About Architecture

Listening to pretty people

Complain about ugly people’s talent

Dancing about architecture 

This building’s too loud 


Short strings

Tight wound 

Meta Pixies too soft 

Beethoven too loud


Dynamite isn’t dynamic at all 

Bombshells only blow each other

Beauty comes in many forms

Simile puns duck ‘n cover 


Dear talent and brains,

What’s compassion for?

“For the dumb ugly kids 

Plucking away next door”


Sense their joy

Tap into that 

Compassion’s a gift too 

I love everyone

I hope you all learn 

How to shut the fuck up soon

Still Going to Follow

I beg for a light until I see one

By the time I see it

Don’t know if I invented it or not

Is it real? 

I don’t know what’s real

Not for real 

But I’m going to follow it regardless

I couldn’t follow anything blindly

I follow a thing bigger than anything else I have known

When I can’t find it I’m lost

My visions where I’m inanimate 

Stuck outside space-time

In a dark void of eternal dread

There’s the presence of a taunting laughter 

And it’s a familiar presence 

I know you

You’re the lady at the end of the line

The voice right before I die 

A light red color I’ve felt viscerally before and after

I know you from nitrous oxide too, ticking breaths 

You’re always there in between life and death

I know who knows you and doesn’t know they know you

I know you

You showed me my birth

I heard my father’s voice as I popped out of the womb

You’re the last stop before I die 

I know you


Was that real?

Am I stuck in a dark void taunted for eternity?

Is that the truest hell?

You know how I know it isn’t real? 

Because music. And mountains. And love. 

I experienced them all inside of me

The external stimuli seems real,

But it’s certainly fooled me before

My devil’s advocate tells me 

If you experienced it all inside you, 

The dark void could be reality 

You could’ve created this life as an abstraction from that dark void

But then I answer, even then, if all this is inside me, it’s a fucking beautiful dark void

Even if I’m alone for all eternity and I made this all up, I love my imagination and I find value in it

If the worse case scenario is that the light is a sick joke, 

I’m still going to follow it 

Rise to the Ethic of Her Law

I set my own rules

Long ago on a waist-high pedestal 

I stood on a perch

Gave rise to law of earth

Days passed where that law couldn’t have been clearer

Rule of earth was my mirror

Ill-fated days, still I lived without blame

I found grace in the fate 

All that stood still,

For stillness was all that would await

On the dawn of ill fate

I conjured dusk in the same

Resting on restless twilight in disgrace

I stood there a decade

Let awash all humor away

All the joy that made the pain

Like a paused tape

But the film went on 

A decade without dawn

Still night, no right, no wrong

In the absence of all, an ethic is called

In that reckoning, comes law

Ethic is presence, ethic is will

The compassionate empathic creates his own hell

Hate seeps its mischief in one who hears his call

To care so God Damn much you don’t care at all

To be left to devices one has no will to use

I’m ill to refute

To respite in dispute

In his last attempt at humanity

The ramifications of insanity

Are to heed its call

I am one with earth 

If I’m one, I am all

As long as I rise to the ethic of Her Law 

Lone Masses

Step up to bat with

Lone Masses

Doing backflips 

Around your track list

Doing truth for you to relax with 

Beauty follows laws of attraction 


Step up to bat with

Lone Masses

When your ears get mad

Listening to all that trash 

Slap this mat in the front, round back  

Welcome home, you gorgeous lil ass kiss


Step up to bat with

Lone Masses

When the fridge buzz 

Overrides the static 

When all the little things 

Start to actually matter

Like love and death 

And the everlasting 


Step up to bat with

Lone Masses

Spun round the sun 

Wearing rose colored glasses 

Truth to power

And power back at ya 

Pretty sad there’s still folks 

Trying to flatten it 


Step up to bat with

Lone Masses

Only talking trash at

The blasphemous 

Science deniers 

And art hating fascists 

Persecutors of love 

Who put prophets on the blacklist


Step up to bat with

Lone Masses

I’m a Velvet mirror 

Staring at you backwards

Showing you the hope

Buried in your sadness

A light shown inward

Reveals the lantern


Step up to bat with

Lone Masses

Is this rap?

It’s fantastic

Like indie alt and what’s that? 

It’s so much better than all of those crap hits


Step up to bat with

Lone Masses

An ever lasting, instant classic

It’s massive and magic 

Contains zero plastic 

Curiouser and curiouser 

It’s madness, it’s madness


Eternity’s mass split 

‘Tween a quantum reaction

Space-time is additive

Absurd but not abstract

Can be beautiful, entropic, lovely or tragic 

Forever is actually 

Quite elastic


Well folks, that’s it 

Signing out lone masses 

If there are questions

You have to ask it’s 

The last bastion of hope

In an everlasting sea of blackness

Offensive Contradiction

CA satire - each line features the same rhyme as the title




Weak willed by your own attrition

You’re the blindest thing with 20/20 vision

You’re the babysitter who needs adult supervision

You succeed at failing everything attempted



You're right off the market in the worst condition

1 out of 5 stars in the online listing

Too many choices for your makeshift prison

Your fraudulent free soul’s another slave to the system



Only outsider who requires the center of attention

You’re the loudest voice who's never listening

Gossip queen screams, “Better mind your own business!”

You put yourself in the way in order to say, “Keep your distance!"



You're uniquely boring and ineptly gifted

The most broken brat who ever attempted to fix us

You're a half full glass with a leak that's dripping

On your brand new shoes, now your glass's half empty



You're a new age nutcase faking ancient wisdom

Always preaching what's “real,” mid-pretending

Old school "new energies" quoting words never written

Learning how to live from whom study death for a living



You're a sinner saved by closeted hypochristians

You're a vigilant hippie, hip to neocon glibness

Bull's eye bullshit tools is the title I've given

To you and all the fools who call mindless ranting a religion



Your new slang savvy is wit to the witless

Like your rusty metallic irony's ballsy bitchin

Like your gnarly naysayers' hawking headless hitches

Is that a sense of humor or a vast, immense denseness?



You're not smart enough to be that pretentious

Combining long words which make sense to the senseless

You're a word-a-day calendar trying to construct a sentence

You are an offensive contradiction



I add this poem to my life from which to mark your omission

C'est la Vie

Feigned angel smiles through a vain facade

Projects a reel of all he's not

Callous malice freed to do as it wants

So it believes it can’t be caught

Every breath through gnashed teeth

A karmic breeze whose whisper screams

C'est la vie


There is a ghost behind the mind

Whose inner demons napped the inner child

Rage freed from its cage boils up from inside

A smile lets down deceit's disguise 

Can't trust a smile whose tongue’s in cheek 

Through the mind, the ghost still speaks

C’est la vie


Ghost hides from an ever present past

Nothing answers, no one asks

Fingers crossed behind his back

Even the reaper wears a mask

Curtain falls, unto the breach 

C'est la vie


Every monster once had a heart 

Bemused and buried from the start

Every man is a work of art

His twists of fate shoot in the dark

Some monsters made, some born to be

C'est la vie


Such is life that death cannot win

Can't feign grace, can't make fake amends

Man's enemy is death’s best friend

Death is his lover and death is his kin

So goes the ghost given the chance to breathe

C'est la vie


The feigned angel gives up his ruse

Plastic halo becomes unglued

His crown of light becomes his noose

Eye for an eye, tooth for tooth

Inflicting mind ends with its last breath

Such is death

Seedling

One must imagine Sisyphus happy
— Camus

Seedling drifts downstream through the estuary

Will to power at the whim of happenstance, she’s not entirely unlike you

If she reaches the ocean, the ocean will consume her

No thought to distract her will, and within her a common desire

Desire to live, desire to grow, desire to be as she is

She will never attempt to know her genealogy, for she knows all of her family exist within her here now

Everything she will ever be and all she will ever need is within her here now

The first of her species, a simple genetic mutation gives her offspring the capacity for global prosperity

Whether the world will ever know her kind depends on how the water moves on this particular day

All her potential rides the current of here now

From a warm little pond

Comes a bored little yawn 

As Dawkins asks Darwin

'how was life spawned?'

Mother nature just laughs 

As she peals off her mask 

"It's not ‘how,’ ‘when,’ or ‘where’

‘WHY’ IS WHAT YOU SHOULD ASK!”

Seedling's journey lays her on the bank where she's loosely planted in the shade

She experiences the same time and space that you do

Takes weeks for her fragile figure to rise from the mud

She experiences the same will to live that you do

Photosynthesis isn’t so easy in the shade (it’s all an allegory, you know)

She experiences the same struggle you do

Her single limb reaches toward the sun as her roots dig for thirst

She drinks the same water you do

She's grown crooked out of the shadow without the silver spoon of fortune

The alpha and the omega exist within, grace in every cell

A single flower from her single limb holds the stamen to propagate a new species on earth

Bent in the only direction where there's sufficient sunlight, she faces eastward every morning and westward after noon as she grows larger than the shadows

 

This poem’s companion piece reaches the ocean:

Howlin' Babble

Satirizing the moral heart of the country, the artist builds a bridge between ideological linguistic islands, calling out the treachery of society’s crimes against humanity and crimes against earth using humor of the absurd. The artist sardonically reinterprets many biblical parables using literary devices of riddling allegorical whimsy to paint the absurdist’s abstract apocalypse.

In the American South, The Holy Bible is pronounced “howly babble.” In the biblical story, the Tower of Babel is an attempt to reach divinity materialistically, and God’s punishment for this is to confound speech to babbling. 







Here in this incoherent dimension

Descartes and Einstein debate enriched uranium

With brown polar bears

On icebergs drifting unto providence

You wouldn't want to be a fly on that wall

Nor would you expect Mexico to pay for it

Perhaps you'd tow that iceberg into Cape Town

With several steamboats

Perhaps you'd ignore the colossal irony

One might even say, titanic irony

Floating steal and iron rivets

While knee deep and dying of thirst

Evaporating thirst with steam-powered drought

That sinking feeling

Pale horse-powered deluge of doubt

Don’t ever let go the diva the delusion drowned 

Her feathers still float with broken wings

Representative of peace

Pecking order from chaos with beaks

The dove is grateful as the dead

Realizing Purgatory isn't Biblical

The Catholics made it up

Then took over The Court (7 of 9 “justices”)

Grey area looks pretty black ’n white to me

Two blacks and a hundred whites hung the apolitical branch

Morality hangs on the tree of know-ledger

Politic forbade picking non-theistic fruit?

Slithering supremacy singing coup coup kachoo (they are the egg man)


This grim brimstone acquisition

Smells of the beach and eggs 

Dawn downpour of sodomite sulphur

Same mirage lost in the desert or lost at sea

What color should doves and polar bears be?

Who’s the first horse, my love, at the end of time?

Inuit skipping stones somewhere over the runway 

Red carpet sunset showcases sealskin sheik 

Dorthy’s serving salted leprechaun meats

A variety of flavors from the prism of light 

Judge can’t retract refracted crimes against earth 

So sings Chopin’s funeral march

Howlin’ babble’s gavel lands the gallows hand

The tower showers all across the land

Noah’s nightmare, nature’s fire extinguisher

Nero’s number fires mammon in impoverished dory-hunky

Flipping merchant tables, who recalls Humpty Dumpty?

Who likes their eggs hard and who likes them runny?

Side of apocalypse, my love?

My brunch is revelatory, how’s yours?

Is the ship sinking? Where's the music?

I thought the band kept playing 

I thought the people kept praying 

Where's the part where we tear each other apart?

What exactly is this we’re eating?

Or is it four horseman with arrows in their hearts?

Cupid, you devil, you smell of sulphuric farts

In the ass-raping wind


God hates? God hates? God hates? 

Y’all ain’t just morons

You’re oxymorons

Angel-raping takes precedence over homosexual sex

And that’s all God had to say on this

All of the horses and all of the men 

Couldn’t put the queen back together again

God save the queen!

Or is it, "God stave off the nihilists"?

Is it "love" or "what I think love is"? 

Is it “the greater good” or the faulty mind’s menial ethics?

And what do you think a dove is?

You don’t know the ethics of ambiguity

When you say, “I want to make the world a better place”

You really say, “I want to make the world more like me”

Stiff, rigid judgement stuck in karmic lapse

Refractors of light selling hot air

To push riveting stolen irony

Across a desolate ocean of mirage

No love in tow 

Fools of Purgatory, the tower of the babbling brook

They learned nothing

Still trying to fit God into a book

Creator of the eggs

Is not your personal cook

And the antichrist is MONEY

You dumb fucking crooks!

Annoyed & Jaded

I wish I could feel like they look like they feel in the movies

I wish I could feel like sound when it moves through me 

I wish there were Nazis so I could join the resistance

But I wouldn’t will hell into existence


The contentS of your words have no vibration

There’s nothing for me in your pseudo-contemplation

Stupid with strong opinions is usually the funniest combination

But I'm really annoyed with this conversation


Why do people watch movies with other people?

Like to get interrupted with questions every ten seconds?

Sobriety is painful and intoxication gives pain a chance to feel

Only ever went bowling knowing I was only going because there's beer


I wish I was high so I could enjoy talking about the weather

God pisses on cows to piss off assholes wearing leather

If conversations were only slightly more enjoyable

I wouldn’t be so excited for when God destroys us all


Ghosts, superstition, fiction doesn’t scare me

Of humans like you, Brute, I am still very wary

Give me a real monster like Vlad Dracula or Nero

I might fall in love with the actress, I might play the hero


I stare through you who speak with such admiration 

I wonder which eye you're looking at for that feigned sensation

Stare at the acrylic one while I stare at the space station

I'm really annoyed with this conversation


Music reminds me of the success I never had 

Sex reminds me of the love I never had

Pleasure reminds me of pain

Numbness reminds me of nothing, let’s do numbness again


Calling you out on your stupidity brings me nothing

What I've stated is that I'm jaded, and you ought not confront me

Should’ve met me last decade debating every interaction

Can’t you sense my indifference to your dissatisfaction?


I befriended all the blacklisted subjects of Dixie's Paramount 

All the black and brown renegades of the new south

I grew up in a place where homosexuals were condemned

So I made a life of making homosexuals my friends


I grew up with astronauts at the dinner table

You disgrace infinite timespace with your opinionated fable

My father's an artist, and you’re art-disabled

A real artist would never put art in a box with such dainty labels


Philosophy? I no longer care what anyone else thinks

Psychology? Studying the sick cannot diagnose humanity

Music? It’s like “bless you” to a sneeze to me

It all happens within, and your platitudes are a dumb disease


It took decades to train myself to smile and nod my head

But nobody greets each other like that in The West U.S.

I trained myself to anticipate southern hospitality, the great white lie

Reversing these unnatural social cues I so despise


I found solace. 

I found space. 

I found the masquerade. 

I found the slave.

I no longer desire to speak to human beings.

I find nearly all of you to be annoying at best.


John, John, Judas and Jesus

Only interesting characters in the New Testament 

Maybe Paul Thomas Anderson or Radiohead -otherwise yuck

I don’t care to see or hear any more -I’ve had enough


Funny thing about living knowing I'm not the first

Trying to reacquaint myself with sensations as all become blurred

There's a force among us that wishes to base all upon feel

So I separate myself from everything I always thought was real


If my mind had led me to any fruition

Why in hell betray my own cognition?

The answer comes as a thing bigger than any thought could ever be

The sensation is brighter than any sense could ever touch or hear or see

I’m a fish out of water (I don’t belong here)

I need to move on (I’m done talking nonsense)

Look at me, penniless dog in a cage 

My mind led me to hell, and I actually stayed


No more talking about living

No more talking politics, no more talking religion

No more philosophy, only living the metaphysics

No more advice, no more opinions


The knife in my back is the knife in yours

Have you made peace in the war of words?

Questions as rhetoric only point to feeling

Feeling is a much sharper, much heavier sword

Wit smells awful without grace 

Et tu, Brute?