In the end… – A New Poem

In the end, we all run,
Though it does us no good,
The executioner waits
Peering out from his hood.
His cold gaze locks upon us
Stealing our breath…
In the end, we all run,
But you can’t escape death!

The clock’s hands only turn
A finite number of times
Before the gears run down
And that final bell chimes.
When the cold settles in
With its barbaric grasp,
Do you know where you’ll be
When that bell sounds its last?

In the end, we all run,
Though it does us no good,
All roads come to an end,
It is just understood.
While we fight, struggle hard
Anything to survive…
In the end, we all run
But none get out alive!

Every step that we take
Leads us to the same place.
To the end of the line
That each of us must face.
As it’s reached, just one thought
Grips us, holding us tight.
Did we do all we could
With our time in the light?

In the end, we all run,
Though it does us no good,
Our circumstances tempt fate,
As we fall where we stood.
Breaking into pieces,
With no hope to mend…
Though there is no escape,
We all run, in the end!

(01/21/12)

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WWJD II : When Atheists Attack! – A New Poem

What would Jesus do,
With this atheist crew?
Demand they be slain,
For not praising his name?
Call upon his flock,
Asking that they be shot?
Could it be true…
Is that what he’d do?

Hear the screams and the wails
As your dogmas collapse!
Desperate rage rolling out
When atheists attack!
Where to turn, who to call,
For a way to refute
All the biblical truths
That these haters dispute?
All good Christians take heed
There’s a ‘war’ against God,
You may have the numbers
But I don’t like your odds!
And gauging by the rage
With which you’ve responded!
It would seem your faith, too,
Has now all absconded!

So you spew bile so vile,
With a hatred so pure,
So desperate for all
Of your myths to endure!
Losing the true message
The tenets you cling too,
To lash out at those who
Believe different than you do,
And ask for inclusion;
Equality; respect!
Which you all interpret
As an attack so direct,
So base and reviled,
That it warrants death threats.
No other cheek turned;
No forgive, no forget!

What would Jesus do,
With this atheist crew?
Demand they be hanged,
For all doubting his fame?
Call on his masses,
To commit these trespasses?
Could it be true…
Is that what he’d do?

For decades you have pushed
At this separation.
To sink your claws deeper
Into a scared nation.
Pouncing on each weakness,
Every seam being stressed.
And yet when we push back
It’s all you who’re oppressed?
You breathe fire and brimstone
On those who dare question,
Thinking of their free will
As acts of aggression.
Resorting to the worst,
Most extreme behavior,
Speaking through violence
Unlike your dear savior!

When atheists attack
You lose all decorum.
They punch holes in your base
Still you just ignore ‘em.
No more time for mere words
Now it’s time for action,
Leveraging threats against
All those gaining traction,
Those seeking to uphold
The state set division,
As you’re all attempting
To get it rewritten.
You let your frustrations
Take these aggressive tones
Resigned to just always
Be casting these stones…

What would Jesus do,
With this atheist crew?
Demand they be bled,
And then ask for their heads?
Call upon his flock,
Saying curb stomp the lot?
Could it be true…
Is that what he’d do?

Just look at your savior
Then just look at yourselves.
Your his image made flesh?
Do you know what that tells?
It tells us he’s prideful!
Tells us he’s run by wrath!
Tells us he’s ignorant…
And he’s quite proud of that!
Tells us he’s a bigot
In such large scale and scope,
That his kind of compassion,
Leaves us with little hope!
But one thing is quite clear
If the Christ myth was true,
He would never behave
The way that you all do!

(01/16/12)

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The Scent of Prey (The Wish Chapter 2) – Micro-Fiction Submission Published in Gag Me With A…#4

Not long ago, I submitted a follow up piece of micro-fiction to the always awesome lit comp zine Gag Me With A…, that not only complimented my entry for issue #3, but it continued it. So here it is for anyone interested.

The wind blew so subtly that the trees gave nearly no indication that it wasn’t as still and quiet as the night settling in around the small cabin. So isolated and haunting standing all alone in this weathered, old section of the woods. The scent of prey was in the air nonetheless. Noticeable to any true predator. The soft candlelight which fluttered against the wall inside, tossing an uneven, inconsistent glow against the window pane extinguished. Game on

The woods around the cabin were bathed in darkness as the candle inside went out. What little moonlight managed to break through the tangled mass of tree branches that reached high into the sky dotted the forest floor in places. Dylan Westing’s boot stepped into one such spot grinding the remains of his cigarette into the damp earth and soggy leaves. Still carrying the remnants of the rain that fell the night before.

Dylan was glad that the weather was clear tonight. He had had his fill of the cool, wet nights among the aged, silent forest inhabitants over the past week as he hid among them. Studying her. Learning. He admired her isolated location deep alone in the woods. Knew those desires to be away from the city and the vermin that roamed its streets. Vermin whose blood often decorated the ends of his blades and his longing, excited hands.

A vision of his last victim flashed before his eyes as he took another step towards the cabin, and a sick smile tore its way across his face. He thought of the dandelion and the wish that was carried away by the wind. Before he knew it, he was making his way on to the old wooden boards of the porch that wrapped halfway around the front of the cabin.

His mind snapped back to tonight’s pressing satisfaction, treading lightly to ensure the boards would not announce his presence before he was ready. He carefully crept to the door and begun the tedious process of picking the lock.

He gingerly pushed the door open, pulling up against it to silence the otherwise restless hinges, and he stepped inside. Eagerly he angled in the direction his nights outside among the trees told him Carolyn LaVencia would now be fast asleep.

Suddenly the sharp pain exploding through the back of his head poured darkness into his vision washing the shapes of the cabin’s main room from his view as consciousness left him. His body landing roughly against the floor with a thud. Amateurs, Carolyn thought with a slight laugh watching her prey twitch on the ground before her.

Dylan woke with a start as the water splashed on his face, pulling hard against the unyielding chains binding his wrists together and stretched high above his head. For the first time he actually saw into the eyes of the women he thought was to be his victim and he knew…tonight he would experience the nature of a true predator.

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Life Lessons (Inspired by the Sunscreen Song & Not Quite Deep Thoughts)

Recently I listened to the Sunscreen Song again released under Baz Lurhman, which was based on a graduation speech that had been around the internet for a while in the 90′s. It got me thinking, and then well, writing my own bit of advice to the public. And while I always liked the song before, now upon rehearing it, I recognize some problematic and privileged statements being made.

So I put on my Angry Hippie hat and wrote this piece modeled after the song and my Not Quite Deep Thoughts works. Then I put on my DJ Mydnyt hat, and set this music. Below is the link to the song, and below that are the words.

Listen to the song

People of the all classes, here in 2012,
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, ‘question everything’ would be it. The longterm benefits of questioning everything have been proven by anti-establishment and free-thinking individuals who’ve changed the very courses of history itself. Whereas the rest of my advice, has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience…I will dispense these life lessons now.

Enjoy any time of innocence and trust that you have; Oh nevermind; you will not understand or appreciate the time of innocence and trust that you have until it shatters. And believe me, it will shatter. There will come a day when a truth that you have clung to all your life, for it was imparted by those whom you trusted the most that they would never lie to you, will be revealed as the falsehood it really is…None of this, is your fault!

Everyone has an agenda. even if that agenda is pure and built of good intentions, it’s there. This agenda may in fact skew the advice that they dispense to you. Take me for example…huge fucking agenda! To make the world a better place. Biases that will indisputably be reflected in this exposition.

Be cynical…to a point. Don’t let that point cross the line where you no longer enjoy the simple pleasures that life does have to offer…like xbox.

Your life may become an internet meme. (sigh)

Read.

Laugh….when you can. And when appropriate. That’s generally never at someone else’s expense.

Don’t give up on the future; together, we can all act to shape and steer exactly where our collective tomorrow goes. But it won’t be easy. It will be like trying to solve a logic problem by skimming some random verse from the Christian Bible for any clues. Instead, just know that it will take each of us when able to be living as we believe the world should be. And possibly fighting to make it so.

Everybody poops.

Never be dismissive of someone who is telling you that you have privilege. Instead use it as a learning experience and attempt to grow from a new place of understanding. Privilege exists. And if you feel unfairly berated because of yours, then imagine how those who’ve been victimized for years by that privilege feel…and in the end, just get over yourself.

Don’t let your environment control you and be allowed to determine who you become. Instead, try to control your environment and make it fit who you are. If you succeed on doing this, please tell me how.

Peaches come from a can, they were put there by a man, in a factory downtown. If I had my little way, I’d eat peaches everyday. Sun soakin bulges in the shade.

Keep everything you’ve ever written…oh wait….

Write.

Keep everything you’ve ever written, words are not as disposable as you might think.

Don’t let others make you feel like your voice is invalid. The most inspirational people I know had many outside forces trying to silence them. The most inspirational people who’ve shaped the world still do.

The food supply is not safely regulated.

Be kind to the bees, we’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t be allowed because of some biblical and irrational bigotry that has gripped a segment of the populace preventing politicians from doing their jobs and honoring the traditions of equality and full freedom for all people by claiming to be protecting some outdated idea of the sanctity of marriage from gay people. But hey, maybe you’ll get to dance the funky chicken at some straight couple’s wedding reception one day only to watch them divorce a few years later.

Get outside…everyday, even if you have nowhere to go and no way to do it but in your mind or through a window. A bit of peace can often be found in the fresh air.

Ask for directions, it’s not going to hurt you.

Give someone a hug at least once a week, even if it is only yourself.

Get to know someone so truly, you are comfortable enough to share yourself fully…even if it doesn’t last…in the long run, you’ll be glad you did.

Be nice to your siblings…but feel free to cut them out if they deserve it. Like with any relationship, they can become as toxic as your friends or lovers…. p.s. have friends and lovers.

Understand that politicians come and go, but it’s the system in which they operate that needs the focus. If we can fix the system, then those who would be willing to participate in said system will have to either change with it or exit stage left. The longer the system stays broken, the worse the participants in it will become.

Live wherever you must and are able. But always try to find a way to make or uncover a comfortable, safe space for yourself. No matter where you are.

Listen.

Accept certain inalienable truths…I do not know what inalienable truly means…okay I just looked it up. huh….corporations will lie, well most people will. The most important thing you can do is to be honest with yourself.

Respect until disrespected even if they’re your elders…then try to breath and proceed as necessary.

Expectations set at any height can fail to be met. But if you are trying, and sometimes that’s all you can do, that’s what matters. After all, failure is merely a chance to begin anew. Unless that failure is something finite like failing to hold on to a ledge or rail keeping you from falling to your death…but how often is that the case?

Don’t mess with Texas…I don’t know I read that somewhere once. Seemed sensible at the time. I mean, there’s a lot of ignorance and armed people there, so, maybe avoid when able?

Be careful whose drugs you buy, but be open to those who supply them freely. Okay, that kind of feels like bad advice, but it has a real resonance with some of the experiences in my own journey. Perhaps it will have some meaning in yours…

But trust me, on the question everything!

(1/10/12)

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Cynic’s Eyes – A New Poem

The child awoke seeing the world
Through the weathered cynic’s eyes.
Found the sunset’s just a backdrop,
And his heroes peddling lies.
He found the villains wearing white;
All of the scales unfairly tipped;
Where the silver lining’s plug in,
And all the tabled truths are flipped.
Found the systems were constructed
With cold, cruel oppressive themes.
He found hope to be a concept
That now exists only in dreams.
The child awoke seeing the world
Through the weathered cynic’s eyes
Seeing all that he once held dear
Reduced to that which he despised!

Innocence was all that mattered,
At least it was, until it shattered.
Now all that’s left is this facade,
The fallen crown of faithless gods!

The child awoke seeing the world
Through the weathered cynic’s eyes
Now no longer buying into
All of the doubletalk and lies.
He found the smiles were painted on
And saw the tears that they all masked.
Watched the investigators dance
Around the questions they won’t ask.
Saw the privilege that sustains one
At the cost of so many more,
Being woven through this fabric
As the rich feed on the poor.
The child awoke seeing the world
Through the weathered cynic’s eyes
Seeing all that he once believed
Being so heartlessly revised!

Innocence was all that mattered,
At least it was, until it shattered.
Now all that’s left in this facade,
The fallen beaten by the odds.

The child awoke seeing the world
Through the weathered cynic’s eyes.
Seeing the cracks deep in the wall
Before the paint cover up dries.
Found the white knights were wearing hoods
Of ancient bigotry and hate,
Learned it was no coincidence
They were always arriving late.
Heard the song of compassion end
As pawns line up for the slaughter,
And saw Big Brother’s helping hands
Holding them all beneath the water.
The child awoke seeing the world
Through the weathered cynic’s eyes,
Seeing the world that he once knew
Without benefit of disguise!

Innocence was all that mattered,
At least it was, until it shattered.
Now all that’s left is this facade
The fallen crown of faithless gods!

The child he broke seeing the world
Through the weathered cynic’s eyes…

(01/09/12)

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Inner Demon Diaries – A New Poem

Inner demon diaries,
From faint and fractured voices.
Drawn from scars that I received
With each one of my choices.

Draw the card of desperation,
From the deck dealing despair,
As it catches all those watching
Inattentive. Unaware.
Dear diary, drowning again,
In the hopelessness of dreams.
Scrambling to find that purpose,
Knowing it’s not what it seems.
The demon’s touch is so haunting,
Taunting me throughout my days,
Explaining all my dark travels
With my pen, as each path strays.
Shadows creep in from the corners
Of predestined battlefields,
Ripping at the weakness showing
Through the wounds that have not healed!

Draw the card of pure frustration,
From the deck dealing despair,
Read the words the prophets offer,
Heedfully. Yet, unprepared.
Dear diary, the tables turn,
As the dream’s becoming clear.
Hinting that there is no purpose
That will be discovered here.
The demon’s touch is hypnotic,
Quixotic in its desires,
That will lead to all my travels
Through these roaring, raging fires.
Shadows take hold at each moment
That the battles take their tolls.
Slipping as the weakness showing
Cuts new scars, leaving new holes!

Inner demon diaries,
From faint and fractured voices.
Drawn from scars that I received
With each one of my choices.
These pages hold the answer,
To the dark that was released
When the poet’s heart was wrenched
From my scarred chest, by the beast!

Draw the card of sublimation,
From the deck with my last turn.
By my wounds I’m deemed unworthy,
Expendable. Lesson learned.
Dear diary, these trespasses
Shatter more than just my dreams.
They are the force pulling wildly
Through this purpose, at my seams.
The demon’s touch is unyielding,
Wielding so much fire and rage.
That I now know in my travels,
They will always set the stage…
Shadows pulse beneath my frail skin,
This weak frame their living tomb.
Time granting the access needed
By ignoring all my wounds!

Inner demon diaries,
From faint and fractured voices.
Drawn from scars that I received
With each one of my choices.
These pages hold the answer,
To the dark that was released
When the poet’s heart was wrenched
From my scarred chest, by the beast!

(11/13/11)

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Mouth of the Monster – A New Poem

The mouth of this dark monster
Closes tightly around my throat.
As the ink fades from the page
Erasing every word I wrote…

Flames dance on through the night
As the blade closes in,
Marring the fresh canvas
It has made of my skin.
Luring the beast closer
Without a second thought.
Now bending to the night
And all that it has wrought.
Volumes of verses lost
Before they were scripted.
Buried beneath the pain
To which they’re addicted.
Holding in the moment,
Just as the levee breaks,
Scrambling to hold on…
Do whatever it takes.

The mouth of this dark monster
Closes tightly around my throat.
As the ink fades from the page
Erasing every word I wrote…

The flames divide the night
As the blade closes in,
Revisiting this canvas
Time and time again.
Bidding the beast nearer
Daring its dark attack.
Running against the night
To find any way back.
Traces of words remain
Where they once were scripted,
Subtle hints to hit back
As new pain’s inflicted.
Folding in the moment,
When it matters the most,
Thinking I could hold on…
Now giving up the ghost.

The mouth of this dark monster
Closes tightly around my throat.
As the ink fades from the page
Erasing every word I wrote.
And as the desperate try
To somehow escape such a fate
The hopeful watch their dreams die,
Having never left the gate.

Flames dance on through the night
As the blade closes in,
Feeding off this canvas
It has made of my skin…

(11/5/11)

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Playlist Poetry (Take 1) – A New Poem

This poem is something of an experiment that I tried recently, wherein I would open up a random playlist of some of my favorite songs, and then I took each of the song titles from the playlist and used them to fashion a poem. This was my first attempt at this, and I have bolded all of the song titles that were used in this first experiment with playlist poetry.

The calm sweeps beneath the frenzy,
Chaos stirring you into a tizzy,
Fading into the playlist poetry
To just get busy with the fizzy

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning,
The restless souls still raging on.
Wandering this dark fairground
Fearing your path is finally gone.
The movie on your eyelids
Tells of stories that cannot last.
The words go for the throat
Ringing out from your past.
The days of the dead disco
Sylvia’s mother warned her about.
All of the letters to God
Written through words of doubt.
The day Henry leapt from the ledge
In this wicked little town.
Undone there within the funhouse
Screaming ‘Fuck U’ all the way down…

The calm sweeps beneath the frenzy,
Vowing never to return.
Fading into the playlist poetry
To watch the fire, water, burn

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning,
The little ghost knows no worth.
Drifting lost. Wandering aimlessly,
Like it was the last day on Earth.
The movie on your eyelids
Tells of stories this island forgave
Each one is pretty like drugs
Yet far too tragic to save.
The L.A. girl sadly singing
Her L.A. song about a life lived hard.
To you, me and Julio
Down by the schoolyard
.
The queen and the soldier
Speak a false promise with a smile.
Giving every angry inch they’re pushed
So long as they get back a mile…

The calm sweeps beneath the frenzy,
Coming full circle through the pen.
Put your lights on to see where
The playlist takes you in the end…

(11/5/11)

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The Wounded – A New Poem

The wounded stand together now,
For all the wicked world to see.
Waiting there in the reflections
Of what tomorrow cannot be…

Swallow the sweet nepenthe
Let it take all that it wills.
Hope the pain follows the past
As this godly nectar kills,
Each trespass burned so deeply,
Every word spoken in rage,
Each scar that the world has carved
From my skin down to the page.
Looking around they gather
All the fallen and their fight.
Losing all sense of purpose
Here in the cold grip of night.

Swallow the sweet nepenthe
To numb the chaos and pain.
Hope it calms this broken mind
Banishing this sad refrain.
Left behind from subtle torment,
Countless instances of loss,
Buried fires that still burn,
Fading traces of the cross.
Looking around they gather
All the fallen passed the brink.
Lost to the roads that brought us,
To those who bid us all to drink…

The wounded stand together now,
For all the wicked world to see.
Waiting there in the reflections
Of what tomorrow cannot be.
Crushed by the weight of this cruel world,
By the hands which they’re mistreated
And now they all gather and wait
To finally be defeated!

Swallow the sweet nepenthe,
Go on and follow it down.
Vanishing that part of me
That once fought hard to be found.
Crafted from the faint fallout
Left behind by broken ties,
From unforeseen betrayals,
From these disconnects and lies.
Looking around they gather
Moving in to close the ranks.
Bracing for the floodwaters
Now rushing o’er the banks…

The wounded stand together now,
For all the wicked world to see.
Waiting there in the reflections
Of what tomorrow cannot be.
Crushed by the weight of this cruel world,
By the hands which they’re mistreated
Knowing none of them shall be left
Once the waters have receded!

Swallow the sweet nepenthe
Let it take all that it wills.
Hope the pain follows the past,
As the water o’er us stills…

(10/13/11)

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Our constitutions – A New Poem

Voices from the past call out,
As sirens sing songs of alarm.
Protectors raise their fists in rage
Only serving to do us harm…

Time to make amends,
And restitution.
You violated
The constitution.
We shan’t abide these
Brutal solutions
Which leave us bruised and
Our lives in ruins.
We need to trust that
These institutions,
Are not just some kind
Of grand illusions.
Meant to incite fear
And breed confusion.
Chipping away at
Our constitutions.

Voices from the past call out,
As sirens sing songs of alarm.
Protectors raise their fists in rage
Only serving to do us harm…
Reflections of chaos move in,
Making the situation worse.
While we the people suffer blows
Against guarantees of the first!

See the tides turning,
Time to settle scores.
No longer silent
As we’ve been before.
For we’ve seen the ends
These means have in store.
We know this threat lies,
Behind those closed doors.
Up on that hill where
These corporate whores
Buy out our voices
And exploit the poor.
Hear us declaring
We shall take no more.
Our constitutions
Now readied for war!

Voices from the past call out,
As sirens sing songs of alarm.
Protectors raise their fists in rage
Only serving to do us harm…
Reflections of chaos move in,
Making the situation worse.
While we the people suffer blows
Against guarantees of the first!

Time to right these wrongs,
To set records straight.
You thought we’d shatter
But it’s far too late.
Our will’s resolved now
We know what’s at stake.
We may have bent, yes,
But we did not break.
Now we are the ones
Who will write our fates.
Not just accept those
That you all dictate.
No longer the sheep
You can subjugate,
Our constitutions,
Have altered our gait!

Voices from the past call out,
As sirens sing songs of alarm.
Protectors raise their fists in rage
Only serving to do us harm…
Reflections of chaos move in,
Making the situation worse.
While we the people suffer blows
Against guarantees of the first!

…Hear us declaring
We shall take no more.
Our constitutions
Steadied for this war!

(10/01/11)

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