Possibilities
I want you to take a walk with me, as I explain to you the intricacies
Of the world around us, its inanery and everything that should be plain to see
Open your mind and your eyes, prepare to have yourself modified
Are you with me? are you listening? Good, good, let me simplify
We are living in a world, today, that asks you to let others think in your stead
Where free-thinking still has not made it’s way into each and every citizen
Millions of people still accept the words of their fellow man without question
And still these same millions denounce blind faith and that their minds are open
But tell me, when it was, that we stopped being able to think for ourselves
Tell me when it was that we decided to let others guide the fate of our world
Was there a committee to decide that instead of informing the people of their indiscretions
That instead of just providing advice, they would decide their lives for them?
Now excuse me for pointing out the obvious here, but If people can’t trust themselves with the big decisions
How can they trust another man or woman to make them for 'em?
Blind faith, it’s the blind leading the blind and no one has a clue as to what’s in front of their faces
No matter how old you are, you still don’t know what it is you’re doing, no clue at all to the different phases
of the world around you, of the multitude of places except what your told and what you experience
Now this is an exercise I want everyone to perform: Turn off your Televisions, your Radios and put down your Newspapers
Go outside and open your eyes and ears to the world around you, breathe in the fresh air
Make for yourself your own observations and decisions and assumptions about the world around you
Instead of trusting others to decide and observe and inform you
Not everyone has your best intentions in mind, and a lot of people in this world have let greed consume them
Too willing to step all over others in their power-driven struggle, the ultimate reward being fame or fortune
People will lie to you, tell you something that isn’t true, delude you with illusions of a world designed to suit you
But in the end, it’s all just a lie, and those without open hearts or open minds will fall into the trap of the multitude
Freedom does not exist, you are not free in this world of luxury and technology
But instead a captive in a jail that has no bars or walls, a cell of Bureaucratic creativity
To steal from you the very freedoms originally intended, through written words of legalized documents
A body of men and women fighting a war on paper, with pens, so complex as to confuse the minds of ordinary citizens
So you see why it’s important to exercise freedom of the mind, to think for yourself and scrutinize
The word of your fellow men and women, to choose to believe or not believe what they inform you of
And to make your own decisions on what’s important in your life, to not become the victim of this supposed freedom
It is important that you all rationalize, take it all in and prioritize, open your minds and eyes
Take not the words of your fellow man on blind faith alone, be wary of the advice given for free;
Explore all possibilities
I Am
I am what I want to be
not what you make of me
I am what I see to be
not what you see in me
I am who I ought to be
nothing you can do to me
I am the one who rose up
who never let a thing keep him down
I fought the good fight; I fought
and so I learned to be a clown
funny and humorous, though here you don’t see it
here I am serious, where reality is tenuous
in the end it is because this is the internet
this is where I can reach the most people
with the light of my good intent
to try to bring logic and sense and reason
to as many people that will listen
at the same time stumbling and bumbling
and making mistakes; I’m only human; among humans
I try to keep patience, but damn the ignorance
try to keep friendly, but damn the haters
try to keep control, but damn the unseen
Just more negativity and it spreads
like I want my love to spread
and some times it gets to me
some times it’s overwhelming
but I fight it well, I fight the good fight
and I’ll fight it until the day that I die
All for freedom of mind.
The Savage Garden
the garden is no longer passive
it’s gone from savant to savage
a breeding ground for hateful messages
spread through words and action
from person to person
anger raging in every direction
Sorrow and pain reigning supreme
making nightmares out of fancy dreams
in the darkness someone screams
cries echo around, indescribable is the sound
of another person beat up and dragged down
by the suffocating swell of societal clowns
~
Who are we; what have we become
so lost and confused amid the swell
of fallen angels and rising demons
deranged and trying to rise above
the twisted thoughts of
I don’t even know where to begin
~
Is it hard to see the light?
so drowned out by the black of night
Is it hard to find hope and love?
Are you searching up above?
Look to the invisible
look to yourself, the undefinable
Part that seeks to lift you up
to give you air to breathe
before you suffocate and cease
to be what you want to be
and become another beast
in this sea of savage hate disease
~
Who are we; what have we become
so lost and confused amid the swell
of fallen angels and rising demons
deranged and trying to rise above
the twisted thoughts of
Life; and death sweetly beckons
~
What’s worth it and what isn’t?
so easy to see the bad emotions
you gotta look for the best
push through to the joy and discard the rest
cause happiness is your own design
you’re 110% responsible for your own mind
you can’t rely on anyone to pull you out
to pick you up and set you down
back on your feet on solid ground
That’s all you, and it’s up to you
to decide the motions that you suffer through
nobody can find the light of love inside of you
that’s something that only you can do.
~
Who are we; what have we become
so lost and confused amid the swell
of fallen angels and rising demons
deranged and trying to find our way back
to simple times that have since been
lost to memory, and the only way out
isn’t back, but to continue on
And find ourselves along the way
The Coming Tide
The world has begun to sour
Winter winds have begun to flower
An ice age in the making
Humanity at point-breaking
Shadows dancing upon my wall
Creating silhouettes in the throes of battle
My diplomacy spent upon the norm
And the ignorant begin to look like worms
~
The antichrist is here; the devil
and here comes the falling anvil
Man is poisoning the land
Destroying it, just because he can
And in my stinted sanity
It seems the perfect cure for all humanity
I want to rid the world of all stupidity
~
The world will end;
Nobody really repents,
even though their guilt is evident
~
In the beginning, there was God
Or so we in our youth were taught
In the end; ultimately; man shapes his own destiny
Nostradamus predicted I would come
And the Bible said I’d come again
So fall in love with me and follow my voice
No less a martyr; you have a choice
~
Like the pied piper I am, but not hollow
Leading only those that choose to follow
And people ask why God has forsaken
When they never looked to find him
To do good, some times you wear black
And the sky becomes a lightninged crack
The trees igniting under fired blasts
winter snow falling quick and fast
Wake up and realize the days are numbered
My coming the signal to tear the world asunder
~
Lucifer is dancing upon your grave
Who to stand up to him but the brave
Souls vanquished upon contact
A fallen angel with wings turned black
I am the blood-stained Christ
In me is not found avarice
This is my second coming
a hymn of battle will I be humming
A crown of thorns and scars from the whip
Branding my soul of souls from tip to tip.
~
No longer the peaceful figure up on the cross
I am God incarnate, in the flesh
And in the background you can hear Him weep
For those He cannot save; cannot keep
Weeping for the suffering He can’t deny
And all the Angels around Him cry
~
It’s all just a dream we have
Every night, a nightmare bad
And then we come awake
To find the nightmare has taken place
Too many sins in a world bent on Utopia
Somebody has to bring an end first to this Fucktopia
~
This is our reality, our seeming density
Smelling of the scent of death and decay intensity
And it becomes a lie
All we ever live for; we die
And nothingness hangs by our side
Fall in love and follow my voice
As I reach out to give the world another choice
Wake up and face reality
Wake up to the density; combined intensity
Of millions of humans alive with chaotic tendencies
Repent and pray to be made better
Or be lost amid the coming tide that tears asunder
The power of the voice that cracks with thunder
In the Darkness (Find Me)
In the cool darkness find me
standing amid pale moon light
There I will be
a man of stature and size
not creeping through shadows
nor lurking with intent maddening
but striding forward
fiery spirit within me, blazing
hidden behind darkened eyes
born of the need to survive
Look as if I fit in
Be like and look like them
for if I don’t, tis my downfall
as they rip to shreds something
as they rip to shreds me
for satisfaction so momentary
a brief respite from what I sought
to bring to the world; their loss
Causing them to think thoughts
they’d rather not
buried down deep in consciousness
stored in forgottenness
rage and anger and torment
sorrow and bitter regret
secrets behind lies
lies behind secrets
doors shut and never opened
doors opened that should be shut
cycling and circulation through unstable
frames of minds; they’re unable
to exercise, beyond their current frame
lost to the box they can’t escape
but find me in the darkness
standing amid pale moon light
There I will be, where no one looks to see
hidden behind darkened eyes
striking blows for frightened minds
because freedom is a dream shared
It is a dream fought for and protected
On all fronts and in all ways
and we deserve freedom of peace of mind
freedom on all fronts and in all lives
so that no more have to live in
sorrow and pain and torment
and no more will have to suffer
the way that some suffer
too intense and too wrong for words
where only silence is
and thought just can’t sum up
so much loss, so much anger
so much sadness; rage; unconstrained
caused by ourselves and our fellow man
failing to rise above inferior plan
falling prey to enemies that have preyed
on our species for far too long
and have put paid
to every bit of our societal decay
Find me in the darkness
Standing in the moonlight
Gazing up at stars and sky
There I stand and there I fight
The Psalm of Christ
I am the fault of the flesh
I am better than the rest
But still, I fail the test
Do you hate me yet
or Do you wish to
Well then you better do
What your brain tells you to
And remove the fault from your flesh
Dance upon me as I dance upon you
And we’ll remember the way we used to
Forgetting and forgiving
nothing and everything
Discard me, the fault of the flesh
The useless anomaly of the world
No sense in my senseless direction
No correction to fix my imperfection
And then the world ends
And the darkness descends
falling down, as silence deepens
Nevermore said Edgar Allen Poe
As the raven; tap, tap, tapping; Nevermore
And nevermore is what becomes of the world
And I fall
I fall down and down and down
Faster and faster, the falling clown
Speed increasing and then I slow down
And I never hit the ground
I go back up
on this bungee of tearing threads
This yo yo of tied string ends
The Angel of blood tears
Beware your deepest fears
I am the Jesus of Suburbia
Come to announce the end of our fucktopia
Your human sins mounting daily
Each and every single one of you
Killing the Savage garden in which we play
Polluting and destroying that which must be saved
Your damnation you have bought
Face the wrath of a vengeful God
I am your Jesus of Suburbia
Come to bring the new utopia
The cheating, filthy acts of wanton sex
Wreck of a once majestic act of having kids
And I fall
I fall down and down and…
down, faster and faster the falling…
clown, speed increasing but I never seem…
to hit the ground
I snap back up this bungee
Before I go back to plunging
I hear the fraying of cords
beware your deepest fears
when it breaks and I fall
Then Judgement day will be called
By the flesh, I am your fault
The bleeding Christ
Stained
I know you want to scream
Tears slipping at the edge of reality
Hopes crushed, falling inward at the sign of dementiality
We all fall in to the call of insanity
It will have you, if it can
The darkness, the doom of every man
Blinding our vision of hope, the blight of depression
Breathing altered, confused and heightened
Heart beating speedily inside your chest
Ragged breath after ragged breath
Pain, like a harbinger angel delivers soft caress
We are what we are, we appear to be insane
Blows of inadequacy delivered to the brain
Dark hues, colors spent; a soul is bent
And darkened with experience
Stained
Crimson ink on paper flesh
Drawn by a knife’s edge
Equal to nothing close at all
Of the emotions disconfigured, painful
Dementia clawing, ever climbing
To heightened pitches of decayed declining
Merciful only to memories better left forgotten
Revenge like a bittersweet romance is tasted
Preying upon the mind until all is wasted
What arises from the dust is like the phoenix
But reborn from the deadened dreams of beaten children
We are what we are, we appear to be insane
Blows of insecurities delivered to our brains
Dark hues, colors spent; a soul is bent
And darkened with experience
Stained
In the end, it’s the strong who will survive
The ones who stand up to the tricks of time
Insanity crushing the edges of their minds
Everywhere living out normal lives
Appearing to be nothing more than normal people
All the while behind closed doors
Hear them ranting and raving at empty air
Swearing vengeance at foes imagined
Crying for forgiveness with the same breath
From some relative long ago laid to rest
Fevered intensity of a monstrous history
Laid out in front of them for all to see
We are what we are, we appear to be insane
Inadequacy and insecurities delivered to our brains
Dark hues of colors spent on a soul that’s bent
And darkened with experience
Beaten and bruised; bloodily stained
John Wilmot
I think tis possible I finally found
A man housing my own soul; how profound
The writings and stylings of one John Wilmot
Professing love, lust and life as a sot
Ne’er afraid to speak his mind
You’d likely to have resented him in yours
and finding quick that cynic’s tongue, be hard-pressed to wit return
A true free-thinker in a free-thinking paradise
created by the crown which he so despised
as despising all monarchies as travesties and lies
A man who lived life as if he enjoyed it though truly he didn’t
until the very end; disgusted with, and by, the reasoning of men
and he lived his life according to the pen
I can think of no better person to mirror my thoughts
Caught in todays’ society as it is, tumbling; lost
amidst the despicable hordes of thoughtless slobs
I find myself consumed by the desire to drink, to be a sot
As this man was in his own time, til drink did rot
his very innards and guts, body consumed by the pox
This asshole of assholes; prick of pricks; one John Wilmot
If you were to ask me what intrigues me so much
about a man whose life was filled with wine and lust
A mind from a different time, as keen and sharp as mine
Controversial and hated, yet loved all the same
Ne’er afraid to speak his thoughts, to push the limits
to and of the world surrounding his very being,
possessing a strength of will found lacking in normal men.
For him to be a man of such stock in life
To disregard all titles of nobility and spurn his Christ,
yet be so profound with reason as to expose all lies
within the hearts and minds of all mankind
~
Pride drew him in, as cheats their bubbles catch,
And made him venture, to be made a wretch.
His wisdom did his happiness destroy,
Aiming to know that world he should enjoy;
And Wit was his vain, frivolous pretence
Of pleasing others, at his own expense.
~
But thoughts are given for action’s government;
Where action ceases, thought’s impertinent.
Our sphere of action is life’s happiness,
And he that thinks beyond, thinks like an ass.
~
Even though in life he was heretic, heathen and sot
it is my hope that you will remember, forever, Lord John Wilmot
Italic portions quoted from ‘A Satyr Against Reason and Mankind’ by John Wilmot, The Earl of Rochester
Every Time
Every time I see you,
I see sadness in your soul
A sadness that I am powerless to heal
Your words like rushing water, falling to the rocks below
Crashing, sending shivers down spines of those who behold
Such pain to be found behind such looks as yours
Tragic how something so good has so much torture that they endure
And only those who have felt such pain can see it, I’m sure
The endless depths of such eternal rapture
A tragedy; a travesty;
That such things fall upon a person such as thee
So hopelessly, inherently good in a sea of ill intent
Lost amid the tumultuous strands of the drowning present
Every time I see you, I see the same
Horrors hidden behind a marvelous brain
Such easy eloquence in which you bare your heart
And it brings to my mind the plight of a falling star
Whose light, shining bright, makes a path through space
Brilliant; beautiful, and yet destined to be erased
As those who view it know not why
Such a thing passes in front of their eyes
And still they look ever skyward
As they reason, ‘there are still other stars’
Not bothering to mourn the passing of one in a billion
Not bothering to even notice that there was a difference
Every time I see you, I wonder what you’ve seen
What have you gone through that devours your entire being
As those who view you stare on, not having seen what you have
Uncomprehending, uncaring, like vultures in the sand
The plight of one who is so lost and so very alone
Troubled; nightmare ridden, and weary to the bone
How long can you last in this world of wrongs?
How long can the strong remain strong?
Because even with all of your ‘weaknesses’, as you see them
You’ve managed to hold on and persevere in spite of them
An incredible person you are, for any one to view
And this is what I see, every time I see you
Fear Desire
Fear the inevitable
insatiable
drive of desire
That which lights the inner fire
fear that which gives reason
To chase dreams through the mire
Find within yourself treason of the highest cause
Sell yourself out for what you want
That’s the name of the game:
to lose yourself in all of the fame
Downgraded by something so simple yet so overpowering
a carnal instinct with the power of history guiding
Yes, fear that which you want
Because it never turns out
The way that you want it
a miscalculation of epic proportion
so grandiose as to usurp from your mind
the position of highest priority
a selfish cause, a selfish heart
to sacrifice everything else for just one thing
That which you want the most
a dream, a vision whatever you may call it
Desire, fate’s vixen calling you forth
to reach for something of perceived worth
Fear what you desire
Follow
Floating on a stream of time
listening to Earth’s lullaby
Falling endlessly into an abyss
with only a passing memory of this
Teeth rising to meet passing sheep
or so to me they seem
Flowing snakes, brown and liquid blue
And seas of green, nature’s fruit
Where path’s meet and then fall apart
I know only this, follow your heart
Gone
A million times I’ve thought of you
dreamed of you; screamed for you
I keep going back, but nothing’s there
just memories; more reminders
of how miserably I fucked up
~
I wish I could take it back
just say one word and have that be that
I miss you and I miss your love
It’s surprising just how much
Even after all this time has passed
~
You’ll never know, because you’ll never read
This poem I wrote to you from me
You’ll never know how much I’m still in love
because you’re just a fading memory of
someone who’s gone forever
Who Am I
Out of all the years I’ve been alive
One little question stays on my mind
Just three little words;
‘Who am I?’
~
See, the man in the mirror never talks back
Often imitates, but never alone does he act
A facade; an illusion, but he never lies
You can see the truth within his eyes
Forever alone as the day breaks
and still alone as the light fades
Who am I, what have I become?
said I’d never, but I succumbed
The adult; never the child again
Lips parted, a breath ragged
Bursts forth from this liars chest
and so I said… so I said…
Back in the day when I was just a kid
I hate them; fuck them; I’ll never be like them
~
I am strong, yet I’m weak
I am proud, but made to be meek
Have seen miracles and helped build tragedies
Seen days pass like autumn leaves in a breeze
I am fire and I am rain
Could burn you down, but I’d always feel the pain
~
I am the sum; the accumulation of;
everyone who came before; leading up
Past generations gone fast to little children
Parents sins passed on to little kids
and like a top it spins and spins faster
looping to make son like father;
daughter like mother; and it smothers;
it deadens childrens’ hopes; and their dreams redden
Like blood in the viscous muck
of this gene pool that we call love
and when it stops only I remain standing
in the fastly disappearing; swiftly dwindling dust
~
I am everybody who came before me
and everyone I know
I am nobody, on the wind as a leaf
flying through life alone
who I am becomes a legendary quest
Like King Arthur and the grail of Jesus
Whoever I am, wherever I am
Only the quest and myself can change him.
Just One
We go about our way
each and every day
Without knowing a single thing
Every smile; every tear;
a prelude to what we fear
We really don’t have a clue
We’re born, and we die
What lies between the two
is what we’ve called life
Where dawn and dusk are
the only things which divide
everything; heart and mind;
into moments of joy or pain
Some say it isn’t worth it
that the pain is just too much for them
but I would rather have,
one breath of air,
one kiss of rain upon my face,
one touch of wind as it blows through my hair,
one minute with you; together alone;
than to have felt nothing at all.
Just one.
Judged
I have been judged countless times
by cowards who dare not take up pen to write
Judged on how I choose to form my rhymes
They lament, ‘It isn’t proper, it does not flow quite right.’
‘Where is the form? All I see are words in lines.’
But who are they to judge?
Did Poe have such critics?
Did Shakespeare? Perhaps Faust did
Such silly critics; these insufferable pricks
To tell a poet how to write; how elitist
Would I go to a woodworkers house
to say to him, ‘Here, let me show you how
this piece of wood should join with that,’ or
to a painters shop to say, ‘I dislike this picture
You should have put this line here; that one there?’
No, I durst not, for that is not my element
And why should they care so much
whether I copy the form of poets long since dust?
Should I not create my own
like they’ve done so long ago?
Did their critics come to say to them
That they should form their rhymes like the cavemen?
I shudder at the thought
Those poor fools; wrapped too tight and lost
within a sea at their own foolish cost
Were I to be them, I would shirk my lot
I would not deign to say to them
‘Why, sir, this is rubbish and should be condemned.’
Nay, I think that I would rather mind my own
Allow them to give their fans what they love and know
It is not that I can not write a limerick or an ode
quatrains; ballads, sestinas; sonnets; cinquains; acrostics
All of these, to me, are known
It was never a question of if I can; I won’t
I ache to be unique, like so many others before me
like all of my critics; so why do they hate when I succeed?
As John Wilmot has said, ‘In my experience,
Those who do not like you fall into two categories:
the stupid and the envious.
The stupid will like you in five years time,
the envious; never.’
I put my soul into every poem that I write
I do so while entertaining; I am hardly ever trite
So, should you find yourself among the few
Who sit high atop their thrones with thoughts askew
Saying ever-so-boldly, ‘I do not like this.’
Then, good sirs and madams, you have but one question to ask
‘Am I one of the stupid?, or one of the envious?’